power to the dream Still missing piece scattering, so incomplete We be the most incredible soldier from underground
Don't mind me, just posting my creative writing essay here. [best part is, it's not supposed to be conventional!] The summer of 2009 was a slow and painful one. It was much like the hourly nose bleeds that sprung up from nowhere. I’m certain I could have filled a person or two with the blood, had I actually had the dedication to do so. Maybe I could have even saved a life, and fulfilled the wish of The Fray. Yet, I did not and two people could have possibly died in some dingy hospital setting; roaches pouring from the walls and bat droppings falling from the ceiling. It’s a shame, really. All this could have been avoided by such a simple decision on my part. Maybe if I wasn’t such a pile of raging self-deprecation, I could have done something more. And maybe I could have avoided the Internet. I remember simply sitting on my bed for hours a day. By a sheer stroke of luck, I escaped the grips of another Pokemon binge. I buried my head into my pillow, groaning. A few days earlier, I walked down the stairs only to meet my mother. “Why don’t you call up some friends and hang out with them?†I remember telling her something along the lines of they went away on vacation (I was still trying to refrain from using the “They died†excuse until I needed it), slightly disgusted at the B.S coming from my mouth. “Honestly, I’m convinced you’re bullshitting here. Anyway, you forgot your laundry. Again. Go switch it around.†I recall sighing over the spinning clothes, equating them to my life thus far. But then came the realization that I’m about as good at poetry as Charlie Sheen is at not being a prick. Woe was indeed me. Between sulking over the laundry and going to return to my room, I decided to get on the computer. Maybe, I realized, I can distract myself with Facebook. After pulling up Firefox, I made a mistake that couldn’t be undone; I clicked the wrong link. Soon, I came face to face with a white and blue Internet forum. The words “Welcome to KH-Vids.net Now, I knew what I was looking at; I had found this website months ago during a brief obsession period with a video game. I had browsed around in the threads before, and found myself agreeing with these people who seemed just like me: alone, sarcastic, and successful recovery cases of the dreaded “Kingdum Hartz†disease. At this point in time, I was eating a plum; thoughts of the TV show “Code Geass†were floating in and out of my head like a transit airline. Without much second thought on the subject (a typical trait of mine), I clicked on the “Create Account†button, entered the required fields and hit submit. It was from this moment onward I slated my existence as Plums Vi Britannia. As it meant sitting on a computer for hours on end, I had always associated forums as a beacon of death; a warning that you were quickly losing any chance you had at having a “lifeâ€. The threat of becoming the new Megan Meier was near nonexistent in my head. I was (and still am) quite confident I could avoid falling into any and all “old men strokin’ their williesâ€. After posting my introduction thread, a way of forcing others to acknowledge my new-found online existence, a message was left on my profile from a member much like me: new, ditsy, and a tad bit on the insane side. “Hey xD What are you up to?†Although I'd like to say my first impression was positive, it was somewhere between the lines of "The **** is this" and "Didn't I just make my Intro thread? You ****ing creep." In the end, I ended up replying about how I was trying to figure out a customization for my profile while trying to get used to my new glasses. Low and behold, this user replied once more, and continued to. Eventually, I warmed up to her, allowing her to refer to me as Alex. Surprisingly, she allowed me to call her by her first name as well (Aiya). Over time, I began to see how much in common we had, which is an insane (…heh) amount of things. It was through meeting her that the rest of the forum suddenly lit up before me, and I took it on with an outlook inspired by Aiya's username: "About my opinion of forums before? Ah, eff that." There are multiple sections on the forum. One in its entirety is dedicated to the continued discussion of Kingdom Hearts. Naturally, as a "newfag", jargon for "new person", I clung to this section harder than I had the arms of friends at an ice skating rink. I remember my first thread in this section focusing on the generic villainous army, and still shudder at the half-essay posts I had contributed. While it must have been an influence from AP World History essays, I still feel a chill at the thought of creating such…things. Once I became more comfortable, I began to expand outward into other sections. News, Literature, Media, the Writer's Corner, Discussion; the list goes on. If there was any section I did not venture into, it was the SpamZone. As the title suggests, It was an area built for spam. As I figured it, the SpamZone was a sentient cesspool of any and all horrible creations or things that any member could find. Yet, there was something alluring about this ...chaos, something that called out to me. With a deep breath, I dove into the SpamZone, and to this day, I swear that I have five times the amount of posts in there than I do in any of the other sections combined. Becoming a junkie of the SpamZone actually had its benefits. To my torture, I was clawed away from "newfag" status and thrown into the spotlight. Other members began to take notice of my posts, giving to me something that I had never noticed at that point in time. This "gift" is known as "Reputation", points that can be given (or taken away) by any of the other members. While it was once important, "Rep" has since lost any value except to be "dem shiny green gems dat look so purdy". Yet, the magical square still appealed to me, and I received more and more as my time on the forum progressed. It was only last week did I receive enough Reputation to push me into 911 points. Or, as I call it, the Bin Laden points. (And yes, I still somehow manage to get positive feedback even though I'm such a terrible person.) Through the course of last year, I'd like to believe I've secured my place in KHV (especially since I won Best Normal Member in the annual Awards). Whenever I log on, there's just an air of confidence that takes over and pushes me forward. I remember going to school one day last May, and holding conversations with such ease that I didn't even realize it until afterward. At the end of the day, I found myself on Gmail, talking to my friend Aubrey through the chat function. I noticed myself talking in the same manner I had on KHV, and questioned her of this. She said she didn't notice any drastic changes, but I did. By going to KHV, by becoming someone who was comfortable with themselves in front of absolute strangers, something changed within my everyday life. I became wittier, more confident. I was, at this point, neither Alex nor Plums. I was truly, at last, me. And to think this all could have been different if I had clicked the right link. Well, sorry two ambiguous hospitalized souls. I think I happen to like this decision more than I can regret others.
