A Diary of Dreams...

Lotus

2010-04-12T23:46:00.001+03:00

See the flower and how beautiful it is,
Feel its kiss – a taste of bliss.

Taste the flower, taste it, please!
Take a bite, a taste of bliss.

Get lost in time, and space,
Forget the world and its embrace.

Stay forever here, oh, how beautiful it is!
It’s a garden, a garden of pure bliss.

See the flower and how beautiful it is,
Feel its kiss – a taste of bliss.

Get lost in bliss and forever
Sleep in timeless, peaceful apathy.

12.04.2010
Replica

Fallen to Ruin

2010-03-22T23:59:00.001+02:00

Standing in the rain,
We vowed never
To be apart again.

Standing in the sun,
We promised to be
The only ones, the One.

Rain raced on our skin,
Sun glimmered in our eyes
And blinded, we never saw
We never saw the end is neigh.

Standing the rain again,
We vowed to never meet again,
To be apart again.

Standing in the sun again,
We promised never to believe
When someone calls us the One.

Rain raced on our skin,
Sun glimmered in our eyes
And blinded, we never saw
We never saw how we fell.

And we stand here today again,
In rain, in sun, in pain
And we still don’t see -
Fallen to ruin we have,
With our hearts in our hands
And rust on our chest.

22.03.2010
Replica

Theater

2010-03-21T01:29:00.001+02:00

The curtain fell heavy, hiding them all from the eyes of the audience. The actors could hear the excited audience applauding them, showing their appreciation. The happy faces that were smiling just a second ago were now indifferent to everything. They were tired of traveling, of doing the same things every night, of dressing the same way for every performance, saying the same words, pretending to feel the same emotions over and over again, when they were empty inside.
Most actors were young people, who thought it’s an easy, fun job to do. Back when they signed up for drama school. You could tell by the disappointment in their covered in heavy make up eyes it was not as glamorous as they pictured it to be. With time, and each performance, their hate for the costumes and make up grew, made them bitter, taught them to wear their masks well and hide behind their characters. The actors had lost their souls after giving a piece of it to every character. They were soulless, empty creatures of habit – make up, costumes, a smile that touches your eyes – and on they went, to fool themselves, and the audience, that they were the character portrayed.

One man among them, an old man, whose face was painted in white with two bright red dots on his cheeks and black eyeliner, was smiling. His smile was touching not only his eyes, but his whole soul. Most actors loved to play tricks on the old man, but they all respected and resented him for keeping his soul for so long. His daughter was part of the theater and traveled with him, taking care of him and his costumes and most of the other actors thought she was holding his soul together, sowing it back together every night, once the costumes were peeled off and the pieces of soul with them.
The old man, quietly fidgeting in the corner of the stage, fixing his costume, felt a cold hand sliding on his shoulder. His smile widened, but he never looked up, nor stopped fixing the folds.
"Hello, dear friend," he said. "I have been expecting you."
He finished with his costume, a ridiculous mix of colors that added up to his artificial red cheeks and black eyes, then slowly turned around. There were just shadows, but he knew his old friend was there. He had seen him coming, he knew he was close. A step later, shadow engulfed him, hiding him from the actors, quieting down the silent hum of the actors preparing for curtain call.
"Before we go, do me a favor. Take me back to the first time I met Rosalind. Take me back to the twilight of the theater, to the night I met my life's greatest loves. Give me the happiness of the moment and I will go with you freely."
The shadows stirred and a quiet voice answered, sounding as if talking was more than painful.
"Give me your hand, friend. Do not fear me."
The man laughed and thought he had never feared Death, not a day in his life. A bony blue-white hand appeared from the shadows, the palm outstretched to the poor man. He closed his eyes and took the hand unhesitatingly, drawing a deep breath as pictures, memories and emotions flooded his fragile mind.

He blinked to the bright light he knew well from the stage and opened his eyes.
"Rosalind..." he whispered, looking at the big, luxurious theater. There were two people sitting in the middle of the theater, looking at each other as if nothing existed. Her blond hair was flowing down her shoulders and her blue eyes were glistening in happiness. The man next to her – instead of the comic bright red, his cheeks were a beautiful shade pink that darkened from time to time with the ever so slight embarrassment by the attention the woman was awarding him with – his eyes were deep brown, lively, smiling.
The man on the stage felt the known warm feeling of tears filling his eyes and the picture before him blurred. He sat on the edge of the stage, in his colorful suit, with his bright red cheeks and listened to the two people in the theater talking. He sat there for hours, sometimes smiling, sometimes crying at what they said to each other.

"Give me wings," he whispered. “Give me wings, like I had them then and let me fly. Let me fly..."
The cold blue-white skinned hand slid on his shoulder again.
"As you wish, my friend."

The man collapsed from the shadows on his back, his rings making a loud sound as his hands hit the wooden floor. All actors turned to the corner, their attention drawn by the sudden noise and they all gasped, emotion painting their faces in dark, sad shades – the man was lying dead on the ground, in his bright-colored suit, with his bright red cheeks and a smile, the most beautiful, sincere smile on his face.

21.03.2010
Replica

Angel Wings

2010-01-29T23:32:00.002+02:00

Angel wings she has, the purest white;
Angel wings she spreads, the purest thought:

"Look, look, angel wings she has!
Is she an angel, really?"

Angel wings she has, the purest white,
And to his eyes - the purest thing alive:

"Yes, yes, angel wings she has!
She is an angel, in fact!"

Angel wings she spreads, the purest thought,
To those in need, in pain, in naught.

Angel wings, the purest white,
They come off at darkest night.

To him, she still has wings –
The purest white, the touch of silk.

29.01.2010
Replica

Liebeslied

2009-12-26T01:19:00.003+02:00

I had a dream last night. I was swimming in a deep, dark ocean; the shore was nowhere to be seen and the waves were pushing me back and forth. I was light as a feather to them, they tossed me like they would toss a grain of sand. And then, far ahead, I could see you.
Your fiery-red hair glowing, like a lighthouse; beckoning me. And I swam. I swam, afraid to stop; afraid of the abyss under me. Afraid of the pain the waves crushing on my chest brought to my heart. And the more I swam, the nearer I felt you.

I remember when I first saw you, dressed in your tight beige outfit, with reddish sequins forming flames at your crotch and all the way up to your breast; your hair pulled up in a flawless pony-tail, your green eyes flickering at the light of the fire in your hand. Your lips, the color of peaches, they part and let the fire in, as the people around me gasp.
It was then I knew you were the one I will love forever. It was then I knew I was just another person on another performance who admired your beauty. I knew I was invisible to you.

But I could, I can not forget you. I will not.

And here I am, dreaming – of the deep dark ocean; of the shore nowhere to be seen and the waves pushing me back and forth. I’m light as a feather to them, they toss me like they would toss a grain of sand. And then, far ahead, I see you. Your fiery-red hair glowing, like a lighthouse; beckoning me. And I swim. I swim, afraid to stop; afraid of the abyss under me. Afraid of the pain the waves crushing on my chest bring to my heart. And the more I swim, the nearer I feel you.

I wake up, gasping for air, feeling the cold needles of the waves piercing my chest and I remember when I first saw you, dressed in your tight beige outfit, with reddish sequins forming flames at your crotch and all the way up to your breast; your hair pulled up in a flawless pony-tail, your green eyes flickering at the light of the fire in your hand. Your lips, the color of peaches, they part and let the fire in, as the people around me gasp.

It was then I knew you were the one I will ever say to, without a doubt, ‘I love you.’

26.12.2009
Replica

Die stolzen Wellen treiben mich voran,
Ich schwimm' hinaus soweit ich kann,
Denn in der Ferne liegt die Wahrheit über mich.
Ich öffne deine Augen und erkenne
Frei von Zweifeln: "Ja, ich liebe dich!"

Alexander Kaschte

Lykanthropie

2009-11-15T21:55:00.004+02:00

I'm standing at the bathroom mirror, looking at my reflection.
It looks nothing like me. What are these scratches? Why are my eyes yellow?

"Are you okay," I looked to the bathroom door to see her there, in her long black satin night gown. "You're bleeding!"
She’s rushing to me. Worried. I can feel the animal behind my face grinning as her smell fills my nostrils. The sweet smell of pray...
I shake away the thought.
"I'm okay," I whisper, somewhat afraid of what I dreamt just moments ago.
"Where were you? Why do you have blood on your hands?"

I wish I could answer that as well. Don’t ask me where I was. I don't remember a thing.

I shrug. She caresses my hair and helps me wash my hands, then guides me to bed.
I close my eyes, her scent still filling my nostrils, but it's no longer as tempting.

I dream I'm running through the verdant forest. I can hear her steps as she's running after me, trying to catch up. I will occasionally slow down and wait for her, but I would never let her touch me. I'm leading her...
I can feel my jaw clenching as I let out a howl.

I woke up in the middle of the forest. With no idea what happened last night.
My head hurts. That ray of faint light in my eyes is blinding. Where are my clothes?

She is lying next to me, covered in leaves; looking as beautiful as ever. I' m caressing her hair, gently. It's so soft under my fingers. And she reeks of fear. The animal behind my face grins again at her smell.
She opens her eyes. I can see fear.
The animal within grins wider - wanting out, smelling fear…
"Run," I whisper.
Her eyes widen for a moment and I can see my eyes, reflected in hers, turning yellow.
"Run," I shout.
She gets up and starts running. I can hear her breath; I can smell her fear.

I fall on my knees. The animal is trying to get out. I feel my body wriggling uncontrollably as it takes over.

I'm running through the forest. I can hear her footsteps, not far from me. I'm running faster.
The smell of her fear fills my nostrils.
I can see her hair, waving at the wind as she runs. I run even faster.

She trips and falls. She faces me, crying. Fear in her eyes; her whole body giving out fear.
I'm taking a few steps back, preparing to jump.

I can hear her scream.
I can smell her fear.
I can taste her flesh...

15.11.2009
Replica

"Mein Spiegelbild, es schaut mich an
Lässt Ähnlichkeit vermissen
Was ist geschehn? Was ist passiert?
Will ich es wirklich wissen?

Ist das nicht Blut
An meinen Händen?
Es geht mir gut, vielen Dank
Lass es dabei bewenden
Du weißt, ich war im Bett bei Dir
Sag es ihnen ich war doch die ganze Nacht hier"

ASP - Lykanthropie

Hello Dear Nobody

2009-11-15T00:38:00.001+02:00

Hello dear Nobody, remember me?
I called today to tear the stitches.
To open up your wound,
to see you bleed.

