Ça Commence (French and English Poem)

Juliette, my love!
Ma belle fille; ma chère!
Tu es tout mon monde!
Tu es mon amour!

Allow me to speak,
In any language,
To your heart, ton coeur!
Mon français est drôle,
And I can't write songs,
That might move your heart.

J'échoues, mon amour.
But I won't fail you,
Or so I hope not.

I hate Shakespeare now!
He's made you cliché!
You are much greater,
That that worthless play.
Car t'es vivante,
And Romeo is not.

You are not a play,
And yet you suffer
From a tragic life.
The play has cursed you!
Stupid, wretched thing!
Your love-life is cursed!
Les garçons d'avant,
The poor times you've had.
Ton coeur est blessé!
But that means injured,
Poor girl isn't blessed.

Anyways, my love,
I want for the world
To know our love!
It transcends language!
Surpasse les Cieux!

J'adore ton sourire!
Et ton nez bouton!
You are perfection!
I want all to know,
So that they might turn
Green with Zilia!
You are the beauty,
That men see in life!

Oh, dear Juliette,
Tu es mon monde.

-Zero

Another Year Gone

     One year ago today, I wrote about the different characters that had been so dominant in the year, and in my life, until that point. I would like to do that again this year, but I have very little to say on the matter. Simply put, there are only one or two new characters that have appeared.
     The first is, of course, Miss Swan, who I had met at my campsite in Eganville while on a vacation of a sort. She has been the subject of many poems since early August. Also, in the November just past, I began a novel titled "A Plead To Iris" which focuses heavily on Miss Swan herself. I find it strange to say that I have reached the end of what I have written about her, but at the same time, I find it quite alright.
    The second is my dear Isabel, who I had written about before hand. However, Isabel, or Izzy if you will, has reached the point where she and I are far too distant from how we used to be. Thus, all of the inspiration that I have that involves her is completely fictional, as it should be I suppose. It is also a way for me to test William Wordsworth's idea about the "emotion recollected in tranquility" that is a skill of the poet, according to him. It worked well, I suppose, but I have not finished the most recent, however. The most recent story in which Isabel shows up is "Kuna Zero: A Wanderer's Tale", so you can easily imagine why it might be taking a while.
     These two, along with Malika, Brianna, and Katherine, have led me to question the very nature of my relationships with them. These relationships vary from ex-lovers to nearly absolute strangers. It is only in recent days, however, that I have begun to consider other relationships that I have had. Thus, I will tell you now of the button-nosed stranger and the other Queen which makes an appearance in my most recent poem, which I may one day share with you.
    The button-nosed stranger is simply that. She is a girl of about my age that I would see on the bus some mornings. She is quite beautiful. I have never spoken to her, nor do I ever intend to. She served a purpose in my life that was entirely based upon her distance. It was her who led me to consider the nature of the relationship one has with absolute strangers. In a strange way, it helped me deal with the loneliness I find myself often suffering from. This is because I found strangers to be absolutely wonderful in how they do not create an illusion of friendship or of closeness, but rather have no problem in showing and recognizing the distance between themselves and another. It is beautiful.
     The other Queen, however, was a good friend of mine at some point. Oh I was quite fond of her. She was intelligent and kind, to say the least. She and I ceased our friendship a day or two before I met dear Miss Swan. This sudden shift allowed me to not bother my mind with that which I had just lost. But I knew that one day I would have to face it. Thus, I decided to write a poem (currently titled "The Slave and His Queen") about the two of us. It was with this poem that I came to the conclusion that all that can change cannot last in the form that it is in. Therefore, by extension, I realized that no relationship can last through the test of time unless it is unchanging in nature. However, such relationships are based upon pure indisputable facts. For example, one's mother will always be one's mother. This relationship is based on something fundamentally unchanging about a person, much unlike friendships which, as I have discovered, can be subjected and torn apart by arguments or mistakes. For the benefit of this theory, if you have something that refutes it, please leave it in a comment below so that we may better define the nature of a relationship.
     Earlier I stated that there were only one or two new characters that were dominant in the year and it seems to be quite untrue at this point. Perhaps it is better to say that only one or two new characters have dominated my writing over the past year, as the button-nosed stranger and the other Queen, as I call them, are only written about in one poem each. The button-nosed stranger is referred to in my poem "My Strangers" however. These characters only played a part in determining my theory about relationships that is quickly discussed above. I do not doubt that I may write about them again. But I believe I have gone on for long enough. I will leave a poem here for your entertainment. It is a shorter poem for me. I wish you a good holiday, for those who might be off work, and a happy new year. Until next time!

A Story Told

A story told is a story heard,
Whether it is written,
Or spoken,
Or recited.

Whether it be a novel,
Or a short story,
Or a poem.

Whether it is true,
Or false,
It does not matter.

A story will always be a story,
And the means of how it is told,
Will never change that,
Nor will the identity of the teller
Remove the identity of the story.

-Zero

"The Disaster of Our People" and "Inaction of Our Time"

The Disaster of Our People

     Such a sadness there is in those who did not and, on occasion, could not act. Great tragedies are felt across the land. An overwhelming sadness stands over it. But why do such things happen? It is in our nature to be violent and yet we reject it fully. Still when such events happen, the majority is left powerless. Have we forgotten how to act? This is not the first time, nor will it be the last, I am sure. To end the killings entirely is to do the impossible; it is to suppress human nature. But it is possible to act nonetheless.
     We must use the information given to us instead of hoping someone else will. What are the weapons used to slaughter our children, our friends, our family, our neighbors? The weapons used for slaughter are weapons of war. Is it a war being waged on our lands? It would seem to be, but who is fighting who? Those who commit such crimes against humanity have an identity. Who are they? How can we oust them from the homes that they threaten? This is where the problem is.
     We cannot distinguish them from ourselves, as they are us. We fight against ourselves, but for what? Is it for pleasure, or honor? Is it to protect each other? Surely the latter is impossible, as if we truly aimed to protect each other, then this fratricide would not happen. No, we fight for ourselves. This is how it happens.
     We treat those who scare us either well or horribly. The act of treating them horribly results in revenge. It is our fear that controls us. This fear can be healthy, but when one is too afraid to act, it is destructive. Is it fear that keeps those weapons of war and slaughter so accessible in a land of peace? If so, then this fear enables the slaughter to happen; we enable the slaughter to happen.
    We know this and it frustrates us. We don't want the slaughter to happen, but we don't know how to act. Our fear robs us of the knowledge to fix the problems within the people of this land. We are one person together. This person suffers from internal wars born of fear, frustration, and hate. This person stands divided in every aspect of being. This person understands some of the great wrongs but finds that he/she is doing it to his/herself.
     Perhaps the fear of death is why we say murder is wrong. If it is, why would one kill one's self? We know there is something worse than death. That thing is the fear controlling us, the inability to do anything. We see such horrors, but cannot stop them. We are passive receivers of the torment. We have forgotten how to act.
    But inaction will not last. Soon our frustration will grow and become unbearable. It is then that real change will come, for we will be too angry to allow our fear to hold us back. We will overthrow the tyrant that had been oppressing us for so long. It is then that we will change the world we live in for the better.

Inaction of Our Time

I am sick of this:
Waiting for heroes
To sweep us away,
And defeat evil.

Action must happen.

We are forsaken
By all the heroes.
They have not left us.
Yet we are without.