Stardust: I loved you. I really did. But you always gave Sabby much more attention than I ever got. How dare you betray me like this? I thought we had something special. Makaze: You abandoned LARiA for Sforzato. How her heart weeps river upon river of grief. And so, we two, LARiA and Plums, Plums and LARiA, have decided that in a last ditch effort to win you both back, we shall do the unspeakable. PlumsxLARiA (PlARiAm) has been born.
[So we heard you want remakes? Well, here ya go! Now, notice all the prettyfulness of Johto and Kanto. Like it amirite? And look here! We even made it easy to beat! By the end, your Pokemn only has to be level 50 so you can get to Red! My oh my, what a convenience for you. Now just hike up Mt. Silver and beat him for more bonus content!] [but first you need t get to level 80 to win. oh, and all the wild pokemon cap off at 50.] [But no need to fear! There's still the Elite Four!] [who also grew in level so you need to get to mmm...70-ish. so just fight the gym leaders again. on certain days. at certain times. most of which are during school.] [...Good luck!] With regards, GameFreak
http://www.kh-vids.net/album.php?albumid=2569&attachmentid=24989 We have discovered Bin Laden's hideout after years of looking under that one rock.
Hey mufflermonkey, congratulations on your birth today! :3 You are deserving of all the hello kitty stickers in the world.
know the heart will lead the way to what we can control [Water, Fire Earth and Air Guardians Unite!]
[Two threads? Only two months into the new year? 2011, you ****er. >:L Oh, and Christian here, so God will be seen.] My grandpa's been ill for the past year and a half. It was a lung infection that started in September of 09. Ever since then, he's been using an oxygen tank when at home, and has slowly been getting better. ...Until this past week. Last Thursday, things got really bad and he had to go to Intensive Care. The doctors said he wouldn't make it, but he did. He's still there right now, and the lung infection's being somewhat quelled. But now, he's having problems with fluid in his chest and it's been made known to my family that there is definitely going to be some neurological problems when he comes home. And yes, when. I still have hope that my grandpa will make it through. But to add more to this, my baby brother had to go the hospital today as well. He has seizure problems, and when he gets sick, he gets sick to the point of Emergency Care. With both of them currently in the hospital (my baby brother should be fine, he usually turns around after a few days), everyone in my family is tense. This must be especially hard on my grandma, since she's lost her brother and her sister within the past year. My dad's away on a work conference thing till May, so I've taken it upon myself to try to do more things around the house, which I don't have a problem with. What I do have a problem with is just limited resentment towards people and, well, God. I know, I know. That's bad. I realize that and it makes me feel bad. But I can't help it. Ever since I found this out about my grandpa in 09, I've been praying religiously (heh) every night for him. In late December, I felt happy. My grandpa was getting stronger and my life was turning around for the better; I got closer to my friends, have a crush that may have mutual feelings, and doing pretty well in school. Then this happens and I'm supposed to resume praying for something He supposedly fixed? For an event that I'm supposed to beg Him to fix, even though He's responsible for it? I just feel betrayed by my own beliefs, yet I still find myself praying because I really don't want anything bad to happen. And this resentment is also shared with some friends on here as well. Last summer, I found myself surrounded by people I forged friendships I really believed in. Now, I just feel pretty much alone. I do still have a lot of friends on here, but it's the ones I were close to that I just want to punch in the face. One of them just blatantly ignores me now. I try sending them a VM here, a message over MSN, and messages on FB, but they just seem as though they don't give two ****s about me or the other people in our supposed "family" group. I try to ignore it, but it just stings so much. I'm also really questioning my friendships with another two people. They're amazing and all, but it just seems that I have to always think about what to say before I say it. They've been through hell and back, and I can acknowledge that, but I just want to know I can say wrong things to them without fearing they'd think I was "betraying" them like a lot of others had done in the past. I just want to know that I can make a mistake, and they'll be ready to forgive. Overall, this year's not two full months in and it's absolute ****. :/
Stardust is always WRONG kthx. c: EDIT: And Rat is always Rat.
Facebook is suggesting me KHV members to add. It means we must never be apart <3 Ignore Butts butts Misty: Baby Blue - Slayer of Destiny(#BCD4E6,#E6DCBC,#E5E5E5) Wolfie: Crimson - Seer of Heart Stardust: Lavender - Witch of Light Chevalier: Olive - Knight of Mind Plums: Orange - Thief of Fruit (#545454) Claw: Royal Blue - Mage of Time Jayn: Purple - Sylph of Art Beezy: Yellow - Muse of Hope Forsaken: Burgundy - Mage of Blood What?: Green - Sage of Mind (Ashwin's Text Color) Sabby: Pink - RvR: Neon Blue - (?)