Hello dear Nobody, remember us?
I called again to remind you
how we used to hold hands -
happy, blissful and in love.

Hello dear Nobody, remember this?
The closed chapter in your book,
that book you put on the shelf.
That book, covered in dust.

Hello dear Nobody, remember me?

14.11.2009
Replica

Wrong

2009-10-21T09:34:00.002+03:00

I don't know what's wrong with me. This week. This month.
I can barely go to sleep at night and manage to be late for my classes at noon the next day.
I barely eat because I feel like throwing up whenever I see food.
I barely drink, anything. I feel dehydrated.
I'm always hot.
I'm always dizzy.
My brain is short-circuitting, making me think things that aren't true. Making me believe things that aren't true.
Things that used to pass me by as normal now annoy the hell out of me.
Things that used to annoy the hell out of me make me wanna scream and cry.
I'm freaking out.
I'm paranoid.
I need a hug. (Or maybe I don't?)
I need time.
I need space.
I need my boy.
I need my friends.
I need me back.

And I only wish this was PMS...

Replica

Sarcasm, Irony & House

2009-09-24T10:49:00.003+03:00

New House M.D. is out finally. 2-hour season premiere. 2 hours of irony and sarcasm. How can you not love that guy and want him to be your doctor? (rhetorical question, if someone answers, he dies... I'm aggressive...)

So, as I was watching the new episode and enjoying the crazy ideas, his irony and sarcasm, out of nowhere I started thinking that House is in fact nothing more than a character that portrays human nature. (Yes, I'm in my contemplative mood yet again.)
I know some of you deny to be compared to House because he's a cynical high bastard, but the thing is that (like I said in an argument over House a few days back) he is more connected to reality that 90% of all people. Lines like "Everybody lies" prove it. House sees the world and human nature clearly, he knows everybody lies for something and that everybody does not exclude him. And indeed, think about it, everybody lies - for money, for love, to get out of the queue at the store, to have a better place at the bar... for what not. And how many admit it?

To be honest, when I saw House for the first time and heard that line, in my mind I denied ever lying. Just an example of how people deny what they are indeed. (I love using psychology on myself, makes me feel schizophrenic-ish.) Honestly, you have to have a lot of courage to admit you're lying. Regularly. About different things. You pass some things in silence. You distort truth. Doesn't matter. Everybody lies.

Besides for realizing the simple truth that everybody lies and we should never trust someone 100% until we don't check for ourselves, House has conveniently hidden behind walls of sarcasm and irony and behaves like an ass, turning everyone away. Making believe he doesn't need anyone. Truth is, he needs someone. Truth us, we all need someone. And most of us are not brave enough to admit it. Most people prefer to hide behind the walls of sarcasm, disrespect, insults... it's a pity that, unlike House, we don't realize it. We deny. We insult. We're selfish. We don't think.

Maybe the vicodin is House's way to get away from himself, although he stated many times he takes it because of his leg. House is getting high, but on the other hand, "We all get high. Drugs, alcohol, love, solitude, memories, hopes, religion, Ego, feelings, lack of feelings, change, stability, work, sport, sex. We all get high. No matter with what. If you need it. Then you get high. If you're dependent. Then you get high. Don't be offended. You know it too. Just admit it. We all get high."*

And what in the end?
Most of the people I know, sit and watch House entranced, thinking what an ass he is, how he gets high on vicodin, how he runs away from Cuddy, how he humiliates Thirteen and Taub, how he pushes Wilson away... without thinking how much do they resemble House... how much all people ARE like House...

*Original post in Bulgarian can be found here: Снежанка и 7-те бонбона; translated by me.

24.09.2009
Replica, The Rocking Devil

Addicted to Pain?

2009-09-09T23:54:00.002+03:00

I've been thinking, why do we always do the same mistakes again and again?
It's not because we're stupid, is it?
We were intelligent enough to go around those mistakes, to avoid them for some time and then at some point, I guess from lack of... adrenaline (?) we just trip and fall for the same thing we promised ourselves we would never again.
So what, are we addicted to pain?
Are we torturing ourselves?
Every time I think about this I remember Venus in Furs. Though it seems really shallow, I think there isn't a book that describes the human mind any better than that book does it.
We are addicted to pain.
Why else would we fall for the same over and over again?
Nothing really changes, just the faces. The empty promises, the words - they are always the same.
It's like in a play, or a remake of a movie - the actors are new, but the lines are always the same. Always cheesy. Always seeming very meaningful. Always being honest.
But shallow, meaningless and lies.
I recall Bekki telling me she does tattoos because pain made her feel alive. Well, I guess we all have out own ways of getting that pain in our system, one way or another.
And as much as I would like it to be over once for all, as much as I'd like for once to not spend a single night more crying myself to sleep, I guess this is my way of getting my dose of pain.
It really is the drug of modern society.
Because that's all there's left.
Just pain... and empty words.

09.09.2009
Replica

The Arcane Dominion

2009-04-19T23:08:00.000+03:00

The forest lay before me – dark, somewhat lonesome. I could hear the wind blowing in the leaves, creating a melody only few can hear. A melody that beckoned me.
I pulled my cloak closer to my body and put the hood on. It fell almost to my eyes, almost blinding me. I took a deep breath as a stronger whiff of wind came from the forest and circled around me. A step and then another one, I passed the first tree.
My hand touched the bark and I closed my eyes, letting the forest come to me, come in me. I walked with eyes closed, leaving the wind to guide me through the trees to the place I was looking for. How long I walked, I do not know.
As I reached the clearing, I heard the quiet whispers of a thousand people in my head, racing with my own whispers. I didn’t know the language in which we whispered, yet I went on, with my eyes closed.
I fell to my knees. I opened my eyes. There was a pile of wood in front of me, a pile that was obviously freshly made. I lit a fire and stared at it, clearing my mind from all the things. I could feel a change in the wind, as if someone was dancing around me. I could hear a melody, a voice whispering in my ear.
The flames burst higher for a second and then went back to normal, showing me images of people dancing around me to the melody of the wind.
“Let it out, let it out,” they whispered in an unfamiliar language.
My eyes were gazing at them.
“Let it out,” they whispered again, as I looked up to the sky and screamed.
The fire rose higher, the dance got more intense, the melody louder in my ears. I felt the forest filling me, unlocking my inner animal.
And with this, I threw it all to the flames and fell on my back, breathing heavily as the figures disappeared and the fire died out…

19.04.2009
Replica

Carry Me

2009-04-13T22:52:00.003+03:00

It was long after the sun hid behind the waves of the sea. Long after the last person walking on the beach went home, long after the lonely guy with the guitar in his hands went away to write down his ideas on paper.
The fire was just beginning its play of flames and shadows on the sand as I looked to the other end of the beach. It caught me by surprise, to see someone out here so late at night, it was well past midnight. Maybe I wasn’t the only one with insomnia tonight.
He obviously saw my fire and was surprised to see me just as much. I noticed him stopping in mid-step, hesitating, wondering if he should go on walking or turn back and leave. Then he made another, slower step towards me. I have to admit, I was intrigued by him.
Maybe he was intrigued by me too. Maybe this is why he kept on walking. Maybe the fire beckoned him to come closer, like the light-bulbs beckon moths.
Whatever the reason, he kept on walking toward me, each step surer than the previous, more determined. It was at about that time that fear went over me. I started wondering if I should just get up and get away before he was close enough or if I should stay. Part of me wanted to scream and run away, while the other part was completely dazzled by the stranger.

He was coming closer; his shoes leaving footsteps in the wet sand for a few seconds until the waves washed them away. My fire was burning brightly, probably lighting my still doubting face, because he smiled. Right then, I felt like I couldn’t move. I had to stay there. I felt my mouth slowly pulling in a smile. He stopped, looking at me and the waves washed over his feet, wetting his jeans to his knees. Was he waiting to invite him to sit by the fire?
I waved to him and smiled once more.
He answered back and with a few quick steps was opposite me, his body half-hidden from the flames.
“Would you mind if I joined you,” he asked me in a husky voice. There was something about his face, his eyes in particular. Something enchanting, something painful, some tears. I shrugged.
“Why would I mind,” I answered back and he sat beside me with a wide smile on his face.
His features were quite ordinary. He wasn’t a very tall man, maybe slightly taller than me, very skinny. I could tell he had a few sleepless nights, just like I did – black circles under his eyes suggested that, as well as the constantly wandering gaze. I could see a tear glimmering in the corner of his eye, but I pretended not to notice it as it fell down on his shirt.

“So what brings you here so late at night? Aren’t you afraid some strange people come here after the sun sets?”
His question was sincere, random. Like the questions I pick when I don’t know what to say to someone. My eyes were fixed on the burning log in the fire.
“Insomnia. What is in my mind is far more scary than strangers,” I said, unconsciously smiling. “But by the looks of you, you are as familiar with insomnia as I am.”
He laughed. I could tell it was partially forced laughter. Like the ones I have been doing for the past months since insomnia came. What do you laugh at when you don’t care for anything?
“True.”
A simple answer. I hate simple answers. If he wanted to stay, I wanted to talk with him. The fire was a good companion, but a quiet one.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
He seemed confused for a moment, maybe because I was too direct.
“I wanted to fade my memories,” he said. I wondered why would anyone ever want to fade his memories. Aren’t memories what makes us stronger?
He seemed to have read the question on my face and went on.
“It was a long time ago I met her, on a beach, just like this one. We were but kids, both on holiday at the same place.
She got tired of me and left me with no word. Ever since I want to believe we weren’t meant to be together, that those years were but a dream. And I cannot recall ever seeing such as my newfound need for believing. I have never been like this. It feels like I never set foot on that beach. Sometimes when I lay awake at night I wonder if I was ever there. Then I look through the pictures and ask myself, if I wasn’t ever there, what are these memories we share?”
He looked to the sea. I could tell, without seeing the fire reflecting in them, that there were tears in his eyes. Maybe people need to fade the memories that hurt them. The ones that give you trouble sleeping.
I was silent for a while, giving him time. It’s painful to talk about old wounds and even more painful to talk about them when they open and bleed.
I didn’t reach to dry his tears; that was the last thing he needed – someone to wipe his tears away. I just left him, sitting by the fire, as the cold breeze ran down my spine. A while later, he started again, his voice down to almost a whisper.
“I was ready to give her everything she’d ever ask for. All I wanted was her. I never saw the end coming, she never gave me a signal.”
His voice broke on the last word and I could hear quiet sobs coming from his throat.
“Reality cuts deep,” I mumbled.
Before I knew it my hand was on his shoulder, caressing his back in a soothing motion. He curled in a ball. I was lost for words. There was no witty line I could come up with, no soothing word to say.
“Hold onto me as reality breaks. It will pass.”
Of course it would, how silly of me to say such a cliché. But that was the best I could do. I never expected him to shift so quickly under my still-caressing hand and bury his head in my neck. The sobs became louder and I could feel his tears rolling down his cheeks and falling on my shirt. And all I could do was to hush him.
We stayed like this for a while, his sobs gradually becoming less and quiet until finally, as suddenly as his face was buried in my neck, he was again sitting next to me.
We were still silent. I didn’t know what to say and his past was too painful to be brought back to life.

