Det er det indtil videre

Okay, klokken er lidt for mange, så det må altså bare blive det indtil videre ><

"No titel."

Cold. So cold. His eyes flicker, but the rest of his body is motionless. He tries to lift his head to see where he is, but he can’t. It is not like it matters anyway. He already knows that he will die. Nobody human can survive that much cold, he doesn’t even know why he is awake. He should be unconscious. His heart should have stopped beating. That would have been humane at least. Bearable. But he is awake indeed, and he is cold. It is humane in some way. He can’t feel his body. He can’t feel the pain, he can’t feel his heart fighting to keep him alive, and he can’t feel how his life is slowly leaving him. He doesn’t even want to fight. He just wants to die already. The ice surrounding him has already tapped his will to live – why is it keeping him alive?

Ice castle.

Thorns. Suddenly it feels like thousands of ice thorns are being forced into his skin. He can’t do anything. He is still unable to move, no matter how much it hurts. Why ice? He thinks. His whole life he has hated ice. He grew up in Texas for Gods sake. It was warm there. And here he is, caught in the cold of an ice hell. That’s irony. Bittersweet irony.

Why won’t he die? Why is he still alive? The cold burns. It burns, it sticks and it kills him. He knows he is dying, so why is dead so hesitant? He is surrounded by ice, has been lying in ice for hours. He has never been a brainiac, but even he knows he should be dead by now. His body must be around 50 F or something.

“How is our little prince?” a girls voice. A girl on the wage of growing into a woman. He wishes that he could just turn his head, but he can’t do anything but blink. Even that hurts.

“You are in pain?” Is that pity in her voice? She sounds like she want’s to do something to make the pain go away. He wishes she would. She could kill him, for instance.

“I’m sorry, it has to perish your heart, if you are going to be anything. It will be any minute now, prince. And then you will be Cold,” she says. What is she talking about? She doesn’t make any sense to him. He will be cold? He is already cold. Already so cold that he wishes he could just die. And it already hurts way too much. Minutes with this pain? There’s no way he can survive that, wants to survive that. Why doesn’t she help him instead? He tries to form a plea for help in his mouth, but the words never move past his lips. He can’t move his mouth. He feels pathetic. How come he is there, anyway? How come he is in this cold place? He want’s to go back to Texas. To the warm weather, the sunny sky. How did he end up there in the first place? He doesn’t remember going to any cold state. Or country. For all he knows he can be on Greenland. And then a hope lights his cold eyes up. It can all be a dream. Wasn’t that what they said in that movie – Inception? That when you were dreaming you wouldn’t have any idea of how you got where you were. And that you can feel pain inside of a dream, even if it’s not real.

“It’s not a dream, prince. This is the reality. And it can be any minute now, and then you will be Cold.” Why does it sound like she means cold with capital C? He is already way too cold. He is quite sure he can’t get any colder.

Suddenly he can see her. She is standing over him, looking down on him. She has long smooth jet-black hair, almost translucent pale skin, an oval face and the most startling blue eyes he has ever seen. They remind him of the ocean in Caribbean. She is wearing a long white dress, and no matter how hard he tries to concentrate, he can’t quite make out the delicate details of it. She is beautiful. He is quite sure that she must be the angel who will take him to heaven. If this is not a dream.

And then, his heart stops. He can literally feel it stopping, even though he couldn’t even feel it beating seconds ago. It feels like the needles have finally found his heart, and even though it hurts more than anything else, he is relieved. He can finally die. He closes his eyes, ready for this beautiful angel to take him away, only a bit sad knowing that he will never be able to say goodbye to his family, tell his mom that he loved her and his dad that he was proud of being his son. But it is okay. He just wants to die. They will survive the loss of him, they are strong.

Open your eyes.

He waits for something. Anything. A white light at the end of a tunnel, the angel to appear again and lift him up to heaven or that he floats out of his own body. But nothing but blackness happens. And then, the pain stops, and he feel the bliss of nothing. ‘It’s over’, he thinks, but when he opens his eyes, he is still in the exact same spot he was before, and nothing has changed.

“You can move,” says the girl. She is still there, looking down on him, her eyes twinkling beautifully from all the ice surrounding them. He wonders what she is doing here. Wait – did she say that he could move? He doesn’t believe her, but when he tries to move his arm, it does at he wants to. He sits straight up, and dark spots instantly blocks his vision.

“Whoa, slow down, prince,” the girl says. She is standing on whatever he is laying on, still looking down. She looks concerned, but her eyes hide a relieved smile.

