Sunday, March 27, 2011

A Brief Vacancy


So guys first on the agenda is our members are taking a universal break on the blog for spring break, so there will only be one post from yours truly in the next week. However, the good news is that it will have to do with Pieces, so that should give you some incentive to return this upcoming Friday. As for today though, I would like show you the new opening for Pieces! Enjoy!
     High School. Some call it the best point of your life. Others call it the toughest point. The remaining people are in-between however. What’s grand about this is none of them are wrong. Everyone point of view is technically right in their own way, because every man’s story is different. Everyone has a story, something that defines each individual: Their flaws, strengths, burdens and trails. There may be stories that are alike but never the same.

     Nevertheless, the problem is many of these stories go untold, because Hollywood either ruins them or they are deemed unworthy of telling. The kid who gets his story in the papers in class is usually that athlete who came from nothing to become an All-American, and every now and then it’s about that kid beating all the odds. Rarely though have they been about that kid who would stay up past midnight working writing poems for that girl who would never acknowledge his presence, that girl who is forced to hold an image due to the fact girls are so selective about their friends, or that “creeper” boy who is honestly too nice for his own good. No, they always end up finding someone else or end up accepted in life. Yet, how many stories are about the person with no “excitement” to his/her life? About a life where happy endings are as rare as a decent live concert? Very close to none. Why? Because they’re boring, or maybe just the wrong person is telling the story.

     You see good stories are made-up, but great stories can’t be scripted. The best writers in this world are the ones who can find these stories. They can take any person and turn their life story into a bestseller. Just like the true best chefs’ meals wouldn’t require any spice to the dish, a true great story wouldn’t require any fiction flare or extensive diction to go with it. For you see, I wish to write about those people no one seems to remember. I want to tell stories, not write them. In that sense, my characters are telling the stories, and gives life to every word I write down.

     The best part about it is those pieces win Pulitzers as well.

How'd you like it? It's just your first sample. ;) Come back Friday for another special piece. Until, remember to express your thoughts clearly and always put life into words.


Friday, March 25, 2011



Hey guys it's me, Quinton at your service! I have finally returned from hiatus. XD How long has been? I last posted on Feburary 12th, so it has been over a month since I last posted. :O Nevertheless, I'm back and I have a lot of news for ya. First off, Pieces hit a major plot road-block, as I simply don't feel the story is on track anymore. So, I'm rewriting it from top to bottom. O.o It's going to be a chore, but it will make the story flow much better. However, with that said, I can actually afford to start Lacrime, which may be fully finished before Pieces is. If you would have told me that was going to happen a few months ago I would have laughed at you.

I apologize to all of you who have been looking forward to Pieces, but I must respectfully ask that you wait a while longer. I swore the finished project will be the best thing you'll ever read, you can count on it. ;) In other news however, I wouldn't leave you without something to satisfy your senses. So here are two poems I have written in my abense, and check back sunday for another treat as well. So here are "Denial" and "Hello" in respective order:

How glad I am,

That I never finished that race,
So that gold could never be mine.

It’d just be hanging up,
On some bust,
Rusting and rusting away.

Oh how I say that,
Year upon year.

I’m so thrilled,
That I never matched up,
To the greatest musicians out there.
It wouldn’t have worked,
No one I knew would show up,
And my life would be one big solo.

This I would say,
Month after month,
Hoping the truth it’d replace.

But I’m so joyful,
That I never got to
Write my own books.

It’s a tough career,
Unlike these gears,
That I replace day to day.
And week to week,
This lie I would speak,
Hoping it’d make
Me peak.

But none of this denial,
Will ever compare
To the day-to-day battle,
That your love I can live without.

Hello pretty brunette.

Are you alone?
Why is that?
Who are you waiting for?

Who could deny that smile?
A small grin it is,
But can be felt a few light years away.

Who wouldn’t double take at those eyes?
A Gentle brown,
Rare as a decent live concert.

How could anyone miss that style?
Where clothing lacks color,
Your personality is full of it.