Dawn was about to break soon. I would go home to change and then to work. I supposed the stranger had some places to go too. It was a weird night, but I could feel he felt relieved and so did I, in a way. I wanted to ask him if he would come again tonight to talk, but it felt too impudent to ask. He hesitated with the question too, but didn’t ask it either.
“The footsteps the beach was saving led me to you.”
And then he got up and walked away.
I never saw him again, not on the following night, nor on any other sleepless night I spent on the beach. I think now he was a trick the fire and insomnia played on me. I think I was never there. And then I take out the shirt I was wearing that night and smell his tears on it and wonder if I was never there, what are these memories we share.

13.04.2009
Replica

The Invisble One

2009-04-07T01:17:00.003+03:00

I’m the invisible one,
Walking in your shoes,
Walking in her shoes,
Walking in his shoes,
Walking in their shoes.

I’m the invisible one,
With blisters from your shoes,
With blisters from her shoes,
With blisters from his shoes,
With blisters from their shoes.

I’m the invisible one,
Walking in my own shoes,
Walking in everyone’s shoes.
I’m the invisible one,
With blisters from my own shoes,
With blisters from everyone’s shoes.

I’m the invisible one,
Always there for you,
Always there for her,
Always there for him,
Always there for them.

I’m the invisible one,
Always taking blame for you,
Always taking blame for her,
Always taking blame for him,
Always taking blame for them.

I’m the invisible one,
Always there for myself,
Always there for everyone.
I’m the invisible one,
Always taking the blame for myself,
Always taking the blame for everyone.

I’m the invisible one,
Always hurt by you,
Always hurt by her,
Always hurt by him,
Always hurt by them.

I’m the invisible one,
So in love with you,
So in love with her,
So in love with him,
So in love with them.

I’m the invisible one,
Always hurt by me,
Always hut by everyone.
I’m the invisible one,
Always in love with me,
Always in love with everyone.

I’m the invisible one,
Taking the fall for you,
Taking the fall for her,
Taking the fall for him,
Taking the fall for them.

I’m the invisible one,
Always there for you,
Never seen by you.

I’m the invisible one,
Always there for her,
Never seen by her.

I’m the invisible one,
Always there for him,
Never seen by him.

I’m the invisible one,
Always there for them,
Never seen by them.

I’m the invisible one,
The one you noticed,
So did she,
So did he,
So did they.

I’m the invisible one,
The one with blisters on my feet,
The one who walked in your shoes,
The one who was there,
The one who fell,
The one who stood your ground,
I’m the invisible one.

I’m the invisible one,
The one you pretend to notice,
The one you pretend to care for,
The one you hurt.
The one you say you love.

I’m the invisible one,
The one I pretended to notice,
The one everyone pretended to notice.
I’m the invisible one,
The one I said I love,
The one everyone said they love.

I’m still the invisible one.

07.04.2009
Replica

[/random bitch whines]

P.S.: Yep, I'm fully aware it sucks.

Bye Bye Arizona

2009-03-04T15:19:00.004+02:00

You went away, where did you go?
You said you knew the world, but did you?
I could see it in your eyes,
The child that lived inside your shell,

He knew nothing of the world outside,
Nothing but this caress and still you went.
Where did you go, what did you see?
Would you come back?

I asked the wind to look after you, the child;
You knew nothing of the world.
A kiss, you got, and that was it,
You though. But life is more than this.

You went away, where did you go?
You said you knew the world, but did you?
Now you’re here, with tears in your eyes,
Asking me to take you back.

04.03.2009
Replica

P.S.: In case you still haven't, go check Phoenix Effect and their awfully strong debut album Cyanide Skies.

Calling the Rain

2009-02-28T23:25:00.002+02:00

- What is it like to love me?
He looked down in the puddle in front. The raindrops touched the surface to become one with it and form waves that reached the edges of the whole in the asphalt. It was somehow hypnotic. His image was blurry, dirty, dark. And hers was still crystal clear, pure, sparkling. He looked in the eyes of the reflection and she smiled.
He felt his hears racing in a frantic beat, reacting to her smile. He felt sharp pain stabbing him, too.
He was living and dying when he is with her.
He felt her lips on his. He felt the sweet intoxication of the kiss... and the poisonous effect.
He felt supreme pleasure and greatest pain when he is with her.
- To love you is like... calling the rain.
She lid her hand in his.
How many times did she caress him in the night, how many times had she taken his life bit by bit? How many times she fooled him she gave him life when she took it from him? How many times did he stop loving her and how many times did he come back? Because to love her was like calling the rain - a desperate call that could last for years and in the end, when the rain came, it was all summed up in a sigh.
How many times did he walk away from her? How many times she was with him, like a shadow? How many times did he see her everywhere? How many times did he swear never to call her again? And every time it was the same - because in her arms he was born, from her kisses he grew, from her body he became a man.
- To love you is like... bearing in pain. To love you is like embracing life while decaying. To love you is tender like a mother's caress. To love you is seeing you kill me. To love you is to feel how you drink my life. To love you is to see you where you are not. To love you is not to forget what I arose from.
He stepped in the puddle. The images intertwined in one - half black, half white.
And he raised his head and walked on, forgetting to love her. Because the rain was here. Because he no longer had to call it. Because she would always be where he was. Because she would always feed on his life.
- To love you is like... calling the rain.

"Heed, it's like calling the rain
It's like bearing in pain
Embracing life, decaying in death
Heed, it's like calling the rain
It's like the caress of a mother
Life to go withered, perennial pneuma
I will not forget what I arose from…"

Eluveitie
2008 Slania
11. Calling the Rain

28.02.2009
Replica

Just In Case You Fall

2009-02-11T23:28:00.001+02:00

You look at me and there it is
In the corner of your lips –
The smile I’ve always loved and missed.

The lips I once kissed,
The one that never said goodbye
As you let me wither away and die.

Just in case you fall,
I will be there through it all.
Just make sure you say goodbye
Before you let me die.

11.02.2009
Replica

The River

2008-12-14T22:29:00.004+02:00

I was watching my breath. It slowly tumbled from my mouth and melted into the winternight fog. A cold shiver ran down my spine and I was forced to put the collar on my jacket up and my hands in my pockets. It must have been four hours since I left my warm apartment and went walking around the quiet, covered in snow city. I didn’t take my mobile with me, I just wanted to walk undisturbed and think what was wrong with me.
I don’t know what’s wrong with me.
But clouds don’t ask you if it would be okay for them to settle in, they just come and cover the sky. The next thing you know ice-cold rain is pouring on you and you’re shaking as every drop touches your skin. And you’re hoping someone will hold you to keep you warm. And you’re left alone again.

Clouds settled in for me a week ago. At first I welcomed them, thinking it’s only for a while. But then, slowly, as they dripped on my naked skin, they washed the little sanity I had left and I no longer knew what’s wrong with me. What was even worse, nothing in my life felt right.
I blamed it all on you for showing up in my life, for making the choices you did, for leaving me. I tried to stay away from you. I sung the love ballads we used to dance to a thousand times, I killed whatever memories I had left of you… and you’re still there, painted on my heart. Truth is, I love you too much to just let everything go down the drain; there will always be a part of me that will hold you dear, hold you the god of my idolatry. There will always be a trace of you, no matter how deep I bury you.

As I walk down the street, a car passes me by, the headlights coming from behind me as I throw a shadow on the pavement. Somehow it reminds me of that day we were standing on the banks of the river, laughing, holding hands, frowning at the sun and throwing stones over our reflections. I was trying to get you to jump with me, desperately trying to get you to fall for me. You agreed and I smiled a childish, naïve smile. You stood next to me and held my hand. “On three”, I said, still believing you would really jump.
“One...”
You gave me a broad smile.
“Two...”
You squeezed my hand gently.
“Three.”
I jumped. I felt your fingers slipping from my hand and somehow I managed to grip you and drag you in with me. You fell next to me with a splash and laughed.
You would’ve left me dive without you.
I knew, at that moment, my dreams of being together would shatter. I needed to hear from you “We’ll make it somehow”, but you never said it.

Later when we talked about us I told you I’m glad the waters I dived in were so shallow because the river was running too cold for me. You hesitated a while, I saw a sparkling tear in your eye, and then you nodded, saying the river is too cold. I turned away back then, knowing what a lie we just said to each other.
You knew the waters were deeper than anyone would ever notice.
I knew the waters were not cold.
Yet we said this to each other. Hurting ourselves to be happy again, to move on.

But here I am, walking in the cold winter night alone, with tears streaming down my cheeks.
How many days am I going to regret you?
How many nights until I forget you?
How many days are you going to regret me?
How many night until you forget me?
Will we move on or will we just stay here, crying underneath the sky?
Will we waist years?
Will we drown in our tears for each other?

14.12.2008
Replica

My December(s)

2008-12-03T00:43:00.003+02:00

"This is my December,
this is my time of the year..."

It's December again. My month. My time of the year. My snow covered dreams.
It's the month in which I have the most birthday messages to send. Dates start from the beginning and go all the way till the end. Plus New Year, which is slightly more than I can bare. :D
This post, however, is a special greet to my Decembers. I wish all of them happy birthday.
For Bekki I wish her she has less problems and she smiled more.
For Allie I wish she looked on the bright side of things more often. I wish she finds her conqueror nature within, stops thinking so much and just goes for it.
As for me, I wish me to be back to being a fighter again. I wish to get out of this mess.
I wish I can meet you soon.

Love you.
Replica

Arms Around Your Love

2008-11-29T23:39:00.001+02:00

A step more. She is gone. She left.
My days are empty without her. I call friends to fill my time with something and all they say is “Hey, she was just a girl, move on!” Thing is, she wasn’t just a girl. She was the girl. My love. And she is gone. She left.

I sit here, remembering how she loved to walk in here at night when she couldn’t sleep. This chair was her favourite. She would sit in it, grab a book from the shelf and read until she fell asleep and then I would come to take her to bed. But now she is gone. She left.

