The Boy On The Hill

     The boy on the hill stands there alone,
wondering where everyone went.
     He looks, and looks, and looks for miles,
But none are in his sight.
     He did not see them walk away,
So were they ever there?

     The boy on the hill sits there alone,
wondering why everyone left.
     He thinks, and thinks, and thinks for hours,
But still he understands not.
     He did not notice them disappear,
So were they really there?

     The boy on the hill stares at the ants,
wondering what it would be like.
     He wants, and wants, and wants for this,
But human he is still.
     He did not notice their resounding hate,
So does he really care?

     The boy on the hill sits there alone,
wondering why they run.
     He chased, and chased, and chased for days,
But none are caught.
     He did not notice his resounding hate,
So why is he still there?

     The boy on the hill cries there alone,
knowing why they ran.
     He cried, and cried, and cried for years,
But none would come to help.
     He now understands it all,
So why is he still alive?

-Zero

Love: A Chaotic Insanity (Rough Introduction)

     Zilia walks through the classroom door and takes a seat at the front of the class, directly in front of me. Her long flowing hair slowly waltzes in the gentle breeze. She almost seems to radiate, almost as if she's a goddess sent down from Mount Olympus to watch over us. Her green dress jumps out at me, as if it is trying to tell me something. I ignore it and continue admiring the beauty that sits in front of me. Her skin looks softer than feathers, and her hair looks smoother than the lake's surface. I've always wondered what they would feel like, but I know that the day I find out is the day that I lose control. It would answer my deepest desires and dreams.
    She turns around and our eyes meet. My ocean blue eyes freeze to ice and her radiating green eyes hide any form of emotion that she has. "Hey! Styr! Wake up man!" My friend, Michael yells at me on the bus. "We're here!"
    My eyes slowly slide open, reluctantly letting the image of Zilia fade away. An image of a school bus filled with young teens of all sorts replaces it. "I hate that bus ride..." I say in an unhappy tone. "There's always just enough time to start dreaming, but never enough time to enjoy it."
     "You really should start sleeping at night, bro." Michael tells me, grabbing his sketchpad as he gets into the aisle. I look at his tall and skinny figure and nod my head, which causes some of my overgrown hair to cover my eyes. "And you could use a hair-cut." He starts laughing as he walks off of the bus.
     I push away my brown hair with my left hand. He's right. I do need a hair-cut. I reach down and pull my black leather schoolbag from between my legs. I look out the window as I slowly get up and see a mess of people wandering into the school like ants swarming into the ant hill. But there's one that stands out, a girl I don't quite recognize. She disappears into the building before I can get a positive I.D. I quickly forget about it and walk off of the bus, giving the annoyed bus driver an apologetic smile before getting off. I enter the swarm of ants, and enter the high school amidst the chaos. I slip my left hand into my pocket and pull out a little piece of paper. "Room 145 today." I shrug and head off to class. I never use my locker. It's too inconvenient for me.
     "It's about time you showed up!" Michael exclaims as I take the seat beside him. His golden hair reflects the sunlight and seems to radiate. His eyes are brown and sometimes I feel like we accidentally switched pieces at some point in our lives. It would make more sense if he had blond hair and blue eyes, and if I had brown hair and brown eyes, but the world doesn't always work like that apparently. "The bus is starting to become your second home!"
     "Yeah... I know. It's peaceful, I guess." I lie to him. Even he, as my best friend, should know that every time I close my eyes and dream I see Zilia. But I haven't told anyone, even he would think I'm crazed and obsessed. That is not a good image to have when you are trying to get a girl. I probably just dream about her because she's so beautiful. I'm sure it happens to everyone at some point in their life. He lets a quiet laugh out.
     "Why don't you just go into the woods like you used to?" He mocks me. Five years ago, when I was thirteen, I was accused for murder of a girl who was found in the woods nearby my house. But the idea was quickly dismissed when authorities around the globe discovered some sort of monster that now infests most of the world. The woods aren't safe anymore, and after several disappearances, fences were put up to keep the monsters out. Sometimes I feel like the fences are to keep us in.
     "Very funny." Sarcasm fills my voice and I open up my notebook to pretend to take notes in class. My left hand reaches over and grabs a pencil and I start writing. I fool my teacher every time because it looks like I'm taking notes when I'm really writing something that has nothing to do with class. Today, like most other days, I'm focusing on my novel that will hopefully one day be my source of income. My story takes place here, in western Quebec, but before any monsters showed up. The main character is a writer, like me, but instead of dealing with the confines of the fences around the town, he deals with the confines around his heart. Other characters call him a 'player' but I know better, and he knows better. He just doesn't know what to believe in anymore. While me and Zero, the main character, are very different, there is one thing that binds us. The dreams. Both of us are haunted by the same dreams, just with different girls. His is a light brown skinned girl with near-black eyes and hair as dark as night. Mine has tan skin, flowing brown hair, and leaf-green eyes. Zero's dream girl is named Malika, which means Queen in Arabic. I thought it would be fitting, considering queens are often very exclusive and rare.
     "Are you still writing that story?" Michael asks me, sounding surprised. "How long is that damned thing going to be?" His voice drops in volume when he realizes that we're sitting in the middle of class, not on the school bus. I shoot him a displeased look and shrug, not saying anything. He takes it as an answer and looks back to the front of the class where the teacher is preparing to start the lesson. The classroom door opens and someone walks in. I'm going insane. That can't be who I think it is. There's not a chance in hell.
     Zilia walks through the classroom door and takes a seat at the front of the class, directly in front of me. Her long flowing hair slowly waltzes in the gentle breeze. She almost seems to radiate, almost as if she's a goddess sent down from Mount Olympus to watch over us. Her green dress jumps out at me, as if it is trying to tell me something. I ignore it and continue admiring the beauty that sits in front of me. Her skin looks softer than feathers, and her hair looks smoother than the lake's surface. I stare at her, trapped by the rules of the dream. The murmur of the class slowly fades into nothing, leaving me in a perpetual silence that seems to rotate around the night-eyed girl.

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I know I said I was only starting to write it in November, but I had gotten excited when the idea first came to mind and I typed down this sort of introduction quickly. I will not count it in my 50,000 words, and can also be found on my profile on NanoWrimo.org under my username KunaZero. As you can see I make a reference to a different story of my own, and I used both Malika's name and my own, but I intend on changing that quickly. I am merely using them to distance and separate the two stories for now, for one takes place in our world, while Styr's world is slightly warped. You'll notice that I referred to her as the "Night-eyed girl" in the closing sentence of this section. I will do this a lot in the story, binding the night and Zilia together as one through the metaphors. Anyways, I feel like I have once again gone on quite long enough and will end here. Take care, avid reader, and I will post again soon!