I wait no longer.

It is the losers,
And the powerless,
The beaten and weak,
Who will rescue us.

We must join forces.

All must be as one,
To battle evil,
This evil of ours,
The evil within.

Inaction dies now.

I refuse to fall,
When others need help.
Our revolution
Will  begin tonight.

Our frustration roar.

Our conscious screams,
For we can do right.
And we will do it.
It is time we fight.

We are our heroes.

 -Zero

Wanderer's Journal #23

      Often I wonder what use there is in telling this story. It is ridden with bad thoughts and hopeless loves. The end is known all too well. What surprise might await the reader? I suppose the surprise has long been dead within me. I suppose these entries are really just for me to reflect upon so that I might have a way to fill the eternity I have been given as punishment. I will be honest now. The conflict between Mili and Marie-Lynn was short-lived. The night-eyed girl's statement that “the innocent cannot survive much longer” may have been true, but Marie-Lynn had lost her innocence long before then. Such separate lives these two girls led. They were only connected by me. I created the horror of their conflict. I built their hatreds higher and higher until even I could not climb it. This entertained me a little, I think. But alas, reality was bound to come find me soon again. In this case, the reality was that their contact was limited. It was so limited that they nearly forgot about each other completely once a larger distance was created. Marie-Lynn was leaving.

      I asked her to stay but she told me that it was out of her control. We were still teenagers back then, so it seemed quite probable. The night following her departure, I found myself within my own world once more. This time it was not as colorful as it had been once. It was made of stone, or so it seemed. Everything seemed solid and as unmoving as could be. The trees were made of jade in their entirety. The grass did not exist any more. I wandered about this hard and unforgiving world for some time, pondering about its meaning. I climbed mountains and walked over oceans, as they were made of sapphire. It took me some time to come across that which had saved me before. There in front of me it raged like the great Achilles. It was bound to nothing and never ceased to move. Its very presence seemed to contradict the world around it. I stumbled toward it, recognizing it instantly. I tried to place my hand upon it, but it would not sit still. This caused for a smile to break across my face. I followed the flame's movements as it danced across the stone world. I wondered where it might stop but then realized that it never would. There was a certain bliss in knowing its constant nature. As time wore on in my world, I slowly found myself dancing within the flame. I felt it engulf me happily. Once I was fully emerged in it, the world suddenly changed. It all became black for a moment. Then it burst into life. The trees became like those in reality and the water turned back into a liquid. A warm breeze blew from the south. The world had reawakened. The fire then disappeared, having served its purpose. The clouds began to form in the clear summer skies. I saw words in them, but for some reason could not read them. It only took a moment for them to be spoken to me instead.

      “I have to go.” Marie-Lynn's voice said from behind me. I spun around and found myself face to face with her. She appeared saddened by her own words. I placed a hand on her shoulder and nodded.

      “If nothing ever changed, everything would be set in stone forever. We would have never met.” I replied knowingly. She smiled in return and quickly vanished. I reached out into the air where she once stood. I felt nothing but empty space. The Marie-Lynn I saw in that dream was fabricated by my own mind. I was familiar with the manner in which it creates people and recognized it right away. I smiled with a broken hope and turned back around. The sun was setting on the horizon. The times were changing. I opened my hand behind me and created a comfortable chair out of nothing. I then promptly sat down in it. A snake slithered up to me. It was carrying an apple with it.

      “Where did she go?” It hissed in the most friendly manner that it could muster. I pointed in a random direction and sent it on its way. It would never find Eve.

      It was then that I realized that there was a distance between Marie-Lynn and I that I could not traverse in the real world. It was a distance in the heart, I suppose. But I would rather argue that it was a distance due to my world. We had become so comfortable spending years together apart from all else that we had forgotten what it meant to be alive in reality. It was never as pleasant as we made it seem while we were dreaming. But that is all we were doing. It all amounted to nothing in the end. Well that is not entirely true. It led to her death. Even now as I wander the broken land of men, I find myself thinking that the real downfall of our relationship was not in what we called reality, but rather in where we spent most of our time. We were subjected to the dream world for far too long to understand what it meant to have a love like ours in a world like that. It would not last. It did not last.

      I awoke the next morning with tears in my eyes. I wiped them away quickly and got ready to leave the house. I refused to remain there. I wanted to wander about the world. One could say I was looking for Marie-Lynn. But I knew where she was. Not exactly, but I had an idea. She told me the name of the town she was going to. She assured me it wasn't large, but that it was far away. I recognized the name and knew she was telling the truth. Maybe I might have walked there if I had hope for the future, but I had grown hopeless after a long night. So I wandered the streets of the town that we had shared for a time. I had nothing else to do with my time. I revisited the spot where Mili and Marie-Lynn had clashed so strongly. I visited where she once lived. But I could not visit where she did live. The walk was too long for someone so broken down. The world did not seem quite the same as it was the day before. It was empty. People who walked by me had blank expressions. They seemed emotionless. The beauty in the world was sucked from it violently, as I no longer smiled when I saw the squirrels of the area chasing after each other. I had always found it to seem quite playful in nature and took pleasure in watching them run about. But after Marie-Lynn left, I saw their chases for what they really were. They were battling over food, dominance, and territory. There was nothing pleasurable in their chasing for anyone anymore. The sun shined too bright that day as well. It did not take me long to return home. I locked myself up in my room and blocked out all the light I could.

      I just wanted to be left alone in the darkness forever.

-Zero

My Strangers (Poem)

Illusions of friends;
Friends of nothing.
It is all for naught;
They amount to nill.

What may rescue me?

The random faces,
Unknown and silent.
So anonymous,
Yet familiar.

What may rescue me?

Strangers on the bus.
Strangers having tea.
Strangers reading books.
Strangers thinking deep.

What may rescue me?

Button-nosed strangers,
Old and wise strangers,
Middle-aged strangers,
Very young strangers.

What may rescue me?

Relationships true.
No one to deceive.
Nothing to make up.
No reason to lie.

They may rescue me.

Not an illusion
Of friendship conjured.
They remain distant,
No illusions made.

They may rescue me.

No need for contact,
For that would ruin it.
Keep our distance strong,
Companionship same.

They will rescue me.

In them I find peace,
Truth and loyalty.
They have no duty,
Only to themselves.

They have rescued me.

-Zero

The Unanswered Question

     I feel squeezed. I feel trapped. Oh wait... I am trapped. I look around myself and see a barrier of a sort. I can't quite identify what it is. It looks almost as if it is not really there, but when I try to reach past it, something stops me from going any further. It doesn't really feel hard. Actually, it's soft like one of my friend's hands. I can't seem to place a name on who's hand, though.

     I can't really remember how I ended up like this. I didn't notice it before. I know it wasn't here when I was a child, so I guess adulthood created it. But when I reach out again, that belief becomes doubtful. Why is it like this? Why does it mock the feeling of my friends' hands? They're all here, it seems, but just outside of the barrier. I can't reach them. Can they hear me?

     "Hey! I'm trapped in here!" I yell out to them. They don't seem to notice. I guess they can't hear me. They'd help me otherwise. Maybe in order to get out, I have to become a child again. How do I do that? Wait, did I ever really grow up? I can't seem to remember anymore. Maybe I should give up. It's not so bad in here.