My phone is ringing – a friend. “Let’s go out tonight”, he says. “Let’s!”, I answer gladly. Something to take my mind away from her. I take my jacket and leave, I go outside in the cool night air. I walk to the place, the cold seeping through my clothes, touching my skin. Oh, how I wish she was here to keep me warm. She’s warming herself now, she is gone. She left.

I walk in the club, seeing my friend at a table, flashing him a smile. “A beer”, I tell the bartender and then I see her. Right there, on the other side of the bar, next to him. He gives me the beer and takes the money and then his arms, they hold her. They are around my love. She’s no longer mine, she is gone. She left.

Slowly I walk to my friend, not looking back. “Did you see him holding her?!”, I ask. “Who?”, my friend looks at me questioningly. “My love, that guy at the bar has his arms around her.”, I say, somewhat irritated. “This is how you pay for not showing what it is inside.”, my friend answers calmly. She is gone. She left.

Yet I still feel her in my arms. Her smell still haunts me. The price she asks of me is too high to pay. I’d better let her go. She is gone. She left.
I’d better go as well. I am gone. I left.

29.11.2008
Replica

Home

2008-11-03T00:43:00.002+02:00

She was standing at the bus station. The engine roar was filling her mind. The petrol fumes filled her nostrils.
People were going off and on the buses, kissing goodbye or welcome, hugging and walking down the path, between the buses, past her, to a warm coffee shop.
Memories came how not so long ago she went to the bus station with joy, the smell of petrol filled her with happiness and the engine roar of the bus gave her hope that this time it won't be a waste. She remembered as she was going off in another city and there was someone she could hug and how she came back with tears in her eyes, alone again. She was looking for her home for years - that place she could hide from all the world, to be herself, no masks on, to laugh, to love. And every time it was all the same. The person opposite her smiled and gave her hope that this time it would be worth it, that this is her home, that he would hide her, and every time there was this fatal "last time" when the home was there, but it was cold and alien for her. And she would walk away hurt and bleeding.

She met him a year ago. She sought nothing more than friendship, but as time went by he managed to find a way to her heart and he himself offered what she was looking for. But even now fear was there, somewhere deep inside her. She was afraid that she would lose him, like she lost everyone before him. She was afraid it was too good to be true. She was afraid.
This is why she never went to the bus station to buy a ticket and run to his arms. She always went there to pick him up, to hold him and feel herself lost in him, feel herself becoming invisible for the world.

The speakers burst with a monotonous voice saying the platform number, the bus number, from which city it came and at what time and she smiled unconsciously. He was on it.
She saw the bus showing itself slowly behind the corner and a warm feeling filled her.
Coming closer.
She looked for him - there he was, smiling at her. She smiled too.
The bus stopped and she walked to it slowly. The doors opened and people went off, looking for their people.
He got off, smiled and hugged her. A cold chill ran down his spine.
- Let's go home.
- I am home.
She smiled at him and they walked with no direction, holding each other.

02.11.2008
Replica

Heiress of the Evening Sings in Silence

2008-10-22T20:07:00.002+03:00

The night was crawling slowly through the window. The pink colors of sunset were stepping away to make place for the dark-blue of the night. The evening star was out, spreading it's light and announcing the Moon.
She was alone in her room, in the corner. Her knees to her chest, tears running down her cheeks. The syringe was next to her, full, ready to use. Her daily sin. The only way to run away from loneliness, from the pressure everyone around her put on her. The only way to sing in silence.

She was everyone's favorite, daddy's girl, always smiling and sweet, never in trouble. She was trying to keep that farce, to wear that mask, but it was all more than she could bear. She couldn't take it anymore.
Then he came - he understood her, held her when she needed to be held, listened to her, wiped her tears away. She never thought why he always had that long cloak and the hood. She never saw him coming closer, but knew he was always there. He had this smell of tears and unhappiness about him that filled her nostrils every time he was around. He first offered her the syringe, first showed her how to do it.

In time she realized this wasn't the way to run from it all, but it was too late. She trusted him too much, more than she wanted. She let herself be his toy.
The sweet smell of tears surrounded her. She raised her head and saw him standing before her. He knelt and took the syringe.
- Tears again. Let me stop them. - he tried to grab her arm.
- What of this is not the way?
- Then what is it?
- Will you love me?
- Always.
She smiled. Another bitter smile.
- Will you kiss me?
- First let me stop the tears.
She held her hand to him. He put the needle in her vein and bend to her.
- Say goodbye to the world. Death is here and wants to kiss you.
- I want to kiss him back.
A smile. She felt his cold lips on hers, then felt a sweet wave of serenity and warmth enveloping her. She relaxed her body in his embrace. He tossed some hair off her face.
- My heiress of the evening Sings in Silence.
She closed her eyes. Felt fragile like a rose on the snow.

22.10.2008
Replica

Dance with the Devil

2008-10-19T19:59:00.005+03:00

Kneeling before the Devil, they bent their heads down on said the words. The three words that would forever bind the to him.

He opened his eyes for the charade first. Hers were still closed, finding only the wrong things. It was easier for her to find everything that did not work between them than the things that made her smile. It was easier to tell lies, to hide behind them and to believe he is still blind and believes them.
"I can show you I can see through your empty lies. I won't stay long in this world if you go on." he said once. Then she didn't believe him.

She remembered how he held his hand to her asking her to dance. They hadn't danced since they met, so many years ago. He embraced her and they danced. The Devil was smiling beside them
He slipped from her embrace. She raised her head to his face. He look aside, to the Devil. She slowly turned her head in that direction. Her eyes so nothing, she didn't feel him there. But the Devil was there, dancing with them.

- It's time to say goodbye, my love. Now, as we dance with the Devil tonight.

17. - 19.10.2008
Replica

In Black and White

2008-10-16T14:39:00.000+03:00

Let’s play a game of chess. Like friends do. You play the black, for I know you like that color. For you it’s the color of death, the color in which our relationship was painted right from the start. I will play white. For I was always the ray of light that tried to turn the darkness into twilight.
I will set the board. King takes here, Queen goes there, the pawns in the front, my defences are built. Let’s start, shall we? You move first.

Slowly, one by one, my pawns fall just like my defences fell so long ago. A few of yours fell too, but very few. I keep going. I move my knights to protect my King, my heart, from you, for I feel you too close. You take them down. As you will take all my rooks and the bishops and finally reach where you were aiming – the King. Go ahead, take it. I give it to you freely.

Now that you got it, what will you do with it? It will not fit your black set, for it is too different. I will not change it’s color, for it’s too stubborn. It will just be there, to protect you and be beautiful by your side.
You tried to fit that piece in, but you couldn’t, so you threw it away. It broke in pieces and by accident I saw it there, lying on the ground and picked the pieces up. I recognized my King and put it back together. I know I will ask you to play a game of chess with me again, so I keep it.

And here we are, playing the same game of chess. You’re aiming for my King. I won’t give up that easy now. My King is fragile than before and defences around him are tougher than before.
Keep your pieces on your black squares and I’ll keep mine on my white ones.

16.10.2008
Replica

Tobacco Road

2008-10-16T01:50:00.001+03:00

It was known as the Tobacco Road – the country’s largest tobacco trading company and the fields it owned with the road between the two. Thousands of people were employed by the company – adults, children, elderly – there was enough work for every one.
Dave had been out on the fields picking up the tobacco for almost as long as he could remember. His family was one of the few families that were loyal to the company and never fled it in hard times. The boy used to listen to stories about how his great grandfather first decided to work with the back-then small company. His son, Dave’s grandfather, started working with him at the age of 8 and so it became a tradition.
Secretly, Dave hated the place. He dreamed of what was beyond the wall separating the Road from the world. He was told, or to be exact overheard, rumours that it was all full of colors beyond anyone’s imagination – the sun was yellow, the sky was blue, the grass was green. Dave hated the black and white world he lived in. He dreamt that one day he could wake up before the break of dawn, go outside, lean against the wall and watch the sun rise. See all the color and beauty it held. Admire it. Instead, he would hear the factory roaring, announcing the new day.

Today he was called in the factory. One of the people who was responsible for packaging the cigarettes called sick so someone had to take his place. Dave gladly agreed to, just to see what it’s like to work in a factory.
Very few people could enter it and even fewer could afford to buy cigarettes. Sometimes, if you were very good at your job, you would get a cigarette in the break. But just sometimes.
Dave wanted to try one, inhale that pure poison, taste it, cough. He secretly took on of the cigarettes in the box before him and walked out for his lunch break. It was cold outside, mostly white today, since frost had fallen today morning. He took out a match from his pocket and lit it to the hard wall surrounding the Tobacco Road. He leaned on the wall and looked up to the greyish sky – no clouds today, no sun.
He could hear the boys on the other side of the Road singing happy songs. He called them the lucky boys. They were born in a world of color, a world that seemed so far away from Dave’s. He wanted to leave something behind, something that would be remembered. Something to put all his soul in, but he didn’t know what. Many times he thought of scratching a message on the wall, but he didn’t know what to write.

He looked up in the sky again, smoking the cigarette. Closed his eyes, listening to the song from the lucky boys. Opened them when the song finished and saw something red-greenish in the sky. Could be in this world of black and white a butterfly had come?
The kite was sawing the skies, followed by the shouts from the lucky boys.
Dave went home that day and asked his father.
- I saw this kite today. It was colourful. Can you catch it for me, father?
He didn’t answer. Dave looked in his eyes.
- It is but a world away, my son. We can not have color here. And we have just the smell of tobacco. Do you know what is said beyond the wall? ‘People on Tobacco Road can look, but they can’t play.’ You will never be on the other side of the wall, my son.

That day Dave decided what he would scratch on the wall, what he will leave behind.
He woke up the next morning, went to the factory, took another cigarette and went to smoke it by the wall. He took out his knife and scratched in the wood.

* * *

The factory was long but closed. Some man from beyond the sea bought the Tobacco Road and shut it down soon after, leaving so many people with no work. Dave watched from a hill nearby how machines came in and tore the factory down. The smell of tobacco was so strong now. He was surrounded by boys, telling him to fly the kite this was and that way.
Memories flooded his mind. He remembered his childhood, the black and white childhood he had. He remembered that first time he was called in the factory to work, the first cigarette, the lucky boys singing from the other side of the wall and the kite in the sky. He remembered what he wrote the next day on the wall and smiled.

* * *

Down the hill, the people were tearing down the wall. Many of the planks were scratched with meaningless or misspelled words, signs or names. But there was one that had just one sentence on it. The guy read. He looked up to the sky and saw a kite. Smiled
“If it takes me forever, one day I will have that kite.”

