Monday, June 27, 2011

SP Fanfic P9

Rosella was waiting for her when she stepped inside the warehouse. “How’d you get in?” She asked.

“Pardon?” Nyx replied, confused.

“In here,” Rosella gestured to the door. “I put a chain and binding spell on that thing.”

“Ah. Right.” Nyx hesitated. “Ninja powers?”

Rosella studied her for a moment then shrugged. “OK, whatever…”

They both stood still for a moment awkwardly, trying to think of how to start a conversation. “So you didn’t kill anyone.” Rosella said finally.

“How can you tell?” Nyx asked, adjusting the sunglasses that had somehow stayed perched on the bridge of her nose. “Well, apart from your eyes, which are covered, your-“

“-body tells a story of its own.” Nyx finished for her.

They stared at each other again. “You work for Dusk.” Nyx hated stating the obvious, but right now, it seemed necessary. Rosella nodded. “Yeah, you too.” It wasn’t a question.

They stared at each other for a while more, before Rosella started grinning. “What?” Nyx asked. “I’ve always wanted a sister!” She murmured excitedly.

“Sister?” Nyx asked, raising an eyebrow.

“You’re exactly like me! We both work for Dusk, we’re assassins and,” she added quietly. “We both regret doing it.”

She stood still, swaying slightly, as if there was a strong breeze in the warehouse. A tear escaped from her eye, even as she blinked rapidly to hold the others back.

It was the first time she had cried in three years.

Rosella stepped forward and hugged her tightly, as if she might cry too. “You know,” Nyx muttered, shaking in her arms, “you’re rather gentle for an assassin.”

Rosella grinned and stepped back. “That’s me: the Gentle Assassin!” She announced proudly. Her smile lit up the dim room.

But, before they could start singing an emotional song together like in the movies (which was Nyx’s fear) the door burst open, throwing a long shadow in the warehouse. Their eyes followed the shadow to a man dressed completely in black.

He was the same man who had framed Nyx. She leapt at him with a snarl, drawing her katana that was still strapped to her back.

He responded by pulling out his katana at the last moment, and sliced the air with it. The sound of metal clashing against metal ringed through the door-less warehouse, but neither of them winced. Although, it was rather hard to tell, as the man was wearing a mask that covered his face, and Nyx was still wearing the dark sunglasses that were perched impossibly still on the bridge of her nose. Rosella jumped up in time to see the two ninjas battling at –what seemed to be- the speed of light. She jumped up and drew her twin daggers, and crept stealthily behind the huge man. Meanwhile, Nyx was dancing with death. She dodged another swipe of his katana, lunged with hers, which he dodged in turn. It reminded of her of when she had practiced with another ninja like him. So alike...

A flash of metal appeared before her, catching her unaware, and sending her tumbling to the floor. She rolled away from the spinning sword, but not before it sent her katana flying away from her. She crouched, waiting for the killing blow, but he was distracted by another figure behind him. She grinned. Rosella… She looked around, but the only items she could find were an empty pistol, and a packet of “Pascall” marshmallows. A sudden, crazy idea hit her, and her grin widened until it threatened to devour her whole face. She bent down, ripped open the packet of marshmallows, covered them in a hard, black glaze –using her necromancy skills- and loaded the empty pistol with them- all the while muttering: “I can’t believe I’m doing this…”

The first shot she missed, shooting the hardened marshmallow into the wall where it smashed- but made a small dent in the metal. She took a deep breath and focused on the man who was concentrated on fighting Rosella Embers. She fired, and hit his shoulder. He growled and wheeled around to her, while holding Rosella off with one arm. She fired again and hit his stomach, causing him to stumble for a second. That was all she needed. She dived in and threw several punches at him before he regained his balance. He caught the next punch, and kicked her in the knee, which made her stumble as well. A hard clang rang around the warehouse, and Nyx glanced up. The man was lying on the floor, with a beaming Rosella standing triumphantly over him. She was holding a fraction of the door that must have flown off when he had pulled it off its hinges.

“So,” she said brightly. “Are you going to tell me your name now, or am I going to have to deal with you the same way I did with this psychopath?” Nyx couldn’t help but smile along with her.


“So, Nyx,” Rosella said, testing her name for about the thousandth time. “You’re saying this guy framed you for committing a murder that you actually didn’t do?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying,” Nyx replied. After they had bound him to the rest of the door with a binding spell, they had removed his mask to reveal that he was truly unconscious. Feeling reassured that they were safe for now; they had plenty of time to catch up on one another’s lives (not to mention that Rosella couldn’t stop laughing at Nyx’s new invention: the marshmallow gun). Surprisingly, they had a lot in common.

“I don’t think he did it just for someone who might have a grudge against me. I think there’s more behind it that we don’t know.” Nyx had heard rumours about other people being sentenced to jail for murder. Most of them were highly susceptible people who had bad backgrounds. They had all killed at least ten people at a time- every one of them magic.

“I don’t know…anyway, we can’t know anything for certain if we have no hard proof.” They both jumped at the sound of a groan. It was him. Nyx leapt up and made sure all the spells were in place. It had been easier working with someone who had been trained exactly the same way she had. The man opened his eyes and glared at her with all the hatred in the world. “I will destroy you…” He muttered under his breath.