How would anyone live without that giggle?
Cute and sweet,
And ever so embracing.

Tell me lonely brunette.
Who are you waiting for?
Why you’re waiting on that boy,
Admiring you from the backseat.

How do you like them? These were written for a girl named Aulene, a good friend of mine at my school who may never get to read them... but that is the life of a poet no? Remember, we post your stories as well giving you all the credit. Just to get it up there. Remember to check back Sunday for a special treat as well.


Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Hey Y'all

Well, this week is my birthday. Yup. Tomorrow I am turning one year older. Yay!!! not really. Not feeling any older here. Not in the slightest. What does one year passed mean anyway? It means one less year to accomplish your dreams. It means less time. It means more responsibility. And worst yet, it means you are one year closer to being dead. BUT ENOUGH WITH THE DEPRESSING CRAP!
Birthdays are happy right? Well mine is. I got a new phone. My parents bought me flowers. And I get to pick dinner tomorrow... now if I only knew what I wanted......
Anyway, today's post is somewhat relevant to age in an almost roundabout way. Did you get that? I kinda didn't.
So here is today's wonderfully untitled post about shadows....Oh! thats going to be the title! Shadows. It is no longer wonderfully untitled but instead is wonderfully titled.


Have you ever looked at your shadow and instead of seeing just a shadow you see yourself, when you were six. The scrunched shadow close to noon is about the height you would've been. Or even the elongated shadow as evening approaches could be you imagining yourself taller. Maybe you were running to catch something caught in the wind and something possessed you to glance to the side and you saw your shape running along side and it looked just the same as when you were eight and you did the same.

Through everything that changes, through time, age, life, change in sense of style, through the hair cuts, the piercings, and the scars, one thing never changes. And that one thing, is always right next to you. Sometimes it's six feet tall. Other times it's only mere centimeters.But it's always there. Always. It never leaves. You never can get rid of it. It never changes. It is exactly the same as when you were younger and it will be exactly the same when you are older. It is called a shadow and it is always with you.

Yes that's right Its not a poem!!! I hoped you all liked it. And pardon my abstract mind. 

~Anora Anakaya~

Sunday, March 20, 2011

Half the events of my life are a result of boredom.


Call me a profit, a demon. Still, if you wish, crucify me for the terrible dreams given to my mind as I lay my head upon the clouds at night. All I see is you, the truth behind you and who you are. So call me whatever, kill me whenever. See though that my mind is torn. All I seek is the peace that your violence brings.


Hey everyone, Alex here.

Sundays are days of severe boredom for me so I thought that I might:

1. share a piece of prose (which you've most likely already read)


2. let you know of the latest result of my boredom.

This result is none other than a creation of a Twitter account to share the random thoughts and sayings that run through my mind. (Think of it as short but frequent bursts of poetry.) So, if anyone is into the whole "Twitter" thing, be sure to find and follow me (@Alex_Arlington).

Fate drives me.
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Saturday, March 19, 2011

Apologies to you and everyone I know.

Life is a fickle thing that takes inspiration and crushes it at the most inopportune times. I loved a girl, loved an idea, and loved my life in that order, but fate has crushed all of my loves and left me with zero inspiration to see the movie in my mind that I gave to you all in the form of Ankoku no Ki.

It is a decision that I wish was not necessary, I am going to have to put the story on hiatus for as long as it takes my mind to filter out all that is wrong.

In the place of the weekly story, I will be posting simple poems. Again, I apologize to everyone and hope that there's enough patience to go around to wait for my mind to settle.



I stare at these blank walls
watchiing as poets turn to demons
and my demons turn to nightmares

I realize all the things that I could have done
to save you
and not misbehave...
to be a gentlemen
and not give up on you...

I can't believe
how fast your life did end
and how quickly from your side they sent me

There can be multiple answers
yet none thrill me as much
as you had when I held you so tenderly
kept you by my side
like the beautiful soul I knew you were

But now
I've lost myself
I've lost you
and there's nothing more that I can say

Fate drives me.

