Wednesday, May 18, 2011


Words by themselves are powerless and weak, only given the power we ration out. But even then that's a misconception isn't it? After all without words, where would be? What you read before you would cease to exist, and the thoughts you let swirl around in your mind so easily would disappear alongside knowledge and history, love and pain, hate and pleasure, because after all, these are just words. We can say that the dropping of hearts, and the falling of tears are sadness, that the skipping of beats and my pounding feet as I try to find you are signs of love, but in the end these thoughts would cease to be without words. But words themselves are tricky things to master. In fact, maybe the notion on mastery when it comes to words is silly in itself. We so freely give meaning to sounds and intonation, but these change from person to person, continent to continent, one words joy, can be a response in sorrow, and like wise, the moment we give birth to words, its as if we chose to play withthe minds of every single human on earth at the same time. I dream in music, and breath in rhythm, dance in my mind, but all of these become known to you as I string these simple words together. Isn't it amazing? The power of thoughts, the power of speech, the strength of music, and the legitimacy of story are all made of a seemingly high chance of sound association.

Madness. The minute we agreed upon the meaning behind the word madness became the instance in which it would be exploited to describe the power and depth of the human soul. People could go their whole life, never taking the time to understand the importance of madness in their daily lives, but that doesn't mean it exists. But to tell someone of it, would risk the chance of misunderstandings. After all, this is the great equalizer of language. We as humans don't have the key to all languages, just like we don't have the keys to all the questions we've ever asked. (To Be Cont.)
I figure since I haven't posted in forever, that most of the people who read this in the past don't remember that I have a blog. In truth, I kinda forgot I had one too. But I still think of this as my personal haven, a place I can find solace. So if anyone should stumble across this in the future, I'll keep writing. Here we go, Madness (In the works)

When you think about it, the dreams in which we create for ourselves (at least the ones that are powerful, that drive us) are madness. One simply cannot "Help all the people in the world" or "Become the richest", without falling to madness... Madness is what drives dreams, and what dreams are made of. But madness is also what we fall to when our own madness cannot measure up to the madness of our dreams. Lust, greed, sloth, gluttony, pride, wrath, envy. These are what we call the Seven Sins, the seven darkness's of the human soul, and the seven ways, in which we fall to madness...

Our madness, that which we draw our resolve from, becomes absolute. We shall use the meaning behind our actions as fuel for the madness we so shout to the world. This too is the way in which we fall into madness. The depth of our souls gives us the berth to become resolute, but tread carefully, for when paving the map of your soul, without grounds to explore, one may end up lost, subject to the madness hidden within yourself. But grounding yourself is easier said than done, and having the grounds to gain power come to very few people. Thus, those who foolishly seek power, fall to the madness in their soul. This madness however, can be overcome by the twisting of ones soul, the realization that the reason for the madness can either serve as a deterrent, a message again madness, which becomes salvation that will set you on the path of normalcy. The second, is that the madness becomes your armament, your sword that cuts away the lies and the distractions of madness not like your own. In order for this to work however, one must be willing to accept that madness can be power, madness cannot be tainted, that life itself is madness. So just what is madness.?

I dream of things that create the world around me. Fate and Destiny, one in the same mother, writing forever, the wills of humans and creatures alike, never, without exception, sparing one of a future without death. So why does one continue to strive towards dreams and goals unknown to themselves. Is it because Fate or Destiny is urging them on with words unspoken? And what of reason, after all, we are creatures of reason, how much of our reason is faith in our own power, rather than the logic of Destiny? Just what pushes us so, written instinct, or demons at our heels? This is simply, madness. By giving us dreams, instinct, Fate and Destiny have given us the perfect script, the perfect formula to instill monotony amongst this world. So how do we break this?

Sunday, February 7, 2010

My appologies for the long hiatus

I'm sorry for the long hiatus I gave myself. Last semester was absolutely terrible for me, and I cut writing out to compensate for the rising need to complete homework. I will start writing again this semester due to the lack of English related class in my schedule (compensation for a lack of love :]) and will be continuing the story I neglected in the last post. Without further delay, I present to you, The first day back at school.

“Damn that girl, does she think school starts when she’s good and ready for it?” Kaminari Shouichi grumbled as he marched up the stairs.

He opened the door with soft surprise, as he looked at his daughter dressed for school, gazing out the window. He sighed as he cleared his throat, alerting his daughter to his presence.

“Hotori, isn’t it time for school yet? You’ll be late if you don’t leave soon” My father said with a smile.

“I know, I’ll leave soon, I’m just watching the clouds…” I muttered

He walked up to me, smiling, as he stretched out his hands and straightened the bow of my uniform.

“You’re just like your mother sometimes… There were times when even her mind was secluded to me. But looking at you now, I’m proud. You’re on your way to school, you’re moving through life.” He whispered, giving me a short hug before leaving the room.