She raised an eyebrow, pretending not to be alarmed by his fierceness- trying not to melt under that glare. “Sure you will. Now tell us who you are.”

When he didn’t say anything, she drew a slither of shadow and pressed it deep into his shoulder, where she had shot him. The marshmallow bullet had bruised his arm, but she was sure it hurt. He gasped in pain, and she stopped. “They call me Hawk.” He spat out.

“Hmmm, interesting name, Hawk.” She stopped to study his face. She could only see fury etched on it. “Tell me why you are doing all of this. Why are you going to such trouble to frame -or murder- us?”

“It’s all part of my master’s plan,” Hawk whispered dangerously. “It will all come together soon.”

“Uh huh…well I guess you aren’t going to say much more. I guess we should just get rid of you.”

He chuckled humourlessly. “And how do you plan to do that? You can’t turn me in; you’re just like me.”

She leaned in closer to him. “And if I’m so like you, then why shouldn’t I just kill you right now?”

“Because you’re afraid. You’re too scared to do it. You fear me.” He hissed.

She smiled maliciously and stepped back. "Rosella," she called out to her coldly without removing her eyes from Hawk's. "Please hand me your gun."

Rosella hesitated for a moment, then stepped forward and handed Nyx her pistol. Nyx lifted the gun and aligned it with Hawk's head, her smile never wavering. She checked to make sure it was loaded: there was one bullet left. "Nyx, I don't think this is a good idea..." Rosella started to protest, but Nyx waved it away.

"Don't worry Rose, he isn't going to tell us anything. He's worthless now. He'll only make more trouble for us if we let him go."

"Redemption." Hawk whispered all of a sudden.

She faltered. "What?"

"Redemption. You want it. You need it." He said simply, his eyes holding a million secrets. "You kill so many innocents and say that you do it for the money. The power you feel. But really, all you want is to run away and leave this life."

"You don't know that." She hissed, her eyes turning the deepest black. "You don't know me!"

"I know you more than you more than you know yourself." He replied calmly.

"Enough!" She yelled furiously, stepping back and lifting the gun. "You don't know me and you never will!"

"Nyx, please!" Rosella cried. She was probably ten centimeters away, but to Nyx she might as well have been a mile from her. "He's trying to work you up! He's trying to make you loose control! Be strong; don't let him..."

Her voice cut through the fury that had clouded Nyx's mind. She sounded like someone else who had guided her through the chaos that was her life. Someone else who had healed her heart, only to have it broken again... She dropped the gun -her eyes turning a cloudy white that could only mean that she was in her world of memories and no longer with them- not even aware of Rosella catching her when she stumbled and fell.


Octa, I hope you don't mind the reference to your poem "The Gentle Assassin"!

Link to it:


Friday, June 17, 2011

Hi fellow maniacs!

I have the urge to do a random post...

...So here it is!


5 Random Facts:

1. Elephants are the only mammals that can't jump?
2.Every year, around 98% of the atoms in your body are replaced.
3.The King of Hearts is the only king without a moustache.
4.According to suicide statistics, Monday is the preferred day for self-destruction.
5.The sound of E.T. walking was made by someone squishing their hands in jelly.

OK! Random photo:

YAY! Nyan Cat!

The best house ever:

...Followed by the best car ever:

Admit it: somewhere in your heart, you really do want a pikachu car!

Well, my friends are all shooting at each other now (with nerf guns) right now, and so instead of dodging bullets and walking away, I am going to join them like the crazy person I am.


*flys away on Nyan Cat*

Sunday, May 29, 2011


We all love Kallista dearly, and to prove this, I am going to list just a few qualities she has:

Smart, funny, kind, caring, creative, independent and an amazing friend.

We miss you Kal!

Thursday, May 19, 2011

SP Part 8

As Talia (no, Nyx) walked towards the theatre, she thought about…well, everything! It was a lot to absorb, and even though she had felt calm in the dream –or coma- it was as if it had just hit her when she had woken up. She sighed, and quickened her pace.

Dusk was waiting for her with the man who had been behind him when she had met him, and a slim woman with auburn hair that reached her shoulders. They all looked both extremely beautiful and dangerous. Dusk turned around and smiled. It sent shivers down her spine. She reminded herself that he had offered her this new life, and she wasn’t about to take it down, or be ungrateful about it.

The woman muttered something to him, and he raised an eyebrow. “So, you’ve already chosen a name,” he murmured. “Very impressive, Nyx.” His cold smiled broadened when Nyx’s eyes widened. “Yes, my friend’s talent here is that she knows if the person has a taken name, and what it is.”

“And what’s your talent?” She asked, unable to hide the wonder and excitement in her eyes. “Ah, that’s a very good question…well, I don’t have one.” She raised an eyebrow and he leaned in closer. “Do you believe in monsters, Nyx?”

“As much as I believe in fate. Which was until I was nine,” she replied coolly.

“Then you’re going to have to start over. You’ll have to leave Talia’s life behind, forget everything you knew before.” His dead eyes were lighting up feverishly. “We’ll look after you, we’ll teach you everything. But others will want you dead. We have to kill them before they kill us,” she stared straight into his eyes.

“I’m ready,” is all she said.


