Writing Is My Blessed Curse.

 Writing is my blight, a light of gold to those who lived in darkness. It's a blessed curse, an ever dim sunlight, a white robed funeral. Writing is a curse I've had my whole life, but, others see it as a blessing. As it seems, both are true, sometimes it's the only way I can get my feelings out, others I can't even spell a word.

 My writing is my light, hidden in darkness behind a mask of joy, but the inside of the mask has a pattern more beautiful than the outside. The inside holds the sorrow, and pain. It shows the true colors of a person. Now, I look inside, and yell. I will take this mask off, reverse it, my writing is not my blight. It's my most beautiful light.

Your Feelings Are True.

  Emotions are just that, emotional. We love, hate, cry, sing, and are excited. As emotions are wild, so are we, their owners, though we do not truly own them, we are merely land lords, our bodies the household for rent. Though they pay us in some sorts, all it seems to be is imports. Importing of emotions that seem unnatural, seem unforgiving. Well, check back on those orders, because they are natural, and they should never have to be forgiven for. Our emotions are just that, they are, and always will be, ours. Though we can not control our emotions, they are ours, and to the bone. Though we may see or think them, impure, no matter what others say, they are pure. No one can change that, and even if you wanted to make them change, it won't happen. You must understand your feelings are true, and it has a color of the brightest hue.

Why Should I listen?

  Why should I listen to you, when all you do is insult? It's not my fault, I am who I am. I couldn't change it then, and I won't now. For now I am stronger and smarter. I won't fall for your tricks, and won't take your treats. I'll no longer showcase this mask and costume, the make-up is off. I'm not just a little boy, I'm a little boy with an attitude, and it's screaming, "Be yourself!" So when I know on your door, be prepared, I won't have a costume, nor a mask, because being myself will scare you more then make-up or mask. I'm a threat to you now, and when I say trick or treat, be ready to bow down to my feet. I'm not a little boy any more, I won't be told what to do, I'm and I refuse to listen to you.

We'd Again Be Born.

 Whether or not it's true, the one with the answer is you. Never believe what they say,else your insides decay, for we are what we believe, not what others see. And so, live as yourself, not hiding inside with stealth. We are who we are, nothing else is to par, for we love ourselves, as we love the dwelling and swelling pain of others. So don't become normal, it's only then you're truly abnormal, empty inside and out, left behind skin and bones during a drought. A drought of affection and peace, but something that will never cease. So why do we do continue, when all there is, is the fact we might as well. Nothing is as numb and cold as the human heart, for if it could truly show love, it wouldn't matter who you are, only if some one would be so bold, as to warm over this winter storm, and we'd again be born.

Mother Always Said...

  My mother always said, it doesn't matter what happens in bed, what matters is you, and the choices you choose. As it seems, this works with dreams, I dream I can fly, and not be asked why. But unlike the real world, there's no portals, to some where else, to escape this hell. So, why couldn't you see, that you were what I needed for me? I wanted you and you alone, though for that I must atone, for you at any rate, my love is just too great.

My Dreams Are Just That.

  We are taught to hate, or even debate, about what we were taught, that others must rot, for being a way, they must pay, we listen and learn,hate we yearn, they continue to say, that I must pay, for being me, but they can't see, I am who I am, and shall not again begin, for I won't change, no matter the pain, it ends as it seems, but those were only my dreams.

Tears, Mirrors, Hidden Away, Decay, and Dreams.

  I stare at your blue tears, and see myself as if they were mirrors, hidden away, in deep decay, forever forgotten, left rotten. I saw you come to me, with a light so I'd see, so with you I left, with out a protest, I ran away, from that day, together it would seem, but it was only a dream.

Black Stars (May never finish)

  It was dark, black. I looked through the night sky. The only source of light was the, bright, full moon. The stars were gone. They had been for years. I remembers what they looked like, bright and shining. I imagined the stars when I heard a thump. It came from my room. I quickly went inside to see my family's spell book on the floor, opened to a page with the stars mapped on it. I looked around, seeing if someone or something made the book fall. I was alone, and no breeze or draft in my room. 