Thursday, March 17, 2011

Words are Permanent

Recently I lost someone who ended up meaning more to me than I could have imagined. This person didn't die or move away, but I think that only makes the loss that much harder to cope with. There is a chance that I could run into this person, but I don't feel that I have a right to call myself a friend to them. They were an important part of my life for a while, but because I let anger get the better of me I lost a valued friend.

Have you ever said something to someone out of anger, and instantly wished you hadn't? If so, did you apologize? Did they accept your apology or make it seem that it didn't matter if you were sorry? I would love to hear about how other people have dealt with situations like this.


I am sorry that we met too late,
that we began with little time.
I am sorry that things went so fast,
I didn’t realize how quick or hard I would fall.

I lost myself in the excitement of love.
Blinded by intense emotions, I didn’t see
that you were lost in worry, and not anything affectionate.

I did a lot wrong, but so did you.

It wasn’t fair for me to start a relationship,
with a termination date.
It wasn’t right for you to hide your feelings,
or refuse to communicate when things were wrong.
All the things that I said to you, I wish I could take them back.

I should have known that we’d crash and burn.
I’m not the kind of girl to act on impulse,
but when it came to you it was all I was able to do.
I believe we were meant to fail from our beginning.

That doesn’t change the fact that:
I am sorry to have lost your friendship,
or that I miss you.

Tuesday, March 15, 2011

Coming to Terms

What a great way for Joey to come back! How'd you all like it? I loved it :)

Okay time for my new poem of the day! Its just a little something about realizations in life. Please enjoy ;)

Coming to Terms

I am slowly coming to terms.
Slowly coming to terms with my life
How meaningless it is.
Slowly coming to terms with my work
I've really done nothing yet.
Slowly coming to terms with my existence
I do not belong here.

Slowly, I am coming to terms
with the world
with people
and yet nothing.

Slowly, as I am coming to terms
I find myself
into the background,
the scenery,
the backdrop of life.

I see myself
accomplished in my age
But where does it lead me?
I shall fade with time.
No, I won't be Bill Gates
or the inventor of a telephone.

Send me back to Einstein's age
and I will be as much help to him
as I am to a dead man.
Edison wouldn't benefit
from knowledge that I have.
And I surely cannot write
better than Hemingway or Poe

No, my name
will not go down
in the history books.
My impact on the world
will be limited:
personal relations at best.

I am coming to terms.

~Anora Anakaya~

Monday, March 14, 2011

And the battle crept on

Hey guys, its been a long while since I posted on a monday. Writers block is a horrible thing. But I'm coming out of hiatus for one week since I actually wrote a poem!

Let me know what you think!!


The waters arise.
scorching flames are ablaze.
I slowly lift my eyes.
the enemies are not phased.

I reach for my sword, as the killer drew near.
I stared him in his eyes, and he stared into my fear.

I cried for aid, as he struck me with his blade.
Cutting me down, for no purpose but that he just enjoyed the sound.

The torture went on for what felt like days.
my heart raced and my vision became a haze.

sunlight crept through the clouds.
the enemy stood as one mighty crowd.

the ground dyed red, with the stain of blood
from believers fighting for their freedom, fighting for love.

a fury, a flash, came upon the scene.
the light it clashed with the monsters, and fiend.

the power of God struck down through time
saved a heart like yours, and like mine.

I was undeserving, a hero undefined.
thus he became a savior, he's the hero in my mind.


Like I said I'd love to hear your opinions.

much love.
Joseph W.

Saturday, March 12, 2011

Can you guess what'll happen next?