A light flickered in front of Nyx’s eyes. She groaned and tried to sit up, but she couldn’t move anything except for her head. Once her eyes grew accustomed to the dim lighting, she noticed the faces around her. They were all there, and even a few more that she didn’t recognise. “She’s awake,” Kallista murmured and a figure stepped forward. It was the man who had shot that damned ball of lighting at her. Israel, if she remembered correctly. Even with pure anger running through her, she smiled at him. His face stayed grim. “You know, all those binding spells aren’t necessary,”

“Maybe,” he said slowly, as if choosing his words carefully. “But you might break through ropes, and if we didn’t bind you, you’d put up a fight.” He was right of course, but they couldn’t know much about who she really was. Then again, Kallista had found her, and seemed to know what she did. “What’s your name?” Came a question from a young girl in a Union Jack top behind Israel. “Holly Black,” Nyx said reluctantly, hoping they’d believe her. It was the name she had put the hotel room under, before Dragona, Bridget and Kallista had broken in. “So, Holly,” Israel continued without glancing at the girl. “Who are you after? And don’t pretend that you weren’t sent to kill one of us,”

“Funnily enough,” she replied wryly. “I was sent to kill all of you!” Her eyes flitted over to the Union Jack girl. “Except for her. I’ve never seen that one,” the girl scowled hatefully and she smiled back.

“And how would you have managed that?”

“Well, maybe if you all stayed very still, and didn’t do anything, it would make the job a lot easier…”

“Seriously,” Israel said evenly. “How did you expect to kill us all?”

“Maybe I’d pick you all of, one by one, the others knowing that they’d be next, but not being able to stop it.” A fly buzzed by her face, brushing the charcoal fringe irritably. She tried to brush it away, before realising that her hands were magically bound. She groaned, and then the fly made a high-pitched villainous laugh. She paled as it buzzed by again, still laughing. Israel raised an eyebrow before talking, maintaining the calm tone. “Mar, please leave Miss Black alone.” The fly buzzed, protesting, before flying over to the others who were chuckling. And then the fly started rippling, multiplying and changing, until a young girl stood in front of Nyx. “Ah yes,” she murmured. “You can transform.” The girl smiled wryly and shifted from foot to foot, as if she couldn’t stay still for even a minute.

Israel cleared his throat, and Nyx looked back to him. “You have been accused of murdering innocent people,” she raised an eyebrow, wondering who had seen her.

“I hardly killed any of those people!” She protested. “They just fell onto my knife!”

Israel paused for a minute, studying her. “You aren’t going to tell us much, are you Miss Black?” She shook her head, and started planning how to escape. “Can you tell us what this means, then?” He asked, throwing a crumpled piece of paper in her face. She peered at the neat cursive writing. “I can’t see with you holding it,” she complained. Israel glanced over at the others uneasily. He obviously didn’t trust her. Not that he should have. “Release the bonds on her arms,” Kallista chirped, stepping forward. “If she tries to escape, there are more of us than her. We’ll overwhelm her.” She looked at Nyx as she said it, as if trying to send her a message. Israel sighed heavily, and muttered some words, tapping the symbols on the chair she was sitting on. A moment later, Nyx’s arms tensed up and then relaxed, as if freed from a great weight. He handed her the page, and she started reading the script.

“Ladybug! Ladybug!

Fly away home.

Your house is on fire.

And your children are all gone.

All except one,

And that’s Ann,

For she has crept under

The frying pan.”

Nyx’s frown turned abruptly into a broad grin. “This is a nursery rhyme!” She cried, waving the paper in the air. “My parents…used to read this to me when I was little…” She trailed off, not wanting to discuss her family. “We all know that, Miss Black,” Israel murmured politely. “But this was sent to us from a good friend of ours. He thinks that there is a hidden message in the text, about the whole world’s future.” She chuckled as he spoke. “How could this be a prophecy? This is a children’s rhyme! I think your friend has lost his mind.” Kallista’s eyes flashed with fire for a second, then turned back to the cool aquamarine colour. “He’s not mad,” she said stubbornly. “He’s my friend.” Nyx pitied the girl. Not because she was standing up for her friend, but because she had friends. Nyx had stopped having friends a long time ago. Anyone close to you would crush and destroy you. She had been taught that, disobeyed her lessons, and then payed for it.

She folded the paper and placed it in the pocket that held her dagger too. She’d almost forgotten it. “Well, I’ve had a really fun time, but could you guys kindly release me now?”

Israel started to say something, when the wall in front of Nyx crumbled. The mages yelped, and whirled around. A bulldozer smashed into the room, driven by a nervous-looking man. Another was laughing madly on top of the truck. “FEAR THE MIGHTY SCAPEGRACE!” He bellowed.

Dragona lifted an eyebrow. “Pardon?”

Scapegrace looked down his nose at them and sniffed. “Hmmm…they would make good sidekicks, wouldn’t they, Thrasher?” The man driving the vehicle nodded eagerly. Nyx wrinkled her nose. There was something wrong with those men. Or maybe they just really stunk. “Why did you just smash into my HOME?!” Israel roared uncontrollably. The men looked at him blankly, then turned back to the crushed wall. “Oh, uh. Yeah…sorry about that.” The man said awkwardly, and then shook himself. “But soon, your home will not matter. I will turn you into my own zombie minions, and you will follow ME!” The companions looked at one another –no wonder they smelt so bad- and Nyx used the distraction to her advantage. Her hands slid down to the place where the symbols should be for binding her legs and body. They started tapping lightly, remembering her studies of basic symbols and charms. Meanwhile, Scapegrace was starting to realise that he was out numbered with a roomful of agitated mages. “Uh, how about we all forget about this ever happening. What do you say, fr- OUCH!” He was cut off as Dragona lazily tossed a fireball at his chest. He started to smother the flames by flapping his arms wildly around his chest. March stifled a laugh and Thrasher glared at her, as if his eyes could bore through her head. “You will pay for wounding my master!” He growled.