Partially due to demand of Misty (as well as another member's urge to be in it) I decided I'll continue the story I started in this thread. And as an extra challenge, I'm planning on writing each chapter from the viewpoints of different characters, with all told in Second Person. whichmaykillme. Critique is strongly suggested. c: So without further adieu~ Prologue: Night of Plum You're sprinting. Breath is heavy. Your legs feel like steel rods, clunking in and out of the mud. You want to stop, to catch some breath, to pray and repent all your sins. At least, had you been a very religious person. Religion for you was always something you could never quite grasp. You stop your thoughts with a smack to the head. Smacking the mind's lips won't get you know where bud, you tell yourself with a grunt. If you wanna get away, you got to focus on the prize. Easier for you to say. You find yourself arguing against your own thoughts every now and again. Pure habit really. You slip in the mud, face digging up a pound of worms and silt. You spit it out quick, cursing yourself for getting off track again. She'll be here any minute, idiot. You shouldn't get off track at a time like thi- You stop talking. Fingers slide across your throat, then make their way to your shoulders. They're cold and fell a bit stubby. You reach your own hand up, but you can't feel it anymore, only the crimson pool pouring down your arm. Your eyes dart down, spotting your hand lying there, fossilizing itself with the earth. You turn your head, the hand now ripping open your shirt. You see a red head chick, with a small ponytail sticking out the back. You whimper as the red head's other hand pushes itself into your chest, the knife already penetrating the heart chamber. You can only mutter a few words before your world turns dark. "...M-Misty...why?" "You want to know why, Plums? You didn't follow my idea like I wanted you to, you little fruit basket." Since you wanted it, you've got some ;D Chapter One: Still Nouveau on the Block You're sitting in a coffee shop. Laptop open, coffee at your side. Life's good, you think as you take a swig. You've been at the city KHV for little more than a year now. Never would have thought you would last as long as you did, but hey, another of life's works behind the curtains, pulling out things you never would have dreamed. You take a peek at the pocket watch your friend Jiku gave to you. It's silver, the color of "the only Pokemon game I have and will ever play", as she called it. It's 13:35 pm (you could never help but to read the clock in standard Army style, or "Sexy style" as you call it). She's over an hour late. With a sigh, you lean back in your chair, pondering whether it is better to be Tentacle raped or fall victim to necrophilia... "I expected a much more festive gathering from you, good sir." You awaken with a groan. Definitely tentacle rape, you mutter as your eyes adjust to the girl in front of you. She had a mane of black hair wrapped neatly in a ponytail. Her glasses hung over her nose, the creamy brown rims matching perfectly with her pink sweater. Normally you'd be turned on by such a sight, but you're too busy with kinky thoughts of Octupi to consider. "May I ask to what I owe the pleasure of your ever fashionable tardiness?" "Just be thankful I bothered to awaken from my comatose-esque abandon from the city." "You and your life," you say with a hint of arrogance. Jiku's unfolding a newspaper. Probably got it from the local newsbringer, Kubo. Wherever there was news, there was always a Kubo. Your gaze moved down to your laptop, the empty Word document flickering like a street lamp over a dark alley. There's some temptation to write this down, but you've never been one to follow the typical mystery archetype. "Anything new in the news?" "Yeah. That one kid Plums got killed over the weekend. I always liked that boy. ...Girl? ...Boy, right?" "Plums is a guy. He was pretty chill to me. It's a shame that he was snatched up by that lukewarm fist from above. ...Not to mention the ever present gender confusion, of course." "Ah right. Haven't spoken to him for a couple months now. He was mildly entertaining to say the least." "Do they know what killed him yet?" "Chev's working on it. You know, him being the first member of the Crimson Corp Police Squad, he wants to make sure he's got a handle on things." "Have any possible leads yet?" "Not that I'm aware of. I'm more of the desk duty officer than anyone else. If anyone of us do know, Stardust will be the one. She is Head of Forensics." "Ah, well, you have my bets wishes." At this point you've risen from your chair, folding the laptop neatly between your arms. Bowing towards Jiku, you walk over to the entrance. Behind you, you can hear a paper rustle as Jiku asks, angrily: "**** you too if you think I'm paying this bill." You're in your bedroom. Night fell about two hours ago. You're sitting on your bed, wondering if you'll ever get to leave the Normie District of the city and move into the larger Premmie Sector. Eh, a man can dream, you say to yourself turning over. Your laptop's on the table charging. Normally, you'd be up typing up a storm, but tonight you feel out of it. Outside your window, you can hear a couple of the guests running around. Funny creatures they are. They lurk the site, but only a few ever join. You dismiss this thought with a shake of the head, and bury yourself into your covers. The goose down feels like its massaging your body. As you feel yourself being overwhelemed by the covers, you hear your door creak open. Looking up, you can see what appears to be... "Misty?" "Hey there, sexy." Your jaw feels like it's about to plop to the ground. The Admins, the heads of the city, appear ever so rarely from their busy lives. spdude had run away long ago, with Roxasvsriku (or as everyone calls him, RvR) took over, working on advancing the city past the point of its technological limitations. And Misty...Misty was the original staffie. The one whose seen it all, done it all, knows it all. She's been around the city for five years, only within the past couple of months working her way up to the Admin HQ. Since she joined when she was 12, everyone knew her as "The Ancient Baby", but part of you felt a bit...aroused whenever you saw her. It worries you that perhaps you're dipping a bit too far down in pedophilia, but hey; a guy only lives once. "So...what are you doing? Here?" Misty walks over to you. Her hand makes its way onto your face, her fingers tracing over your lips. "Nouveau, I've come to tell you that I...I've always had feelings for you. That day you first joined, I felt something shoot through my underdeveloped mind that changed me forever more. I want you to have me; to own me. Make me your first beaten Gym Leader, baby." With that, Misty falls on top of you. Although you want to fight, to rip her off of you, something overshadows you, forces all your judgment to the side. You can feel the covers being ripped off of you, until there is only a sheet left separating Misty from your body. The lust inside grins greedily at the fact you always sleep in your boxers. You feel cold sweat drip down your chin as Misty begins to lift up her shirt. It's barely past the belly button when you see her hand dart up into her shirt, a cylinder shaped metal object flying towards your neck. Before you can react, a white hot pain pounds into your neck as your head falls from your body. Legions of candy canes fall out of the body as Misty lowers her shirt, smiling. Her neon blue light saber flickers in the darkness of your room, as the light fades from your eyes.