Here's the next installment of Ankoku no Ki for your entertainment.
Remember to said any questions or comments regarding me or my writing to



            The metallic sound of the front door sliding open fled into the living room as Rachel stepped back into the apartment. A defeated feeling filled her mind to match the depressed expression she wore upon her face. Past failures occupied her mind and drew her focus away from reality. Letting her mind flee reality was not about to help her though, especially since the lack of focus caused her to walk right into Justin who was fully dressed and about to walk outside.
            Both of them recoiled in a daze, shaking their heads to try to shake off the dull pain of colliding with another human being. Justin was the first to come back to the situation at hand. With a sincere expression he looked at her with wild concern.
            “Are you okay?” he asked hurriedly.
            “Yeah, I’m fine,” she responded meekly. “I didn’t run into you all that hard…”
            “I heard you scream outside and smelled smoke. I almost thought it was Angela lighting another fire, but then I realized that she was still asleep next to me—”
            “What’d you say?!” Rachel’s eyes went wide, causing Justin to jump back slightly in surprise.
            “Angela was lying next to me…” His uncertainty about what Rachel’s jealousy would make her do was evident in the expression upon his face.
            “What are you guys yelling about…?” asked Angela, sleepily walking into the living room from the hallway, wearing nothing but a large, plain black shirt that hung low below her shoulders and her waistline, and a pair of red panties. Rachel flashed a glare at Justin who raised his hands defensively and attempted to put distance between the angered woman and himself.
            “You’re telling me that she was still lying next to you while I was outside, screaming my head off, and being attacked by a bleeding spirit?!” her accent seeped into her words even more so as her emotions filled her voice.
            “Rachel, calm down…you know that you can’t control yourself when you get emotional…” Rachel rolled her eyes defiantly.
            “You don’t understand! Someone that looked like your….” She stopped herself from finishing her thought. “Someone that looked like Angela killed the spirit right before it was about to run me through.”
            “Someone…that looked like…me?” Angela asked in a sweet voice before yawning cutely.
            “Wait a second…why was the spirit about to run you through?” Justin asked curiously. “Haven’t I seen you slaughter beasts ten times your size just by looking at them?”
            “That’s not the point!!!” Rachel yelled, becoming overly frustrated with the entire situation.
            Suddenly, a loud, horrific scream, that was unmistakably male, sliced through the air from the hallway behind Angela, who jumped at the sound and almost fell over.
            “What was that??” Angela asked, still slightly delirious from sleep. “And, why do I smell smoke?” Both Rachel and Justin stood still in shock, staring at each other, without any clue of what to do.
            “What’s going on out there?” Huey yelled from inside his room. “Can’t a brother get some sleep?!” Then came a second scream, this time female, from the same directionality.
            “Guys!” screamed Melanie. “Come quickly! Something’s happened to the doctor!” Rachel’s heart sank into her stomach as her legs shattered her shock and carried her in a frenzied sprint to the doorway at the end of the hallway, Dr. Hartmann’s room, where Melanie stood gazing into the bleak room.
“Out of my way!” she yelled as she forcefully pushed Melanie aside to get into the room. Not far into the room, her legs stopped shakily as her eyes gazed down at the blackened sheets on the futon at the room’s center. Her knees collided with the hard floor below with a heavy thud and tears began to flow from her crystal colored eyes. Friedrick Hartmann’s body was burnt—scorched—severely from the neck down. The murderer had left the doctor’s head in tact as if to allow its open eyes to keep watching the world that it would never again traverse.
Rachel stared at the corpse, remembering everything that it had been and denying everything that it was.


            “What are we going to do now, Friedrick? It’s not like we can go back to OSU…” Rachel asked the good doctor sitting across from her as both of them and Justin sat in a scarcely occupied car of a train taking them away from Ohio and their place of imprisonment for the past couple of months. A sense of depression had visibly come over her and Justin held her, trying to calm her nerves. “We’re fugitives! Where can fugitives go??” Small tears fell from her eyes.
            “Rachel,” spoke Dr. Hartmann in a soothing tone, “look at me.” Still crying, she complied with the doctor’s request. “Everything is going to be alright.” He smiled sweetly. “Just think happy thoughts, mein liebe. Happy thoughts will make the darkness go away.”