“I’m not wounded, you moron, I just don’t want to turn into a human inferno!” Scapegrace snapped. Thrasher nodded thoughtfully. “Hmmm…yeah, I can see your point…”

“Enough, let’s leave!” Scapegrace said as majestically as a zombie can be. Which was quite minimal. “This isn’t over!” He narrowed his eyes at the companions. He then tipped his head back and laughed evilly. Thrasher blinked and smiled, and Scapegrace frowned down at him. “Drive away, you moron!”


“We rehearsed this, Thrasher! If something goes wrong, we drive back!”

“Oh, right…” Thrasher looked back at the dashboard of the truck. “I uh…seem to have forgotten how to drive again, master…” Scapegrace groaned and slid into the driver’s seat, knocking Thrasher over to the passenger seat roughly. “Stupid zombie…” Scapegrace muttered as they backed out and sped away from Elysium Asylum, leaving a group of confused mages. “Well, anyway…back to something a bit less random that the author added in because she was running out of ideas for the plot!” Mar chirped, turning around to where Nyx had been. Only, she wasn’t in the chair anymore. She heard curses behind her, and Israel stepped forward again. “She must have tapped the symbols to free herself and run out the hole,” he murmured.

“Well, obviously!” Mar snapped, making him flinch. The frustration in her face died down a bit. “I’m sorry, Israel.” He responded by patting her gently on her shoulder. All the companions turned back to the gaping hole. “Well,” Aquila sighed, breaking the heavy silence. “I guess we better fix this wall, now!”

Nyx sprinted back to Rosella’s warehouse. She avoided everything; she knew even animals weren’t safe, now that there was a group of shape shifters after her. She wondered how they had known about her, and why Dusk wanted them all dead.

And how was she supposed to kill all of them?

Saturday, May 7, 2011

Just some random drawings...

I was bored, so I drew a picture of the famous Purple Poet!

Here it is in pencil...

And when I inked it (I also made the stars and moons silver, but it isn't very noticeable in the picture)...

P.S. "Le petit violet poete" is French for "The little purple poet".

I hope you all like it!
Octa, I'm sorry. I tried really hard to make you look as manly as possible.

I tried...

Sunday, May 1, 2011

SP Fanfic P7

Octaboona Ambrosius looked out over the city of Dublin. The people were rushing around, getting on with their ordinary lives, and the lights were shining as brightly as the stars back in Italy. God, how he missed it. His piercing green eyes flittered over to the crumpled pieces of paper that lay on, or next to, the fine wooden table. He’d been having bad dreams for the past few nights, and every time he had jotted down what had happened. Sometimes they were of him falling down…down… But other times, he was watching the world, the people screaming and burning.

His emerald eyes flashed a brilliant steely colour when he thought of those dreams. Those eyes were the replicas of his younger, deceased brother’s- Kenspeckle Grouse. The open window let a soft breeze in, lifting his silky silver hair and robes of the deepest violet. His eyes stayed that cold metallic colour as he descended onto his writing, trying to make sense of it all.

He sat heavily in the matching wooden chair, and read one of the ramblings he had written:

I’m flying now, flying over the city.

The lights here are so bright, and so pretty.

But something’s wrong, something’s not right.

It’s hovering in the air, flittering, just out of reach.

I can’t touch it, yet it’s all around me; smothering me. Suffocating me.

Now I can hear the screams. People are dying in there.

But I can’t move. I can’t help them.

The buildings are blazing with fire.

It might be beautiful if it wasn’t so horrible, so terrible.

A young girl staggers out of one of the infernos.

She scarred and singed all over. She doesn’t have long to live.

I look closer now. I’m just above her. I can hear her ragged breaths.

She has dark hair, black like a ravens wing. She’s familiar, I know her…

No, no it can’t be! It’s her. It’s Elocin. But she’s dead! I…I killed her.

But I can’t pull away. I’m fixed to the spot, watching my sister die again. Watching a part of me die again…

Octaboona tore his eyes from the paper and scrunched it into a tiny ball. He couldn’t finish it. The memories…the memories and sensations were flooding back to him now. He’d tried everything in his power to forget. He’d even tried killing himself on several occasions. But nothing ever worked. He knew his brother would have been able to find a way to help him. But he never had. He’d wanted him to live with the guilt, the knowledge that he had murdered their dear sister.

And now even he was dead.

The words swam in front of his eyes. He blinked a couple of times and headed to the bedroom. He was growing weary, even though he’d probably face another terrible dream tonight. His foot hit another crumpled piece of paper. He frowned and picked it up, out of curiosity. The words flooded into his mind, and the memories hit him again. He gasped as he realised the meaning. He had to let someone know…someone who could be trusted.