16.10.2008
Replica

King of Fools

2008-10-14T13:38:00.001+03:00

Here we are again, right where we started. Same place, same time, even our clothes are the same. We sit at the opposite ends of the same table, drinking the same drinks we did then, but we look at each other differently. It’s been a while, what changed?
Remember our first talk? I told you I don’t feel confident to give this a go because I wasn’t what you needed. I was worried you fell for the peel and you wouldn’t like the inside at all. You told me it’s okay and kissed me. I still feel the same way, but this time you won’t kiss my worries away. I’m sorry I cannot ignore how I feel and be what you want me to be. I’m sorry for all the arguments we had in the past.
I’m sorry for some of the things I said to you, I’m sorry for all the lies you fed me. Seems that what I feel is the only truth and so I try to get by on my naïve hope that all will be okay. I don’t want a fairytale gone bad.
But what do you want? I’ve been told what I give out will be what I’ll receive, then why are you so cold when I touch you? You told me to leave my childish naivety behind and grow up, but you never showed me how. Tell me, if I still believe that we can be, will you crucify me for it?
Are you strong enough to hold us up if my naivety is what’s dragging us so close to shattering the frail connection between us? Would you resurrect what we had to do it? Would you start all over again and this time build us so that we could withstand everything? If I told you I am the queen of fools, would you wear the crown and be my king of fools?
Be naïve with me. Believe that we can be. Crucify yourself with me. Wear the crown. Be the king of fools.

14.10.2008
Replica

The Glass Wall

2008-10-07T22:17:00.004+03:00

You look at me. You smile.
I'm lost in your eyes. I smile.
I hold out my hand to touch you, I can see, a little more. I feel the warmth of your skin and I close my eyes. My hand touches something cold and smooth, it is not your skin.
The glass wall.
I step back, with tears in my eyes. It is there again, why?
I see you, so close to me, and I cannot touch you.

Once upon a time you entered my mind. Once upon a time I entered your mind. I took all my masks off for you and I was what I never was with no one else. But not you. Slowly you were building the glass wall, building it around me. Building it with smiles and you wrote "I love you" on it.
Sometimes I find the strength to shatter the wall, I think it's just glass and it will fall under my blow and shatter. Every time all I can do is to crack it. And every time you manage to change the glass with a new, thicker one.
One day I will stop wanting to shatter the glass. One day I will stop looking back, to the glass wall, to you. One day...
Until then I will write with my tears "I love you" and "Don't walk away" and I will fall on my knees. I will show myself weak, I will lower myself. And you will keep watching me from the other side of the glass and you will laugh.

07.10.2008
Replica

No one can love the man, who guarded the light

2008-09-29T22:14:00.001+03:00

He was standing on the lighthouse terrace. He could hear how the waves crashed in the old wall of the lighthouse. The cool night breeze was blowing through his hair. He was looking down, in the dark reefs, hidden by the waves.
- Born and raised by the sea… - he looked up to the bloody red moon. - Why didn’t you light their way?
Tears blurred his vision. He fell on his knees and cupped his face in his hands. The little light from the lighthouse illumined his miserable body. With all the strength he could muster he got to the hard bed in the small and dank room, which he used as a kitchen, bedroom and living room. He closed his eyes and soon fell asleep.
It all started last night. The “White Pearl” was coming to town – the biggest and most beautiful merchant ship ever to be built. It was New Year’s Eve when everybody wanted somebody by his side. The same would go for the young man. He left the lighthouse leaving the fire alight and went to town. He put on his finest clothes, tied his hair on the scruff of the head and went down the hundred stairs. Finally he reached the last one and right in front of it was a small half-decayed wooden door with metal lining. He smiled and took the key out of his pocket. He unlocked, went out and locked it from the outside. There was nothing that could be stolen from the lighthouse, but he locked by habit.
Down here everything looked twice more beautiful than from above. He stood on the edge of the cliffs and inhaled a deep breathe of the cool sea air. He smiled then walked towards town.

As usual, the people had organized a masquerade. He got lost in the crowd and was looking at the thousand brilliant colors the festival offered.
A young woman in a beautiful black dress and a mask passed by him. Their stairs met for a moment and then she was gone in the crowd. He looked around and saw her sitting at one of the few tables. He worked his way through to her while she was looking at him.
- Good evening, Miss.
- Good evening, young man.
They smiled at each other.
- I could not notice that you are alone just tonight. You are extremely beautiful, how could You be alone?
- Unfortunately, I am – she looked at him sadly – And what about You? You, too, are alone. Where is Your Lady?
- I… I don’t have a Lady. And I was wondering… if You… would like to dance?
She smiled and held out her hand.
- I would love to.

He caught her hand and helped her up. Then his hands were on her waist and they were dancing on the grass under the sounds of music. All the time they were smiling at each other and every time they turned, she got closer and closer to him. A song started, which seemed to make her sad and she tried to shake the sadness off. She pulled back from the man, but he was still holding her hand.
- Would You like to go?
She nodded and they both went away from the masquerade and to her house.
- I don not live far, would you please accompany me to my house? If you would like, you could stay for tonight.
- Miss, I would love to, but Your Lord? Would he not be back?
- Do not worry about him.
They walked some ten minutes and reached a small house. The girl unlocked the door and invited him in.

It was less than half an hour to midnight. They poured a glass of champagne and sat in front of the fireplace talking almost until it was time for the toast. She went out on the balcony to look at the fireworks and he went after her.
The whole town was counting the seconds left to midnight. The girl glanced at him and then her voice got lost in the voice of the town.
- Five, four, three, two, one… Happy New Year!

Thousands of fireworks lit up the night sky. Then she turned to him and kissed him. He took off her mask just to find an even more beautiful face hidden behind it. She smiled and kissed him again.

Couple of hours later, he was getting dressed to cross the whole town and reach his home – the lighthouse. He was walking through the wintry field that stood between him and the cape and thought of her. He reached the cliffs just next to the lighthouse and looked down and felt his body go numb – some fifty people were scattered on the sea shore below him. They all looked like puppets. Then he saw the broken mast and a large board with an intricate golden letters on it saying “White Pearl”.
He looked up to the lighthouse to see the fire was out. He took out the key with his hands shaking and ran up the hundred stairs to the top of the lighthouse. The fire was out some hours ago. He fainted.

He woke up at sunrise and the first thing he saw were the faces of the people – all saddened. He saw her among them, crying.
- You killed the father of my child! – she threw a rock at him, but he did not feel pain. Something mauled his soul then. He went out and left the lighthouse for a girl. Another rock, and another, and another…
He didn’t know what he did in the next hours. He was again at the lighthouse. At sundown he lit the fire and went to look at the sea from above. He pictured the last rays of the setting sun as the fireworks and thought she would come any time and kiss him.
- No one can love a man who guarded the light.
He stayed there until he could hear the waves whispering “All on board the ‘White Pearl’ had died. Coastal reef has claimed their lives.” He looked down at the sea.
- Born and raised by the sea… why didn’t you light their way?

He woke up. His first thought was the girl’s words “You killed the father of my child!” They echoed in his head and then he remembered what the waves whispered.
- The coastal reef will take my life.
He went to the lighthouse terrace again, climbed the low wall and looked down.
- All on board the “White Pearl” had died. Coastal reef has claimed their lives. It is time it claimed mine. One step will take me back inside, another sees my end in the watery abyss. Black oceans, rise and welcome me!
“…we therefore commit his body to the deep to be turned into corruption, looking for the resurrection of the body, when the sea shall give up her dead and the life of the world to come through our Lord…”

18.05.2006
Replica

C'est moi...

2008-09-29T22:08:00.007+03:00

Take it back, take it all back now…

Thio's phone was ringing.

All the things left undiscovered…

It took her some time to wash her hands clean and find it in her back while singing the song. She looked the display. Private number. She sighed.
- Probably she forgot her phone again and is calling from her friends'.
She picked up.

- Hello?
- Well, well... how are you?

She felt startled. It wasn't her friend's voice. It was a man's voice, a familiar one.
- Who is this?- Кой е?
- Who do think this is?- Кой мислиш че е?
- Stop it, who is this?- Престанете! Кой е?
- You know very well who I am. You almost got away, didn't you?
Thio recognized the voice.
- Oh my God! It can't be! You can't be!
He laughed a sinister laugh.
- Oui, oui, mon amour...c'est moi.

Thio panicked. There was silence and just her heavy breathing. He broke it.
- Look out the window, honey.
Without thinking what she's doing, she headed to the kitchen window. She stood there looking outside to the darkness. She heard him hanging up the phone and he appeared in the window in front of her.
- C'est moi!
She screamed and ran up the stairs to get her gun. The man was looking after her until the heels of her feet were gone upstairs. He then opened the window and got in. A deep breath. Laughter. He headed for the hallway. He knew the house well, he lived for three and a half years in it. He knew all the secret places, he knew where every key for every door in the house was. Thio could not run away. He locked the front door and called out.
- Come on now, honey, don't hide. You know I know the house.

Thio was fervently going through the boxes in her wardrobe. It should be somewhere here. Where was it?
- Oh, I forgot to tell you. Your gun... - She stopped looking. - is with me, honey, don't look for it upstairs.

He pulled the gun out of the long coat and loaded it. One bullet, two bullets, three bullets. Three would be enough.
- Show time!

He ran up the stairs and started kicking the doors down.
- You know... - a kick and the first one was down. - that... - the second one. - you can't... - the third. The bedroom was the next, the room in which Thio was. - hide... a kick and it fell down as well. - from me.
A smile cut his face in half.
- I knew you are here. - he lifted the gun to her chest. - Tell me that past times won't die.
A shot.

Thio woke up from the nightmare. Heavy breathing. She got up to get a glass of water.
Her hand reached for a glass and her eyes saw the mirror and the sign written with her lipstick "C'est moi". In her ex-boyfriend's handwriting. She dropped the glass and it broke to pieces. She ran to the bedroom and found the gun. It was still there. She loaded it with a few bullets, her hands shaking. She felt a cold metal object to her throat.
- Come on, honey. Put it down. In fact, give it to me.
Thio gave him the gun. He took in and put it in the coat's pocket.
- Now stand up. Lay on the bed.