            “Happy thoughts…” Rachel whispered as she stared sadly at the scorched body of her once savior. “Think happy thoughts…?” Anger had slipped into her voice. “You told me to think happy thoughts, and you go ahead and give me one more reason to despise this bloody world.” Her hair drooped below her face as she slouched were she kneeled, letting her tears cascade to the ground like a waterfall made of sorrow. “What happy thoughts are there left for me to think?”
            “Rachel!” yelled Justin from directly behind her. “C’mon, you shouldn’t be here?”
            “Then where should I be?” she mumbled.
            “Let’s go get some breakfast,” he continued, ignoring her words. With a calming hand, her reached out and rubbed her back softly.
            “Don’t touch me,” she stated harshly before dozens of small thorns appeared from beneath the skin on her back. Justin removed his hand quickly, but not before several of the thorns had pierced the flesh on his hand. Oblivious to the pain, he tried to approach her again.
            “Rachel, c’mon. We’ll get through this together. Let’s just get you out of here—”
            “Get the hell away from me!” she yelled before each thorn turned into the end of a long vine and sped outward towards Justin and the three other young adults who stood in the doorway, watching the sullen child who had just lost a parent-figure. He reeled back quickly, pushing everyone away from the doorway harshly and slamming it closed with extreme force. All of the vines collided with the door and continued forward.
            “RUN!!!” he yelled to the others who followed his lead and sprinted out of the apartment before the vines could catch any of them. They stopped running after fleeing down the steps in front of the building. Each of them inhaled and exhaled harshly as they each attempted to catch their breaths.
            “What’s happenin’ guys?” All of them turned their heads to look simultaneously at the voice’s source—a young asian man with straight, dark blue hair, wearing a plain black shirt resembling the one Angela wore, and a pair of faded blue jeans. Together, they laughed at the sight of the youngest of their group, Yoshiro Yami. Partly, they laughed at the innocence of his look in such a frantic situation, but mostly they laughed at the fortune of his appearance. There was no doubt amongst them that Yoshiro was the only one of them who rivaled Rachel strength.

Fate drives me.

Tuesday, March 8, 2011

Tired of these Fears

Tonight I'm sharing something that's awfully close to home for me.

Tired of These Fears

I'm tired of these fears
Tired of hiding my tears
I'm not ready for the world
Not ready for harsh realities.

So much is out there
So much to be done
Yet I'm still lost
somewhere in the churning stream

People come, People go
but I always stay, alone
among burning bridges,
among hurricanes and falsehoods

Where am I to go?

~Anora Anakaya~

Saturday, March 5, 2011

A word from Alex

 Hey everyone.

So, this week I was sitting in my local coffee shop, Coffee Beans and Brew, writing this weeks post, when the realism of life struck me like a brick flying into the side of my face. Those who don't know me personally obviously wouldn't know the kind of stress I'm under everyday from school, society, and all the idiots of the world. Every time I write, I try to take my stress and put it into figurative speech and, I guess, that's where Ankoku no Ki comes from. Yes, I understand the main character is a girl...I'm not a total idiot...but a lot of the situations each character is involved in is taken directly from a part of my life. Whether it be Rachel watching someone else date the person she wants to be with (but can't) or Yoshiro (as you'll see below) talking seriously and ecstatically about something he believes is important yet can get no one to really listen. Each character and event is part of me in a way, and I guess that's why I find so much pleasuring sharing my writing with everyone. Otherwise, I'd just be the guy that absolutely no one knew.

Well, here's this week's chapter of Ankoku no Ki. The story is moving slowly so far, I know, but there's a good reason, trust me. 

If you ever have any questions or comments, feel free to e-mail me at 

Thanks for reading.