`I know father… I’m trying to live now, but it’s so empty, I don’t know what I’m doing anymore’ I think to myself, as I gather my keys, my bag and my riding gear.

The roar of the engine wakes me from my slumber. It’s always been a comfort to hear it, a strong and powerful voice. With my body suit on, I crack the zipper a bit, and I slip the helmet over my hair. It’s gotten long as of late, and my father seems to like it, so it doesn’t bother me. I rev the engine, hearing the sound blast through the garage door. I lose myself in thought as the door opens, and the morning sun peaks through the bottom. I speed off, the feeling of the sudden jolt as I release the brakes and skid out to the main street causing my heart to speed up. Streets blur, and people disappear as I rush through lights, by cars, through the town that’s confined me. Before I knew it, I found myself at Tohka’s front gates, the “Grandiose” senior high school that so many aspire to gain entrance. I don’t quite know myself, just how I got in, but I’m here and that’s all that matters to my father.

“All rise! Salute the teacher!”

“Sensei. Ohayo Gozaimasu!”

“Class, you may be seated”

The teacher straightens his tie, clearing his throat before continuing on.

“Class, I just want to congratulate you on your acceptance into to Tohka. Our staff expects great things from all of you. After all, our school would not be considered one of the best in the country if our students didn’t work equally as hard as the teachers here. Please continue looking to the future, and working hard to obtain your dreams!” The teacher smiles before pulling out his lesson plans for the day.

Most of the teacher’s speech, however, flew right over my head. My gaze was locked out on the vast front gates that housed my precious bike. The windows in the classroom were slightly ajar, allowing the soft, warm breeze to compliment the sun blazing in the sky. I sighed before turning to the board, trying to catch up to the current lesson plan.

`Today would have been a perfect day for a ride’ I thought to myself, as I mindlessly copied the notes word for word. I glance around for second, taking in the faces of these people I’m supposed to call my “peers”.

`Ordinary people as far as the eye can see… and it’s not even that far, trapped in this bird cage…’ I mentally sigh, turning back to the sky just beyond the glass bars.

I lose track of time, and before I know it, I hear the bell ringing in the distance. As I close my notebooks and set everything back into my bag, I feel a pair of eyes on me. I turn around, looking from person to person, only to have the feeling disappear completely. I shake it off, `I must be hungry or something’.

Whoever said “Birds of a feather, flock together” was obviously a psycho. This was one of the thoughts that pervaded my mind as I made my way to the roof for a quiet lunch. Upon opening the door, I was greeted by the sight of a boy’s back, sitting towards the edge of the building, looking over the school as a whole. In mid bite, he decided to turn his head and address the disturbance. His eyes opened wide, and the sandwich hanging from his mouth decided to drop onto his lap.

`Cute…’ I snorted.

“Eh, Hiya? Name’s Shinji, Yamamoto Shinji, what’s yours?” He grinned, picking his lunch up off of his lap.

“Kaminari, Kaminari Hotori” I stated, taking a seat away from “Shinji” along the opposite wall.

As far as first impressions go, the both of us could have done better. As I sat against the wall, I could hear him cursing as he desperately tried to prevent the condiments from his sandwich from staining his uniform. I drift out to the clouds as I snacked on my lunch. The food never really interested me, but I ate to stay awake. I peeked over the side of the building at the many students who ate near the courtyard. I could hear them as they passed the front gates looking at the motorbike that was parked out in front. I giggled as I found myself asking if anyone had ever seen a motorcycle before.

“Well how many students do you expect know how to drive a car, much less ride a motorcycle? We’re barley of age you know? Is that yours?” I jumped as I heard a voice behind me. Glaring hard, I turned to see a smiling Shinji, looking out at the bike as well.

“Well, they shouldn’t act like country bumpkins then, it’ll bring “shame” on our school” I muttered, turning back to gazing longingly at my bike.

“Haha, if I wasn’t any smarter, I would’ve actually believed that you bought into Sensei’s speech. You certainly looked like you were gonna cry, but I think out of boredom rather than sentimentality.” He grinned.

“Look, you don’t know a thing about me. Yeah, I was bored as hell, doesn’t mean I don’t want to do well in school. The only thing outta life I want, I can’t have.” I growled, never turning away from the courtyard.

“Whoa, I’m sorry if I offended you. Didn’t mean any harm out of it. After all, the “girl who rode like the wind” is the talk of the school right now. She’s enrolled in a certain 2-B classroom meaning she’s pretty damn smart, and was rumored to be stunningly beautiful. I figured I would…” He began.

“Try to pick her up? Nice try, but I don’t know who you’re talking about, nor do I respond well to any attempts at “picking up”.” I drawled out, rolling my eyes. I heard him shuffle to the spot next to me.