She did what she was told - got up from the floor and went to the bed. He took out handcuffs and tied her hands and legs to the bed frame. He then sat next to her.
- I gave you my time. I gave you my whole life. I gave you my whole love - to the last drop. And you thank me by leaving me in the middle of nowhere and walking away with some guy you met in the bar? How low can you go... by the way, where's your knight? I think he's gone... well, lucky for you, that makes me your God.
She opened her mouth to say something, but he put his finger on her lips.
- Don't say a word. Pacta sunt servanda. You broke ours.
- You're crazy! This is why I left you!
He giggled.
- You didn't think so the night before we walked into that bar.
He got off the bed and turned the lights off. He lit the black candle on Thio's night stand and put it on her chest.
- I promise you the end before the first light arrives.
He bent over and kissed her. There was a pearl earring on the night stand, he took it.
- I gave you these, for our first anniversary. How come you didn't throw them away? - he sounded ironic.
- These are pearls, how can I throw them away, even if they are from you?!
He grinned and put the earring in his pocket.
- You know, mother always said "My son, do the noble thing. You have to finish what you've started, not matter what it will cost. Now - sit, watch and learn. It doesn't matter how long you live, but what your morals say. You have to keep your part of the deal, now, don't say a word." Turns out it doesn't matter how long you live indeed. But you... who will remember you? You're a whore. I've seen you not once walking in the cool night with no underwear. I've seen you in the bed of not one man. And still, I will love you until the last drop falls.

The sky was getting lighter.
- I promise you to end this before the sunrise. So it shall be.
He kissed her one last time. Went to the door and pointed the gun to her.
- Vade retro, alter ego. I have never wished you dead... yet. Now hear how the headless doves cry.

A shot. Darkness. Coldness...

14.05.2006
Replica

Cold/Broken/Alone

2008-09-16T23:54:00.001+03:00

It's getting colder by the minute. I need you now. I need you here. I want to know that I can hide in your shadow, that you will hide me from the world and tell them you haven't seen me today, or tomorrow. I want to know that I will always find shelter from the storm in your embrace. All I ask of you is to look in my eyes and hold me at night. I need to feel your warm body pressed to mine, your breath on my neck, your hands around me. I want to hear your calm breathing and watch you sleep when I wake up... when I wake up next to you.

But you're just an illusion...

16.09.2008
Replica

Love Infernal

2008-09-14T13:44:00.003+03:00

And finally, the last part of the Wildfire series. After this one, I promised myself not to write any more parts since the whole idea is getting kinda exploited. However, I have a fifth part I begun writing some eleven months ago, but I highly doubt it'll ever be finished. For now, the Stranger is sound asleep inside of me, hugging Neeyla.

~

- No light, only suffocating dark.
His face was buried in his hands.
- No light, only suffocating dark. There's no point to live...
Caleb took a piece of paper and a pen from the shelf nearby and wrote a few lines. Then he got up and walked to the big balcony.

Neeyla and the Stranger were watching up, to the 24th floor.
Caleb sighed. He opened the door, went out and looked down. He saw just a red-haired woman in a long coat. For a moment it seemed she was watching him, piercing him with her stare. He closed his eyes. When he opened them she was gone. He felt happy that no one would witness his end. As he was just about to jump, he heard a gentle women's voice behind him:
- Caleb... why are we so sad? Are we feeling hurt by their evil lies and all those empty words? We are thirsty for payback? What would we like to do with the town? Would we like to make it dance... with the Animal? Would we? Would we?! Tell us, what would we like to do...
- Who are you?
- I've told you all, but who I am. Have faith in me. Have faith in me...
Caleb stared at her. Tall, slim, green-eyed and gorgeous, her hair seemed to burn. Her face was lit by a smile, a charming smile. She held his hand out to him.
- Have faith in me. You're going to waste your life to pleasure those lower creatures that hurt you. Have faith in me. Take my hand. Trust me.
Caleb hesitated, but took her hand. The moment he touched her soft skin, he felt his skin burn. Then is felt as if his whole hand was burning. The pain was getting unbearable. He started to lose consciousness. The last thing he saw was how behind the beautiful woman, a man in a long coat appeared and took her by the shoulders with a grin.

***

- Good work, honey. I knew you could do it on your own.
- The fire told me what to do. I could hear this voice in my head that guided me and told me what to say and do.
- Splendid, splendid! - the Stranger smiled and kissed her.
Caleb was lying a few meters away from them. He heard their short conversation as some far echo and could barely make out what they were talking. He opened his eyes. He needed some time to get used to the gloom. He was in a big well-furnitured hall. He looked around and made out the silhouettes of the two. He tried to get up, but he was still weak. Neeyla felt him, pushed the Stranger aside and walked slowly to Caleb. The Stranger pierced her back with his burning stare.
- Don't be jealous, sweetheart.
- I'm not jealous.
- A lie... and you know I know it.
Caleb's eyes widened. The smile he saw he didn't know how long ago, was on the woman's face again.
- Who are you? What do you want from me?
- Oh, for fuck's sake, why do you always ask who we are... - the Stranger shrugged, turned his back to Neeyla and Caleb and fixed his eyes on something in the room.
- Enough. You know...
- I know you knew who and what I am, Neeyla!
She turned to him.
- Then why didn't you enter his dreams as well?
- I don't like guys, honey.
- In that case, shut up and let me explain to Caleb what's going on here, because I can feel he's on the edge of sanity. - She turned to Caleb. - My name is Neeyla. I found you just when you needed me the most.
- Needed US. You are this because I made you this, Neeyla, don't forget it.
- Needed us... you see, we find beauty in fire. We think it's a purifying power. It can erase all since and it brings pleasure. Beautiful and destructive... just like me and the Stranger.
- You're insane...
Neeyla laughed.
- Maybe. But it was fire that helped me. It was years ago when I first met the Stranger. He came to my dreams. I was as confused as you are now and thought him insane, but he showed me the true things in life. He showed me how just a word can start a fire... literally. He showed me the beauty of fire. I want to share that beauty with someone. That's why I chose you. See, when the Stranger came, I almost had a nervous breakdown - no friends, I was in love with a guy I could never have. The fire helped me overcome this. Everything that was ever in my way to be happy is dust... literally. - she grinned at Caleb's stare. - I know what's going on in your head. The moment you touched me, you became a small part of me. I know what's going on every single moment. And I will know until you prove that the old Caleb is gone and Wildfire came in his place.
- Psychos... Wildfire died years ago! Don't you watch the news?
The Stranger was furious. A few quick steps and he was by Caleb, pushing Neeyla aside and grabbing his head. Caleb felt a burning pain. Then saw a small street, a man with a knife in his hand, cutting his veins... "Farewell Wildfire..."
The picture changed to a cemetery. An Angel. "Warren Adrien Gray". A black rose. "The sire never dies, Warren... never!"
The Stranger took his hands away form Caleb. He wriggled.
- Do you understand now, Caleb? Neeyla was the next. She proved to be stronger than Warren. She chose you. She chose you!
- Stop is! Leave me to talk to him! It's no use shouting!
- So be it... - the Stranger's hand caught fire for a moment, then he walked out of the room. Neeyla followed him with a stare.
- So... now that you know the Wildfire story and what it is, I can offer you two things - become one of us, or die. Decide fast. Till tomorrow night.
She winked at him and walked to the door.
- Neeyla... - she stopped in her place - I... how long have I been here?
- Two days. I hit you a bit harder than I should... - she looked at him shyly over one shoulder. - but I hope you'll forgive me. - she smiled and left.

***

- Why, Neeyla?
- You know why. You're a part of me, damn you, you know everything I do. You know why.
- I don't know why him.
- Why me?
- Because I felt the power in you.
- Assume that I felt the power in him.
- I don't like him.
- I know. I know it from the moment he opened his eyes and I walked to him. You feel threatened by him, because he is younger. You think I'm going to fall for some kid? You think I would kill what we have, I would kill Wildfire again, to have him?
- Neeyla... he will come between us. Don't deny it.
- I won't. You are right, he will. Caleb will be our challenge. Maybe this is why I chose him. Maybe I want to show myself that you still care for me. Maybe I want to show the world the fire is above everything else.

***

- Get up! - the Stranger shook Caleb roughly. - It's time for your decision. Are you with us?
Caleb shook his head and looked at Neeyla. She smiled for him.
- Well, Caleb? - her voice sounded softer that the Stranger's. - What did you choose?
Caleb looked at her, than the Stranger, than her again. He didn't know what to say. He wanted to die, but just her smile was enough to keep him alive. He bowed his head down and murmured:
- I'm with you...
The Stranger grinned.
- Welcome, Wildfire.
"I hate you! You're suffocating Neeyla!"
- Caleb, watch your mouth. - Neeyle looked at him. - I'm still up there.
The Stranger looked at Neeyla. She let him hear the words the way she heard them.

- Son of a bitch! How can he say I'm suffocating you?!
- Easy... I told you he would come between us. I told you he would be out challenge.

- Now that we are clear, it's time to show you some thing, give you some advice and let you run free, Caleb. The only masters you will have from now on is me and the Stranger.
Caleb nodded.
- And the moment you try to go against me or her, you'll die. Painfully.
Neeyla held her hand to Caleb. He looked at it, then looked in her eyes.
- Don't worry, nothing will happen now.
Caleb took her suspiciously. She helped him up and they walked out, leaving the Stranger alonce.

- Neeyla, if something happens...
- You know I can take care of myself.
- I know, but still.
- Then don't worry.

Neeyla and Caleb went out for a walk. It was mid June, the sun was out and it was hot outside, yet Neeyla didn't take her coat off.
- You wonder why I have my coat on, don't you? - she smiled.
- Yes.
- When you touch the fire the way we do it with the Stranger, you start burning inside. Every time someone bumps into you and touches your skin, he faints or dies, if the contact is longer. This is why I have to go out with a coat.
Caleb walked, watching his feet.
The two of them walked until the sun set. They were miles away from the last building of the town, but none of them was tired.
- It's time to see what you can do and what you need to learn. - Neeyla took her coat off and revealed a darkred leather corset. - Careful not to burn yourself. - she winked at him and made a small fireball inches away from her palms - Let's begin.
She threw the ball to Caleb. He dodged it. He felt how the anger inside him built up. Neeyla opened her mind fully to the Stranger and he could see everything through her eyes. She closed it to Caleb and went on. Another ball, this time bigger, she left it hanging in the air and made a few more. Then she sent them to Caleb. He dodged the first one, but the second burnt him. He could hear in his head the Stranger's voice whispering "Burn it...". He felt his anger taking control. Then it seemed his blood was boiling. He looked at his hands - burning. Neeyla was smiling.
- Not bad. You need to learn to control anger. You have to foretell every step of your enemy... - she stepped to the side, then another step and another - to know what to do!
She suddenly made a big fireball and threw it to Caleb. He reacted in time, stopped it, made if twice as big and threw if back to Neeyla. She looked at the ball with interest while it was flying to her. She stepped to the side and felt just the warmth of fire.
- Nice try, but not good enough. Rest, I have something to do and we go back. Tomorrow we'll try again.
Neeyla took her coat, dusted it off and headed to the edge of the rocks.