Which one of you lucky folks wants to get the opprotunity to take Plums' Regents English exam (NYS version of a final. My teacher felt my AP English Lang. class could do it now, so yaaay |: ) If you do, you get the chance to travel from you state/country/garbage can and enter the wonderful state of New York! See the sites of Plums' city and see day-by-day murders all over the news! Call now! ...BUT WAIT, THERE'S MORE. If you pay Plums an extra $59.99 you can receive an honorary Pre-Calculus midterm as well! NYS is famous for it's terrible grading of its Math courses, and this will be an experience you will not want to miss! Call now at 1-800-SAVEMEH within the next 4 years to receive this miraculous gift! Again, 1-800-SAVEMEH.
I was home sick (minor medical issue that's been happening the past few days) and was home by myself. It felt great being alone; I had the freedom to let loose the old Alex personality and have fun. But I also felt pretty lonely. Then I noticed a majority of friends appeared on MSN and I was about to go talk to someone...then chose to appear offline to everyone. Ever since the start of this school year I've been terribly hesitant whenever I talk to any friends. At first I shrugged it off, believing it to just be some kind of "lol skool i mis summa" thing. But it's been continuing since then. At school, I find myself being awkward around everyone; whenever I seem to say something, eight times out of ten it comes out a completely different way than I had meant it, which even surprises me. This has even been happening on here, where I had felt completely comfortable, to the point where I force myself to not post or get into extended conversations with anyone. Some days I can talk to others normally, but now I hardly want to chance this and try to alienate myself (despite knowing I'd get lonely eventually). Even now there are people on MSN I want to talk to, but just don't want to make an absolute buffoon out of myself. I also catch myself moving awkwardly too, whether it be walking with more of my weight on my left side, or my body just feeling completely foreign to me. It's concerning to say the least, but when I get home, the awkward feeling is just instantly eradicated as though it was never a problem. And I'm not sure if this relates or not, I've been giving up on things a lot more than ever before. If I have to stay up past a certain point in the night to do homework, I try to force myself to do it, but then it's as though I have no control and my body just decides itself to crash. Not to mention I've been getting pissed at my brothers for absolutely no reason, even when they haven't been annoying. And I also find myself unwilling to deal with crushes either. I have one right now, but for some reason I try to fight it off without knowing why exactly, causing me to get depressed at random intervals of the time. It feels like I'm her little brother something (well, a little brother to everyone I know >>) and I can't do anything to change that, even though I'm fully capable of doing so. It could be the stress of being one year left before graduating high school, it could be me being too worried about other people's opinions of me, it could be that I feel like I'm still a little kid and everyone else my age is acting appropriately...I don't know. I just feel f***ed up and don't know what to do. D:
Yeah man. The secret's this: All you gotta do is [lol help me think of an idea to write about for a short story I have due for creative writing. ...In full second person point of view. I'll give you some of this right here ;D]
[So I'm on Facebook and my friend sends me a friend suggestion. The suggested person's name is Samantha S. Her bio? "hello everyone. my name is samantha and ijve created this page strickly to say the raw bitter truth about all the *****es ****s hoe players and losers at -insert Plums' school here-. good luck escaping my rath"] How terribly amusing and just plain terrible we are.