As soon as his eyesight is fully returned he looks around. He is in what looks like a room, but everything is either carved from ice or made out of snow. The walls themselves are clearly made out of ice, and he is lying on some kind of supposed madras, but the comfortable effect has been ruined by the fact that it is made out of pure snow. There is also a couch and a table, made out of ice with small snow pillows, decorated with ice details. And there is a bookshelf with what looks like real books.

“Where am I?” He asks. He should probably also ask why he is there, and how he even ended up there, but his brain seems to be working slow – he is not sure he can actually understand more than one answer at a time.

“You are in the ice castle. As for your exact location, I can unfortunately tell you nothing, as I don’t even know myself. The ice castle exists here and there – it moves from time to time, and it can be quite confusing at times. Sometimes it doesn’t even exist in the real world, and sometimes it floats over the earth. Right now I think we exist somewhere, but as to the location, I do not know,” she says. She sounds like she is regretting not knowing, like she really wants to tell him. Who is she? He wonders. And why does looks so sad?

“Why am I here?” He asks. He needs to get the facts straight. He is quite sure he hasn’t signed up for… dying, if that is what happened, on a floating castle. Dead. Another question he will have to ask. Is he dead? He looks at his hands. They are pale, but he seems very much alive. Which of course is impossible. He must be dead. Or this must be a dream. She was talking about floating castles, right? Definitely a dream, no matter what she says.

“Because you are the prince,” she says matter-of-factly. She steps down from the madras and walks over to the couch. Her hand lightly touches the pillow. She looks like it saddens her even more.

“I am no prince,” he says, but as he says it, he knows it is not true. Even though he has never been a prince before, he knows that in this very instant, he is truly a prince. Which is weird.

“Why do you look so sad?” He asks her. Her head snaps back up, and she studies him intently. He gets up to his feet and walks over to her.

“Because of what I do know,” she says cryptically, “but you must finish your transformation, Cold one. There are others in the other rooms, you may see them if they are awake. You are the prince, what you say is law for them, but you cannot leave. I am very sorry for your fate and your loss, if it makes any difference, it was not my decision.” And with that weird message she disappears in a puff of snow. He sits down on the couch. This is going to be one long dream.

Chapter one.

The weather has taken a drastic turn as Amanda got nearer to her new school. From sunny smiling clouds, to thunder and lightning, to simply a snowstorm. She knows it is probably to warn her that this has been the wrong choice, but there is no going back now. She has made up her mind, and she is way too stubborn to just walk back and admit that she was wrong. She tries to pull her jacket closer against her body in order to get her blood start running. Even though she is sitting inside of a carriage it feels like she could have been outside. It would probably have been the same. The poor horse carrying the carriage is probably freezing even more, she thinks.

She looks outside. The snowflakes are falling hard and it’s hard to see anything at all. She would have liked to have a clear view to see her new school – from what she have heard it should have been a marvelous view, something totally out-of-this-world, but she can’t even see the gravel road.  Feeling slightly disappointed, Amanda turns her attention to her own thoughts. So much have happened it has become quite hard for her to keep the real memories and apart from her dreams.

‘Magic is real’, she thinks. It is still a weird thought, but she is trying to get used to it. Even though it came as a choc at first, she knows she must keep her head cool. It is a new fact, a statement to the others she has sought for her whole life. It also explaines quite a lot about her life. 

"No titel"

Intro

I had had the same dream almost as long as I could remember. I was dancing in a flamboyant ball gown in a big hall of some kind. Everybody around me was wearing either small dresses or tuxedos, it was only me who was in a big ball gown, but I didn’t feel uncomfortable. I would dance around for myself, pretending I had a partner even though there clearly was nobody. That didn’t bother me either.

At some point a clock would start chiming. I never knew what time it was – it was like I could hear the chiming but somehow I couldn’t count the number of chimes. There could have been one and there could have been twelve, I would never know, but would continue my dancing for a few seconds, before the panic started spreading.

It always started somewhere near the doors. People would suddenly start screaming for no apparent reason, and even though all their faces were blurred to me I knew that the girls had started crying.

That was when the lights stopped working, and everybody around me started screaming.

I would stop up, confused, and look around me, trying to see what had caused the uproar. I would try to get over towards the doors, even though the panic had spread from there, but after walking a few steps my foot would bump into something soft. I would sit down; try to find out what it was, only to feel a face in my hands, tears staining my fingertips together with something warmer, thicker. I wouldn’t feel for a pulse. Somehow I always knew that there would be none, and even though I would start breathing heavy, trying to stifle a scream, I would get up and move on. Because I feared nothing. I was going to be okay. I would get out and get some help to these blurred people.