- He's good.
- Not better than you. You could do those things without me helping you learn them.
- You know I am the best in fireballs.
- And still, take care of yourself.
- He is far less than what I offered today.

Neeyla felt something stirring behind her back. She bent quickly. A fireball with the size of a basketball flew over her. She stared at Caleb and smiled.
- Very good... Wildfire.
He grinned.

The two were walking home. Neeyla was walking quietly and glanced over her shoulder from time to time. Caleb was thinking.
- You called me Wildfire. Does this mean you're not in my head anymore?
- Yes.
- So I can finally say how I feel about the Stranger?
Neeyla looked at him bitterly.
- Do not even think it. These things I can sense even when a stranger comments us in his mind when we pass on the street.
- I wish I had someone I care so much for you. - he looked at her. - someone like you, Neelya.
Neeyle opened her mind to the Stranger.
- You know you can't have me.
- What if the Stranger dies?
- You think of killing him?
The Stranger smiled. And she closed her mind.

Neeyla and Caleb walked to home. He felt tired and went to bed shortly after they got home. Neeyla was avoiding the Stranger.

***

Caleb and Neelya spent more and more time together, as if the Stranger didn't exist for them. He watched Caleb tease Neeyla and then he realized her words were true. Caleb was standing between them more and more with every day.
The Stranger found a time when Caleb was out of the room and got in, to Neeyla.
- What's going on? Did you forget who made you what you are? Maybe you feel great when you have a disciple?
- Don't talk to her like that!
The Stranger turned. Caleb just got in. He had a huge fireball made and threw it at the Stranger. He dodged it.
- You want to fight?
- No! I want to kill you!
Neeyla was sitting and watching.
The Stranger was furious. He was burning... not just the hands, his whole body. Caleb didn't stop before that. He attacked him bravely, with fire.
The fight went on for hours and there was not a scratch on either of them. Caleb took one of the swords on the wall.
- Strange choice of weapon, but let it be by your rules.
The Stranger took the other sword and attacked. Caleb warded off. Two more attacks and Caleb was on his knees. A swing of the sword, a hit on the wrist and the sound of metal hitting the floor was heard.
Caleb looked at Neeyla. Her cold eyes fixed on his.
- Neeyla...
- Don't ask for help, Caleb. You will get none.
- But I thought...
- Caleb... it was all a game. You were a test for us.
- You bitch! You used me!
- Look, Caleb... me and the Stranger, we have our own rules. There is no one else on Earth that can go by those. This is why it's just me and him. Three is a crows, as they say. Your mistake was that you fell in love with me. But on the other hand, you wouldn't have gotten so much on his nerves. You were useful. Thank you.
She made a fireball and slid it to the Stranger. He made it even bigger, putting all his hate for Caleb in it and threw it to him.
It swallowed Caleb. Neeyla and the Stranger looked at each other smiling and whispered "Burn it..."

21-22.04.2007
Replica

Inferno

2008-09-12T21:12:00.002+03:00

Part three... I would prefer not to comment more on this one, so just read it...

~

Neeyla was standing on the small terrace of the old cathedral. The wind was blowing through her red hair and caressing her face. She was looking at the city under her and was trying to comprehend how something so beautiful could hurt her that much.
- Psst…
Neeyla turned around and looked into the small hallway leading to the other terrace. Again she turned her look towards the city.
- Pssst! Neeyla… why are we so sad?... Are we feeling hurt by their evil lies and all those empty words? We are thirsty for payback? What would we like to do with the town? Would we like… to make it dance… with the Animal?
- Who’s there? – she looked up to the top of the tower. She saw the Stranger smiling – Who are you?
He jumped, went through the grating as if it did not exist and stood before Neeyla. She looked at him smiling.
- You are not really alive. You’re just in my imagination, right?
- Hahaha, no, honey. I’m real – flesh and blood.
She held her hand out and touched him. When her fingers touched his skin, she felt them as if burning and took her hand back.
- Oh my god, you’re burning!
- Yes, honey, I’m burning. Do you wanna burn too?
- Cool! I’ve no idea who you are, but I like you.
- Look what else I can do…
He grabbed her and started running for the terrace. He jumped. Neeyla closed her eyes. Moment later she opened them and was on the ground.
- How…
- Don’t ask, honey! So do you wanna BURN too?
- Cool! I like fire.
The Stranger smiled and ran his fingers through the girl’s hair.
- Super! I like girls like you. What are you doing tonight?

***

Neeyla opened her eyes. She fell asleep again in the boring English Literature class. She looked at her watch – one hour till her meeting with her friends she didn’t have time for in weeks. She waited for the class to end and went out of the building as if something was chasing her.
An hour later her party was in their favourite place. Neeyla knew most of the people who went there, but tonight a big party of strangers was there. She searched her purse for cigarettes. She took out the lighter, put the cigarette in her mouth and lit it. Closing the lighter’s cap, she put it on the table. She looked over the people in the bar and saw the man from her dream. He noticed her staring at him and winked her. Neeyla stared at him for a little while and then continued looking around.
The whole night she didn’t dare to look for him, but she could feel his burning skin on her fingers… she felt his burning stare.

***

She was walking home slowly. She couldn’t stop thinking about the man from her dream. She was walking without noticing what’s happening around her, without thinking where she’s going. She didn’t notice the people she bumped into from time to time until she felt burning pain in her shoulder. She looked up and her bright green eyes met those of the Stranger. He smiled at her and offered to walk her home. Neeyla said yes. The whole way she didn’t stop looking at his face. He was a beautiful man. She wanted to have him… at least
Soon they reached Neeyla’s flat.
- So, I stop here. I hope to see you again tomorrow… Neeyla.
She looked shocked.
- How do you know my name?
- Come on, don’t you recognize me, honey?
- But how…
- I wanted to be there. I wanted to show you how beautiful the fire is – he leaned and kissed her. – To show what things it can do.
Neeyla smiled.
- Why do you think I don’t know it’s beauty?
- You wouldn’t let everyone to treat you like dirt. I can give you much more. I can give you power… power to control life. To determine its beginning and its end. You just need to wish it.

Neeyla really felt sick of everyone treating her like she was nothing. The man was speaking truth and she was beginning to like him more and more. She looked him in the eye. Took him by the hand and together they went into her apartment.

The next morning Neeyla woke up with blurred memories of last night. She remembered she left the bar and nothing more. She didn’t know how she came home, nor with who. She got up, got dressed and made coffee. Her phone was ringing. It was her friend. They spoke for ten minutes and Neeyla couldn’t stop hearing a quiet voice whispering in her head. The last few sentences of her friend got Neeyla mad and she started hearing it more and more clearly: “Burn it…”. The voice got stronger and stronger and soon Neeyla couldn’t concentrate on her own thoughts.
She threw the phone on the floor and flames started dancing in her eyes.
- Burn it, honey.

***

The same night her party was again in the bar. Neeyla was sitting looking in her glass.
- What’s up, baby?
Neeyla didn’t pay attention and answered absent minded.
- Nothing.
She continued looking in her glass. She could clearly see how flames started dancing in the middle of her spirit drink. It suddenly caught fire and the Stranger was standing before her.
- Hi, honey.
- Hi. – she smiled and moved with him to the next box without saying a word to her friends.
Later that night Neeyla went to buy cigarettes. When she came back one of her girl friends was waiting for her outside.
- You left us for a guy?
- I’m not in the mood, leave me alone.
Neyyla tried to go in, but the other girl pushed her back.
- We didn’t finish yet, so you’ll be staying here.
- You’re wrong.
Neeyla smiled and got the lighter out of her pocket. The flame was playing before her eyes.
- It’s beautiful, isn’t it?
- Neeyla, leave the lighter and pay attention to what I’m saying!
- Something as small as a match, in our case a lighter, can cause the destruction of a whole world. In our case – your world.
Flames were dancing in Neeyla’s eyes as she jumped on her friend. Minutes later she entered the bar, took her coat and her purse, leaned down and whispered into the Stranger’s ear:
- We have to go.
- Whatever you say… Wildfire.
She smiled and got out quickly.

***

Days later Neeyla was standing on the small terrace of the old cathedral. The night wind was blowing through her red hair and caressing her face. She was looking at the roaring flames under her and appreciated the beauty of fire. The Stranger emerged from the darkness behind her, embraced her and whispered in her year:
- The fire never dies.
He kissed her and they went down the cathedral stairs.

20.09.2006 - 17.12.2006
Replica

Farewell Wildfire

2008-09-09T20:12:00.006+03:00

There you go, part two of the Wildfire stories. It was originally written in June 2006 with a different ending than the one you're going to read. Since it seemed that that ending was inappropriate, I decided to change it a month later. I can assure you that this ending is the better of the two. The first came too soon and it was too... how to put it... plain.
The rewritten ending sounds much more better and, fortunately turned out to be a good way to make the connection between this part and the next.
Enjoy...

~

The night wind blew Warren's hair. The stranger from a few days ago came closer behind him and placed his hands on Warren's shoulders.
- Good Warren. We had our payback. Fire devours everything.

Warren smiled and looked at the small bright-yellow dot in the distance - the last city that Warren burned. The last city that dared to oppose to Wildfire, as Warren liked to call himself. Just a look, just a gesture, just an innocent joke were enough to make flames dance in Warren's eyes. Then that quiet, softly whispering voice came in his head, the Stranger's voice - "Burn it..."
The next few hours were shrouded in mist for Warren. Wildfire would awake for his fiery feast. The fire raged around town swallowing the books from the city libraries, drinking the petrol and leaving death, chaos and destruction everywhere.

He was carelessly playing with his lighter while the Stranger was choosing the next destination. He had a map opened before him and he was looking at the countries carefully.
- Germany... no... then Holland... no, no... Austria... no. Damn it, I can't choose a country!
He threw the map aside with annoyance. Warren turned around and looked at him.
- Let me, damn it.

The Stranger took the map and gave it to Warren. He looked at it, smiled a few times. Then he lit his lighter. Right now it was Wildfire holding the map, not Warren. He put the flame under one of the map's corners and it caught fire. A wide smile came on both faces. Wildfire looked at the Stranger and shook his head.
- We don't need a map. We can go from town to town. Sooner or later we will burn everything. No one can escape Wildfire!
- Burn it...