-Zero

Zero's Second Update

     For once, I rather just speak, or in this case write, something besides a short story. I thought I would express myself in a different manner. There are a few things I would like to address in this anti-creative writing. It's dreadfully boring, I know, but I do not know what else to write. Recently I have been either too focused on school work, or too focused on the novel that I will be starting soon (we'll get to that later). Not even video games seem to interest me, and I spent most of my childhood doing. I believe this shift in interests came from an event this weekend, around the time that I lost my wallet.
     I lost my wallet the other day at my friend's house, someone who happens to be very similar to Marie-Lynn, yet Marie-Lynn is not based upon her. It is funny how things have worked out between her and I since we met, but never lasting is my trust in her. Something always strikes me and makes me have doubts, sending me into my own sort of madness. It seems with her, I cannot escape the madness. To be honest, I'm quite used to it. That girl is very nice, yet a total fool it seems. I am not saying that I am not a fool myself, but at least I can admit that I am wrong, or perhaps even morally wrong. I always find myself thinking back to her when I think of the anger that people let take over them. To let yourself fall into the darkness of anger is something I believe to be the very destruction of your being. Much like jealousy and the urge for revenge, anger is a dark passion that corrupts the mind and twists the truth. This is why I never let myself succumb to the anger too much, but occasionally, I admit, I have succumbed nonetheless. I am not proud of myself, but atlas, I am only human after all. To expect perfection from myself would be far more insane than letting myself succumb to the anger forever. I know much of this must seem very off topic to you, but remember that I lost my wallet at her house. If I already had trust issues with her, would it not make sense that they would only be doubled by the disappearance of my wallet? I am afraid they were. While on one hand, I do trust her, on the other, a crazed devilish hand, I do not. This has become more of a confession than I had expected, but I shall continue writing nonetheless. It is not in my nature to erase what I have written before. I actually find that most of my writings, including fictional pieces (for the mere fact that they normally carry feelings and small truths in them that I can spot), are quite good records of my past. Ever since I have started writing (back in elementary school), certain details of my life have been recorded for me to view forever. In the future years, when I read this, I will remember this time in my life and most likely laugh or cringe at what I am like now. I do know one thing about my future, however. I know that I will still be a writer, or I will be unhappy. Writing is my passion in life, and whether it destroys me or not, I will always continue it faithfully. That brings me to the next thing I wished to go off about, my starting a novel soon.
     In about five or six days, I will be beginning a novel for something called "NanoWrimo", also known as National Novel Writing Month. It is a sort of contest with yourself and time. Let us see if we can write a 50,000 word novel in a month. Does not sound too harsh, does it? I have already started writing my own plan, a sort of outline actually, for the novel itself. The novel will be called "Love: A Chaotic Insanity", and is a new sort of novel for me. As you've seen from "The Beginning of The End" I tend to work with a lot of figurative language and character development. I am repeating this, and have already found metaphors and similes for the three main characters. Only one of these characters may fit a description familiar to another character from other stories, but her name is different. The girl of the night is back, hopefully one final time. While many of the other times she was an actual part of the story in real life, or an unknowing victim of one of my stories, in this story I merely chose her description for the symbolic meaning of it. I am not racist, but symbolically speaking, the dark features represent evil, which is exactly what her character is. Do not worry, I am not giving away any spoilers here. It should be made very clear within the first five or ten pages of the novel that she is evil or at least dark. Her name in this story is also different, being Zilia instead of Malika. While both are very strange and foreign names, Malika means queen, and I wanted her name to mean something else. Zilia means jealousy in Greek, which initially I had planned for jealousy to be an aspect of hers. Currently I am not sure, but I do know that she will not represent any good aspects. I want the reader, (that is you) to hate her. The absolute main character, or the narrator, is a boy named Styr, who carries aspects of no character I have written about before. Styr is an indecisive boy with grey eyes (symbolizing that 'grey zone') and crimson red hair. I want Styr to be seen as unstable and unpredictable, so watch out, his blood-dried hair (a nice way of describing it) may become more than just different. Not only that, but Styr's name has a meaning as well, but I shall not say it here. Look the meaning of his name up yourself if you truly wish to. Styr begins the story by introducing the dark beauty, Zilia. He still does not know what will unfold in their final year of high school, nor does he know that he is about to meet someone else who will become important in his life. I am speaking of Krystal, who symbolizes the good in people. She is innocence and truth (according to my notes), but she is not perfect. Perfection itself, to me, is only obtainable by truly accepting that you are not perfect, and loving yourself anyways. Humans are wonderfully complex beings, and we should celebrate our complexity. Anyways, back to Krystal, she has golden hair and pale white skin. The skin is often compared to snow in my notes. (if you do not understand that metaphor, look long and hard at "Snow White") Her eyes are currently planned to be green, like the leaves of the summer leaves. This is subject to change considering that it was blue two weeks ago. I still have not decided how she gets involved in the chaotic insanity that stirs after school starts. This chaos affects two realms of being, but one is only visible to Styr. This second realm is his dreams, and will be revealed to you as I please over the course of the novel. Anyways, I do believe I have gone on quite long enough about this new novel of mine. Perhaps it has excited me too much. November is less than a fortnight away after all.
     That brings me to my last order of business. Despite the novel writing that will occupy my time in November, I will try to post something throughout the month. Currently, I am considering poems that I have written in my free time. While I doubt they are any good, I find that they will be better than nothing. Also, I do intend to post excerpts of "Love: A Chaotic Insanity" as I write it in November, just to keep you updated. While these excerpts will probably look something like "The Beginning of The End" parts that are already up on here (but probably much better in terms of writing overall), I will label them as final versions and may repost the edited versions after I finish writing the whole novel and edit it myself. Plenty of my friends, the younger ones at least, do not understand why I do not try to publish any of my work yet. To put it simply, I do not believe that a seventeen year old's work will be equal to a nineteen or twenty year old's work, at least not in my case. I grow as a writer every day, and recently I have been getting into many historical texts, such as The Iliad, The Odyssey, Metamorphoses, and even Mein Kampf. Do not worry about that last text, I am reading it merely to have a greater understanding of that time. I will never seek the power that Hitler did, nor will ever follow a government blindly. You can label me "An Enemy of the People" all you want, but I will always stand for what I believe in. Politics do not concern me, you would do better not to get me involved. God forbid that I get involved and write powerful texts that may change the way some people look at the politics themselves. Anyways, back to the reason I will not publish anything for quite a while. I am not driven by greed, and do not write for a profit. I write because I write, simply put. If I were to charge people for my stories, the least I could do is make sure they are not entertainment, but art. Sure, they can be entertaining, but I will attempt to keep my work from being entertainment as much as I can. It is not that which is entertainment that succeeds a generation of people, it is art. The Iliad is not entertainment, it is art. I want to reach a level like that. A hundred years from now, I want people to still be reading my work, so I have to make sure that my work is worth reading at all. Well, I do believe I have gone on enough. I shall leave a small poem at the end of this dreadfully boring thing just to close it off, and I will try to post more poems over the month of November. Wish me luck, and take care, appreciated reader.
     Her Beauty is like a Summer's Day

Her beauty is like a summer's day,
Ever so beautiful beyond compare.
Everyone adores her beauty,
Never noticing any flaws.


Her beauty is like a summer's day,
When the sunlight shines for the longest of the year.
Everyone basks in her warmth,
Preferring it over all.


Her beauty is like a summer's day,
Often too hot and humid.
Everyone hides in the shade,
Wishing the world would cool.


Her beauty is like a summer's day,
Bound to only last a short time.
Some wish it would last longer,
But I rather watch it fade.


Her beauty is like a summer's day,
Short lasting and truly fickle.
I shall watch it fade away,
Laughing as she suffers her fate.


-Zero

Grey Clouds

           Her fingers slide across my hand, her gentle movement of holding my hand. “It'll be alright...”