     "Remember when we were kids?" A voice asks me. It wasn't one of my friends' voices. It was familiar but not nearly close enough to one of theirs. I smile and nod to the best of my ability. "What do you remember?"

      "I remember being free. I could run about the woods as I pleased. I played with my old childhood friends from dawn to dusk. I hadn't a care in the world." A nostalgic smile spread across my face. It nearly mirrored the smile that I once had on my face at all times when I was younger.

     "What has changed?" The voice questions again. I'm not sure what to reply. I hardly noticed the change happen. Maybe? No, that's crazy. "What has changed?" It asks again.

     "I got old." I reply. It is the only reply that I could have mustered. It is the truth after all. At least, I think it is. It laughs. Its laugh is childish and actually kind of cute. It brings back memories all of a sudden. The memories of a girl that I had a crush on back in elementary school.

      Her name was Sandra. I spent every recess with her. We'd run around the playground in summer, fall, and spring, and build snowmen, snow angels, and anything we could in the winter. We were happy. But then something happened. Her mother got a promotion at her work and in order to take the position she had to move across the country. I was heartbroken. We begged her mother to stay, but she wouldn't listen to us. By the end of elementary school, Sandra moved away. I never saw her again.

     A tear forms in my left eye. It escapes it and runs down my cheek. I haven't felt tears in years. It's wet, but strangely warm. It falls from my chin and hits the barrier. Nothing happens. I wait and remember further. More tears fall. I miss her.

     Something begins boiling deep within me. "Is that truly the reason?" The voice asks. I shake my head without really noticing. I feel the boiling getting stronger. I begin to shake because of it. "Is that truly the reason?"

      "No." I spit out, still attempting to maintain my composure.

      "Then what is?" It questions further, forcing me to dive deeper into the cause of my entrapment.

      I feel the frustration begin to surface. It's not a frustration of hopelessness, however. It is the frustration that comes when one realizes that he/she has placed himself/himself in that position where they are trapped. The person becomes the jailor. My hands reach out to the barrier and feel it again. My eyes open.

     They are holding me here. It is their hands that surround me and trap me. They can hear me. They just choose to ignore me. "My loneliness is the reason as they are empowered by this and thus trap me here."

     "Can you break free?"

-Zero

An Ode to my White Powder (poem)

This white powder,
It tickles my nose
As I inhale.

This white powder,
It is a drug,
Making me dream.

This white powder,
Makes my head spin,
When I see it in abundance.

This white powder,
It is like cocaine,
Highly addictive.

This white powder,
Is not cocaine.
It is fundamentally cold.

This white powder,
It is quite soft,
Even when made into balls.

This white powder,
Does have a name.
Figure it out.

-Zero

Another Victory for Me!

As of just before midnight of the twenty-seventh of two thousand twelve, I became a winner of the year's Nation Novel Writing Month (NaNoWriMo). National Novel Writing Month, for those who are unfamiliar with it, takes place throughout November during which the participants attempt to write 50,000 words of a single novel. I participated last year. In fact, I won exactly one year before this win, as both times were on the late night of the twenty-sixth of November. Last year I was writing about the night goddess, Zilia, and this year I was writing about the distant Liliana Swan. I suppose you could say that "A Plead to Iris" (this year's novel) is much more happy than "Love: A Chaotic Insanity" (last year's novel). Unlike last year, I actually fell behind in my word count during the third week. Luckily for me, there just happened to be an all night write in at a fellow participants house nearby. I attended and wrote roughly eleven thousand words. I might have finished earlier, and not fallen behind, if I did not have so many essays to write. In fact, I actually did not write for NanoWriMo some nights because I needed to work on an essay that was due the day following. Now, with NaNoWriMo done and a majority of my essays done, I am left with time to relax and catch up on the sleep that I so desperately need.

     Moreover, due to the fact that I had been so busy all month, I nearly neglected my blog entirely and I must apologize for this. However, I would not be surprised to find myself posting parts of "A Plead To Iris" or even of "Love: A Chaotic Insanity", as I am currently editing the latter and will hopefully get around to publishing it before Camp NaNoWriMo of 2013, which will apparently be starting in April (most likely due to the shutting down of Script Frenzy).

     I believe I have flaunted my victory enough for the time being. Thus, I will take my leave and steal some of that mysterious sleep that I have heard so much about. Until next time,
-Zero

When Winter Dreams of Friendship (Poem)

When Winter dreams of friendship, it sees you.
It was your donation that inspired me,
But I suffer still a problem, it seems.

For when Winter dreams of you, it is warmed.
But should Winter warm, it would become spring.
And to become spring would destroy Winter.

Therefore, when Winter dreams of you, it melts,
And when it melts, it becomes something else,
Something that would contradict Winter's life.

But perhaps when Winter dreams of friendship,
The change would not destroy sweet Winter,
But rather would become something greater.

So when Winter dreams of friendship, it grows,
Warms until it becomes reality.

-Zero

She With the Royal Name (poem), and NaNoWriMo Update

Oh She with the royal name,
Must you plague me again?
I once gave my life to save you,
And yet I refuse to talk to you.

Oh great Arabic Queen,
Must I fear you still?
I thought my death freed me,
And yet I fear talking to you.

Oh sweetest daughter of Aphrodite,
Must I sit in silence again?
My mind churns with ideas,
And yet my heart seems to ignore you.

It is clear now that my feelings for you have died,
And that this fear is simply social anxiety.

------------------------------------------
     Hello dear readers. I am sure you are aware that it is November once more, thus it is National Novel Writing Month again. A year ago, I was highly focused on the woman being addressed in the poem above. She was the inspiration for "Love: A Chaotic Insanity", "The Girl in the Leather Jacket", "The Return of Hope", and many other stories and poems. As you can tell from the above poem, there has been a dramatic change within me involving her. Now that I am starting NaNoWriMo again, things are different. She has no part in my novel and most likely never will. Now on to my novel specifically.
     My new novel is called "A Plead To Iris". It is a collection of unsent love letters from a poet to the woman he married. The letters tell the story of how they met, the times they shared, as well as the trials and obstacles that they faced. Perhaps I may post a part of the first draft, but I would not hold my breath waiting if I were you. Now, I must be off. Take care, will you? Until next time,
-Zero

Punished by the Guilty

The night was dark.

    My feet shuffled through the leaves nervously. I watched my back carefully. They were looking for me. They were looking for revenge. They would have it.

    I knew my fate. I ran nonetheless. I did not need to stop to catch my breath. They did. This placed much needed space between me and my pursuers. It would not last long.

     Torches lit ablaze from the fires of Hell followed me closely. They were carrying them. When I would look to see how far away they were, it seemed that they were always closer. The torches always burned brighter.

     I hated the light. I was escaping it. Light always brought clarity. Clarity brought understanding. Understanding brought self-loathing.

     "I see the monster!" One of them cried from behind me. The light had found me. I quickened my step. I thought I could outrun them. I was wrong.

     "Then capture it and we will send it to Hell where it belongs!" Another one of them yelled out. I looked over my shoulder. They were ten feet away. I was as good as caught. The light burned my back. They came closer.

    An eternity passed in these next moments. I ran, but I waited. I waited for them to capture me. It seemed to never come. Then it did. They brought me to the ground. My head was covered. My limbs were tied. Moments later, I was being carried back. Punishment awaited me.