I just tried to VM you back (SINCE I DIDN'T BECAUSE I'M A TERRIBLE HUMAN...FRUIT BEING) but your profile denied meh. :c Irregardless, hiya <: And you too KHV <3
NOTE FROM PLUMS: I wrote this one for my creative writing class project in September, and we had to attempt to write in the style of Anne Micheals, the author of the novel Fugitive Pieces (mentioned below). Anyway, CnC is welcome especially since I'm thinking about entering it in a local writing contest :'D Oh, and there are pronunciation guides next to some of the made-up names. EDIT: Ohhey MS Word indents don't work on KHV. “We must carry each other. If we don’t have this, what are we?” -Athos, Fugitive Pieces. “We were the blinds of a dark room, the telegraph in a modern world,a typewriter in a computer store – obsolete. Worthless. Nothing. Nothing was all we knew and possibly ever will...” “Do you ever wonder if there’s something out there for us?” “No.” “Do you ever wonder what could have been?” “No.” “…Do you even wonder about anything?” “Things? Yes. I think about dinner, when I should fall asleep and all those sort of things. As for the matters of ‘life’ and ‘humanity’, I don’t. I figure, if I don’t understand what it’s like to be alive, why bother the effort to put it into context for myself?” “That’s quite the positive outlook you have there.” “And this is quite the awkward questionnaire. Really Adrianne, you’ve been down the past few days. Are you okay?” Adrianne shrugged. Her gaze fell towards the ground, sprinkled with cinnamon sand. Trees danced with the shadows, each movement continuing on for seemingly forever. Water brushed the grayish-green rocks, Adrianne’s foot being tickled with the liquid prankster. Next to her, a boy of about fifteen sighed sharply. She didn’t have to look over to describe the look on his face. His short, brown hair stood neatly on his head. His eyes, a golden-brown color, pierced the nighttime sky. She could feel him staring off into the distant woods, his hand rising to touch the tanned “birthmark”, as he called it, under his eye. She never did ask about the birthmark. The day they met in fact, he simply told her “‘This is a birthmark’”. Not threateningly. Not worried. Just simple and to the point. That is how it always was with him, Alé. He always gave his answer with a simple reply, no emotion whatsoever. Just like he did the very first day she arrived. “Alé…” “Yeah Adrianne?” “Do you remember the day we met?” Alé now turned to Adrianne. He smirked, flicking her in the head. “Hey!” Adrianne said, attempting to flick him back. “As a matter of fact I do. It was that day when you first joined up with us.” “Yep. It was the first time we came down here to the beach.” “It seems like so long ago, but if I remember correctly...” Adrianne was now smiling, splashing the water with her toes. “It was just a week ago”. “The walls are high.” That was the first thing she noticed about this place. The walls of the hall spawned overhead, staring down at her. She was walking slowly, wrapped in a black cloak. The hood was down, her fiery red hair hugging the back of her neck. Her gray-blue eyes stared straight ahead, looking for the end of the hall. A girl, about her own age, obscured her view. “Yes, our walls are quite high Adrianne” the girl replied, not looking back. Adrianne frowned. The entire time they had been walking, the girl never turned around. Never looked at her. It was as if she were just a mere shadow of this girl, a mere memory that lingered behind as the girl walked into a mysterious future. Adrianne wanted the girl to turn around. She wanted her to look her in the face, the lingering memory in the face, and force it to accept her, to accept it. The girl stopped walking. Adrianne also stopped. The girl turned to face her. Her hair was black; the edges dyed an emerald green. Her eyes were the same color, an endless green chasm of enigma. Adrianne could feel herself falling into the green, forcing her to look away. She could still feel the girl’s gaze lingering upon her. “I hope you are aware that not meeting a person in the eyes is slightly offensive.” Her voice seemed to embrace the walls, constrict the air. The soft, simple, nonchalant tone made Adrianne cringe. It was as though the girl’s voice permeated through her skin, twisting her insides into the same demented grip that embraced everything in the hall. Adrianne’s eyes turned toward hers. The girl’s mouth rose into a half-smile. She turned back around, walking slowly ahead. Adrianne rubbed her temples, returning to her place as the silent shadowed memory, lingering behind the green-eyed girl. “How much longer will this take?” “Excuse me?” The girl turned to Adrianne. They had been walking for, what appeared to Adrianne, days. Her legs were stone, dragging against the floor. Her arms were fire hoses, moist with enough sweat to put out a fire. Her face was as red as her hair, her entire head looking like a misshapen tomato. The girl, on the other hand, was perfectly fine; no sweat, no sore limbs. Just perfection. Adrianne’s face contorted into a glare. “I said, how much longer will this take?” “You don’t want to walk with me anymore?” The girl’s face looked somber, like a turtle that’s lost their way to the ocean. Adrianne wanted to feel bad; she wanted to gather the small child in her arms and give it a triple scoop of ice cream. But she just couldn’t. Some part of her knew, subliminally, that the girl was just feigning it in an effort to gain her trust, to force her to open up and stand idle as the girl did whatever she saw fit. “I already know you’re faking, so why don’t you cut the hoopla and tell me what you really want.” The girl’s face lifted into a painted-on clown smile. Her hand stroked the wall. The fingers of the hand seemed to glide over the rough texture, like a breeze over a field of leaves. The girl’s hand found its way onto a metal keypad. Adrianne’s eyes widened as her fingers quickly pressed the keys, a square shaped piece of the wall detaching itself. After a few seconds, the piece was completely removed from the wall, a