           “No it won't! What do you take me for, an idiot?” My pulse quickens and I feel the rage of my fear wash over me.

           “No...” She whispers, sounding scared of me, scared of my rage. “It's just that... that... that I'm not really worth the trouble...”

           I stare off into the distance, knowing that Gabe is out there somewhere plotting against me. “You're worth everything!” I yell, asserting my dominance. It's not love or fear that truly ignites me. It's control. Beside me stands a girl of unsurpassed beauty. Sure she has her flaws, physical and emotional, but it is not perfection that is truly perfect. What is truly perfect is wholeheartedly accepting someone's flaws. When you can stand to accept someone's flaws like that, it's essential that you keep them under your control. This is something I believe I have grown quite good at. Practice makes perfect after all. So many girls are just looking for the first guy that tells them that they're beautiful, or perfect. These girls are silly, yes, but do what I say, and I like that about them. And Gabe wants to take my greatest prize away from me.

           “No...” She whispers, but doesn't say much more. A white sparrow drops from the sky and lands in the forest to my right. The sky begins to change, much like the leaves of the trees are. The sunlight bends and runs over the edge, allowing bright hues of pink and red to replace the blue on the horizon. A grey cloud, bordering exactly between white and black, seems unchanged by the colors. It stands there, almost alone. A larger, darker cloud stands above it. The darker cloud is in power, for now.

           “So you just want me to let you die? Should I walk away, or watch you suffer? I don’t care what you want, you’re my girl!” I yell at her, afraid to lose my favourite toy. I want to kill that son of a bitch, Gabe, for what he said.

           “She will die by nightfall, but only as you continue to hold onto her.” I remember him saying, each word burned into my memory like the hate for him. The idiot thinks that he’s in love with her and that I’m not good for her. What a moron. I’m the best for her. But he doesn’t see that so he decided that he will kill her by midnight. What really scares me is if he can really do it. He quickly took her away from me, only for a moment and he stayed in sight, respecting my rules that she follows so well. He told her something that I couldn’t hear. She refuses to tell me. I think they shook hands, with her hand quickly retreating back into her purse. He smiled and nodded at her, as if he gave her an order. This set me off and I walked over to them, but he was long gone before I could get to him. That was two hours ago. The sky was blue with white clouds scattering it, and there was one dark grey cloud on the horizon.

           The indecisive grey dress that she wears now matches my own grey shirt, but mine is a slightly darker grey. I turn and look at her, staring deep into her innocent, yet guilty soul. The loose dress waves in the breeze. I take a deep breath, calming the storm, and soaking up the oxygen like a sponge soaks up blood. “I just don't want to lose you, that's all. You're wonderful, beautiful, and smart. You're perfect.”

           “No...” She whispers much like the old dog whimpers in defeat, but picks up very slightly in volume. Her hand chills, sending shivers through my body. The thought of losing her settles in my stomach, causing the restless sea in my stomach to worsen. A new wave of fear washes over me.

           “We have to do something!” I declare after a few moments of absolute silence. She gives me a hopeless look and her gaze recoils back towards the lively horizon. Birds sing in the distance as they dance across the sky. “We can fight them maybe that might stop them!”

           “No...” She whispers, volume increasing slightly with every word. “Stop...” A single tear runs down her face. I go to catch it before it falls, but it slips through my fingers as if they were made of air. I breathe heavily, holding back the real extent of my fear.

           “I know we have to stop them! I just don't know how! Don't worry, I've got this!” My hands burn like fire. She slowly looks at me. Her head goes from side to side, repeating what she's been saying for the past few minutes. The ice-cold hands slip through my fingers like her tear did. My hands engulf in flames, invisible flames that left marks on my soul.

           “No...” She whispers with her bare feet carrying her out of my arm's reach. She walks towards the setting sun, chasing the last rays of light. I stand motionless, watching the grey cloud turn white. No thoughts enter my mind.

           “Hey! Get back here!” I order the escaping slave, but she continues. Her actions out-tongue my orders. I continue yelling at her from afar as I watch the white, and free, cloud leave. I chase after her and grab her pale arm. “Stop. You are not going anywhere.”

           Her eyes stare into mine defiantly, fighting my grip over her. “Yes I am.” Her voice is strong, no longer shy and weak. She is fighting my power. This girl, my object, is fighting my power. A rage builds up inside of me.

           “What did you say?” I scream at her, my body tensing up. My hand squeezes her arm, bruising it. Her other hand reaches into her purse and pulls something out. The last rays of light reflect off of it, blinding me. I pull my other arm in front of my eyes to block the blinding light.

           “I said: Yes. I. Am!” She screams back at me, making a quick movement with her free arm. Blood runs onto her pale white arm from my sliced arm. I howl in pain and let her arm go. She starts to run away, but I quickly chase after her.

“No you don’t!” I yell at her as I wrap my arms around her like a boa snake, almost crushing her. I see over her squished shoulders to see what lies in her hand, waiting to strike again. That son of a bitch gave her a dagger. There’s blood on the white blade, my crimson blood. The blood is crimson like my rage. I squeeze her with all of my might, crushing her ribs against her lungs. She begins to cough violently and a crazy smile breaks across my face.

           “Going to behave now?” I instruct her with a twisted humour to it. She shakes her head and as I go to squeeze more, my arm is sliced by the dagger again. The bitch put it in the way so I would cut myself! I let go of her, letting her slip through my arms like her tear did. I violently yell after her. “Come back here! You’re my property!”

           I chase after her with raging crimson blood streaming down my arms, draining my power. She turns around suddenly, just before I was going to wrap my constricting arms around her again. She points the blade at my heart, and I quickly try to stop, but momentum makes me continue. The blade pierces my body, entering my cold dead heart. I drop to the cold road. She stands above me and begins shaking. A smile of true happiness stretches across her face. The bloodied dagger drops to the ground in front of me. Her hair swings as she hurriedly turns around and runs away.

“No...” I whisper, dying as a landless labourer after living as a king. “Stop...”

-Zero

Wanderer's Journal #16

      The girl with eyes as dark as night haunted my dreams for weeks following the first dream. I can handle people in my dream world, but not when I have dreams instead. I was powerless to shut her out, fully knowing that she most likely has no idea that she is in my dreams. I was a slave to the torment. Every morning I would wake up confused and lost. There was nothing I could do. And to make things worse, Marie-Lynn left town. I never brought myself around to tell her about the dreams. I wish I did. Maybe then the torment might have ended. Kate and I broke up shortly after the dreams started. They were driving me insane and her jealousy issues were going to make things worse.

      I'm still having trouble believing that all of this madness that erupted in my teen years was the result of Kim first entering my world. I could have believed all I wanted that Kim would have been the only one to torment me like so, but I would have been wrong still. The lack of sleep that came from trying to avoid the dreams of that girl quickly caused immense fatigue. I spent most of my time trying to stay awake. But as long as I didn't dream about her, I was happy.

     I was obsessed. The dreams stirred a madness beneath the skin that overtook me and threw me into a raging fire. I hated myself for letting myself fall for the mind tricks of a succubus. The dreams wouldn't go away, so I did what they told me to do. I spoke to her (to be frankly honest, she spoke to me first). The first words she's ever said to me had a friendly tone to them. Not only that, but she sounded almost unsure in a way. She sounded scared. While I may be dead wrong about what she felt at that moment towards me, the real question of mine was, and still is, "why did she talk to me?" This question could come to haunt me and I would always think of asking it. I never did. But I needed to be saved.