     "Good job, boys!" A voice congratulated them. A hand hit me in the stomach. It was painful. "This thing is hideous, isn't it?" They laughed hatefully in agreement. "Set it up over there."

    They carried me. They tied me to something. It felt wooden. My head was bound to it. The cover was lifted. My eyes adjusted. The light burned my skin. The flames of Hell burned so close to me. I was in a room. It was small. It was unfamiliar. On the ground before me lay a half-eaten corpse. It was missing a head. The head was lying on the other side of the room. It was unfamiliar. They crowded around the corpse.

     "Look what that monster did!" They exclaimed. I could not speak. I could not defend myself. One came up to me. A knife quickly sliced off some of my own rotting flesh. They watched in sick anticipation. The one with the knife shoved the flesh into my mouth.

    "Eat it!" It yelled orders at me. I did as it asked. My flesh was flavorless. It smiled. It joined the others.

     Another one walked up to me. It had no knife. It had a torch. It stuck it against my body. I felt excruciating pain. They laughed cruelly. My body caught fire. The flames of Hell were consuming me. I knew not what to do with myself. My eyes searched the room. My eyes found one of them taking off a bloodied shirt. He looked up. His face was covered in blood. It was human blood. I looked back at the corpse. It was her blood.

Then the flames banished me from that world.

-Zero

Union (Poem)

The Rage.
The Flames.
The Beast.

You are a part of me,
We both know that,
But we are so separate.

We are in a conflict,
A war with each other;
We both want control.

I think what truly drives us,
Is our want to exist,
Without the other's oppression.

But our war is for dominance,
As the victor will rule forever,
And the loser will be lost.

Complete dominance is not good,
For either of us,
For we would be unbalanced.

An unbalanced top,
Is bound to fall,
And that would be the victor.

Neither of us want this,
So I will suggest
A simple solution.

I know what you are.
You are power,
And I need you.

You know what I am.
I am control,
And you need me.

Thus there is no point in war,
For it weakens us both.
Let us work as one.

Should we learn to work as one,
We could both benefit,
But first we must learn.

We must learn to rule as one,
As separate entities,
But together as one.

In essence we are two kings within one,
And fighting would only bring
The fall of our kingdom.

Both of our skills are needed to rule,
As a passive ruler is overthrown,
And an aggressive ruler destroys himself.

But a strong ruler,
Who is not blinded by rage,
Nor controlled by fear,
Can survive in a harsh world,
By exercising his will,
His strength and intelligence.

 People will bow to his will,
And will put trust in his choices,
But most of all they will love him.

If he is not guided by rage,
He will wage only needed wars,
And be kind to his people.

If he is not guided by fear,
He will fight the needed wars,
And protect his people.

Thus a union is needed,
As you are too angry,
And I am too fearful.

Your anger will give me courage,
And my fear will give you control,
Allowing us to become the perfect king.

Now we shall enact this idea,
And rid ourselves of our weaknesses,
Allowing us to achieve so much more.

Place your clawed hand out,
So that my careful one,
May shake it.

Good. This unites us.
Now we will forsake this war,
And work together to better ourselves.

-Zero

The Painful Truth (continuation of "Identity")

The sun breaks through the windows and shines on my face. I wake up and slowly sit up. I gaze around the light room. Nothing has changed except for the clarity given. The details of the walls and the furniture become visible to my waking eyes. I pay no attention. Silence dominates the large room. I wait. Three hours pass before Emily awakes.

“What are you going to do about it?” She asks me as we finish up our breakfast of bacon and eggs. I wash my plate and turn around. I shrug.

“What can I do about it?” I reply as I head back to the couch that I had slept on.

“You can destroy her. Or you can try to defeat the Joker.” She tells me, throwing the book in my direction. It lands flat on the couch and bounces up lightly. I grab it and flip it open to the page with the twisted smile on it.

“How can I defeat him? He's not even alive. He's a ghost, a spirit.” I say hopelessly. “I can't touch him. I can't even mess with his mind. He'll just continue messing with mine. What use is trying to fight back?”

“Ever heard of a spell?” She suggests to me. “Magic?” I nod my head in response.

“It's a shame it doesn't exist. We could have a magician make the Joker disappear.” I laugh lightly at my joke. She rolls her eyes at me and walks over. She puts her finger on a piece of text on the opposite page of the picture.

“Read it. Out loud.” She orders. I do as she says.

“Should the Joker's laugh fall upon my ears, Let him be banished from me, Stop him from feeding from my fears, Force him to set me free.” I look up at her. “Is this supposed to be a spell?”

“Yes. And it works too.” She assures me. I look back down at the spell. “But there's a little problem with it.”

“What?” I ask. She shakes her head and clearly refuses to speak. I search the page for any more information regarding the spell. I find it. “Requires a blood sacrifice?” I exclaim in shock. “What is this? A satanic book?”

“Not necessarily...” She says shamefully.

“Then what is it?” My voice begins to escalate, due to old Christian beliefs inherited from my parents. She takes a careful step back and stares at the floor.

“It belonged to my mother. She thought the idea of heaven to be foolish and preferred the heat, the passion, the power. She never meant anyone living any harm, but sometimes a sacrifice must be made to get rid of evil.” Her hand moves towards her left arm and rubs it carefully.

“You've done it haven't you?” I question. My rage subsides out of pity. “That's why you know it works. He had you before too, didn't he?”

“Yes!” She exclaims after a moment of silence and then lifts her shirt and reveals the scars on her arm. Etched into her skin is 'HELP'. Sadness overwhelms me. “He was too strong. He wanted too much. I had no other choice!” She tries to justify using the spell.

“Anything else about the spell that I need to know?” I ask, avoiding a response. She looks out of the windows as if she is looking into another world entirely.

“Yes.” She says without looking away from the other world. “You have to reveal the evil you were tempted to do to those who you would have done it to.”

-Zero

Arctic Fire (Poem)

Heat where there is none,
Helping me survive,
As this land cares not,
For my existence.

It will not feed me,
My rations run dry.
The water freezes,
And my lips are dry.

This land is water,
But it is drought.
Rainfall never comes,
Yet the sky is cloud.

Here people are not,
Except for just me,
But I am hardly,
As I am fading.

I thank Arctic Fire,
As it warms my soul,
And provides relief,
From unforgiving.

This land does hate me,
But this fire does not.
No, it loves me so,
And I embrace it.

The flames are orange,
Against the grey world,
It is free and strong,
Burning with great ease.

It fills me till full,
And hugs me till warm,
Like a friend would do,
When times are so rough.

Arctic Fire I love,
Just like the Winter,
As both have caught me,
When I was falling.

The world does hate me,
Just from time to time.
It pushes me down,
Into a dark pit.

And I fall non-stop,
Until I am caught.
But they will catch me,
They are not alone.

To begin there is,
Winter and its cold,
My own human friends,
And Arctic Fire.

Each has their own place,
The Fire's is this land,
As Winter feeds not,
And men exist not. 

But this Fire feeds me,
Unlikely it seems,
As it melts the ground,
And provides water.

And this Fire exists,
For I am alive,
And the world is changed,
But the Fire soon leaves.

I must leave soon too,
As I am ready,
Due to Arctic Fire,
We leave together.