“Well, I don’t “pick up” girls. I merely talk to ones who are interesting. After all, how can I forget what I saw this morning? I saw you pulling off that suit you keep tucked in your bag over there, and watched you trot off to class.” He said, leaning his chin against the edge of the building.

“Well it’s not like it’s a secret you know…” I began.

The bell suddenly chimed, signaling the end of lunch. I grabbed my things, and headed for the door, only to see Shinji as he held it open. Bowing my thanks as an obligation, I headed down the stairs as fast as I could to avoid more conversation with him. I knew in the back of my mind he meant well, but I shook that from my mind as I headed back to the classroom. As I dumped my things next to my seat, I looked around, and knew why I had felt eyes on me this morning. “Shinji” was a fellow classmate who had his seat directly behind me. He grinned as he began pulling out his books and writing utensils.

“I hope you had a good lunch class, let’s get back to where we left off…” Sensei began as I drifted back into my rhythm.

I found out by the end of the day, many of the students were actually quite dedicated to their studies. When I could spare it, I glanced around the classroom and found all of them, staring intensely at the board, feverishly writing down formulas and historical dates. I felt a little guilt in my stomach knowing I wasn’t trying half as hard as some of these students, so I got back to focusing on the subject at hand.

`Just like my entrance exams’ I told myself, as I stopped the filter that drowned out the sound of the teacher’s voice.

The day ended with a bow, as the teacher exited the classroom. I felt the sun setting and the air beginning to cool. Figuring I should make some sense of the notes I mindlessly took earlier, I made my way to the library.

`If only I knew where the library was’ I sighed, wandering to the general area of a large building. I paused to ask a couple of girls, who confirmed with a, “Near the martial arts hall”, I slowly made my way over to the library.

`Well at least father would be happy to know I’m studying rather than “gallivanting” on my bike all day’ I sighed. My concentration was broken as the sound of pounding feet, and yells reached my ears. I spied the entrance to the “martial arts hall” and peeked inside. I watched as fifteen or so students yelled out the names of katas as they performed them in synch for the instructor. I could feel my eyebrow peek up as I spied a familiar face.

`So Shinji does Karate does he? Maybe he’s more durable than I thought’ I found myself glancing him down, finally taking in his features and his stature. Short spiky hair and a stern concentrated face occupied my mind. His wiry frame flew across the floor in a frenzy, barely finishing a series of complicated blocks and parries with a smooth round house. His head bowed as he let out a loud yell to signal the end of his movement, his hand reached up to scratch the back of his head as the man who I assumed to be the “Sensei” came over to give him comments and encouragement. I snickered, making my way to the library as the memories of the last time I was in a Dojo, under the study of a master. I felt a slow fire course through my veins as I recalled memories of my brother taking me to see our Master. We both studied, and laughed together as we got hit by our Master for failing or not paying enough attention. Our Master was also the first person to talk to my father and I after my brother’s passing. It was his first and last hug that he gave me, before he, for the next few years, proceeded to kick me back to normal.

`And those kicks hurt too…’ I found myself sharing a sad smile. My Master had given me a final lesson before I obtained mastery.

“Hotori, I know you’re still carrying the weight of your brother’s death on your shoulders. I am as well, but whether it’s on our journey, or in a fight, that weight can be as effective in our defeat as a lack of discipline, or focus. I won’t tell you to forget about him, but I want you to know that the longer your eyes, your soul stays dead, the more your brother is crying out for you. He wouldn’t want you t o remember his absence, but remember his attendance and his dedication to your family. Please take care of yourself when you leave this Dojo. You will always be welcome, for you and your brother are family, sons and daughters to this place”

I settled down at a table basking in what little sunlight was left. I brought out my books, and found myself slowly lost in the sea of information until the sound of the librarian calling out the closing of the school. I was ushered out into the front courtyard, where I quickly located my bike. Night came quickly, and I found myself wondering if Father was worrying over my absence. I quickly adorned my suit, remembered to crack the zipper just a little bit before kick starting the engine, and revving it to life. I found myself grinning, letting the roar encompass me. Flicking on the front lights, I made my way back home.

As expected, Father was waiting on the porch, tapping his foot, with a stern look on his face.

“Where were you?! You neither called, nor answered my calls, and its dinner time!” He growled, rubbing the bridge of his nose in frustration.

“Wait, you called me?” I asked, checking my phone. Sure enough, I found several missed calls littering various times from the end of school to now. I felt my cheeks heat up, never remembering feeling the phone from my bag signal his call. His arms were still crossed, still expecting and answer.

“Sorry Father, I wasn’t riding anywhere. I was studying in the library until it closed, I didn’t know you had called. I never felt the phone go off in my bag. Sorry…” I said bowing my head. Father was the last one who needed more stress, I felt ashamed.

“Were you really…?” His face creased out of a frown. Shock was evident in his expression.

“That’s mean Father. I made it into Tohka, so that means I have to give it one hundred percent right?” I sighed, a little disappointed at his surprise.
Father’s brow snapped back together, and his lips curved up into a grin.