      Marie-Lynn was also going through a hard part of her life while I struggled with my dreams. Soon these dreams would be called a form of insanity that the girl with eyes as dark as night cast on me. I was her puppet, her very irritated puppet. I couldn't take my eyes off of her most times that she was around. Occasionally I would approach her and we would talk, but often found ourselves with nothing to say unless it was rehearsed earlier. The insanity grew as it shrunk. I became more obsessed, but less afraid to sleep. It didn't take long for me to succumb and begin sleeping again. My world was suppressed, but so were the tormenting dreams. I slept peacefully for a while. Things with the night-eyed girl did not get much better, and never really did. It was a foolish thing to ever believe otherwise. But I did believe otherwise. The dreams, they showed me a world that she and I could live in together. The world was darker and took the aspects that made her so unique; her eyes were nothing like the sun.

       I hoped and prayed for salvation from the curse of mind, but nothing came for quite a while. I became enraged, mad from my lack of power over myself. It escalated to the point that I was beginning to consider murdering her. The images flashed in my mind while I was awake. But quickly this murderous stage of my insanity would be combated by the dreams themselves. What they did was show her loving me. As twisted as I knew it was, the dream itself seemed to be gentle and sweet. It was not my hand that held hers; it was hers that held mine. The dream drove me even farther to the edge, but I stopped wishing to kill her. The dream had won.

      I was trapped like this for quite a while, and it was horrible, absolutely horrible. But Marie-Lynn, the girl with hair that ignites in the sun, came back just in time to save me. I was wandering alone at that time, unsure who to turn to. But when we spoke again, I could feel the madness lifting. My smile couldn't have been any bigger and my heart couldn't have been any louder. When we spoke, I was truly happy.
-Zero

Wanderer's Journal #15

     Green seemed to be the color that took over after that day. Jealousy seized more than just Kay (who as it turned out, was an incredibly jealous girlfriend). Marie-Lynn, the girl with flaming hair, became jealous almost immediately. She was confused, and so was I. Thousands and thousands of thoughts went through my mind, mostly asking "Kay or Marie-Lynn?" I couldn't decide, it was like it was an impossible question. Maybe it was my doubt that Marie-Lynn and I would get back together, and stay together, that held me back. Kay seemed more solid, but still there was no connection. She could read me only by what she's taken the time to notice before. I am a protector. I was then too. Pit one versus another, I thought. If they were to fight, I would have to pick a side to protect.

      In my head, I saw Kay slapping Marie-Lynn. Marie-Lynn returned with a slap of her own, a much stronger slap. It was quickly made clear that Kay was in more danger than Marie-Lynn. My arm blocked the next slap, with its twin sending a punch to the stomach of the aggressor. I still wanted to protect Marie-Lynn. I felt like I needed to. Maybe I did back then. Kay was not the one I needed to protect. That's when I figured it out. But how to go from Kay to Marie-Lynn was more complicated. Still one thing kept me going, the knowledge that Kay will never be another Marie-Lynn. But that wasn't the question I was asking.

     My eyes slid closed and my world came back into existence. Green grass climbed up my legs, greeting me. I was home and I knew it. Something had shaken my world recently, something while I was away. There was a tug at my jeans from the grass, pulling me towards a path left behind by something unknown. The path was long beaten, but completely unfamiliar to me. The grass blades began singing to me, telling me what they had saw. From what I heard, there was no fire; it wasn't Marie-Lynn. My heart sighed with that knowledge, even with Kay around I wished that Marie-Lynn was. But I was never that lucky. A stone is carried to my hands by vines that stretch across the outskirts of the forests ahead. At first it looked pink, but then every color of the rainbow became visible. I pocketed the stone, hoping that it would bear answers in the future.

     A dream came one night following the finding of the odd stone. A girl, one who shared some classes of mine, with dark hair and dark eyes appeared in it. In the dream it seemed like we were alone, a twisted version of reality. Her face was twisted like reality was, but I felt like a fool who had fallen in love with a princess who would never love him back. And in reality, that's all it would be, but in this dream... She loved me, and despite the twisted feeling of the dream, I loved her in return. It lead me to question my position with both Kay and Marie-Lynn. Could I give up the girl with the flaming hair for the girl born of darkness?
-Zero

Wanderer's Journal #14

     It was Marie-Lynn's world I had stumbled upon. Inside of her world, I felt safe, secure; I belonged. This is what confused me the most. I thought she would never give me that sense of belonging ever again. I was wrong.

     "Marie-Lynn..." I said when I saw her. I've avoided doing dialogue this whole time, but now I feel it's needed. Note: she was glowing like an angel.

     "Jesse," she said, "I have to explain myself..." I remember how when I was without her the forest in my world became so hard to travel through. It was difficult but I remained to tell myself that I was happier. I wasn't.

I didn't say anything. I just stared at her blankly. I didn't know what to say. I could embrace it, or I could embrace the anger and flee. I knew only one choice would allow my spirit to rest in the end. "Go ahead."

     "I love you," were the first words she said. "I'm so sorry about Luke and Dylan. We're young and no matter how long I sat in this place," she motions around her, "I never got the answers I wanted. Not until you came. I watched you from the heavens and felt you through the raindrops; I know how you feel. Please, forgive my foolishness. If not for me, then for you."

     This happened mid-year in her world. I'm sure you can imagine what happened next. I took her by the hand and got on one knee. No, I didn't propose. "Marie-Lynn, in the past two years in your world, you taught me so much. Remember my world, how it never rained? When I came here, I saw the beauty in the storm; I saw the truth among the lies. I thank you for this and," I paused, unsure of my next words. "And I forgive you."

     Have you ever seen a storm clear up almost instantly? Have you witnessed the clouds turn from black to white and then to nothingness? I doubt it, those events are exclusive to dreams. Dreams are our realm, not yours. It's a magical thing, it really is. The way the sky just splits and seems to stretch on forever captures you. What really got me was the final lightning bolt that struck. The ground itself absorbed the energy and began radiating what seemed to be pure energy. I could feel it creep up into me through my legs and give me strength. I looked up and saw her hazel eyes staring at me. The energy was flowing through her too. I stood up and she nodded at me. She was telling me to do it.

     In the blink of an eye I combined the energies that the beauty and I possessed and, in a flash of heat, sent it back out into the earth. I smiled and pulled her along with me as I began to walk through the newly growing grass. As much as I would love to say things got better from here and that we lived happily ever after, that's not what happened. When we woke up, a new obstacle confronted us. She couldn't fall asleep at night. Suddenly her world became a thing of the past and so did our time together. I was sad, but I survived it. The only reason I did, was because help arrived just in time.

     She went by several names, but I called her Kay. A beauty with blonde hair and blue eyes, she often had her choice in boys. For some odd reason she chose me. I guess she never knew what to go for. It was about a month or two after Marie-Lynn seemed to disappear when we met. At first, I saw nothing in her, felt nothing special. Maybe after all this time with Marie-Lynn, nothing could compare to those feelings. But she said she felt something special. I ended up thinking I did too.