-----------------------------------------------------------
This poem, just as "Winter's Dreams", was inspired by a tea that I enjoyed while sitting at the Tea Party on York street in Ottawa, Ontario.  I suppose it is about the feelings I felt when first having it, or perhaps even when I have it each time.

-Zero

Winter's Dreams (Poem)

The snow has fallen,
The cold has set in.
The sky has turned grey,
The sun has gone 'way.

I shiver and shift,
Looking for some warmth,
The warm winter light,
And those saving thoughts.

I sit before glass,
Looking at the world,
Consumed in the white,
And hidden away.

What is it we want?
Winter has fallen,
But in its rising,
Do we truly sit.

We dream away time,
Thinking of summer,
But that is not me,
But rather all you.

Before the leaves fell,
I wanted Winter,
For its graceful light,
And comforting cold.

I am Winter's Dream,
And I have come true.
For we all want love,
Winter is the same.

Most hated through time,
Winter feels empty,
For lack of love's fill,
As none of us give.

Thus I will donate,
This love (was yours once),
To the forsaken,
As it once saved me.

The cold was my friend,
And held me through night,
When I had no one;
I was forsaken.

It was time most dark,
Full of mad sadness.
None would come save me,
But Winter was there.

No season had done,
What Winter did do,
As it gave me peace,
Through the silent streets.

I disliked people,
Alone, I wanted,
As they confused me,
With their little games.

But the cold shunned them,
And forced them inside,
Allowing silence,
In the streets I walked.

Thus I love Winter,
Like my oldest friend,
Who often saves me,
From my own darkness.

Summer is boring,
Too many people.
I love dear Winter,
For it has loved me.

-Zero

Identity (Continuation of "The Joker")

      We arrive at her apartment. The building towers over us in the dark night. Windows seem randomly placed all along the front wall. No lights are on in any of the rooms. She grabs my hand. My heart rushes in response as she pulls me toward the broken wooden door at the top of some stairs. She pushes it open and drags me inside. The building is black. I can't see anything. Silence pierces my ears.

      “How do you know where you're going?” I ask her as she swiftly pulls me through the darkness.

      “Experience. The owners are too cheap to light up the hallways at night.” She tells me. Suddenly, she stops. I bump into her.

      “Sorry.” I quickly apologize. I hear a key enter a socket and turn. The lock slides out of the door frame. A doorknob turns and the unseen door swings open. Emily tugs on my hand and I follow her through what I assume to be the door frame. A switch flips and the room lights up. For a moment, all I can see is white. The door slams behind me as my eyes adjust to the lighting.

      “I know. It's a little bright.” Emily says with a light laugh. My chest warms up mysteriously. The white walls become distinguishable from the pale red furniture. The floor is fake hardwood. It looks like plastic. The apartment seems to be one large room with two side rooms. Ahead of me, living room furniture and kitchen tools seem to mix and match in front of a small television. On the far wall, there's a window with blinds drawn over it.

      “You got that right. Doesn't help with all of the light colors.” I comment in a friendly way. She takes off her shoes and casually walks towards her pale red couch. Her eyes look at me from over her shoulder and wait for me to join her. I follow the unsaid instructions and sit down with Emily.

      “I like light colors. They keep it nice and bright in here. Unlike your room.” She says playfully. Suddenly she becomes serious again. “Now back to the Joker. Do you know what he is?”

      “A spirit?” I say vaguely. She sighs in response and nods her head slowly.

      “Yes, Oliver. He's a spirit. But he's not just any spirit.” She pauses and looks about the room with her dark green eyes. She seems to find what she is looking for and jumps up. She grabs a book and plops herself back down beside me. Emily's fingers flip through the pages. “Here it is!” She exclaims and then shows the book to me. Strange runes and symbols litter the page. An image of a tall slim man dressed like a medieval joker dominates the right page.

      “What's so special about this? Is it supposed to be a picture of him? He doesn't seem so bad.” I say to her unknowingly.

      “Look at his smile, Oliver!” She tells me and points at the man's smile. I follow her finger, not expecting anything bad. Suddenly my heart begins to race with fear as the man's twisted smile comes into view. A large crescent moon lies across his face, engulfed in blood and made from two rows of sharp demonic teeth.

      “Is that the Joker?” I ask her, diverting my eyes from the image. She looks at me, nods, and then returns her attention to the book.

      “It reads here that 'the Joker spirit is known to be one of the most evil and most destructive of all spirits. He plays with people's minds and has them destroy themselves both willingly and knowingly.'” She reads to me. Fear spreads across her face. Emily's eyes find themselves looking into mine. “What ever you do, don't listen to him. Stay strong.”

      “Will I be able to? He enters my thoughts without me letting him. He only left when you showed up. Something about you pushes him away.” I ask her, questioning my own strength. For a moment she seems to suffer from doubt, but she shakes it away.

      “You can. I'll be around to help. Now, come on, time to get some sleep. It's late. You can sleep here.” She replies as she gets up, cradling the book in her arms. “There are some blankets and pillows on the ground beside the couch. Sleep well.” She says sweetly and then enters one of the side rooms and closes the door.

      “You too.”

-Zero

I warn you of Dreams (Poem)

As I partook in my usual rituals,
I came across something curious.
To me, it was something habitual,
But perhaps to you, it may be more injurious.

You shut your eyes and saw me,
Whispering things to you that are not,
This, I hope, you do see,
As they are simply the most sought.

I warn you now of Dreams,
Visions of the subconscious,
That pull at our minds at the seams,
But fulfills no promise.

I have suffered from such madness,
As I know you have seen.
It brings nothing but sadness,
I'm sure you remember the night queen.

She tormented me without knowledge of it,
Rather, I was the one tormenting me.
I took a shovel and dug a pit,
And jumped in, as I could not see.

I was blinded by the false visions,
The ones conjured by my deepest desires,
The ones that caused my bad decisions,
Leading to my burning in the fires.

So thus, I warn you of the false.
These ideas are dangerous,
And abuse your every fault,
They are so treacherous.

Shelter your soft heart,
And steel your mind,
Against the subconscious's crazed art,
And the past that should be left behind.

-Zero

The Joker (Continuation of "The Price of Evil")

“If you had the opportunity to cause the destruction of a person, would you do it?”

“What are you talking about?” Emily asks me in a shocked tone. I look ahead and avoid her questioning eyes. I repeat my question.

“If you had the opportunity to cause the destruction of a person, would you do it?”

She looks up at the star-littered sky. Her head shakes from side to side in decisively. “I don't know.” Her eyes return their focus onto me. “I shouldn't, but that doesn't mean that I wouldn't.” They become questioning once more. “What is this all about?”

“You're going to think I'm either crazy or evil if I tell you.” I assure her. She shrugs and gives me a small friendly smile.

“I already think you're both.” She jokes. Seriousness returns to her face. “What's going on?”

I sigh in response. “It's her again...” I confess first. She nods at me understandably. “But that's not it. There's something else. Something worse.”

“Worse than her?” Her face becomes worried. “What is it?”

“I think it's me, but it almost feels as if it's something apart from me at the same time.” I begin to explain. Her feet shift nervously as she finds a place to sit nearby. I follow her to a nearby park bench. The world is colorless right now. Nighttime does that. The normally green leaves are simply black, or grey, and look just like everything else. The bench is cold and hard.

“Like a voice or something?” She asks once we are settled on the bench. I look up at her and nod.