bright opening left in its place. Adrianne stood dumbfounded as the girl stepped into the door. “Coming Adrianne?” the girl asked with a smug smirk on her face as she disappeared into the light. Without saying a word, Adrianne stepped through behind the girl, only one sole thought in her mind: “Hoopla of all things to say. Next thing you know I'll be getting ready for the Great Restoration.” “What took you so long?” “Florence, you’d be quiet if you had any sort of respect.” Voices came from the void of light. They seemed to filter through the light like sand in a sieve. Adrianne had closed her eyes at this point, the light having caused her eyes to tear up. A hand clutched her arm, cold and unflinching. It had a strong enough grip that Adrianne winced. She could feel it drag her forward. Her foot hit a hard, plaster surface - a step for a stage. The hand pushed her forward, enough that she tumbled onto the stage. She opened her eyes. The bright light faded, revealing an array of seven seats on the ground. Three were occupied, two were empty. The last two, the third and fourth seats, were heavily damaged, cracks running throughout the backs. A fat bald man in the fifth seat caught her stare, shrugging. “Eh, they didn’t matter too much.” “They?” “They. T-H-E-Y. You do know your personal pronouns, correct?” he said, grinning. His teeth were the cleanest she’d ever seen. Running up the side of his face was a tattoo of an eagle, the eyes full of hunger, desperation and fear. His nose was filled with piercings; enough that she thought it was anomaly that he was still able to breathe properly. “Adrianne, this is Dia.” Adrianne turned her head, the green-eyed girl standing next to her. Adrianne eyed her foot, red from the hit against the step of the stage. It only made sense that she was the one that threw me. “He’s our personal...grammar stickler.” the girl said with a sigh. “You better believe it. Grammar’s my hammer when it comes to those who refuse to wield it.” Dia said content with his introduction. Adrianne could feel her head pounding against her eyes. A grammar stickler with tattoos running down his face and a fist full of piercings in his nose. What a joy. She turned as the girl motioned toward the next occupied seat. A young boy looked up at her, with eyes of brownies and other assortments of sweets. Adrianne could feel an “Aww” about to force itself from her throat, wanting to embrace the boy in a hug. “Adrianne, this is Florence.” “Like I even care.” The “Aww” threatening to come out of her throat vanished. The boy looked at them both with a tired expression, as if he were forced to come to the “greeting”. “Why are we even doing this? We’re better off by ourselves. We lost those two dead weights last year; we don’t need more losers messing up our group. Especially this Powerpuff Girl.” Adrianne could feel her face burning as the boy began to play with his fingers. She wanted nothing better than to strangle Florence. She could feel the girl walking away from her side. The girl stepped down stage, walking up to Florence. He continued to play with his fingers even as she approached him. She grabbed his fingers, causing him to look up at her with the typical what-did-I-do face. Florence and the girl stared at each other. Adrianne felt a shiver run down her spine. She could see sweat forming on Dia’s brow. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the person in the sixth chair sitting perfectly fine. They waved their hand towards Florence, her eyes following the path. The girl and Florence still stared at each other, Florence’s eyes shaking, and the girl’s emerald eyes calm and unmoving. “Now then,” the girl said, inching slowly away from Florence. “Give our newest friend a proper welcome.” The girl gestured toward Adrianne – a movement full of such terror that even Adrianne shook, chills dancing a limbo across her spine. “W-welcome to our group Adrianne. And, s-sorry for my insulting tone, Alea [UH-LAY-UH].” So her name is Alea. It’s a fitting name for Ms. Multi Faces, seeing as it means dice in Latin. “Now then Florence, why don’t you go tidy up our friend’s room.” Alea suggested, Florence running off into the distance. Adrianne watched him run; thinking of how the Trojans fled when the Greeks took Troy. In this case, Florence — and perhaps all of them — was the Trojans. And Alea was the Greeks. “And here is the last of us. Adrianne, meet Aléjandro.” “It’s Alé. Aléjandro’s too formal for me.” Alea chuckled, the person in the last seat rising from his dormancy. He was about two inches shorter than Adrianne, with short brown hair and golden brown eyes. He looked not even a day over fourteen, making him two years younger than her. He bowed slightly, eyes focused on the floor. “Nice to meet you Alé.” “Nice to meet you as well, Adry [AY-DREE].” “Adry?” Adrianne asked, the chuckles of Alea and Dia ringing in her ears. Alé stood up completely now, his face adorned with genuine surprise. “You don’t like it?” “No, no. I was just wondering, why did you give me a nickname?” Adrianne said, a guilty feeling tapping itself on her shoulders like la miniature dancer. Alé merely shrugged, looking around at the seats. “I give everyone a nickname. Dia and Alea didn’t get one, since their names were too short. Florence has always been Ren the Scamp, and,” he paused as his gaze passed the two cracked seats, “those two — Aquilla and Vasperen — were always Quite Vexing Company, or QVC to me.” Adrianne allowed her eyes to sweep over him. As she caught a brown mark etched upon his face, he raised his hand over the mark. “This is a birthmark.” Alea stepped onto the stage, her hand grasping Adrianne’s shoulder. Try to throw me again and see what happens to that hand. Her eyes shone in the light. “Now that we are all acquainted, I’d personally like to welcome Adrianne into our fold. She is one of us, and together, we shall build a better world not only for us, but for all just like us.” Us? There are more? What are they? What am I? Adrianne felt like speaking up, to shed light into the darkness of ignorance. Alea’s