The screaming would start to ring in my ears, and even though I should have been able to see at least something, everything was just as dark as when the lights had been turned off. I never really wondered why I was not attacked by… whatever attacked the others. For some reason I was safe – I had something they didn’t, and I would get out. I just knew.

And that was when something would grasp my hand – not forcefully, not hard but still, somebody was there.

“Please.” It was a boy on his way to manhood’s voice. He sounded sad. I would turn around, my sight finally back and…

I would wake up. Every single time. Or, not every single time. Sometimes I dance the whole night away. Sometimes I would search the dark for the doors the whole night. Sometimes I would stay with the person, trying to grasp what had happened, but most nights I would stand face to face with one of those creatures who had attacked everybody. I knew he was one of them, even though I did not know how I knew. But it always ended before I could take a real look at him. I always saw his frame, but not any more. It was like the universe had decided that I was to live in wonder of whom he were for the rest of my life.

Chapter 1.

“Please, no way,” I said, looking seriously at my mom. She fidgeted with her cell phone, looking nervously from me to it and back again. She tried pleading with her eyes, but now even those blue puppy eyes would make me change my mind.

“Seriously, no way, you can’t expect me to just move to another country. I don’t want this,” I told her firmly.

“Please Angel, you have to. I don’t want to force you, but I can if I want to. But please, just try to see it from my point of view. It’s such a big opportunity. Not everybody gets a chance like this, and I will accept the offer. But I want you to go with me because you want to,” she said, her voice constantly changing from bossy mom who decided what was best for me, to vulnerable mom who just wanted her little daughter to understand.

“But mom, all my friends are here. My whole life is here. I don’t wanna leave it all behind. Of cause it’s a big opportunity, but I’m a person too mom, I have got a life too, and I have got something to say too. And I don’t want this,” I told her, trying to avoid looking at her eyes.

“Angel, I’m sorry, but I am going to accept it, no matter what, and you are coming with me. You can try to look at it as an opportunity to meet new people, or you can decide to be difficult and sulk and get no new friends. But you will come with me,” she said, and I knew it was her final word. Even though she probably would try to talk me into seeing it all from the positive side again in a matter of hours. And I knew I had lost my life in Great Britain. That’s the thing about having a moviestar mom. Either she’s just not home, or she makes you move to L.A. just because she’s being offered a big role in a big movie.

Okay, it was selfish of me. I should be happy for her instead, but I didn’t wanna move away. 

"In the Name of Hope."

Så... der var en der skrev til mig på formspring, hvornår jeg ville opdatere. Jeg havde sagt efter nytår at der ville komme mange opdateringer, og det er da egentligt også rigtigt. Nu er klokken næsten et, og jeg skal op halv seks, så ved ikke, hvor mange jeg har lyst til at lægge ind nu, men har omkring en milliard skriverier, da jeg hele tiden finder på nye ting, og skriver videre på gamle. Jeg lægger dog kun nye ind lige nu, da jeg for at lægge gamle ind, skal kunne overskue, præcis hvad jeg har lagt ind, og det gider jeg ikke så sent om aftenen >< Det må vente.

Intro

My name is Amy, and I am in the Land of the Death, but I am not dead. At least I don’t think I am. I am not. I am still breathing; I can still feel the blood float through my veins. What a weird thing to write, when I’m sitting here for myself. Right now I’m alone.

I’m not crazy. I don’t think I am. But hey – I don’t think I’m dead either, even though I for sure know that I am in the land of the death, so who knows? Maybe this is all a dream. I’ve gone to la-la land, and is currently sitting in a chair, and telling a doctor about my little tea visit to the House of the Dead.

Or maybe I am just dead, and I don’t want to realize it yet. Maybe the blood I can feel in my veins isn’t real. Maybe I’m only breathing because my body thinks it needs it, but it doesn’t.

Maybe I’m asleep.

Like hell I am. How ironic. Okay, I don’t think I’m in hell. I am not in hell. I’m just in the Land of the Death. I think there’s a big difference, but it’s all really hard to understand. It’s not like I understand anything happening around me – I just go along with the flow. What other choice do I have?

Okay, I’m sounding confusing, even to myself.

I’m not dead. That’s a fact, I think. I’m breathing, pinching my arm hurts, banging my head against the wall hurts, and basically I feel very much alive. On the other hand I’ve never tried being dead, so it’s not like I’ve got something to compare it to, but let’s just say for now that I’m not dead. Because I don’t want to be dead. I want to be alive.