The Truth is Fleeting

            “I realize the discomfort you all must feel adjusting to this new climate and my culture, but I guarantee that this will all be worth it when our goals are met,” addressed an eighteen year-old Japanese boy, Yoshiro Yami, to five young adults—Huey, Melanie, Angela, Justin, and Rachel. Each of the young adults sat on a couch near the entrance of their Tokyo apartment listening to Yoshi prep them on their new life in Japan. (That is, all of them except for Justin and Angela who were preoccupied stealing quick glances at each other every few minutes.) Behind Yoshi sat an older man by the name of Dr. Hartmann who sat with his hands clasped beneath his chin in a pensive pose. “If you weren’t aware already, you all were brought here to keep the world in balance. All five of you, elementals, the demon, and the gatekeeper, will be responsible not only for the safety of each other, but the task of searching for the gate between worlds so that we may secure the safety of every other person on this planet. Are you all ready to heroes?” With his final statement, Yoshi threw his fist in the air and yelled his words with a delighted smile.
            “Has anyone ever told you that you talk too much?” Huey asked with a bit of sarcasm. Angela giggled, but more at something Justin had whispered in her ear than at Huey’s insensitive remarks. Rachel glared at the two with a growing envy.
            “Oh, throw him a bone, lard butt,” Melanie interjected. “Plus, I think he’s kinda hot when he talks about us bein’ heroes.” She winked at Yoshi, who proceeded to blush a deep red and turn away from the group of young adults. Dr. Hatmann remained still, staring off into space.
            “By the looks of you, you probably think all guys are ‘kinda hot,’” Huey defended. Immediately she turned and glared at him with knives.
            “What’s that supposed to mean?!”
            “Nothing…just that you look like the time of girl who all the guys back home might like. And, yes, I do mean that in a perverted way.” Huey smiled wide at the now furious Melanie.
            “Well, you look like someone that owners of an all-you-can-eat buffet would love!
            “Now guys—” Yoshi started.
            “Oooo a fat joke. What’s next? Are you going to make fun of me for being black?” He laughed heartily, making Melanie even more heated. Meanwhile, Justin and Angela had forgotten them all and talked lively about their favorite hobbies while holding hands. A small flower had begun to come out of Rachel’s shoulder. Yoshi’s eyes widened, feeling that something bad might happen. “I guess I shouldn’t expect so much from a stuck-up cracka like you, huh?”
            “You son of a bitch!” Melanie drew back her fist and brought it smoothly through the air quickly.
            “That’s enough!” Yoshi yelled with force as a gale of wind flew forth from somewhere behind him and slammed into each of the five troublemakers. Each of their bodies fell forward after impact almost in unison. All the air in their lungs had been forced out and pain now traveled up their abdomen as they coughed hard and attempted to gasp for air at the same time. Yoshi quickly regained his senses and reached out to help them up with a sincere expression on his face. “I’m so so sorry. I-I-I didn’t mean to do that.”
            “Do not apologize to them Yoshi,” Dr. Hartmann stated clearly, slowly standing up. “If you had not done what you did, who knows where their quarreling would have gone.”
            “It still hurts like a bitch…” Huey said breathlessly.
            “Maybe next time you will think first then before you start bickering with one of the people who will be responsible for guarding your life.” Justin helped Angela to her feet with consoling hands.
            “Are you okay?” he said to her.
            “Yes, I’m fine,” she responded meekly, blushing lightly. Rachel coughed lightly, still on the floor.
            “Thanks for the concern, Feldini…”
            “Rache, I’m sorry. I-I—”
            “It’s fine,” she stated harshly, getting to her feet. “I can help myself. I don’t need your help…”


            Rachel opened her eyes to the sight of her plain bedroom wall. She sighed lightly. “Why do I keep dreaming about that day?” she whispered softly to herself before the sound of her roommate’s snoring brought her out of her small post-dream trance. She sat up, throwing her bedding off of her, and glanced over at Melanie who was sprawled out on her side across her futon, with her mouth wide open and a small stream of saliva spilling out onto the bedding. “I’m surprised to see her home so early…” Once more, Rachel sighed as she stood up and made her way to the door.