“Yeah, a voice. It's dark, Emily. It tells me to destroy her. Or, rather, let her destroy herself, but help her get started.” I pause for a moment. Before she gets the chance to reply, I continue. “I was dealing with it before you showed up. For some reason, it didn't come with us.”

Her gaze is a mix of disbelief and worry. She shifts closer toward me, much to my surprise. “This isn't funny, Joker.” She says. I shake my head in response.

“I'm not kid-” I try to defend myself, but she cuts me off.

“Not you. The Joker spirit.” Her voice is as serious as I've ever heard it. She looks off into the distance and lets out a sigh. “Him and I have met before.” She stands up quickly and returns her disbelieving gaze to me. “Come. You're staying with me tonight.”

-Zero

My Love for the Empty Romance (non-fiction)

    Upon completion of a novel, titled "Strangers", I came to realize what I enjoy most in literature. I dare say that I feel it strangely fitting, if not worrisome. After all, what I enjoy most in literature is the idea of an empty, or broken romance. Simply put, I would rather a sad ending than a happy one. Perhaps I was born to prefer tragedies over love stories. Perhaps I simply take pleasure in seeing others suffer. Or perhaps it is because I see myself as the character in each one. I believe the last is the most accurate. I have been constantly bothered with memories that claim that I am to blame for the loss of those I do truly love. It has been many years now. First it began with Admeta, if you will, which is reflected in my unpublished novel "The Knife In Admeta's Back". When I had first started writing about Admeta, there was still hope in the love component, but reality hit me with a force I had not expected, making me lose any hope that I had possessed. I moved on, more or less, and continued. Of course, then came Kim, who I had fallen for even harder than I did Admeta. Our relationship would not last, leaving me empty and broken like the romance we once shared. She ended up manifesting herself in many short stories and novels ("Kuna Zero: A Wanderer's Tale" and "The Beginning of the End"), but even those that began romantic were crushed by a perpetual feeling of loneliness. There is no happy ending with Kim. And then I met Marie-Lynn, but of course, she was but a figment of my imagination; and therefore, I was tormented by the reality that I could never have her. But alas, the true Marie-Lynn has seen no ending what so ever, as she only appears in "The Beginning of the End" which is still in development. I do not know how it will end. However, after the original Marie-Lynn came the Brianna girl, who I ended up associating with Marie-Lynn in a poor attempt to realize that dream. If you have read the "Wanderer's Journal", then you should be quite aware of the second Marie-Lynn's hopeless and tragic ending. I see no break in the cycle, except for perhaps with the only one who does not exist.
     Above, as you may have noticed, is a photograph that has been edited. It is my style, I suppose, as it is mostly black with some white. I am the one who took the photograph and edited it, for those who may wonder. It was on purely artistic inspiration. I do not usually tamper with photography. But I digress. The photograph is titled "Empty Romance" and thus displays the empty, or broken, romance that I have been writing about for so long. I shall explain it, for I am afraid that some symbols may have much more meaning to myself. First, I shall speak of the empty bench in the center of the frame. Perhaps due to some other art work, the bench represents a romantic setting. In this photograph, however, it is quite small and almost transparent, similar to the romance itself. Moreover, it is empty and the entire photograph is entirely devoid of people. The trees that hang over blend together to create one large black mass, giving a sense of an overwhelming darkness. The entire purpose of this photograph is to portray the emptiness of the romances that I have so far experienced. I dare not say that it is intended to depict the emptiness of romance as a whole, while that may be an interpretation. Anyways, it is late and perhaps I ought to read more about loneliness and such. Take care, will you? Until next time,

-Zero

Marie-Lynn, My Dream (poem)

Among the life-filled trees of green,
Awaited a girl I had never seen.
Past the cobalt pond,

And beyond the stone wand,
I came across her,
And I was sure.

I knew who she was,
As one, in a dream, often does.
Her name did not escape me,
'Marie-Lynn', a quiet glee.
She knew me well,
That I could tell.

Her hair was down,
And a beautiful light-brown.
With every breeze it danced,

I was simply entranced.
It flowed down as waves,
Gentle ones that did save. 

And her eyes, I could never forget,
For they were as green as they get.
They mirrored the trees,
And made me feel at ease.
Within them lay truth,
And an eternal youth.

She was the essence of life,
And the opposite of strife.
She was my savior,
From my own behavior.
She was the light,
When all was night.

But I could not escape reality,
Or save such vitality.
For it was but a dream,
And she but a gleam. 

It has been many years,
And I have suffered many fears.

Some of which still haunt,

And scream and taunt.
I reach for quiet,

But find a riot.
Marie-Lynn, save me,
Marie-Lynn, I plea!

But I am merely ranting,
About something so enchanting.
I must realize the truth,
That she is but a dream of youth.

Her essence is a lie,
But still I ask why.

Why must she be fake?
Why can she not be awake?
Is it because of the dark,
For it corrupted my heart?
But she is my savior,
From my own behavior.

The dark is not to blame,
For it is so tame.

Perhaps it is the fire,
My deepest desire.
I saw no fire that night,
But I felt it in the light.

I know not what to say now,
Nor what to make a vow.

Except I remember this world,
In the dream, reality unfurled.
I blame not this world then,
But rather myself again.

I am to blame,
For I forgot my shame.
It was a dream,
And a false gleam. 

It got the better of me,
But now I see.

Yet, I still yearn for her,
Marie-Lynn, the one I prefer.
Perhaps I am cursed with this,
The thought of her, eternal bliss.

So I will allow her to fill me,
For reality is naught compared to she.

-Zero

The Price of Evil (Continuation of "Dark Sunrise")

     "My name amounts to nothing now." I say sadly as I re-enter the dark room after a day in a personal hell. I had done what he asked. But it was not over yet. I walk to the desk and sit down. My pen waits expectantly for contact. I hesitate before picking it up. I flip open the black notebook and wait for him to say something.

     "Not necessarily true, dear puppet." He tells me. My heart stops as I read the words on the paper over and over again. The yellow light from the lamp sudden feels blinding. "It means something to me. You should know that."

     "But what do you amount to in the end?" I question him. He disgusts me, but I don't know what else to follow.

     "Something to believe in. Something to guide you. I am the light in the dark." He replies and for a moment I can almost feel his smile. I shake my head and stand up. I stumble into the darkness of the room. I purposely hit my head against the wall.

     "What is this feeling inside of my chest?" I ask myself. A twisting motion of emotions spins throughout my body. My arms burn with an unknown rage. My legs shake from fear. My stomach churns with regret. My head fails to understand any of it.

     I get up and sit back down at the desk so that he can reply. "It is power. You took pleasure in taking her down. Once you admit it, you can begin to realize what you truly are." I stand up once more and quickly walk away.

     I put my head in my hands and rub my forehead in a poor attempt to clear my mind. Then I try to shake the ideas out of my mind. I spin around and face the desk as if he was standing there. "And what exactly am I?"

    This time, he feels no need to write it down. He merely whispers it in my ear. "You're a monster. That's what you are." I shake my head desperately, but feel a part of myself agree with him. My arms, in a fit of rage, grab the chair and throw it across the room. It hits a wall and breaks apart. Pieces fall to the ground. I look in amazement and horror. "See? That proves it." He continues.

     I reject the idea immediately. "I'm not a monster!" I begin to panic. "You... You just want to destroy me too!" I scream into the possessed and empty air.