“Given your previous track record, I believe some of my surprise was warranted.” He chuckled as I feigned hurt. He put his arm around my shoulders and we both walked to the inviting smell of a home cooked meal.

Seated across from Father, we ate as we shared our experiences from the day. I wouldn’t say our relationship was bad or awkward. But I know we both wish we could laugh and talk as a family once again. He recited a story of his student coming down to the front of his lecture hall to answer a question, only to miss the last step off of the stairs and end up with his butt in the air. I giggled and in turn told him about Shinji.

“Sounds like an interesting boy, if he can put up with that racket that your brother’s bike makes.” He grinned.

“Father, brother’s bike doesn’t make “racket”, its music to some people, like a heartbeat.” I said knowingly.

“Well, if that’s the case, then I guess some people must like hearing nails on a chalk board too.” He laughed, his laughter echoing in the house.

“Hmph, you’re insatiable Father.” I fake pouted, turning away slightly.

“Ah, sorry, sorry. You’re right, this Shinji is a martial artist you said? Do you still remember what you learned from your Master?” He asked, quickly changing the subject.

“Oh, I suppose so… He looked concentrated and focused, but he also had a smile on his face, like he was enjoying it.” I said thoughtfully, my spoon pausing in front of my mouth.

“That’s interesting, well, in any case, it sounds like you’re doing ok in school.” He said, turning away from the table to begin washing the dishes.

“Thank you for the meal Father” I said, drifting upstairs after depositing my plate into the sink.
“No problem, be sure to take a bath before you go to bed.” He said, switching on the television placed next to the sink, a very young news anchor foretelling the week’s weather.

I was as much of a nighttime person as I was a morning person, which it so happens to be, that I hate both. It always starts the same, staring off into the black shadows that dance across my ceiling. Sleep never comes willingly, and I feel like I’ll always be dragged to and from that horrid world for the rest of my days.

`You’re lying! He can’t be dead! BROTHER CAN’T BE DEAD’


`Hotori, he wouldn’t want you to remember his absence…’

“Stop it…”

`Brother… Why’d you leave…? Was it my fault?”

`It’s hard for me too… We’re the only ones left Hotori…’

“Stop it”

It’s raining, and the hospital buzzes around me, annoying chatter that no child could comprehend

`Is he alright?! Will my boy make it?!’

`I’m sorry sir… When we brought him after the accident, he was already diagnosed as JCS 2, and since then his situation has only deteriorated…”


I sat up with a jolt, rasping as my chest rose frantically.
No matter what happened, no matter how much I tried to forget, every night without fail, these nightmares would plague me into the wee hours of the morning. I still can’t shake the memories of sitting in that hospital, unable to understand anything about what had happened. I now knew that when they had brought my brother in, he had already been pronounced “lost”. I wiped the cold sweat from my face as I felt my pulse go back to normal.

`Will I always have to put up nights like these? Haunted by these thoughts, these memories…’ I sighed as I drew the blanket closer to my chest. I cast one more look to the outside to the distant hills covered by a blanket of stars, before slowly, falling back to sleep.

Thursday, August 20, 2009


So, this hit me just a couple of hours ago, as I was writing and editing chapters for my newest story. "How in the heck am I going to post this without taking up like 3 pages on my site @.@" Sooo, yeah... I'll post in chunks rather than chapters, since it'll be a little too much to read if I do chappys. Sooo without further delay, I present to you, the prologue...

Stretching out, with a large yawn, I gaze out across the large fields of empty grasslands. Farm lands and roads leading to nowhere occupy the mind as I roll my head around on the hill. For as long as I could remember, these fields have been my home, my haven. The tears I lost on the day of the accident, found their way into this vast land of green comfort. I fled that day when I heard the news, my dear, dear brother, losing his life to a driver who ran him over in a crossing. I wasn’t the only one who lost someone that day, but that was hardly the sentiment I felt as I grabbed my bike and flew from our empty home. I peddled as fast as I could, my chest heaving as I found these hills in front of me now. Not quite as majestic as they were the night I ran, with stars stretching across the sea of dark grass, but I spend my time here in hopes that the pain will blow away with the wind that loves to play across the fields. It’s been a while, brother, I’ve grown, and yet sometimes I feel as if time has stopped completely for me. Time was stolen from us, just like mother was, and I’m entirely lost without either of you. Father tries to keep everything together, but I just can’t seem to live the life he wants for me. He sees a bit of you and mother in me, and his hopes for me are as mixed as his vision. I yawn once more as I get up to return home, the wind cooling me as I watch the clouds roll in. I kick the stand up and smile as I hear the engine roar to life. Did I forget to mention? I stole your bike, brother; I traded the manual, for your wheels. Father doesn’t quite approve, being a girl and all, but as long as I go to school, he doesn’t mind too much. I’ve fallen in love with it, the feeling of the wind hitting my chest, the smell of my favorite hills as I rush up and down the roads. I’m trying to fall in love with all there is to love, now that you and mother are gone, and it’s hard to continue the way I’m going. But I think as long as I have your bike, I’ll live.