            After a trip leaving her room, Rachel had made her way out the front door. Standing just outside her apartment building, she looked over the buildings to the darkened sky above while leaning on the wooden railing that they had been made specifically to make the steps to her right more necessary and safer. The sun was just making its way over the horizon, but from her field of vision she would have never known. Outside the apartment, everything was calm, with gentle noises in the distance from busier streets blocks away from the strangely silent road her apartment was located on. Her mind was heavy with dissatisfaction at the thought of how Justin had grown more attached to Angela and less attached to her.
            “What’s so special about her?” she thought aloud. “So what if she can make fire and knows some karate or whatever? Justin and I have known each other for so long and have been through so much…Why would he choose that Hispanic bimbo over me?” Leaning harder against the railing with crossed arms, she placed her head in defeat onto her wrists. “Maybe it’s just because she’s more attractive than I am. That’s probably it, what kind of guy would want a plain, pale-skinned, nothing-special girl like me? Only the creepers, that’s who…”
That’s when she began to hear a small sound, like the gentle pitter-patter of feet upon the ground. Looking up, she tried to find the source. “Hello?” she asked the empty air. “Who’s there?” At that moment, a small, white rabbit with red eyes seemed to hop into existence out of nowhere. “What’s a rabbit like that doing here?” she said absent-mindedly. The rabbit stopped about a meter from the platform on which she stood and stared up at her with cute eyes. Softly a smile was brought to her eyes by the animal’s cuteness, until she realized that small fang protruded from the right side of its mouth. “That can’t be…” Quickly, the cute rabbit’s body exploded into a collage of grotesque shapes and figures which slowly began to form together into a gruesome creature the size of a grown man, who flew on gigantic moth’s wings, and whose mouth had been sewn shut and eyes had been replaced with seemingly endless rows of sharp fangs. Its six arms/legs were jagged claws with twisted nails that looked strange on the hovering monster.
 Its teeth holes suddenly widened as the creature loosened a high-pitched screech that stung Rachel’s ears. She grimaced lightly and tried to focus enough to do her job. Jumping straight up, her feet landed on top of the railing as she stared down at the monstrosity. “It’s 7 a.m. Why must I kill again?” With a sigh, she tried to make her vines come out from beneath her skin, but the more she tried, the more her mind seemed to focus on Justin. After a moment she stared in defenseless terror at the monster that now lunged at her. Jumping forward, she missed a swing of his strange claws by mere centimeters. Landing wrong several meters away, pain shot up her legs upon contact with the hard ground and her body was forced to collapse to the ground.
“Damnit…”  she spoke harshly at her unwelcomed pain. The monster quickly turned to face her and rushed in her direction headfirst. Once more, Rachel tried to make her vines appear, but Justin clouded her mind too much. “DAMN YOU!!” she yelled as her arms quickly flew up to block the monstrosity that grew ever-closer to her. Unable to bear the sight of her impending doom, she squeezed her eyes shut as a whirling sound flew by her left side. Warmth consumed her body as if she were laying next to a campfire.
When she opened her eyes Rachel could see a ring of fire circling the area where she lay, the monster backing up in fear from the flames, and Angela standing almost in the flames in a singed, black robe, paying no attention to neither the heat nor Rachel.
Suddenly, the Spanish girl raised her right hand above her hand and drew a circle in the air in front of her. Wherever her finder went, a trail of fire followed. At the closing of the circle, the loop of fire twirled up and wrapped itself tensely around Angela’s arm, enveloping it in a tangible rope of orange flames. She smirked defiantly, before she launched herself towards the fearful creature and slammed her fist into the center of its body. The rope untwisted quickly and spun down her arm and into the creature as it proceeded to incinerate its body, leaving the only remnants of the being as the singed ashes which floated upwards into the atmosphere.
Rachel stared with uncertainty at the girl she despised as the girl stood still, tinted by the flames, taking in the results of her actions. A moment later, Angela’s right hand snapped loudly and all the flames faded. The sun was slowly peeking up from behind the buildings and now shone light on the front of the apartment building in front of them. Slowly Rachel got to her feet as Angela walked silently back up the stairs and disappeared into the apartment.
“Why do I hate her so much?” Rachel thought aloud, her weaknesses brought alive before her eyes.
Provehito in altum