     We were almost a couple for a while, but we, even then, suffered many hardships. There was one night, a night full of surprises. It was the summer and that meant drinking when it came to teenagers. Thanks to Marie-Lynn, I made new friends a while before so I got invited to these things, these parties. This time she was there herself, we were both happy to see each other but it seemed that we could never be together again. Kay and I were going through one of our hardest times together (unofficially). I had about four or five beers in about thirty minutes and something else took over. For the record, my body is affected very easily by alcohol. I was an animal, a beast, a predator. Kay became my prey, I was hungry. She kept running around because she was around me. At some point I chased after her and actually ran into her. I couldn't speak, only grunt and growl.

     The others tried to stop me, but I was too quick for them. They came at me, trying to grab me, but I saw myself dodge them and hit one of them twice in the face before he realized he missed. Eventually, they gave up; I was too fast for anyone there. A guy I wasn't so familiar with came and took me away from the others. He told me he knew why I was like this. He said I was a Lycan, another fancy word for werewolf. Then he brought Marie-Lynn into it. While I was busy listening to this guy talk, I saw Kay run away and disappear through a path. I could have chased her, but even now I don't see the point in doing that.

     Marie-Lynn, two other guys (including the one that told me I was Lycan) and I started walking towards her place; I had to walk her home. I kept apologizing to her, as if it would take away the fear she would feel that night. We stopped, just the two of us, in the middle of the road. I looked into her hazel eyes and apologized again, remembering all the years we spent together. Her lips pressed against mine. I stood there in shock, as did she. She shook her head, saying it wasn't real, that it was a dream. I took this as a 'I'm confused but still not interested'. Two days later, I'm with Kay officially.

-Zero 

Wanderer's Journal #13

     Lucky number thirteen. The bad luck from having black cats cross your path. I'm sure in some way they're connected and have something to do with this chain of events. You'll find, as I have, that these events can be interpreted in two ways. Unfortunate, or a short wave of good fortune to come. But to find your way out of the forest, you must follow the bread crumbs. Here's the first crumb.

     Marie-Lynn was brought to some hospital in her sickness. It was far, I could only visit once. You know, they said that her presence in the hospital would be good for her. I wasn't so convinced. I could tell that she hadn't been sleeping, she was afraid. She didn't want to be cut open by the doctors, luckily for her it wasn't a doctor that would cut her open. You know, I thought I would miss seeing her face. I thought I would be worried to death about her, I thought I would care. I didn't. Something odd happened actually. Ever find yourself at a crossroads having a picnic, not caring where you're going next? Well I was there. Alone, but together inside. Did I mention I love black cats?

     I slept quite well most of the nights. Spent years alone in my world, happy. You know something about my world? It comes to life on it's own when I'm happy like that. There was no Marie-Lynn to hold me back from letting it grow as much as I pleased, I was free from her. I guess this is the second bread crumb. Oh well, I thought Marie-Lynn would come out of seemingly no where and ruin all of my fun. She never did. But one thing would happen that would set it all off, another bread crumb leading to so many more.

     Have you ever fallen asleep and found yourself in a different place when you awoke? Did you feel scared and confused? Lost and forgotten? I'm sure you can see where I'm going with this. I woke up in someone else's world, I think. Third bread crumb. I guessed they didn't like the sun, the skies were black. Black clouds everywhere, encasing the world in a perpetual darkness. At least that's what I thought at first.

     That's what I thought before it started to pour from the sky, rain. I just stood there, I didn't even look for cover. I never have it rain in my world. It's nice, almost cleansing. Each rain drop felt like an angels finger pressing against me softly. Slowly, cleansing me of my sins. How could anyone dislike such a feeling? I've seen more Satanists enjoy the rain than anyone else, don't ask why I've seen that. Maybe those with sin love the rain? But still, it doesn't seem all that way. The fourth bread crumb. It felt as if everything that worried me would just be carried downstream, never to be seen again. But the black clouds had more than just rain after all.

     A flash of white. A bolt striking the ground. Thunder shakes the ground. It was a thunderstorm, large and powerful. The loud noise startled me, but it also soothed me. Music will sooth the savage beast after all.

     It's funny how you can get so lost in someone that you hardly know. You just endlessly wander the expanses of their mind, seeing everything but understanding nothing. That's exactly what this was, except there was only one thing to see, the endless black cloud and the rain pouring down on me. The lightning illuminated the sky, bringing sight to me once again. There was never anything to see; it was always empty.

     The world was empty, but not a bad empty. It was soothing in a way, so different from my own world or reality. Who ever's world this is, they don't care much for reality. But I don't blame them. Reality is cold and harsh. The worlds we can create as we sleep surpass reality in almost every single aspect. The only thing reality has that is better than a world we create is the seemingly random series of events in everyday life that makes everyone wonder why.

    I came across her, the creator, on the third night that I was in her world. When I saw her, I almost cried. How could she create such a place? How long has this storm raged inside of her? It was Marie-Lynn.

-Zero

Wanderer's Journal #12

     Sickness seized my dear friend soon after. It did not kill her, but immobilized her. Immobilized her mind and her body. The pain stretched far into her, like it touched her soul itself. Emotions ran wild, like forest fires. I do like a good forest fire though, so true and pure. It brings new life by carrying death across the land. It brings out a new generation of trees and other plants. It starts anew. Her emotions were the same, sometimes more like the forest than the raging fire.


     Old feelings would die, old promises forgotten. I was one of those old promises forgotten. Left, but not broken. Standing strong in the night, like a lamp. Shining through the darkness, alone but willing to aid passerby's. Maybe I've always been like this, but something tells me otherwise. Why would I want to help others? Most humans aren't worth the trouble. Most. A few are, but they never ask for the help. They're like me, street lamps along the road of life, showing others the way. Luke was another 'promise' lost.


     He had her trapped, for weeks in reality. She didn't see it, until I started to break her free. With his help nonetheless. He was an idiot, didn't know how to set a decent trap. Probably why she broke free, freed her mind. Once she was free, she was an escaped tiger. Almost completely new to the feeling despite previous experiences of freedom. I guess it's true what they say, you can't truly be free if you never felt what it is like to be a slave. She didn't consciously realize what she was acting like, or even what she was saying. Not that I minded much at the time.


     She told me the truth, about her and I. Raging fire burning. A feeling she never quite understood, even leading up to her death it confused her. I'm sure however that it has confused many people before her. Hell, it even confused me. But we aren't meant to understand something so great, something so complex. Humans are the one thing we can never truly understand, so why try? I would have easily taken the chance with the feeling if I were her, but of course I'd much rather know what would happen rather than wonder about what could have been. What could have been still keeps me wondering.


     The truth, satisfied both my hopes and fears. Well, half of them. It was the yin and yang, a balance. God I hate the grey zone in between. If I didn't have fears I wouldn't have hopes. She just happened to always make both come true. The hope of seeing her again, the hope of thinking and believing that she actually cared about me like I did to her. The fear that she didn't care in the slightest. The fear of never seeing her. I think she cared, but not as much as I would have liked. But of course, nothing's ever good enough for anyone. Every plan we ever made was cancelled.