He picked up his tiny black phone, a newly acquired piece of equipment, and called the safest person he could think of.

“Hello? Octa?” The chirpy voice made Octa smile. It gave him fond memories, when he had first met the girl when she was only 12.

“Kallista. Listen to me carefully, now. Ireland is in grave danger. Maybe even the whole world… The magic world is becoming restless. Shadows are growing; people’s heads are rising. They are going to terminate the mortal world,”

“I’m listening,” Kallista responded, her voice hardening.

So Octaboona told her everything he knew about it, his nightmares, his writing, and his understanding of it all.

“So do you know how they’re going to do this all?” Kallista asked after listening patiently.

“Yes, they’re going to do it through a mage. A young, but powerful one. A teleporter.”

“Who? Who Octa?” The sudden desperate note to Kallista’s usually upbeat, lively voice astonished him.

“Lunar…” He whispered. “Lunar Tears…”


Nyx was following the sleek, black Porsche that was holding Kallista, Aquila, Dragona and March. They were driving slowly and precise, as if they were getting used to the whereabouts of this place. She moved from tree to tree, a few feet behind them, making sure that she in turn was not being followed. The car took a sharp turn to the right, and she dived under a dense pine, the needles brushing roughly against her skin. Up ahead, she could see a grand building rising from the gravel: Elysium Asylum. Its windows were gleaming even in the dim light, and its door was opened warmly. The car parked, and the sorceress clambered out after being crammed in the tiny seats. Aquila led the mini parade, jumping up the steps two at a time. Dragona backed them up, scanning their backs cautiously. His eyes hovered over Nyx’s spot for a couple of seconds, and then travelled around the rest of the way. The moment the door closed, she leapt in the open and scouted around the grand building. There were a couple of tall windows, but they would all be locked or make a massive sound if she broke them. She walked carefully around the back, crossing a row of lush hedges. Nothing. She was about to turn back, when she picked up a sudden sound; a door opening. She jumped into the hedges just before a woman emerged from inside. She had charcoal hair, with streaks of deep purple and black clothes adorned with violet scarves. Her amazing green eyes scouted the area, as if she was expecting someone. Could it be that she was expecting her? Nyx shook the question that was prodding her mind. It was impossible that they were expecting her, how could they? There was no one to tell them, only Dusk and herself knew!

The girl gave up after a few minutes and turned, swinging the door behind her. Before it could close, Nyx sprinted towards it, and hooked the toe of her boot in front of it. I protested against the barricade, and then went quiet. She opened the door only as much as it would allow her to slip through. She closed it silently behind her. She turned around to face the grand hallway, just in time to see Bridget step out of another corridor and swing to face her. “Oh,” she said, slightly started, her eyes widening. “Hello!” Nyx ran at her, sweeping past her right to try and turn down the corridor that she had come from. But Bridget was better then she gave her credit for. She caught Nyx in the stomach with her fist, and then flipped her over her hip onto the well-polished floor. She swung a kick, and jumped back up, but was knocked back down by another fist. “I’m 1405 years old. I’m older and stronger than you,” she murmured, stepping over Nyx. “I normally kill people who attack me. I have to, not just to stop them from hurting me, but also to survive. I get thirsty you see.” She smiled hungrily, showing off a set of fangs protruding from her perfect gums. Everything about her was perfect, unnaturally perfect. “Bridget?” Kallista came bounding down the corridor, and Bridget snapped her head around. Nyx kicked and caught her in the knee, knocking her over and taking her by surprise. She jumped up, and sent a wave of shadows flying at Bridget, who ducked under and rolled towards her. She dodged a fireball that Kallista sent her way, and then cocooned herself inside the shadows. She heard more footsteps, and a tapping. Then, she sent the shadows lashing out, leaving her in the open again. Dragona was there, along with a man with dark brown hair and eyes a swirling mess of green-gold. Israel. Before she could move, a blue ball of energy shot through the air and hit her in the chest. The next thing she remembered was darkness.


Talia was in a midnight garden. Soft, lush grass gently tickled her feet, and yellow roses climbed over her head, resting next to the crescent moon. A statue of a beautiful woman dressed in swirling silks stood in front of her. She read the plaque underneath. “Nyx: Greek mythology, Night personified.” But she wasn’t alone. She turned around, to face a pale man, with another olive skinned boy behind him. They were both looking at her calmly. “Talia,” the man in front said smoothly. His voice was like water, running coolly and gentle. His eyes held nothing in them. There was nothing there to read, to know. He smiled, but it only made her spine tremble. “Who are you? What do you want?” Talia demanded, surprised to hear her own voice so sanguine. He spread his hands out in a show of peace. “Nothing, but you!” She raised an eyebrow.


“Indeed. You see, I am a teacher. A collector of sorts. I collect young, skilled people, and then I teach them so that their skill strengthens.”

“Skilled people? Like, in singing, or dancing?” She didn’t think she was any good at performing. He smirked, along with the boy behind him. “Not quite. You see, some people have special, um…talents. And that talent separates them away from normal people. For instance, you might have a particular skill at conducting fire, earth, air and water.” He motioned to the boy. “This young man here is creating the dream you are having right now.”

“Can they control shadows?” She had to ask. She could never forget that time in the attic, the dagger that was in her jeans pocket right now… “Ah, I see you found my gift.” The man said, pleased. Her eyes widened. “That was you?!” He nodded.