I am in the Land of the Death. Or else I’m crazy. Either way, I don’t think this is hell. I don’t know if I believe in hell anymore. I don’t know if I ever really did. But anyway – I’m not in hell. I’m still on earth. I never went inside of the earth, or to some other dimension, or anything surrealistic like that. I just… well, it’s a long story.

I’m not sure what’s going to happen from here on. I don’t know if anybody knows I’m here – Tina, Mercedes, Adam, Jeffrey, Malory? But there’s a small chance that one – just one of them knows anything. And I will keep on to that thought. Because if I don’t, I will for sure die. And I don’t want to die. I want to live. I want to believe in hope. Because, after all, I Am Hope.

Ingen titel endnu.

Okay, denne historie er på engelsk. Blev pludselig inspireret til den. Jeg er lige pt. i gang med at skrive den, så nej, der er ikke særlig meget endnu (to sider), men jeg skriver stille og roligt.

You know, when being blinded and handcuffed, it’s not always easy to avoid getting killed. Though, that was the exact thing I was trying to do. The stupid fairy had decided that a blinding spell would be the thing for me, and now I could only feel how he tried to kill me, as I continued trying to avoid dying. Yeah, not cool.

“Why the hell don’t you just give up?” I asked the damned – well, not actually damned, but still stupid – fairy. He only laughed, and I could feel him trying to stick a knife in my chest again and avoided it as good as I could, feeling how it got a nip of my arm. Ouch.

“Why don’t you humans ever say please?” He asked, his voice smooth like melted butter. Whop-ti-fucking-do. He was sounding hot while trying to kill me. Yeah, good reassurance. I tried to listen to the stupid guy, but he sure knew how to move, and only when the blade again flew towards my chest could I hear it, and ducked.

“Stop messing around, please,” I said mockingly as I stroke. I drew my steel dagger from under my skirt, handcuffed and all, and threw it toward where I could hear movement. I knew the very second that I had missed, but he did sure swear a lot. Then he tried chopping up my head, but in his newfound rage, he forgot to maintain my blindness spell, and I became able to see the world as in shadows. That was all I needed. I could see him as a dark moving shadow. He limped slightly on the left foot, and I knew I had missed big time with my dagger. Why hadn’t I listened a bit better in Knife Throwing 101?

“Stupid human, you think you know everything, you know nothing,” he said, as he tried to kill me again. Instead of ducking, I stepped back fast, and held out my hands so his knife hit my handcuffs. It wasn’t a strong enough blow to destroy the stupid handcuffs, but it was strong enough to confuse him for a couple of seconds while I threw myself at him, using the handcuffs to force his knife towards his chin. I put my hands on the back of his head, forcing the knife close up against his chin. He looked at me for one moment, then the sharp knife cut his chin and he screamed in agony, now bleeding. I couldn’t see the blood, but he would never ever scream with a so terrifying tone if he weren’t. Fairies are such hypocrites, always worrying more about their faces than the fact that they may die. 

“Now, shut up,” I told him, and I took the other silver dagger I had from under my skirt, and pierced him. Not his heart, but where his navel where supposed to be. He stopped screaming immediately, and my sight returned at once, while small sparkling dots disappeared into thin air. I took my daggers up, and used one of them to cut the handcuffs away – good thing about fairy stuff, most of it disappears if being cut by hardened steel.

“Stupid fairy,” I mumbled, while I looked at my wrists, the rest of the handcuffs slowly disappearing into glitter. Then my knees gave up, and I was suddenly sitting at the cold earth, in the middle of the night, wearing a skirt and net stockings. I didn’t knew if I should try to go home tonight – my legs told me I shouldn’t dare move any more – or if I should stay. I should probably go, they would be expecting me at home, but someway or another I didn’t want to. I was fine where I was. On the cold earth, yeah.

A car horn started me. In graveyards at around 1 pm, there’s usually loads of silence. Not even that many animals want anything to do with graveyards, because most of the plants are already dead flowers. I sighted, though. Fighting, blinded by a fairy, using steel daggers, having loads of silver daggers on me to, and my most special weapon, my enchanter safely hidden on my back under my blouse, but still, picked up by car.

“Jennie,” a woman’s voice called out loud over the stupid old graveyard. I looked at the name of the person who’s grave I was using as chair. Mary Green. Huh. I thanked Mary Green for the comfort of having used her grave as my personal chair and fighting space, and tried to get up, but my legs were way too heavy. And my arm hurt.

“I’m here,” I called out loud and sighted, knowing what would be next.