Wednesday, June 10, 2009

Neglect? I think not!

It seems like I've been neglecting the updating of my blog, but I'm desperately trying to find inspiration for my new novel I'm going to attempt to write. So I guess I'll leave here with poem, that isn't so good I might add, and I hope to be finished soon with the first chapter of my new story!


I now return to the blissful slumber
The wonderfully beautiful lady who slowly makes her rounds around the world
Dancing high into the sky, waltzing the music of time and fate
I drift higher and higher, grasping the cool, soft hands of the night
Forever caught in the midst of the twilight hour that creeps around the world
Silencing humans and creatures alike, who fall into the arms of love
Like always, her dress made of glittering folds mimic the violet waters that rage all night
Soon I will tire of dancing, returning to the world that I know
And I will rest in the day, and return to the one who gracefully escapes the glaring of the morning sun

Rather than put another update, I figured I'd put my raw, unrevised feelings down for you to comment on. I really wanted to convey the depth of emotions I feel when I come into contact, not only from the one I love, but anyone I meet. There's a depth and abyss of feelings we as human seem to miss when we meet someone, or get to know them, the addition of everyday that we've ever been in existence is what makes up who we are at that second, and with each and every passing second, we're growing and maturing from the experiences and the emotions we feel; we're never who we were a moment ago, we're the changing product of our birth to the current moment. Hard to grasp but I hope you'll read this, and ponder on ways to make that abyss more understandable to other readers.


What I wouldn't give
To twist fate
Become close, fall in love
With someone who's overflowing passion reigns over me
Sleepless nights with a woman who paces the room, dreaming, deviating, just how to obtain her goals
As I pace, sleepless, Distraught
Burdened by the weight of my dreams
I'd find comfort in her strength
Her voice giving me the warmth I need in the darkest of hours, the coldest of nights
Somewhere, A woman is singing loud, pouring her heart out, dreaming big, alone and afraid, running to where life takes her
I'd like to think that fate put me close, brought me here, sharing long nights awake, kept bringing us close, even when I thought we should be apart
Now I'm singing loud, obediently waiting, dreaming big, falling in love with everything there is to love
I can feel you close, the weight of each day that I've come to know you, understand you, I can feel it on my chest, in my heart, on my shoulders...
Through your actions, through your voice, I can feel the building of our story, your story, the compilation of our short, yet tremendously long lives we've lived till now
I'm warmed by the strength you've acquired, walking alone, braving the world, meeting people, growing by each daily experience, and the lives you've touched, those who've come and gone, and the one's you're unwilling to let go of
Your story is ever growing, and I'm always learning, I can feel the emotion, the anticipation, trepidation, fascination, anything there is to feel in the depth of a human soul
I'm drowning in these feelings, flooded by this love, suffocated by this passion
This passion built upon the passing of days, the arrival of friends, disappearance of stability, days and nights spent lost and confused, And years of unyielding, never ending love and life
The countless seconds, minutes, hours and days that make up our life, will build, break, disappear, become alive, become forgotten, remind us both of times past by, times yet to come
Our lives, built upon this simple passing, this infinite, yet limited source of movement will define who we are, what we loved, who we loved, our treasures and our stories
I'd like to think that fate gave us a chance, brought us together
I know I gave up a long time ago, I was content with "reading" rather than "experiencing", holding myself back, afraid to chase anything that moved, afraid to get hurt by my own hearts willingness to love and trust
But fate drew us together, let me fall once again into the limitless ocean of emotion, turmoil, passion that is, who you are
You're singing loud, and I'm singing too, the script given to us by fate, ever conflicting, triumphant and somewhat similar, painting the picture of our lives as we carry our heads high through the hard times, and the good weather
I've bought into fate's plan, that whatever is in store for us, must be something grand, something that will add to the long years we've been alive, I don't believe I can escape, I don't think I ever wanted to
I fell in love with the voice of strength, I fell for the insecurity, immaturity, the understanding, faintly commanding, the dreamer, schemer, the mask and the woman wearing it


As always, happy reading!

Monday, April 27, 2009

All that is precious, can be held in a bell

As promised, here is my short story I've been working on. Mind you, if you're used to my normal style of short story, this one is longer then those.