“It was a test, to see if you really were talented. Now, will you join me, Talia?” She felt a slight tug, a sudden urge to join him, and stumbled closer. The boy chuckled. “Ah, that’s right. You’re name. You’ll need a new one. One that you can stick with for the rest of your life. Do you think you can manage that?” She nodded slowly. “I am sorry, it must be a lot to take in. But, I must warn you, that if you join us, there is no turning back. Everything will be new, and you’ll have to be fast on your feet. Your whole life will change, and you’ll have to let go of everything –everyone- in your old life. Including Talia. So, are you willing?” He didn’t use her name this time. He didn’t have to.

“Yes, sir,” she whispered. “Definitely.” All her life, she had wanted something more. Now, she had gotten the chance. She was not going to let this go. The beautiful garden started to fade, the two men along with it. He glanced up. “Dawn is breaking…

“Meet me at the corner of the old cinema. I’ll be waiting.”

“Wait! What’s your name?” She called desperately, over the wind that had just picked up, sweeping away the image of the garden. “Dusk,” he said calmly over the gale.

And then she was back in reality, lying on a stiff hospital bed. Through her cracked eyes, she spied Kristy next to her, with her head bowed. Suddenly, she felt weak and helpless in the bed. She had to get out; she had to meet Dusk at the old cinema. And then the whole dream came back to her. The night garden…the statue of Nyx…Dusk raising his head, whispering…”Dawn is breaking”… And then a new power rushed through her, the power of her new name. She leapt out of the bed, swiping the covers away and tearing several needles stuck into her wrists quite painfully. She stormed over to the window (thankful that the nurses had kept her old clothes on, instead of exchanging them for a hospital gown), barely acknowledging the shocked expression of her old friend. She was on the first floor. “Talia! But…but…you were hit! And then…and then…what happened? Where are you going?” She opened the window as far as it would go, and turned around to face Kristen. She gasped. “Y-your eyes! What happened? They’re…they’re changing colour every second! What happened Talia?”

“Nothing happened. I’m going now, Kristen. I’m probably never coming back.” She might as well state the truth. For herself, rather then for Kristen. “And I’m not Talia. Talia is dead. I’m Nyx Dawn.” And then she jumped out the window.

Friday, April 15, 2011

HG Part 1

April 10th 3001, Australia

(6yrs old)

I grip onto Daddy’s hand as he leads me through the crowd. They’re all in orderly rows, like soldiers that I’ve seen in movies. There’s a bunch of men at the front, keeping them away from the coast; the only way out. The people are asking why they can’t leave. The men just shake their heads. Daddy holds onto his heavy suitcase, as I do the same with my smaller one. There wasn’t much to pack, after most of our things were burned. The same day, Mummy was taken away.

There’s a gap in between some of the men keeping the people in, but they’re replaced with a fence that reaches the sky. If you touch it, then you burn. I saw a man trying to climb it. He dropped and didn’t move after the first touch. We stop at the end of the fence, where there are not so many people. We walk over to the edge of the fence, where Uncle John, Aunty Cath, and my cousins –Susie and Nick- are waiting, along with a few other people I don’t know. They’re all carrying suitcases too. Uncle John drops down and takes out a big boulder from the fence when nobody else is looking, and pushes his suitcase through before he wriggles under, to the other side. I stare, wide-eyed, as everyone else follows him. A tunnel. They’ve dug a tunnel. Daddy motions for me to do the same. I slide my belongings under and push myself after it. I emerge the other end, waiting for him. A bag…then a head…the arms…body…and legs push through eventually. Uncle John puts the boulder back, and we turn to the coast, just before the frenzy.

After five minutes, we race to a boat drifting on the choppy Pacific Ocean. We haul ourselves onto the deck, then underneath. The boat sets off immediately; we must be in a hurry. Someone has brought a radio, and we all gather around it. There’s a crackling sound, then a faint voice.

“A wild crowd has gathered in Australia, hungry for the blood of others! The army forces of North and South America have set out on a mission to calm down the people. Or put an end to their voices…forever.

As a health and safety regulation, all contact and transport services have been shut down between each country. All countries will be sealed from one another to avoid any fights breaking out. I’m Amanda Tyler, have a good afternoon.”

“Lies!” A man jumps up from his chair. “They’re lying! They’re gonna shut off each country from another! We’re dead! We’re DEAD!”

“Hush, Isaiah” Says a wrinkled woman. “We’re only dead if we don’t find land and safety in the next week.”

“A week! Ha! If you think we have a week, you must be delusional!” The man –Isaiah- drops his voice low, as if there’s an enemy (or teacher) nearby. “I’ve heard rumours…whispers about these people. They dress and look absurd- frilly frocks and pink eyes- but they’re like ninjas. They sneak into your life and take over. Soon, they’ll dominate, soon they’ll rule the world.”

“Oooh, and I’ll have turned into a cow by then!” A man murmurs close to me, which starts a few laughs. I stare straight ahead. We’re going somewhere safe now. We’re going to have a new life…a new home. Everything will be back to normal.

And then the bombs start dropping.