     The truth was that she did care for me, in a way that she didn't understand like I mentioned earlier. The worst part about it is, you know that I still wonder about what could have been. She found herself a new tree growing in her forest after the fire died. Mine burned, but not to the ground. The feelings nearly disappeared, but they could never stop new ones from resurfacing. This time as well she did not tell me. She didn't see that I saw it though. Her tendencies became almost like clockwork, easy to see when set in motion.


     He wasn't familiar, almost invisible to me before. I had no idea who he was. He was, from what I saw, a perfectly okay upgrade from that scum she had been with before. I trusted this one, hoped I didn't regret it later. Feared what would happen if I was wrong.


         Only time will tell.


-Zero

Wanderer's Journal #11

   Soon she would see what hid in this cave, my cave. It wasn't a monster, at least not in my books. Its roar shook the cave already, she seems a little drawn back. Hesitant and afraid, maybe she forgot she wasn't in reality for a moment.

    It revealed itself, bringing a new light on the area. A lion, larger than life, born and made of flame. This was my inner animal, the true shape of my flame. She would come to understand it, but in many centuries to come.

    A wild animal, savage and free is what I am deep inside. I can only control myself for so long, until I break free of the chains that bind me in place. I am a slave to no one and nothing. This is what I value in life more than anything, yet now it seems like nothing compared to her life. The life I took away.

    Reality was harsh and uncertain the following day, she disappeared. I couldn't find her and the thought of her haunted me like it does now. It confused me, left me to my 'realistic' thoughts that it was too late to apologize. That our friendship was destroyed now, and forever.

     I was wrong. Very wrong. Things actually got better than they ever were. Even better than when she was mine. But she was still with him, he wouldn't set her free. He influenced her, she might not have realized but I saw it as clear as day. The drugs she once left behind her, he brought them back. Cursed her once more. She was drawn in so much by him. He still didn't deserve her. She was too good, even for me.

    She died her hair black. Black like his heart. The flames left her hair, something I'll always miss. They'll come back eventually, but that will take so much time they might just die. I couldn't let that happen. I would relight it if I had to. Burn it all off even, turn the black hair to grey ash. And from the ashes, a new flame of life would emerge. She wanted to pierce her body once more, said she wanted to go back to the old her.

     I will tell you this one thing, there is no going back. Those days back when we were kids, or even last week are out of our reach. You grow as a person, don't ever think that you aren't at least a little better now than before. I've tried to go back, tried to become who I used to be again. I failed and it was more trouble than it's worth. If there's anything I could teach her, it would be the truth of who she is. The truth of how different she is, always in a good way. Teach her to love herself, like I love her.

     Her boyfriend was nothing special. Sometimes it felt I was filling the holes that he wasn't. I was sweet, caring and protected her. Or at least I would try. He would bring danger into her life, like she didn't have enough problems of her own. His weak mind and weak body would find themselves under attack, right in front of her eyes. He provoked more people than he inspired. He was a burden, on all of us.

     They attacked him one night, outside of Marie-Lynn's second home. I wish I was there. I would have helped him, despite my dislike for him. I'm a born protector, and the danger he was in stretched out at her. All of them, she said there were at least ten of them. Ten on one, hardly fair. Even scum deserve better chances than that. Two against ten would have been at least a little better.

     I found myself at times feeling so powerless, a shield locked away in a chest. I'm there, but I can't do anything. She never has me when she needs me. I can't protect her if I'm not there. Back in those times, I feared for her. She always seemed to find trouble when I wasn't around. I thought she would die because I wasn't there, instead it was because I was there.

     I think I might have shown her what going back to 'who' she used to be. Going back to a time when she was trying to be someone else.

     Perfection is in the eyes of the beholder.
 
-Zero

Coke And Crush

I inhale and the smoke runs into my lungs. I hold it in as I hand the joint off to my friend. I exhale and feel the smoke's effect on me begin. I feel my worries wash away and happiness take over. As my friend inhales, I say, “This is good shit man.”

He nods at me and hands the joint back over to me. “We'll be fucked in no time bro.” The smoke slowly snakes its way out of his lungs as he talks. I inhale again, looking up at the stars above his house. There aren't very many, and I have no fucking idea why. But who cares? It doesn't mean they're not there. Right?

“Dude, we should smoke up here more often. The roof is a fucking chill place.” I tell him as I exhale. He nods at me and I hand him the joint. We keep passing it back and forth for a while before we have to light up another one. He takes it out of his pocket and makes sure it's in good condition before he lights it.

All of the lights in the area suddenly shut off, leaving us in darkness. All I can see is his outline and the red end of the joint. If I look up I can see the smoke rising to the sky. “Whoa! Dude, this is trippy shit! Yo, what the fuck is in that shit? Are we tripping out or something?” We start laughing and he doesn't answer me. Instead he just hands me the joint again.

“Yo, wanna try some cool shit? I just got it from our 'buddy'. He promised me that it'd fuck me up good.” He finishes off the joint and tosses it off the roof carelessly. “Besides, we're done all of our green.”

“Let's do it man.” I say, stoned out of my mind already. “What was that green called anyways?”

“Our 'buddy' said it was Orange Crush.”

“Cool, I love that drink.”

I follow him back through his parent's window and we stumble down the stairs. “In the kitchen.” He tells me. It's pitch black inside of the house and finding my way around isn't easy when I'm stoned. But I manage to find myself to the kitchen where my friend has managed to light a few red candles. In front of them there are two lines of what looks like sugar.

“Dude, is that sugar? I've tried snorting that before man, it doesn't work.” I start to laugh at him, thinking he's a complete idiot. “Oh wait... Coke?”

I stop laughing and he picks up instead. “Duh, dude. You think our 'buddy' would sell us sugar? He knows that shit's not good for you.”

He hands me a straw and nods at me in the candle light. I have second thoughts. What if I get addicted? Dude, I know Coke is expensive. I can't afford to get addicted. Stuck at a stoned crossroads, I stand in place holding the straw motionless. My friend, tired of waiting, sticks it in his right nostril and blocks the other one. He inhales, following one of the lines of Coke, and the addictive drug shoots into his body.

“Holy shit, man!” He says after he's done, pulling out the straw and holding onto his nose. “That shit hits you right away!” He starts laughing hysterically, as if he lost his mind entirely. “Yo, man, we should invite the girls. I got some more. We'll all get fucked together.”

He vanishes into the darkness as he looks for a phone. I think he finds it because he begins speaking to something. I can't make out what he's saying but my interest is quickly lost. I'm still standing motionless holding the straw. Something about this doesn't feel right, even for a fucked up druggy. I don't even know why I'm doing this shit. It's not like I'm from the ghetto. My family isn't poor and isn't drug users. I don't even smoke cigarettes. I make fun of those addicts who stand outside in the cold just to get a little buzz. But at this point, am I any better?

“K, the girls are coming, man. They sounded really fucking excited about the Coke. It's good shit, ain't it?” My friend stumbles across the house, tripping over things as he heads towards the red candle light. I still haven't done it. I don't think I can. The Orange Crush begins to wear off, or at least stops giving me a clouded mind. I think.

“I haven't done it, man. I'm not sure about it. It's kind of sketchy, don't ya think?”

“Not at all, dude. You need to chill. The girls will be here any moment. Try not to scare them off like you did with the other ones.”