All that is precious can be held in a bell
The young man couldn’t believe the stranger when he had made him an offer on a night at his lowest. A chance to leave, leave without anyone important remembering anything important about you. The young man felt he had no one like that anyways, but gave the old man consent to do as he wished. A list was handed to the old man before he left the window ceil, gleefully laughing into the darkest night. The young man packed some things into a bag, and prepared to leave in the morning before the sun had risen, he didn’t want his mother and father to freak out over a stranger in their house, if they did in fact lose their memory of him. He planned his trip accordingly, marking places he would travel, things he wanted to see all in a notebook he stashed in the bag. Upon the hour of the young man’s leaving, the old man returned to the window ceil, with seven jingling bells in his hand.
“With this, you can leave without any regrets, no one on your list will know who you are, or that you’ve existed at all. You’re free to leave” The old man said cheerfully as he handed me the bells. I could feel the warmth in the small metal, like a living beating heart.
“These are the holders of the memories of your family, your friends, and the girl you love. They will return if they hold them respectively, and disappear forever if they’re lost. You can turn back, or press on forwards, it’s your choice.” The old man smiled as he suddenly disappeared from the ceil. The young man slowly trekked down the steps of the quiet house, being careful not to wake the residents. He placed the bells in his old cabinet, all lined in a row, with a note to each person, in case they were to find them. The young man didn’t want the bells to become lost, or destroyed, but hopefully left un-found in room that no longer belonged to him. The young man let himself out the back and stepped into the cold air of the night and began to walk down the street towards the direction of the airport.

Three weeks later, much of the family and friends had not changed. They had some mysterious and strange questions pertaining to a young man they didn’t know, but other than that, they just continued on as if nothing happened. They often passed by a room they knew to be unoccupied, but felt as if they shouldn’t open the door to. They sat and had dinner every night, wondering if something felt off, but quickly chocked it up to a lack of dessert. The young man’s presence and memories went forgotten as they continued the first month since his absence.

On the same token, the young man’s friends went about their daily lives, unaware of his absence. Their heads always turned as they laughed at jokes they didn’t know the origin of, or when talked of subjects they hadn’t known they were taught. They laughed openly into the preceding months as if nothing had ever gone missing.

The girl whom the young man had fallen in love with hadn’t changed much either. She hadn’t really loved him in the first place. She often looked distant, as if pondering about the empty spot on the field as she turned back to have a Frisbee fly over her head. She kept expecting to see something or someone lying in the open sun, resting before he jumped back into the game. She figured after a while, that it must be her imagination, and she resumed her focus as she swatted the point shot away.

The young man smiled as he found himself in an apartment in the country of Japan. His job was steady, he had a place to live, and he was close to the country side where he would often take walks, soaking in the colors and the long hills that flowed like the ocean. The young man found himself to be happy, he carried the burden of the memories of what he had left behind, but he found his way to something that could make him smile. He wondered if anyone had found the bells in the cabinet back at home, but quickly shook away the thoughts as he sat down to eat dinner before retiring to bed.

Two years passed by like this, life flowing in the usual manner, and many of the questions that had confused the mother and father and the sister had been forgotten. The mother and father had grown slightly older, and the sister had graduated, now starting the first years of college. She was packing her bags to move into the dorms when she realized she couldn’t find something. She tore up most of the house looking for her plushy she wanted to bring with her. Walking up the stairs, she stopped in front of the unoccupied room, and stared at the white door. She felt as if she shouldn’t go in, but as she cracked open the handle, the door popped open. She entered the room a saw the dust gathering on everything in the room. Her eyes skimmed over the bed and the dressers, the T.V and the mini-fridge, pausing just long enough to ask herself who the owner was. She searched high and low for her missing plushy before pausing in front of a cabinet. She pried it open and peeked inside. Finding it bare except for seven bells and seven pieces of paper, her eyes quickly darted to the one labeled with her name. It stated to touch her bell before continuing to read this page. Her hand slowly reached out to the metallic object, before lightly touching it with her fingertips. Suddenly, she felt electrified, her head suddenly burned with the images of a young man with a sad smile, a young man that had accompanied her from the beginning of her life, to the recent years of her high school career, and then disappeared. She gripped her head as she picked herself off of the floor, grabbing the letter and continuing to read her brother’s last message before he left.

Dear sister,
I’m counting on the fact that you won’t find this, but if you do, touch the bell I’ve left in front of this note. If the old man was correct, then you should have the memories you’ve forgotten, memories you didn’t need. To be honest, I really wanted to see you grown up into a young bustling college student, and congratulate you as you carried your diploma. But I now realize that I’ve been quite the hindrance to the family and to you. I wish that these bells could have remained forgotten, but if you’re now burdened by the memory of me, then at least know that I’m not there to plague you further. Live a happy life, be prosperous. This is your chance in life to obtain happiness, so don’t stop running towards your goal! I know you can do it.

-Best wishes

She sank to her knees as her memories flashed in her mind, up until the very last question she received, inquiring to the status of her brother. Her eyes overflowed as she curled up on the floor, overwhelmed by her forgotten brother.