hand gripped tighter, as if she knew what Adrianne was thinking, and then returned to her speech. “I expect everyone to get a good night of rest for tomorrow morning. That is when we begin our mission once more, the mission to reclaim the identities stolen from us by those apathetic fools.” My identity? Apathetic fools? What’s she rambling about? Adrianne felt the hand leave her shoulder as Alea walked off the stage. Beside Alé, Dia was bubbling over with anticipation like one of the makeshift vinegar volcanoes from fourth grade. “This will be a most exuberant time. Our lives shall be mended together at last” he said, following Alea’s lead. Even Alé had a smile of sorts etched upon his face, eyes turned to Adrianne. “Yo Adry. I was about to walk down to the beach. I know you’re new and should find your way about this place and stuff, but why waste a night on the trivial basics you’re bound to learn anyway? You should come and let me give you the grand tour of one of the least depressing places here.” He has a point. I mean, there’s no use getting completely lost at night — at least I think its night — anyway. Adrianne jumped off the stage. She and Alé began to walk, leaving the stage behind. The stage is the center of a performance. Although one may leave the stage, the stage never leaves the individual. “It never occurred to me that John Mayer was a pig face. And here I thought the guy seemed cool for dating Jen Aniston.” They had been sitting on the beach for an hour. Alé and Adrianne’s laughs rebounded off of the sea, plummeting into the woods all around them. Stars were dashed across the sky like toys on a blue carpet. The moon was the one toy that stood out from all the others, the centerpiece of play time. The water stood still, only moving from the rocking of Adrianne’s stubbed foot in the waves. “Yet he also thought that his pants were too good for all non-white women. ‘Like a Nazi or the KKK’, apparently. I guess it’s no wonder why Jen dumped him after all.” Adrianne said, splashing water into the sky. “Then only redeeming part of him is his music.” “More like the only part I take a guilty pleasure in.” Adrianne and Alé laughed. Looking down in the water, Adrianne saw her own reflection, her red hair standing out amidst the gray waters. “The mission to reclaim the identities stolen from us by those apathetic fools.” The words have been playing over and over in her head ever since Alea left. The words had a bitter taste to them, the kind that sticks around your breath worse than garlic. “Alé, what did Alea mean by ‘the mission to reclaim the identities stolen from us’?” Alé’s face twisted up as if he had been shot. “You…don’t know?” “Seeing as how I’m dreadfully new to all of this,” Adrianne motioned her right arm across the air, “no, I do not.” “Adrianne…we…you…” “Me, us, what?” “Don’t mock me, Adry. All of us are special.” Alé’s voice trailed off as he stared at the sea. Adrianne could feel the waves pushing at her foot, almost a gentle nudge for her to stop asking. “I’m taking it you mean special in the bad sense.” Alé nodded. “Adrianne, what I’m about to tell you may seem…impossible.” “’Nothing’s impossible for a Possible!’” “Adry. You, me, Dia, Ren and even Alea…we’re all dead. ...Kim Possible reference, right?” “You know, it would have been nice if Alea had told me I was dead during the greeting.” Adrianne said, staring at the waves. She pulled her foot back in long ago, the wrinkles already having been set in. She could hear Alé sigh. Turning around, she flicked him in the head; payback for his earlier flick. “It also would have been nice if you didn’t just do that.” Alé replied, rubbing the spot where he was flicked. “And here I thought dying would be painful. I’ve only been dead a week and I don’t feel like a rotting corpse of the undead.” “Excuse me, but not all undead rot. Vampires don’t. Neither does a werewolf.” “Werewolf’s are still alive genius. Hence why they can bleed.” “Just like you, Adry.” Adrianne brought her hand up to her face. Three days before, she cut herself while running to meet Alé at the beach. It was a deep gash, blood gushing out of her hand like candy from a piñata. But that’s what she didn’t understand; How could she bleed if she’s dead? No one had an answer for it, except for Alea probably. And Alé. “…Alé.” Adrianne said, eyes still transfixed on her hand. “Yes Adry?” “We’re not really dead. Are we?” Alé was silent for two seconds, then responded in a low voice; “No.” “Then…what are we?” “We are the puppets without a ventriloquist. The grass without water. We are anomalies. We lack the thing that makes each and every person unique and living. We are without souls. We live a life without life. We exist outside of the boundaries of regular life. We are Abvita [AB-VIH-TAH].”
The Number-Eater has returned.
Alex is me Aura is...Aura Jefferyloserpants is Bueno Allison is Spunk Alex says: DOHOHOHO VMs number 69 and 70 were rightfully mine. BECAUSE SOMEONE DOESN'T RESPOND TO THEM ON TIME. Alex says: LIKE AURA. Jeffrey says: WELL BLAME HER, NOT ME! Alex says: I BLAME YOU BOTH. Jeffrey says: IT'S ALL HER FAULT Jeffrey says: SHE'S A WOMAN Alex says: WHAT IS SHE EVEN DOING ON THE INTERNET? SHOULDN'T SHE BE GETTING US SOME SAMMICHES RIGHT NOW? [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] has been added to the conversation. Jeffrey says: Plums says you should be making us some sammiches right now, not being on the internet Alex says: LOL LIES. Alex says: Don't believe him. Jeffrey says: Alex says: WHAT IS SHE EVEN DOING ON THE INTERNET? SHOULDN'T SHE BE GETTING US SOME SAMMICHES RIGHT NOW? Jeffrey says: I have proof, son! Alex says: Jeffrey says: IT'S ALL HER FAULT Jeffrey says: SHE'S A WOMAN Jeffrey says: ...now THAT'S a lie Alex says: I can has proof too. Jeffrey says: Proof is those of age Alex says: Alex says: DOHOHOHO VMs number 69 and 70 were rightfully mine. BECAUSE SOMEONE DOESN'T RESPOND TO THEM ON TIME. Alex says: LIKE AURA. Jeffrey says: WELL BLAME HER, NOT ME! Alex says: I BLAME YOU BOTH. Jeffrey says: IT'S ALL HER FAULT Jeffrey says: SHE'S A