“Fuck you, man.” I say seriously, but he takes it as a friendly thing and stumbles off to the front door. Somebody's knocking, but something tells me that it isn't the girls. I think about leaving out the back door, which is only a few feet away from me. I dismiss the thoughts as paranoid and my friend finally makes his way to the door. The door opens.

“Hey, boys!” One of the girls yell into the darkness beyond my friend. They can't see the light from the candles from over there.

They take a couple steps into the house before they scream. The scream pierces my ears as it echoes through the house. A stoned laughter follows it. “Asshole!” They yell at my friend and slam the front door, with them still inside.

“Vasil? Are you there?” The first one yells into the house. I stand there in the only light in the house and consider yelling back. My parents named me Vasil, which apparently is derived from a Greek word for king. Freaking crazy-ass parents.

“Yeah. I'm here.” I say without letting much emotion out. If anything I sounded annoyed. The red candles continue to burn with the Coke in front of them. The wax seeps down them like Satan's tears and I drop the black straw in my hand.

The girls find their way to the dying light of the kitchen, only to find me standing there like a statue. The Orange Crush is known for taking away all the worries in the world, but its only temporary. That carelessness fades far too quickly for me. My parents gave birth to a thinker, someone who will always spend his time thinking about what he does and what others do. No amount of drugs can ever take that away from me, as sad as it is.

My nostril begins to burn with the thought of taking in the white powder. I inhale, and blow the Coke away. “Vasil! What are you doing? That's not how you do it, you high piece of shit!” The girls exclaim, half serious, half joking.

“I know what I'm doing. Go help him up, I think he's fallen down. I'm going outside, to look at the sky.” I tell them, pointing towards the door where a loud thump had come from. I walk to the back door and stop in front of it. I look down and realize that I never took off my shoes. I slide open the glass door and walk out into the cool night.

The girls go help my friend up and they head back to the dying light of the red candles. I overhear bits and pieces of what my friend is telling them. He's probably explaining my odd behaviour. “Don't... Bout... He's... Breakup...”

He's probably talking about my recent breakup with Malika, whose name is probably Arabic if I'm right. It was nothing, just a short relationship. It wasn't longer than two weeks, so it's not like we really got serious at all. It was just fun, like all the others. She didn't seem to understand that, and neither does my friend. But right now I don't think he understands anything.

I start walking around to the front of the house. Without the lights of the city, the stars can finally be seen. It's a new moon tonight, making the stars the only light in the world. I walk up the road, with trees from people's lawns hanging over me. I remember back about two weeks ago seeing Malika in the moonlight. It was breathtaking, how could I not go after her for some fun? Any guy in his right mind would.

The world around me seems like it's asleep. A deadly silence carries itself through the neighbourhood. Bats can be seen flying like death above me, catching the clueless bugs for a quick meal. I follow the road up, and turn on the next intersection. I eventually find myself sitting on a park bench. The peace seems so beautiful and perpetual.

I start heading back to the house. Chances are that they're all stoned out of their minds right now and probably need some help. But they need much more than just the help that I can offer. Maybe some rehab would do it. Maybe Satan could have a nice little talk with them. Either one works for me. Suddenly sirens begin going off and they grow louder and louder with every step I take towards the house. When the house is just out of view I see an orange light on the horizon as a firetruck races past me. A police car and ambulance are farther behind me and I manage to stop the police car.

“What's going on?” I ask, trying to be heard over the sirens of the ambulance as it passes. The police officer motions to the back of his car, and I get in. The sirens of the car are turned back on and we speed off to the scene.

“There's a fire, probably from someone forgetting to blow out candles before bed.” My heart stops as I think back to my stoned friend.

The house pulls up on the horizon, engulfed in a crimson flame. I almost puke, but I swallow it. The car stops outside of the burning house, and I immediately jump out. I look at the fire and I can hear the sizzling of human flesh, accompanied with the sound of boiling blood. “Oh my god...” I say with tears burning down my face like melted wax.

Firefighters rush out of the house empty-handed as the house collapses onto itself, sealing the doom of those inside. “It's all my fault.” I whisper to myself. “It's all my fault. It's all my fault. It's all my fault.” Everything goes black.

I wake up in a hospital bed sometime after. No one tells me how long its been and the white of the room is blinding after the perpetual darkness I had just escaped. I move my body parts and it takes more energy than usual. I've been here for a long while. I can't stay in this bed forever. I turn and sit on the edge of the bed and prepare myself to stand. My bare feet touch the cold hard floor and my legs almost give out under me, but they hold me. I stretch and look around the room.

There's only one bed in the room, a small chair beside it, and there's a window that looks out onto the city outside. I go to look out of the window, but before I make it there I hear a voice that I never thought I'd hear again. “Vasil!”

I turn towards the door and see Malika standing there with the largest smile I've ever seen on her face. “Malika? What are you doing here?” I ask her, realizing that I sound more aggressive than surprised. But that's pretty normal when it comes to me speaking to my ex-girlfriends.

“I came to check on you, is that alright with you?” She says, returning my aggression and surpassing it as well. She isn't really asking if it's alright; she's telling me that it doesn't matter if it is or not. I nod, answering the rhetorical question anyways.

“Just surprised that's all.” I say to her, then the thoughts from that last night come back into my head. “Look, I'm sorry for hurting you. I thought you knew it was just for fun. I thought you knew about my reputation.”

She smiles at me. “Oh, I did know. I knew it was going to happen. But even with the walls around your heart, I managed to get in. Otherwise you wouldn't be saying sorry.”

My heart stops dead in its tracks. She's right. She got in. That's why I still care. “How long has it been since the fire?” I ask her, trying to change the subject.

“Just a couple of days. You really had everyone worried.”

“What about the others?”

“Your friend and those girls?”

“Yeah.”

“Dead.” The ice comes off of her tongue, and I realize her own heartlessness. I thought she was not like me in anyway.

“Why are you so cold?” I question her, planning on destroying the walls. No one should be that cold. It's just not natural. Compassion and empathy is what makes us human. Without them, we are nothing more than heartless machines of death and destruction.

“I'm just as cold as you are, Vasil.” She tells me. My mind rejects the idea, but it seems to understand that I really was that cold once. But that was before the fire. After hearing the sizzling of human flesh, and human blood boiling, I don't think I could ever be so heartless again.

“You're just as cold as I used to be, Malika.” I say in a dominant tone. There is no way I'm going to let her dominate me. “Do you know what really killed my friends? Orange Crush and Coke. And I know you know what I mean by that. You are, after all, who introduced my friend to that world. To think that all this time, I thought you were innocent.”

“You're just an idiot, then.”

“Stop. This is crazy. Why are we fighting?”

“I don't know. Just seems like what we ended up doing.”

“We can't let ourselves become crimson like the fire that killed my friends. It'll destroy us too.” The sad part is that what I'm saying is true. Anger and hate only leads to more anger and more hate. It's a never ending cycle. She just nods at me and turns to leave. “No. Wait.”

She stops and we sit down. We look each other in the eyes. Her near-black eyes meet my grey eyes and they lock onto each other. At first there is silence and 4 minutes pass. Then, we get into a conversation that isn't aggressive or angry. She tells me about her own life, past and present. I tell her about my past and what went through my mind the night of the fire. She laughs when I tell her about my friend telling me not to scare off the girls again. As crazy as it seems, I feel myself warming up to her. It's like every word is bringing us closer together. Is she really like the rest?