The mother and father found the sister soon after she regained her memories. She refused to go to the college she had planned to travel to earlier, and settled for a college that was closer to home. She handed the letters and the bells to her mother and father, and soon they understood why. Memories of their forgotten son, memories that made every object in their house make sense. All of the books, the games, the clothes that had no origin, suddenly told their story to them. The empty seat at dinner suddenly couldn’t be filled with dessert, and they sat in silence in the young man’s room, looking out his window at the sky.

Upon the finding of the bells, they compared letters and found out that only the “correct owners” could activate the memories stored in them. Each letter was handed to the young man’s friends soon after finding their location. They had long since split up, colleges driving them to far lengths across the state. Each person upon touching the bell regained their memories of the young man, before realizing how much time had passed by since his leaving. It had been almost three years since he had left, leaving a gap in their memories wider than any distance that had separated them. They set about in a frenzy, tears steaming along their paths as they rushed to find any clues as to his whereabouts.

Word eventually got to the young man’s love, whom was also a friend of his sister. The sister was torn as to what she should do. Even she didn’t know the woman’s feelings for her brother. The woman hadn’t fallen in love with anyone in the past 3 years, for reasons even she didn’t understand herself. She was often found lying out in an open field, staring at an open skyline. She couldn’t quite place it, but she felt as if something was still missing. The sister walked up to the woman and handed her the note, but withheld the bell before asking her a question.
“Do you love anyone?” She murmured, clutching the bell to her chest, savoring the soft click it made.
“If you mean right now, then no, I can’t speak about the past, because I just can’t remember” She says out right, thinking back to the strange feeling.
The sister hands her the bell, her face hidden behind her bangs. The woman took it in her palm, and soon followed the images and the memories. She gazed back at the now empty field she was on, and recalled the games they used to play. She became painfully aware of the memories of the games that had passed without him trotting on the field. She had to admit, that she hadn’t “loved” him at the time of his leaving, but rather felt he would always be there. Suddenly, the woman glanced at the spot she had inhabited on the field, tracing his favorite spot, which surprisingly enough, had become hers as well.

A few more years pass, and the young man finds himself back in his home town, gazing at the places he had left behind. Shops had changed, or stayed the same and the buildings that he had left unfinished, now stood tall and proud amongst the landscape. He sat down in a familiar mall, with a soda in hand, and gazed at people passing by. He spied many people from his school days, and he smiled as they toted small children behind them. He places his cap on before continuing to his journey. Upon reaching the parking lot, he catches a familiar scent, as he walks by a woman his age. His eyes water at his remembrance of his first love, and he quickly adjusts his ball cap to hide his tears. He glances back as he continues to walk, with his eyes in shock. It was the one he had left behind, the one without memories of him. Figuring she was still without, he turned and continued his walk towards his car.

The woman found her way to the mall. Since she had recovered her memories, she had spent the last few years waiting for his return. The information his friends found showed his family and anyone else, that he had made several plane ticket purchases in his absence. He had traveled the world, from Europe to Australia, and settled in Japan, before dropping off of their map for 3 years. But yesterday, they received an update, stating that he had purchased a ticket headed home. They devised to have everyone split up to places that he would likely be or visit. The woman walked around the mall for a few hours, remembering trips to it with him in tow. She couldn’t believe that he would just up and visit home like that. She remembered his letter to her, and the time she spent reading it, over and over till the sun disappeared. She unfolded it from her the inside of her purse, and gazed at the lines on the page that had been engraved in her mind.

To you, whom I hold the dearest,
I know you won’t be reading this, just like I know you don’t share my feelings. I wanted so badly for you to see me for me, to love me. But I don’t think fate had it written out for us to live happily ever after. I couldn’t make you smile, or give you a laugh, or give you anything worthwhile. You probably have met someone worth something to you; someone you can love freely, for thinking of you happy is the only way I could leave. I truly hope that you’ve finally become who you want to be, with who you want to be with. Your happiness is my own, I don’t need anything else. I just wanted to thank you for the memories, for all of the smiles, I know you don’t remember them, but I hold them close to my heart, and they keep me alive during these grey, grey days. I pray for your eternal happiness.

-Good bye

Her eyes watered like always, before folding up the note and placing it back in its proper place. She had cursed him at first for leaving such a selfish note, not knowing whether to cry because she had forgotten him, or because he had done all of this because of her. But she understood why he had stood complacent at the time she had seen him last. He had confessed once before, but she turned him down. She had a funny feeling, being confessed to by a guy, and had settled it to “friends”. She hadn’t realized that he still loved her, or how deep it really ran. She sighed as she checked her watch before deciding it was time to make another round around the mall before calling to check in.