     His voice is calm as it whispers again into my ear. "Dear puppet, you are the one who has destroyed you. You should have known the price of evil. You belong in the hell that you exist in." I drop to my knees in reply.

      "I can't... No..." I mutter pathetically as fear takes over. I fall backwards and stare at the dark ceiling that traps me in this space. I roll over and curl up into a ball. "I... I... I can escape it..." I try to convince myself, but the voice does not help.

     He laughs. The laughter pierces my heart and fills me with fear. "Embrace it and perhaps you will get used to this hell." He suggests. I consider it for a moment.

      "That... might work." I say with a sigh. I regain some of my strength and find myself sitting down. "How... do I?" I ask him weakly.

     I feel his grin pierce me like a dagger in the heart. "You have more friends. They may be weakened by you as well. You are so powerful and they do not even realize it. Destroy them and admit that you enjoy it." He whispers with a crazed and empowered tone.

      I'm about to reply when there is a knock at the door. The sound is soft and suggests that someone equally soft is at the door. I look up at the desk and wait for the voice's approval for me to open it and see who it is. He does not say anything. The visitor does, however. "Oliver? Are you there?" I recognize her voice immediately and rush to answer the door.

     I swing it open and greet the familiar woman with a smile. She gives me a sweet smile in response and brushes some of her dark green hair out of her face, revealing her matching dark green eyes. I feel the voice slowly leaving me. "Hey, Emily!" I exclaim happily.

     "Are you alright?" She replies immediately, looking at the pieces of the chair that litter the floor. She goes to step inside, but I stop her and slip on my shoes. She gives me a confused glance.

     "I am now. Let's go for a walk." I insist and then begin pulling her away from the small dark room. From the back of my head I hear the angry voice.

     "This isn't over."

-Zero

A Dark Sunrise

     "Your eyes betray you, mortal." The haunted pen scribbles, nearly illegible. The voice reappears in my head and tells me to continue. "And your ears know not what reality sounds like." I pause again, only to have the voice order me to continue. "But, I will give you true sight, and allow you to hear the truth, so long as you aid me." I stop and it waits for a reply.

     I stand up and step away from the little black book. "It's nearly full." I remind myself and then begin to pace around the darkened room, lit by a small lamp on the oak desk. The floor is empty. It had to be so that I would not trip. "I knew this would happen..." I mutter to myself. I hear the voice again in my head but I ignore it this time. "It only wants an answer."

    In a moment, I rush back to the notebook and seize the pen in a crazed wrath. It begins to speak once more. "She deserves it. You know that. They all know that." There's a pause of dead silence and dreadful suspense. "You just need to trigger it, that's all. Follow my instructions and we'll have tons of fun!"

     I throw down the pen and stand back up. "I don't want to have that sort of fun. It's... It's..." I search desperately for the word that I already have. "Evil..." I finally mutter. A dark and cruel laughter fills my mind. I walk back to the desk and pick up the pen. I examine it and find that it is still in working condition. I sit back down on the matching oak chair.

     "Evil is such a strong term. I am not asking you to commit murder, silly mortal. I am simply implying that you help that woman realize her faults." The pen writes with my hand. The black ink sinks into my notebook and tugs at my emotions for her. I shake my head furiously and drop the pen once more. I rub my forehead in a distressed confusion.

     "Won't you just leave me alone already?" I scream in frustration. The room echoes my words back at me. I quiet down. "I'm all alone..."

    My hand reaches for the pen and begins to speak to me again. "I am your conscious, silly mortal. I can never leave you alone. But I may quiet down if you do what I ask." I stare at the paper and feel a rage submerge. "Good! I like that rage of yours! Now put it to use!" The voice writes. I hit myself in the head in a poor attempt to wake up.

    "Can't you get one of the others to do it?" I plead into the darkness around me. I imagine him appearing behind me and patting me on the shoulder. I imagine what his face would look like. "She knows. She refuses to tell me..."

    "They have no power over her, not like you do. If she falls, you will be the one who pushed her, but worry not, for the blame will be placed only upon herself.  The others will not expect a thing, dear mortal. You are safe." It reassures me. I watch the ink stain the white paper black once more.

     "But she trusts me..." I reply weakly. It is winning me over; he is winning me over. I can't hold him off much longer. I stand up and am forced to sit back down and write.

     "If she truly trusted you, she would reveal my appearance. You understand that, surely you do. You are not a fool as she would try and make you. Resist you must, mortal, or she will consume you." He writes with my hand. I lose control of it and the accompanying arm.

     "But..." I go to object, but find myself at a loss for words.

     The hand goes crazy. "There is nothing left standing in your way. When the sun rises once more, her downfall will come. Then you be freed from her tyranny."

     "Sunrise?" I say as I look out of the only window in the entire room. The window is pathetically small and only provides me with a glimpse of the sky. I see the black of the sky turning to blue slowly, but surely. "That's so soon."

     "I do not wish to have your mind twisted and torn by that woman. She must fall as soon as possible so that you remain free of her tyranny!" It reassures me. I find myself believing the voice all of a sudden.

     "So what do I do?"

-Zero

Another Dream (Poem), and Update

Green eyes, they flash;

Time flies, turns to ash.

I remember you,

From last night, I do.

I saw your smile,

That's your right, and not vile.

But I wish that I was blind,

Just so I could keep my mind.

For your presence drives me crazy,

When my memory is so hazy.

But when I am awake

You're here; my head shakes.

Your green eyes, their beautiful shape,

My mind tries; I cannot escape.

Green eyes, they flash;

Time flies, turns to ash.

I remember you,

From last night, I do.

But from a dream I saw

You, the girl, my graceful flaw.

--------------------------------------------------------------

     Now, for those who have been reading my work for a while, I thank you, but I am sure you can understand this poem more than anyone else. As a quick explanation, I shall refer to a poem of mine that I commonly call 'Living Nightmares', I believe. "By day, a haunted man I wander/ By night, twisted dreams and ideas I ponder." The poem itself is about the dreams I suffered about one specific woman in my life. This is why the poem above is titled "Another Dream" for it is another dream, but atlas, about another woman, which I am inclined to take pleasure in. As you could most likely tell, but I do not wish to allow my mind to suffer from such a condition again, and thus wrote this poem almost as a way to free myself of it. Now there are other things I must address.

     First of all, as of yesterday I am a winner of the August run of Camp NaNoWriMo (a link to the website will be included at the bottom). In this run, I wrote about Innocenzio Dell'Aera from the point of view of the Great Raven, also known as death by those who are unfamiliar with my poem. The first draft of the novel was finished with the end of Camp NaNoWriMo, and is titled "The Knife In Admeta's Back". It was initially planned to be a traditional mystery novel, but atlas, I fear I deviated from the norm. Perhaps one day you will have the chance to read it. But I must be off for now, for there is work to be done. Until next time,

-Zero

Link: http://campnanowrimo.org/

The Good Man (Poem)

The Good Man knows evil well,
But not from experience.
He sees it and does not commit it,

For he understands that it causes harm.

To cause harm is to commit evil,

And to plague one's heart.

His heart is immune to the disease,

That devilish disease that men love.

Evil is an addictive poison,

But the Good Man is immune.

The Good Man knows good well,

From the truest experience.

He loves it and does nothing but it,

For he understands the value of life.