  I picked up the book and inspected the page. It had more than just stars, it had moons, and planets marked on it too. I read the page more. I reached the bottom and gasped. There was the spell of darkness. It was told that it was the reason the stars are gone. I brushed my white hair out of my face. My blood red eyes widened as I continued to read. It not only had the spell of darkness, it also contained the instructions on how to use it and... the next page was ripped out. I was hoping for something, like a way to fix the star; though childish of wishing. 

  I heard another thump behind me, I turned. Another book had fallen. Than another, and another. All my books were flying off their shelves. I closed the book and began to run. Right before I ran out of the door, I turned around to and saw a small boy's shadow standing in between my bookshelves. A purple, evil, grin was the only detail in his body. I screamed and ran off, through the hallways of Castle Black. I finally reached my younger brother's room, knocked and entered. He was dead asleep. I laid on the couch and feel asleep, using the book as a pillow.

  I woke from a slight poke to my side, then another. I slowly opened my red eyes to see my younger brother, Zen.

  "Zero...? What the heck are you doing in my room?"

  I groaned, "Come with me and you'll see." I got up, still holding the book. 

  We left his room and walked to mine, while we were walking I explained what happened to me last night. When I opened the door though, my room was spotless of books, all in order of how I kept them. All, except one that is.

13th Alice

♪The thirteenth Alice was an evil pair of siblings who were twins. Killing all of Wonderland is were their plan begins. Planning the destruction of the all the different lands, massacring the people of  all the kingdoms.

A genius older sister,

an a vicious younger brother,

had killed the true Alice at hand!

(Insert Light Yagami/Kira's laugh)

But both will never wake up from the dream that they has planned, forever they shall wonder evilly in Wonderland!♪

Tune to the last Alice in this song.

Hawk

   Flying high in the sky,

He shall lead the way to truth,

   Taka will lead the way.

Old random sentences I use for ideas.

  My very important teammate was captured in a mission (Sewerfort, The Flock) two days ago.

  But Zeta wasn't thinking about the Tokokyohi's bases. He was wondering how the flock found the sewer fort, how they beat him, why they came then, where was he now. Was it day or night, what day it was, were they coming back to torture him more?

  A night-black dragon with a red arrow on its forehead burst onto the dark terrain of the castle on the last moon of the year, turning over tables on the nights dinner, broke through wood and metal doors, and ate ten men who happen to cross its deadly path.

  Keep extra weapons on hand because Alice says we'll need it because where we're going on the mission. Thinking: Wow, this must be a big one.

  Running to our fort through the hole in Papa's fence was a thrill every time. After the fence was a world of wonder: the pecking and pecking of the many woodpeckers; the growls of our dog barking at squirrels; the crunching of leaves under our feet; and the whisper of the wind moving the trees.

  They both saw the many bodies, dead and alive and attacking and becoming stronger in numbers again. but before they could leave, a zombie was charging them.
                There was a clunk.
                           And there was a moan.
                                      The two continued.

  I saw her at the ball. Sweet too, and tall. Said she worked at a Candy shop, but I couldn't remember which one. Sooki. That's all. Skinny jeans and a cherry scent. Sooki. That's what she told me.

  Through a large dark broken door the June day is depressive and scary, the flowers dead. Ash from the chimney flows out of the house onto the grey ground.
                      The world is a ghost.
 
  It ends as everything, as the world. A bright darkness is covering all of us. Light and dark. My mind is blank. My mind is empty. I am gone. Others are there. Others are found. Others safety. My mind revolts for the sanity which is no longer there.

  These falcons were strange, and much lighter than the many from the mountains and they were guiding him. Misguiding him.
 

Annabeth's Death

This is a poem I wrote about the person I like. This is also A Deady Bear Poem. Deady Bears are my creations, I own full rights, for the actual plushies and poem/short story series.

  As I glanced out my window, I saw you. You were running in the rain.Our rain. We would joke that when it rained in the desert, it would be warm. We were right. So you ran, in the warm rain of our Winter. Your soaking shirt stuck to your body, your hair to your face. Your eyes shined blue in the grey sky. I will never forget those eyes. What they said, what they expressed. The rage, joy, sorrow, all of it. A tear went down my face as I took my final step. Of course you'd glance over when I do this, seeing my body fall. You yelled, and ran to my door. So pointless I thought.
                                                      "Why would you run to help me now,
                                                       but not when I needed you the most?"