WOMAN [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: .... Jeffrey says: DON'T BELIEVE HIM, VIVIELEPEW, HE'S LYING [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: You two seriously are ready to die. Alex says: I love you sister :'D Jeffrey says: ;-; Vivieleserialkiller [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: STFU. Alex says: You know that. Jeffrey says: Shhhh, she's gonna kill us [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: B| Alex says: Let's just end Bueno here then we can go back to getting my, er, our sammiches. Alex says: c: Jeffrey says: See, he just hung himself! Jeffrey says: I wouldn't make you make me a sandwich (as we mature and sophisticated people call it). Jeffrey says: I'd be a gentleman Jeffrey says: and let you buy it. Alex says: I didn't say I'd make her make it. Jeffrey says: You implied it. Alex says: I said we'd get it. Jeffrey says: DON'T LIE [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: I need to buy another sword. Alex says: I'M NOT LYING. [c=13]Allison ღ[/c=20] has been added to the conversation. Jeffrey says: OMG, it's spunk Alex says: Alli Palli, please inform Mr. BUENOZELIARPANTS I would never make Aura make me a sandwhich. Jeffrey says: what a lame email address >> [c=13]Allison ღ[/c=20] says: Rude. Jeffrey says: "Alli Palli," please inform the fruity boy that he's lying. Alex says: See? Even Alli Palli knows you're a nasty sexist man. Alex says: ...B| Jeffrey says: nasty sexy man, you mean. Alex says: I'm sexir than you! Alex says: We have discussed this Bueno. Alex says: The matter was setlled long ago. Alex says: *sexier Alex says: *settled Jeffrey says: you can be sexir than me Jeffrey says: but I'm sexier Alex says: *this, Bueno Jeffrey says: You have to avoid all typos to be sexy, younf man Jeffrey says: young* Jeffrey says: ...**** Alex says: AP English has made me a Grammar Nazi. OHOHOHOHO Contradiction. Alex says: So whose not sexy now? Alex says: ...*who's Jeffrey says: who's Jeffrey says: HA Alex says: DAMN. Jeffrey says: You, that's who's not. Jeffrey says: YOU USED THE POSSESSIVE FORM RATHER THAN THE SUBJECTIVE FORM, YOU SILLY BOY Alex says: OBVIOUSLY TO TRICK YOU INTO DISPLAYING YOUR IMMATURITY. EVERYONE KNOWS SEXY MEN ARE MATURE. LIKE ME. Jeffrey says: Shush, Fruit Basket Alex says: Hush, ...I hate you for having a non-anime referenced name. Alex says: OH WAIT Jeffrey says: Mwahaha. Alex says: Buena Girl. Jeffrey says: *does Don Kanonji laugh* Alex says: *cartoon-referenced Jeffrey says: I can't believe I acutally got the reference Alex says: That show was pretty good. It took me awhile to get the Bleach one. [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: I don't even understand what's going on ehre. [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: here* [c=13]Allison ღ[/c=20] says: I don't either. Jeffrey says: Looks like Aura isn't a sexy man. She made a typo. Jeffrey says: And hush, this is sexy man time, girlies. [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: I [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: Am [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: Noy [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: not* [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: A [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: Man Alex says: We were trying to settle how was the sexist. Then it evolved into who was sexier. whichisobviouslyme. Jeffrey says: You mean "who." Jeffrey says: See, you're not sexy for your typo! Alex says: Nor a sexy man. And you mean *Not. [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: I know too many sexist people. Jeffrey says: Plums is one of them. Alex says: Bueno is the top one. Jeffrey says: No, I like being on the bottom. Jeffrey says: Ask your mom Jeffrey says: OHO [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: Oh dear God. [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: XD Alex says: And I prefer the top. Ask your dad. Alex says: ..*mom Alex says: ****. Jeffrey says: ... Jeffrey says: That wasn't a typo [c=13]Allison ღ[/c=20] says: Alex is gay. Jeffrey says: It was your subconscious coming out of the closet Jeffrey says: and a graverobber Alex says: I love you too Allison. [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: Oh hey. This went from me threaten you two to Alex being gay. Jeffrey says: It always was about that. Alex says: I am a very joyful peson. Alex says: *threatening Jeffrey says: Yeah Jeffrey says: as joyful as Perez Hilton Alex says: You lost 10 more sexy points. [c=13]Allison ღ[/c=20] says: He's trying to be nicer. Jeffrey says: Alex, you make Tom Cruise look like Chuck Norris Alex says: I am quite glad to know that I have bettered someone's image with my own. Jeffrey says: ...You didn't make a typo there. Alex says: +10 sexy points for Alex. Jeffrey says: Yay! Jeffrey says: Only 3845638942790000 more before you catch up Alex says: *. Alex says: -10 sexy points for Bueno. [c=#7E354D]Aᴜrα[/c] says: WHAT THE HELLS IS GOING ON HERE? Alex says: *Hell Alex says: -10 sexy points for Vivian. Vivian is now in the Danger Zone. Jeffrey says: It's alright, Vivieleskunk, Alex is just confused at how unsexy he is compared to me. Alex says: This conversation now depends on correct punctuation, spelling and grammar to be sexy. Alex says: *all right Alex says: You mean, you're confused about how unsexy you are compared to me. [c=13]Allison ღ[/c=20] has left the conversation. Jeffrey says: YOU SCARED HER AWAY, YOU UNSEXY BOY. Alex says: NO, I DIDN'T MEAN TOO. Alex says: ;; Alex says: *TO Jeffrey says: Ha, unsexy. Alex says: What have I done? :c Alex says: I'll get my sexy back. Alex says: B| Jeffrey says: You're the reason it left and Justin Timberlake had to go fetch it. Alex says: Obviously so he ould bring it back to me. Alex says: *could. Alex says: ****. Jeffrey says: Lol no. Alex says: Alex has no sexy points left! Alex blacked out! Alex says: This should beposted on KHV. Alex says: *be posted Alex says: I'm now negatively sexy.
This is a pleasant surprise. How have you been KHV?