To do good is to worship life,

And to strengthen one's heart.

His heart is the strongest of all,

Gladly willing to hold all else up.

Good is food for the soul,
And the Good Man is best-fed. 

But there is a flaw in the Good Man,

Something that renders him useless.

It is something dark, but not evil.

No, it is too true and rather sad.

The flaw in the Good Man lies within him.

His flaw is his perfect good.

It is hard to admit why. 

But admit I must.

His perfect good is impossible;

The Good Man is not a man at all.

-Zero

The Original Draft for Admeta

     I suppose you could call this a modern day Romeo and Juliet. I’m not quite sure if that’s what it is, but it seems fitting. The date is October 31st 2010 a Halloween I will never forget. Leading up to this night I would have never expected this to happen. It seemed like every other Halloween except the moon was full and illuminating the dark night. Even the stars were brighter tonight. It all seems connected, as if it was fate. I am like every other guy my age, excluding the numerous cuts all over my body. Mostly from sharp rocks from hiking and cliff diving. People had started to arrive for the Halloween party my friends and I were holding. We grew too old for trick or treating because apparently sixteen year olds are too old to do that. My parents left for the weekend so we had the house to ourselves. People kept flowing in like a stream of water. People kept mentioning how the moon is so much larger tonight. It’s almost like the old stories we hear around our little valley town about the connection to the spirit world on Halloween. They’re just stories though, which I had to remind many people who showed up. Soon enough we had a dancing house filled with drunken teenagers. I didn’t drink anything, I couldn’t stand the feeling that alcohol gives me. I walked around trying to find her. I wasn’t sure if she was able to come at all. I asked everyone, checked every room but no one had seen her. I decided to go outside for a quick breather after giving up on finding her. I slipped through the crowd and found the front door. Right before I opened it someone tapped me on the shoulder so I turned around and saw who it was.

     “Where’re you going?” He asked. I could smell the alcohol on his breath so strong I wanted to hurl.

      “You scared me a bit there Rick, I’m just going out for a walk in the moonlight.” I quickly explained wanting to get out the door as soon as humanly possible.

     “Alright Buddy! Just don’t get lost!” He laughed and stumbled off.

     I shook at the thought of being so intoxicated and made my way out the door. Once I was outside I could smell the moisture in the air and found myself thinking that it would be raining later. I walked down my street always lacking in people, no one ever came here. The tall pine trees seemed almost ominous as they towered over me. I reached the river that flows through the town; my street goes right to it. I started to admire the way the moonlight reflected on the water and how the beauty was somehow enhanced with the smell of the pine needles. It felt like I was where I belonged for the first time. I stood there and did nothing else for at least an hour just absorbing it all. Then suddenly I heard a noise to my left. I quickly turned to see what had caused it. Then I saw her. She was also admiring the river without noticing that I was no more then twenty feet away.

     “Admeta! Over here! It’s Innocenzio!” She quickly looked around and when she saw me she started to run towards me. I ran towards her and caught her in my embrace. “You got out? What if your parents find out?”

     She hushed me and said “For now I don’t care. Innocenzio wake up, we’ve been dreaming about seeing each other again since we met. Now the dream is real. I don’t care what trouble I get in, for now I have you and that’s all that matters to me.”

     I decided she was right. Every night was filled with the same dream of the water lilies and us sitting together by the river without any fear of the consequences. We would just sit there and gaze at the stars the smell of pine filling our noses. The perfect night together that we dreamed about every night had finally become real. Just then as I thought about it I realized that reality is never as good. She whispered something in my ear. I couldn’t understand her but I knew what she wanted. I pushed her back just enough to see the eyes that burned with a passionate fire. For a second I could hear the cracking of flames and could smell the smoke. Then we closed our eyes and I pulled her in for a kiss. Our lips pressed up against each other and suddenly our deepest most desperate desire was answered. Then we heard a scream that pierced our ears like a dagger and we fell to the ground attempting to block the sound out. When it stopped I realized where the cracking of flames same from. I jumped back up and looked to the sky noticing the smoke. Then came the yelling, the angry kind that would scare anyone out of their wits. It was coming from Admetas’ house. Her parents would find us soon and the entire town is awake. She got to her feet and gave me a worried look and I told her to hide. Once she was well hidden I took off at full speed heading back home. When I arrived I could feel the heat from the road and was engulfed in smoke. I found my way to where everyone had run to once they realized the house was on fire. I asked everyone what happened and if anyone’s still inside. Luckily no one was left inside. I sighed when I heard how the fire was started; Rick did something stupid and ended up lighting the place on fire in his drunken stupor. Rick got lucky no one was killed; only one person was burned badly.


     *Time passes, Innocenzio starts reminiscing about the first day he met her*

      I remember when I saw her for the first time. It was around a year ago at our school, the only place we were even allowed in the same room. Our class had been playing Pictionary because our teacher decided to give us a break from our school work. She was the only person who just sat in her seat and waited until class ended. I had been tired that day and I’ve never been a big fan of Pictionary. I mostly kept silent with my head down. All it took was one glance up to look around to see her. I was immediately captivated by her beauty in the dim light. The look on her face I will never forget. She looked at the others in such a way I forgot she was even human. She seemed like a goddess that had come down to watch us and protect us from ourselves. Her blonde hair and blue eyes only convinced me more that she was different. Her eyes looked a much deeper shade of blue, like the great blue of the oceans. I quickly got lost in her eyes and I lost track of time. In what seemed like a second the bell went and brought me back to reality. I couldn’t get her out of my head. She was like the incurable disease of my mind. Every night I dreamt of her for weeks following. Yet all that time I never could work up the courage to go speak to her. Luckily for me I didn’t have to. About a month from the day I first saw her, we by chance had to see the teacher about a piece of work he assigned us. He asked me where it was and I told him it was in my locker. Then seemingly out of no where she said with as smirk that it was at the bottom of my locker. I stood there shocked. Even now I have no idea how she knew. I’m sure she can read me like a book and she loved to read.

     *A couple months after the fire*

      Like always she looks like a goddess. Today her white top and beautiful smile made her glow. It was almost impossible to look away from her. I’m a moth drawn to the light. Today she is the reason for every positive thing in the universe. It’s like the sun rose just to see her today. I would love to capture her beauty and never lose sight of it but, I know her beauty must be free. No picture could ever capture her glow yet alone her sheer beauty. I spent nearly all class gazing at her from across the room mystified by her glow. Then like always the bell rang and that meant class was over. My only class with her this week ended in what felt like minutes. I knew that soon she’s moving far away. I don’t know where just yet but, it’s far. I hoped I could merely gaze at her a while longer but, it turns out she’s moving in around three weeks. It’s too soon for her to leave. I don’t want to be separated from her at any point in my life. Only being able to see her a few times a week kills me. The thought of never seeing her again is destroying me. Once she leaves, she’ll be gone forever. 

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This is the first piece of writing that involved Admeta as a character. She was loosely based off of a friend of mine from back in 2009. It was initially a novel idea, but I forgot about it within a year. Right before I started Camp NaNoWriMo for August, I started to consider continuing the novel. Of course, my sick morbid mind twisted the idea and changed the story. I thought that I might as well continue the story anyways. I have fallen behind temporarily, but I have no intentions of allowing myself to not achieve victory. I shall keep this short and end it here. Until next time,

-Zero