“You managed to AGAIN let your legs bother you?” Her voice was an octave too high. It was not angry, only resignedly. She paced up and down the floor in front of my hospital bed, impatiently, and in her own little angry world. I knew better than to stop her, so I just let her get her emotions out. Instead I concentrated on going through the details in my head.

Met up with stupid fairy, check. Got tricked by said fairy, check. Followed the fairy to a freaking graveyard, check. Got tricked again because fairies – like it or not – unfortunately has got lots of more guts than humans, and therefore more than me. That probably made the use of the term ‘stupid fairy’ improper. Well, I got knocked out by the fairy, handcuffed, woke up and got blinded. And when I suddenly had started telling the fairy that he was under arrest, attacked. One total and big failure. And, of cause, I had let my legs get the better of me, which, according to Katelyn, meant I was stupid. Because it was so my fault that I was born with weak legs, oh yeah. My fault they would become numb and I would be unable to move them. Sure.

Katelyn finally decided to shut up. Probably becoming aware that I wasn’t even listening to her tirade.

“Well, I expect you to come to your classes. Surely you’re not sick enough to stay here,” she said, gesturing towards the white walls with the even whiter beds, with crystal-white bed sheets. Why does every hospital have to look the same? Well, not like this was a hospital. It was actually just a wing to out main building in NY, where I was currently residing. A hospital wing. Yeah, mental, I know, but with the amount of people getting hurt in the Deviant it was much needed. Currently I could see four other people in my room, and two of them were unconscious. The last one was missing his right hand and had big clavemarks over the right part of his face, from the eyebrow to halfway down his chin. And even though he looked hideous, he was laughing together with some friends who were visiting him, totally ignoring the rant Katelyn had just poured out over me. I respected people like him the most. People who could be ruined, and still behave like everything was great.

“Yeah, I already told you, I’m alright, okay? I can get up myself and walk right out of here, no problem,” I said, and to prove my point I got out of my bed, only to fall down to the floor with a big crash, when my legs decided that they still didn’t want to work. The dude with clavemarks and his friends looked over at me, to find out what happened. Great, they could ignore shouting, but when I fell down and looked stupid, they had to look.

“Oh yeah, I can see that,” she said, giving me a disapproving look. I looked up at her and she offered me her hand, which I ignored. 

Jeg er faktisk stadig i live (:

Yeah, jeg er stadig i live, og jeg kommer med en masse opdateringer snart, jeg har bare ikke rigtig haft set mig tid til, at poste dem her endnu, og i dag har jeg da slet ikke tid, da det jo - som dig nok er bekendt - er nytårsaftensdag! (: Men jeg regner lidt med, at kunne sætte noget ind enten i morgen, eller i over morgen. Nu må vi se.
Men i hvert tilfælde


GODT NYTÅR PEEPZ (:

Oh, opdateringer!

Okay, jeg besluttede mig for, at det var på tide, at der kom en del opdateringer. Så det gør der! Oh joy.
Jeg har lige pt. gang i omkring en milliard forskellige historier. Jeg lægger derfor nogle af dem herud, da jeg ligesom syntes, at jeg trænger til det. Den første bliver en historie jeg begyndte på til Halloween. Jeg ved ikke, om jeg gider fortsætte, men Natacha skubber på, så det ender nok op med, at jeg fortsætter. Der er ikke særlig meget på den, da jeg knap nok var begyndt, da jeg pludselig skulle lave noget andet... kan ej huske hvad owo Men ja.



Have you ever met the pumpkin prince of the World of Halloween? He’s presented all over the world in the time of Halloween with the big pumpkin head with a light, which illuminates the whole pumpkin. It is said that on the night of Halloween he may come to this world and dance with his monsters, because this is the only night in which he can wander around unseen and undisturbed.
You don’t believe in him or his monsters? No? Well, Hayley Armstrong didn’t either. She had always just thought it was pure made up in order to scare small kids and there was no way that it could ever be real. At least, that’s what she used to think.
You see, Hayley Armstrong were a pretty normal girl; 167 cm. high, long blond hair, big blue eyes, skinny. Rather pretty, actually. She didn’t liked scary things, danced ballet, was pretty average in school and lived a quiet life with a mom, a dad and a baby brother she adored. She had quite a lot of friends and was rather popular which also made her a bid selfish and egocentric. And made her look down on other not as fortunate people. Not that she ever expressed that she didn’t liked being partnered up with the ugly geek with his big way-out-of-date glasses in psychic, but she thought a lot of rather not-pretty thoughts involving him. And involving other not pretty people.
At Halloween night the school held a big party and everybody were invited. Everybody who was something would be attending. Even everybody who was nothing would be attending too, in order not to look as much as outsiders.