Justin's End (End of chapter, beginning of another)

Okay, first of all, the story line is these devices that are numbered in roman numerals. People wish to steal them for power, but in order to use these you must have a key. These keys are rare. They can lead you to the devices as well. But you have no idea what device. Second, this takes place in a time of war in another dimension. People I know in real life were used to create these characters and are based after their or close to their personalities. Things are not the same as the real world for obvious reasons. Any way, onto the pieces, tell me what ya think.

  Chris kept slashing, his bronze swords glittering red from where I had missed blocking. My dark hair stuck to my face in sweat, as did his.
  He paused, "This can all end Justin, all you have to do is give me number XIII and your key."
  I sighed, then looked up at the familiar face of the man I've fought with since the disaster in my land. I could remember my mother's last words... a chill went down my spine. I snapped back to reality when a fire combusted at my boots; even through the leather I could feel the heat. I stepped back, and tripped.
  Chris frowned, "Look Justin, I don't want to be against you, but you continue to fight for a lost cause. I know you don't wish to give up, but... please. Just end this."
  I grimmest, "Lost cause, huh?" Just months ago your agreed with me, we had to stop the wars between these three tyrants.
  He looked down a bit, then laughed a bit. I cocked an eyebrow.
  He looked up, "I just remembered how we met."
  With that he lunged at me, he was wearing number II, and his swords caught flame. I jumped back, then did a quick 'summon,' a wolf made of pure sound molecules that moved so fast it could been seen in detail. It leaped on him, pinning him down. I walked forward, but to my surprise, I fell.
  "I own numbers X and XI as well, Justin."
  I looked at the fresh wound, pouring red rain from itself.
  I looked up at him, and smiled, "I remembered too."
  Justin fell to the ground. I collapsed, from my fear, lack of energy, and sorrow. I cried, I, Chris Diebold, cried. I had just killed a fifteen year old, a fifteen year old who was my best friend. No, not my best friend. The person I would worry when he was late to get to a  rendezvous, the person I would trust with my life, and the person I would protect no matter what. And he's gone, because of me.

End of chapter or what ever, beginning of new chapter after this one:

Justin gasped; blood pouring from his lips. He looked up to Chris, the older teen's eyes wide at what he had just done. The sword, a deadly weapon, was sheathed within the body of the younger boy. Chris let go of his weapon; stepping back in shock. Their eyes watered, in sorrow and anger that they wouldn't be able to continue on in their journey together; even as foes. Justin fell to the ground, the pool of blood around him showed the reflection of the demon within him, screaming and reathing. Its eyes were bright blue, its hair pitch black, skin pale. Suddenly it was gone, and the younger boy was silent, non moving. Chris dropped to his knees, picking up the being he loved, and had killed. He clung to his lovers body in dread and remorse.
  "All for one," Chris stammered, "One of fifteen..."
  With that he kissed his lover's dead lips, removed the key necklace on his belt loop, and took number XIII, the leather bracelet of sound and sonics.

Profiles: Eric Fujioka Unfinsihed

Name: Eric Fujioka A.K.A Mad Hatter/ Hatter
Nickname: Nano Byte
Age: 16
D.O.B.: October 17, 1993
Height: 5' 4"
Weight: 125 Lbs.
Sexuality: Bisexual
Social Status: Higher Class
Relationship Status: Single
Specialty: Technology, Science, Math
Looks: Olive tan, with tone body. Naturally black hair that's short, about seven for clippers. Has hazel/grey eyes. Eyebrows 'frame' eyes well.
Appearance: Wears unisex shirts that have Gir on them, usually has a hoodie of random colour ontop. The hoddie's zipper is left unzipped. Wears ball caps with Monster or Vans on them. Wears either skinny or straight jeans, mostly black and shades of grey. Owns pairs of Vans and DC sneakers.
Likes: His father (Author Fujioka), being an only child, some chick in his class, couple dudes he works with, a member of the Raiu, working on Tokokyohi projects.
Dislikes: Being sick, school, his mom (Kathryn Hattrice),