The young man had finished touring the high school he had at one time attended. He smiled as he stepped into the band class he had loved so much, and had grown so attached to. He left as the afternoon bell tolled the completion of another period of arduous studies. He traveled to the only spot he had yet to visit; the old Frisbee field. Upon his arrival, he gazed out onto the large field, smiling as he felt a warm breeze pass by. He had to admit, although the Japanese had a large variety of thing that America didn’t, they didn’t have the Frisbee he had grown to love. He flopped back onto the grass like he used to, staring off into the sky. He didn’t really have a place to return to, unless you count the hotel room he rented, and staying here seemed more appealing.

It grew dark, and one by one, the shops in the mall began to close, and slowly empty out as its resident’s headed home. Deciding to do the same, the woman retreated to her car, deciding on her next destination. She found that she couldn’t sleep when she arrived home, knowing that he was somewhere close. She got up and walked to his house, and gazed at the window to his room almost wishing him to appear like some kind of reverse Romeo and Juliet. She laughed a little when she realized that she herself did not possess as many memories of him as she thought. Memories of short days hanging out with him, or random and funny conversations, and Frisbee games were all that occupied his part of her mind. “Such a short list, a short time together” a dry laugh escaped, her head sank down into her chest. She spotted his car, dormant on the driveway, collecting dust from the inactivity of its master. Rides to nowhere, and rides to distant places with her in the passenger seat glowed in the back of her mind. Maybe she didn’t need a lot of memories, just the one that meant the world to her.

Almost five years of absence, and time had felt frozen here in his home town. Morning came, and he found himself walking along the paths around his old college. With a cap to hide his eyes, he wandered around taking in the sights, and the people. It was a strange love story, the boy who fell for a girl, only to have it end in pain. He wanted to start new, but maybe things hadn’t changed so much. The young man had met and seen wonderful people, young women of incredible beauty. But his own memories always haunted him, kept him from being anything more than friends.

She looked out upon what his friend had said to be their old campus. He had gone to park the car, dropping her off to look around. It was quite small for a college, but it felt like home. She wandered, slowly drawing in everything that had made the young man who he was. Suddenly out of the corner of her eye, she spied some kind of commotion happening in the corner near the parking lot.

The young man had been enjoying the old life he had left behind, slowly getting ready for his departure. Suddenly a warm breeze caught him and brought about that familiar scent that cause him to cry so much. He drops to his knees as the tears start to fall, and he hugs his arms to his chest, if only trying to grasp that fleeting breeze. He shakes himself off, and wipes the warm tears from his eyes and glances towards the road ahead. To his surprise, through the shadows and the parted crowd, a wavering dress, and a bright smile fill his vision. The crowd gathered around the both of them, and the young man slowly got up from his position on the ground to face the woman he had left. She was smiling, with tears slowly falling down her face, with a look that had said it all.
“You don’t remember anything. Please tell me you don’t remember…” The young man’s voice stuttered out.
“You don’t want me to remember? It’s hard to believe I forgot at all, but you’re the one responsible for it right?” she murmured as she wiped her eyes.
“I just didn’t…” the young man started
She silently placed a finger on his lips, killing anything he could think of.
“You said what you needed to say in my letter didn’t you? Let me make up for all of the time and the words that I couldn’t find…”
The breeze blows fiercely, scattering his thoughts like the leaves upon the ground, that ever so familiar scent causing his heart to race. Through the crowd they met face to face, the one who started it all, the fool who fell in love, the perfect woman, the most imperfect man, the beauty, and the crying beast.

As always, Happy reading!

Thursday, April 23, 2009

I lied about the short story

I was listening to some rather inspiring music lately, and I felt like doing some poetry again. I know I said I'd do a short story, but I lied... Sorry, I've been busy doing school work and setting up my next classes, so I haven't found any time to sit down and write anything more than poetry. Anyways, here's some poetry as a sorry for lying.

Pacing, Pacing, Pacing
An unknowing pawn in life
Marching to the tune of the Maestro
Singing like he was taught
Loud in this soul-less spiral
From the day he was conceived
To the day he became aware
His memories and his music betrayed him
He knew no better
He cried no harder
He drowned no faster
Lost in the current of time
His story hasn’t reached the end
He wanders farther into the world of truth
Fighting the urge of existing monotony
His cry reaches the corners of the globe
Falling to the floor
His shoulders heaving like those of a child
Sobs painting the darkened sky around him
Comfort falling from the sky
A shower of meteors
Wishes upon the falling tears in the sky
Sympathizing heavens send their blessings
Lost, but born anew
Hurt but never gone
He trudges on to his own beat
Drifting farther into the abyss


Bound by the memories of our past
Chained to our hearts
I’m grasping the chain
Trying to find you, draw you closer
But our memories are thinning
Your love is running low
My love is killing me
I’m frantically swimming in this blanket of cold
Just wanting your warmth
I’m drawing ever closer to the end of the chain
Memories still fresh in my mind
And it suddenly slackens in my grip
And I’m left with nothing but the empty end of a cold chain
Weeping softly
Bound to the chain ever so heavy
I march off into the cold night alone

Happy Reading!