The nurse comes in about three hours after we started talking to tell her that visiting hours are over. She jumps when she sees me awake and runs out again. The sun shines through the window, and the white of the room is emphasized. “I think you have to leave.” I say to Malika, actually regretting it.

“Probably. But let's wait until someone tells me that I have to.” She replies with a gentle smile on her face. We continue to talk, now on the topic of taxi drivers in Ottawa. We laugh together as the nurse walks back in. The nurse is carrying something, but I can't make out what just yet.

“Here's your clothes, you can leave whenever you want.” She tells me, and then walks out of the room. I look at Malika and give a smiling shrug. I guess I should get dressed.

“I'll go wait in the hall.” Malika says with a smile as she gets up. I reach out for her hand, but she's already turned around and started walking away. The door opens, and then it closes again, leaving me alone once more. My hand hangs there as if it is waiting for her to come back. But she isn't unless I call her back in. It drops with its will broken.

The hospital gown slides off, exposing my bare body. I look down at myself and see cuts and scars across my body. I don't know where they came from. Suddenly a broken feeling overtakes me. I slowly slip on my own clothes. They feel warm, but most importantly, concealing. The sunlight fades and the room seems to fade to a grey.

I walk out of the room and leave for the exit of the hospital. Malika follows like black death. I stop and turn around. “Why did you stop?” She asks me.

“Tell me why you're following me. What is it that drives you? Be honest.” I question her as if it is an interrogation. She shrugs at me, shaking her head as well. I look into her eyes and see my own reflection in them. “You're playing with me.”

She starts to laugh, mirroring the laugh I let out when she said the same to me weeks before. “Of course not, baby. It's all in your pretty little head.” She repeats word for word, mocking me, yet being totally serious. It's almost like we just switched places.

“Fuck off, whore.” I reply and turn to walk away. But something stops me. A pain shoots across my body as one of the cuts reopen from the small blade in her hands. A dark laughter overtakes the hallway. The white of the hospital begins to fade, slowly turning the darkest black imaginable.

“Careful what you say, baby. You're weak and easily hurt. Just like I was.” If this was happening to someone else, the irony would make me laugh so hard I'll cry. But this is happening to me. The hunter has become the hunted, essentially. Can someone please just shoot me?

I back up, but find a wall blocking my path. I'm in a corner, trapped. She dances with the blade, reopening all of my cuts and scars. Crimson red begins to flow from my body and a lightheaded feeling begins. But the feeling is quickly cut off by adrenaline. My body feels like it's a do or die moment. So do I.

I charge her. The knife stabs through the side of my ribs. The pain is unbearable. My hands wrap themselves around her neck. I squeeze as hard as I can. Slowly, I push her to the ground. I sit on top of her. The life escapes from her eyes. I stand up and realize what I just did. I look at my hands and pass out from loss of blood. There on the floor two of the same person lie dead. It isn't murder, but suicide.

My eyes open to find themselves looking up at the full moon. I turn my head and see Malika in the moonlight. Her beauty is unrivalled. I hardly resist the urge. Her head turns and I see the light brown eyes that truly belong to her. My wrist stings. I look down at it. Scars from self-inflicted wounds attempt to hide themselves, piling on top of each other. I slide my sleeves back down.

“Why don't you come sit beside me?” My heart stops. Her voice sounds pure and innocent again. I shake my head. I jump off of my friend's roof.

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Just a note, Malika is the arabic word for Queen. It's something I came across thanks to my own friend, Malika. Vasiliás is the Greek word for King. Just thought I'd let you know.

-Zero

Wanderer's Journal #10

      The stars shine bright with the sign of my demise, can I just hurry up and die? Because my life has fallen from the rise and the eternal darkness awaits my mind.

      Anger turned to tears, and the tears were burning as they went down my cheek. I wished she stayed. A few days for others don't seem all too bad, but for me it's as long as a few years. A few years alone, again. This time it's my fault. I scared her away, I forced her hand. I don't remember exactly how many years went by before I saw her face again. She was looking back at me. I was in class, she wasn't. I guess something about the new relationship made her feel like she had to rebel, something I do but to my own kind. She walked by exactly five times, each time meeting my eyes. My heart was racing and my mind was focused on nothing else. The thoughts swelled up and pushed the work I was doing right out of my mind. I had to go see her, I had to talk to her. Best part about being such a good student, my teachers do not mind if I just get up and leave class if we're not taking notes. When I'm gone by three doors down played over and over again in my head. It's the song, the band I have connected to her in my head. I'd never let her down, even if I could. At least I thought I wouldn't. I looked out into the halls and surely enough, she was waiting for me right outside the door, gazing upon student art work. I'll mention this fact now, student art work is normally dreadful work. Nothing worth more than the paper it was scribbled on. She looked at me, both expecting and surprised. She knows me well, but it's purely instinct.

     I break my barriers for her, I reach out for her when all seems lost. Fear and uncertainty had controlled me for too long. It kept me tied to the solitude, afraid of another Kim. It is not what drove me to walk outside of the classroom. I'm not actually entirely sure what did and I've pondered about it for all this time. Her smile stopped my heart, dead in it's tracks. Gentle and unsure, but still welcoming me. She wanted this as much as I did. Maybe after seeing me the first time she wanted to see my face again and again. Maybe even trying to tell me to come to her. Her voice was as gentle as her smile, and was a much higher tone than mine. That's the reason I couldn't block out her voice. It was the only thing I wanted to hear.

     Our talk was nothing like we had back when we argued. The anger seemed to fade. I still wondered though, was it too late to apologize? It's only been a week maximum in reality, I think at least. I still wondered, was her anger still boiling inside or did it simmer down? She showed no anger, just surprise. She repeated what I was doing a few times, shock I suppose. "You're talking to me.." She didn't have the tone telling me to stop, actually it felt more like she never wanted it to stop. That night she would reenter my world, and find it's grown quite a bit in her absence. Eventually during our chat, an acquaintance of mine from another class came up and started talking to us. Marie-Lynn didn't know her, maybe she wanted me to herself, maybe she felt like going back to class. Marie-Lynn headed back to her classroom, which was just up the hall from mine. My acquaintance kept speaking to me, for only a short time before she decided to head back to class before her teacher finds her.

     That night, I showed Marie-Lynn the wilds of my world. Places that overgrew while she was gone, it was nearly impossible to travel through. The bush was too thick. I drew the blade, made from the stones of this world. It was a light blue in color, glowed a little as well. I preferred the broadsword over the katana when traversing the wilds. Double edged blades cut more easily through branches and overgrown leaves. I brought her to the waterfall, the fateful waterfall. We stepped through it, into the cave behind it.

     The water crashed down upon our heads, yet wasn't crushing us. The cave was dark and wet, except for the one lone flame in the center. Maybe I forgot to mention what I see when I see the hair that rests on Marie-Lynn's shoulders, fire. The auburn turns to orange, orange like fire. I honestly loved her hair for that, gave me hope. Don't ask why, I don't know. The fire burned with no fuel, yet never died out. It would remain there for millenniums to come in my world, like it has before then. She didn't ask about the fire, to find fires around my world was common. I didn't say at first the significance of this specific fire and why I hid it behind the waterfall. I would have to soon however, especially when a roar shook the cave like an earthquake.

-Zero