April 12th 3009, New Firelock (Russia)

Another bullet comes sailing through the air at me. I leap over it and dodge another metal disk that comes sailing towards me. If my father was alive, I’m not sure if he’d be proud of me, or if he’d be yelling at me to get out of there. As it was, I ignored the reasonable part of my brain. The one that always says: “What would your parents think?” I can only hope they’d be cheering me on. At least they’re not shooting beside me, even if my cousins are. Another bullet. And another. And another.

I’m almost getting bored. It’s the same thing over again. Dodge, shoot, dodge, shoot… A hovercraft speeds towards me, its sides turning razor sharp before my eyes. Before it can touch me, I jump on top of it, crouching and opening the tiny box at the top. “Red wire, blue wire…” I chant softly, snipping the wires in turn. The craft freezes in the air, blades retracting, and then drops. Before it can hit the ground though, I leap off and catch it, grunting under the weight. There’s only one hovercraft left. The Capital must have decided to shorten the supplies going out to the Resistance. I lift my PDW up, and fire point-blank. It’s a lower level then some of the others, and zips through the air, before dropping. I haul the hovercraft I caught into what’s left of the forest. Following the river, I turn left, into a denser part of the forest, and drop it in between two pines. I bring out my “pocket tools”, as we call it, and twist the red and blue wires together. I tap the connection board once…twice, and pull out the green wire.

At first nothing happens. Then, with a tiny buzz, the hovercraft does a jump in the air. I jump up too, and cry out in joy, before doing a little dance around it. I’ve been practicing for a while now, trying to turn the enemy crafts around (not that I’m some sort of techno-genius or anything) and get them to work for us. All evidence of past experiments, I’ve dumped in the scrap-metal heap. Who knows, someone else might need it.

I turn back to study my work, screwing the box securely in place. It seems smooth on the outside, but I know that it holds secrets inside. There’s a blade for the sides, a pistol, and sharp metal discs hidden in the work. Maybe in time, I can try to access them too. “Erm…down, please.” I say uncertainly. How do you train a new hovercraft? Is it like training a dog? I never had a dog, even back home… I snap myself back before I start remembering everything. “Down. Now.” This time, I sound more commanding. It glides down, hesitantly. I place my left foot on top. Then my right. When I’m securely on top of it, I whisper. “Okay. Go!” It obeys. I race out of the dense forest, up into the chilly air of New Firelock. Then down, towards the twisting river. “Woah! Slow down! Slow down!” I yell, terrified I’m going to fall off. Immediately, it slows down, shuddering a bit, making me remember the unnatural earthquakes that the Capital had introduced to New Firelock. “Good. Now, left.” The machine drifted carefully to the left. We were flying smoothly now, the gentle breeze whispering in my ear. It was beautiful. I haven’t been so happy since…well, since ever.

After a few more minutes, we flittered back in between the two pines. I jumped off the craft and turned back. “Good…uh…thingy,” I’d have to come up with a name for it later. “Now stay here, and wait for me until I come back.”

I walk backwards; making sure it wouldn't attack me. It stays hidden between the pines. Finally, satisfied, I turn and head towards camp. I check the skies, to see if there is any sign of life. Once, these skies would have been filled with the proud cries of eagles and the songs of mockingjays- mutant birds that were a failure on the behalf of the Capital. But the enemy had long since obliterated the winged beauties, and even as my heart ached to hear them sing another person's song, they never flew, or showed themselves, ever again. I can only hope that one day they start to fly again.

My name is Jade-Nakoma. Jade means courage, and Nakoma means warrior; the fearless warrior. I guess my parents squeezed both names in, because they liked them both so much. My parents...God, they seem so far away now, drifting away with other people from the past. I can't remember much from those times, I was only six back then. But I've learnt the story of our world well, so I've just pieced the fragments of my memory together, trying to make sense of them. I repeat the simple facts, and go on from there...

My parents are dead. My mum died when I was three. Soldiers from the Capital broke into our house and burnt everything they saw, and then they took her away. The Capital had been brewing for a while, waiting and bidding it's time. And it decided to strike then. They propelled themselves forward, using their high-tec weaponry, and using their men like pawns. But they made a mistake; they misjudged us. The Capital targeted Australia, hitting us with everything they had. But we sensed the sudden threat, and soon, forces from America and England were lending a hand to our troops. The Capital sank down again, with all their men dead and their machines destroyed. But then, three years later, they attacked again. This time, everything fit into place for them. Antarctica was melting, the ice liquefying and the fauna dying. The water levels were rising dangerously, threatening to sink Australia. The Capital had spies working in other countries, working like any other regular citizen would. So they came back to Australia, sealing us off from everyone else. When we realized what was happening, it was too late. The Capital had surrounded us, waiting for the sea to overwhelm our country. The spies working overseas called the frantic crowds "mad" and "aggressive", and, using the people's fears against them, encouraged each country to seal off from one another. Then, the Capital hit each country with their machines, not their soldiers and taking the survivors back to North America, adjusting the name to "Panem". Even if they had known in advance, they wouldn't have stood a chance.

Meanwhile, Australia had been drowned under below freezing water; it's people with it. But we were long gone by then. "We", meaning my dad, my uncle, aunt, cousins, a few trusted friends, and me. We had cut a hole in the electric fence -providing an exit if we wriggled underneath- and had left an old ship by the docks. We set off North, to Russia, where some friends were- whether they were alive or not was another complication we would deal with later. But, somehow, the Capitol had found out. They sent out a hovercraft and bombed our ship, killing a quarter of its passengers- including my father. Out of all mixed feelings I now feel towards him, the strongest is guilt. He had been there for me when we knew mum had died, I only wish I could have been there for him when he did.

The survivors were left for dead, but the Capital made that mistake too. We grouped up- me, Uncle John, Aunty Cath, cousins Susie and Nick, and a few others. We rafted a boat with what was left, and paddled North- knowing turning back was not an option anymore. There was nothing left for us. We reached the shores of the Sea of Okhotsk, and went northwest from there, according to directions from Uncle John. When we reached camp, it was already burnt down. We began to despair and, in a final attempt of hope, followed the Lena River upwards. I was seven by then, even if I wasn't exactly sure of my birth date. None of us were sure about anything by then. We branched off to the right, into the woods that hadn't been burnt down. The rest is a blur, but I remember the first face I saw in the forest; Aloysha -defender of humanity. He led us all back to camp, where the people left from the bombing had set up once more.

We have stayed there ever since, trying to contact any other Resistances that might be out there.

I turn left, reaching the camouflage door that peeps out from a thick oak. The wood creaks in a comforting way, as if it's greeting me from my "small errand", as Aloysha would say in his thick Russian accent. But his face doesn't greet me when I enter camp; this time it's another boy- one that escaped with me from Australia. "Hey Jade," Israel says teasingly. "Didn't think it would take you so long to kill a few Capital crafts." I shrug it off, and push my way through. The camp itself is amazingly well hidden; built into adjoining trees. With different levels as the trunks wind up higher and higher... And, somehow, they have even managed to organize different trees for different activities. One is for training, one for the kitchens, bathrooms and bedrooms, and one for recreational activities and school. We even have a small pen for the animals we find: rabbits, hares and grouse. There is an amphitheater outside between the second and third tree that was used for council meetings and announcements. Sometimes, we have performances here on special days. But now most of our time is taken up training to fight the enemy, going to school, and surviving on what we can find. Usually vegetables and herbs we grow, chopped into boiling water from the river. We call it "soup", even though it's 3/4 water, and 1/4 whatever else we have. On very rare occasions, we find mammals crawling around the forest, and add them to our soup too. I believe that the wildlife of Russia is still out there. Maybe it's just a fantasy, a shred of hope to cling onto; just like how so many people wish for a savior to end the Capital.

It’s evening, and everyone is crammed into the dining room. Some are chatting casually, others fitting food into their mouths and some are huddled to a table, picking at their soup. I drift over to the counter, where the lady serving smiles at me, whilst offering a bowl of thin, watery soup. “We’ve got meat today,” she chatters excitedly. “Otter! Can you believe it? We found it by the stream, dead of course, but still fresh.” I smile back, and pick up my bowl, moving towards an empty table but an arm snakes out and grips mine. I’m steered away by an over excited Aloysha to a table holding Israel, Susie, Nick and a few others who I’m not familiar with. They all nod to us respectfully as we sit down- especially Aloysha. “What’s wrong?” I get into the topic, having no time for small talk. Aloysha follows my lead, gesturing to a boy opposite me. “This is Aaron. He escaped from Canada three years ago, on the way he picked up some useful information.” Aaron nods before breaking into his story. “We were hiding in an abandoned house, in the Capital, where we starved everyday. Eventually, we decided we couldn’t live like this anymore, and made ourselves look like Capital people- with fancy, colorful clothes and absurd face paint.

“We started living like Capital people, and eventually, some believed that we were Capital citizens. I couldn’t live like that, knowing what some of them did, and so I ran away, with some other friends” He motions to the unfamiliar faces surrounding his. “But we found out some useful facts before we left.” We all lean in, completely drawn into his story. “First of all, the Capital owns a division of districts from one to twelve. Each district produces something of importance to the Capital; like District Twelve represents coal mining, and District Eleven represents agriculture.

“There used to be a District Thirteen, but…”

“But they burned it down.” A hard-faced woman next to Aaron finishes for him. “The Capital burnt it and everyone living there as a warning to everyone else who dreamt of rebellion. The Districts became afraid, and made an agreement with the Capital. They keep a form of truce with one another, by annually sending one boy and one girl –from their early teen years to eighteen- from each District into a kind of reality TV show, called ‘The Hunger Games’.” Seeing the clueless faces around her, she sighs and continues. “Each tribute is presented to the Capital, then put into a mystery arena, where they fight until there is only one person standing. The reward is that if you survive, you get the life of luxury, safe from entering the games again.” We all stare at her, horrified.

“So…they keep a truce by sacrificing their kids?” Israel exclaims, the first to break the silence. “That’s…that’s barbaric!” The woman nods, a gold earring catching the light in the room. “Like I said, the Districts became scared. They’d agree to anything to save themselves.”

“So what do we do now?” I snap, letting my anger drive me instead of fear.

“We keep our heads down and survive.” The woman answers calmly, leaning back in her seat. “What?” Israel sums my thoughts up. “We can’t just lie here, knowing about that! We have to do something! I didn’t escape death just to see everyone else die!”

“So what would you suggest we do?” Aaron challenges him, smirking. He smiles back evenly. “I say we march into Panem and take the Capital down.”