Mist came all around Warren. The Stranger's figure seemed to disappear. The fire in Warren was slowly dying and Wildfire was disappearing.

- Warren! Warren!
His hands caught the edge of the desk. Then he felt someone's moist hand on his cheek. And on the other. He opened his eyes. Sitting on a chair, a desk and a man was leaning over it, looking at Warren with his big blue eyes.
- Warren... I want you to tell me who is Wildfire.
- Who?
- Wildfire. Don't play games with me. Who is he, damn you! - he hit the table and woke Wildfire again. Warren looked down. Then caught the table edge again. His head was up and flames were dancing in his eyes.
- I am Wildfire.
- No, you're Warren. Who is Wildfire?
He took out a cigarette, played a bit with it and started looking for the lighter in his pocket. Warren's eyes glimmered and a sinister smile came to his face.
- You know... something as small as the flutter of a butterfly's wing can cause a typhoon halfway around the world. This is the Chaos Theory. Through the eyes of a pyroman it sounds like this...
- Don't tell me the fucking Chaos Theory, damn you!
- ...something as small as the flame of a match can cause the destruction of a whole one world.
- Stop with your bullshit, you fucking psycho! Tell me who the hell is Wildfire!
- I told you - I AM WILDFIRE!
- Don't fuck with me! You're Warren!
He found the lighter and took it out. The flintstone clicked.
- This, my dear, was a mistake. The last you would ever make!

Wildfire jumped over the table and after a short fight with the man, the lighter was in his hands. He lit it. The flame was so hypnotizing. The man was lying helpless in his feet. Paper folders and papers were scattered over the table. Wildfire too them and threw them over the man. The next moment Wildfire was gone and Warren came back.
Stunned, he looked at the lighter in his hand then at the pile of paper and the man under it. Warren tried to throw the lighter, but something inside stopped him.
- Don't even think about it, Warren!
- Who...
- Oh, come on... don't play with fire... why do they say it? It's so much fun to play with fire...
- Burn it...

Warren grabbed his head.
- Get out of there! I don't know what or who you are, but get out!
He fell to his knees, still holding the lighter.
- I have to burn it! He cannot threaten Wildfire!
- No!
- Burn it, Warren... just click the flintstone and drop the lighter on the paper.
- NO!
- Burn it... make it dance... with the Animal... hahaha, would you? WOULD YOU?
- I won't burn it!
- Oh, yes, you will. Sooner or later everything burns.
It seemed to him something was pushing his hand closer and closer to the paper.
- That's right, burn it!
In the end, Warren surrendered. Wildfire lit the lighter and let dropped it on the paper. Then he heard the screams of the man. He spat.
- This is what you deserve! NOBODY talks like this to Wildfire!

He dusted his clothes and walked out of the room and down the hall. Left turn, then right. Straight ahead. He got out. By that time Wildfire was gone.
Warren realized what he did and looked at his hands.
- The hands of a killer! - tears turned the world before his eyes to colorful stains. - I have to save the world from me!
He ran to the nearest dark corner and sat there, with his back against the wall. He took out his knife and rolled his sleeves up and was just about to make the fatal cut when he heard the Stranger whispering.
- Why are we so sad, Warren?...Are we feeling hurt by their evil lies and all those empty words? We are thirsty for payback? What would we like to do with the town? Would we like to make it... dance... with the Animal? Would we? Would we?! Tell us, what would we like to do...

He looked around and saw the Stranger before him. The smile Warren saw the first time he stood in his way was on the Stranger's face again.Warren looked into his eyes. He saw two small flames dancing there and turned his stare away.
- No! Not this time! Wildfire is gone! You can't...
- Stop it, Warren! You can't get rid of Wildfire.
The Stranger took his hand out of the pocket and reached for the knife. Warren moved his hand away.
- Wildfire will die! Now! Here! I don't care if you want it or not!
- Oh, Warren... Wildfire is you. Are you really going to kill yourself?

Warren lashed his hand and the knife pierced the Stranger's heart.
- Yes, I will!
- The fire never dies, Warren. Someone else will take your place tomorrow. The fire is forever! - the Stranger's body caught fire and his words started to be unclear and indistinct. - Remember, Wildfire, tomorrow someone else will take your place! The fire never dies!...
Warren took the knife out of the body and made the fatal cut on his arms. He left himself bleed and with the last strength he could muster, he murmured.
- Farewell, Wildfire...

The Stranger was walking, wrapped in his coat. It was raining. Every time a raindrop touched his body, it would vaporize. He was walking on the alley to the headstone with the angel on it. He stopped and read it.

"Warren Adrien Gray 04.12.1979 - 29.07.2006"

The Stranger took out a black rose and laid it on the stone.
- The fire never dies, Warren... never!

18.06.2006
29.07.2006
Replica

Wildfire

2008-09-08T15:46:00.003+03:00

Here it is, my first writing ever.
This is inspired by Sonata Arctica's song Wildfire and has a very special meaning for me, along with it's follow-ups that are going to show up here soon. Don't be too critical on me. :P

~

Do you feel?
Do you care about me?

He was walking on the sidewalk with his head down. He passed thousands of people just while he got to his job, and never saw a smile. He felt sad. He reached for his inner pocket and put the volume up. The tempo was quickening.

Do you feel?
Do you care about me?
Did you wait and love me all this time?

Did someone ever loved him? Was there someone still waiting for Warren to see his unopened letter and read it?... What was he thinking? There was no unopened letter! There were no letters at all. It was e-mails now... and Warren never left unopened e-mails. The next song begun.

Look what have I done to my San Sebastian...

His... was something ever his?

It was good I got to know her, because she made me see, that the sun of San Sebastian is just too hot for me!

Did he ever really knew someone? Did he ever passed through those annoying masks people put on just to hide their true self?

...I’m married to the Moon...

- Well, at least you're married to something. I don't even have this.
People looked at him and wondered who was he talking to. He felt their stairs on him and looked down to his shoes again. He walked counting the paving stones on the sidewalk. One, two, three...

I’m not that easy – blank file in their memory

...four, five, six...

I was born and raised by the sea – shy, yet proud

...seven, eight, a pair of feet, nine, ten, a pair of feet, eleven, twelve, thirteen and a par of feet just on it. He looked up to see who was standing before him. It was a man with a friendly smile in a good leather coat and pants and high boots. Warren smiled at him apatheticaly and stepped to the side to pass the man, but he did the same and was again in his way. Warren looked at him and grinned. The man smiled back, but this time the smile wasn't friendly - something demonic glistened in his eyes. Then, out of nothing, a red tail with a burning end swung behind the stranger and winded around Warren's feet.
- Hello Warren - a voice whispered. It was probably the stranger's, but his lips weren't moving. - It's me. They call it telepathy.

People were passing by as if no one noticed the creature and the man. Warren wasn't afraid, not at all. Like never before for a few seconds everything he ever dreamed of was his - he felt loved and could see people smile at him. Warmth poured into his soul.
Then everything was gone - the stranger vanished and Warren felt as empty as before. He blinked a few times and continued on his journey to work. Two blocks later he turned right, then left, then right again, crossed the street at the crossroad, bought a coffee from the small coffee shop and went into an old, but well-kept building. He greeted the doorman with a smile and all he got in return was one icy nod. He remembered his player was still on, so he turned it off before taking the stairs to the third floor.

A step, second, third, fourth, fifth...

- Waaaarren... why do you bother with those mortals?

Warren stopped. He looked up the stairs expecting it to be one of his colleagues jokes. What jokes? They couldn't even smile. He shrugged and kept going up. Sixth, seventh, eighth...
- Waaaarreeeen...
He smiled a demonic smile and continued up. He reached his office and went in slamming the door behind him saying he doesn't want to be disturbed. He opened the door of the small locker and looked at his reflection in the mirror. The stranger was smiling from there.
- Why are we so sad, Warren?... Are we feeling hurt by their evil lies and all those empty words? We are thirsty for payback? - Warren grinned and instinctively reached for his lighter. - What would be like to do with the town? Would we like... to make it dance... with the Animal? Would we? Would we?! Tell us, what would we like to do...
- Burn it! BURN IT!

Warrens shouted the last words and a fast melody played in his head. Three clear words followed: burn, honey, burn!

Warren went out of the room running. He went down the stairs almost magically, jumping two-three stairs at a time. The voice in his head wouldn't stop repeating "Burn! Burn!". Warren headed for the big library in the heart of the city. He was then going to visit the small ones too and throw the whole town into disarray. But this is what he wanted... and he was going to do it with every city... until the rules are the same for all.

Warren was standing on top of the highest building and was watching the burning city below him. He didn't feel guilty. This was his way of paying back for all he suffered through his twenty six years of life.

Burn, honey, burn...

13.05.2006
Replica

The Wanderer

2008-09-02T00:08:00.004+03:00

I have walked the burning sands of the south. I have walked the snows of the north. I have been through a thousand of forests, followed by a wilderness with just the rocks as company. Air guides me, telling stories of endless journeys, of things I want to feel, to have. Earth is my eternal companion, my path, my bed, my mother and it will be my grave.
They call me The Wanderer. My name I had forgotten a long time ago. I know just that I seek the truth. I read between the lies of men and I try to put the pieces together.
They call me The Wanderer. My name I had forgotten a long time ago. I do not know if I would ever fit everything together. I do not know if I would complete it all or will I leave what I found to my brothers and sisters. I wonder if we, Wanderers, are not doomed to seek, but never find.

Songs the trees sing give me strength to go on, to cross the sea to reach the divine frontiers. My feet are numb, the burning sun is blinding me, but, hear, I will not give up now. I will not abandon my path. I can still restore my strength and go to the ends of the world.

I am touching the lightning on my neck. I look up, to the sky, to Ukko.
"And when the path ahead looks narrow, let me find my way through it, like a stream searches for it's bed. And when a wall stands before me, let it crumble right away."

They call me The Wanderer.

01.09.2008
Replica

Carnival of Rust

2008-08-31T01:12:00.005+03:00

Jack woke up from the sound of raindrops on the bus window. He blinked to the light of the headlights of the car driving opposite and looked at the wet asphalt, then the naked field. Somewhere behind he heard the thunder of a storm. The band’s bus and the storm were racing with each other for a few hours, but at the last moment, just before the storm caught the bus, it managed to slip away.
He had no idea where around the world they were. He just knew they were away from his hometown and in a little less than 12 hours he was going to make hundred of fans happy with his voice.

Jack liked music. He would put everything he had in it, even his most private emotions. But for some time things were not going well. He slept very little and every time he tried to write, nothing good came. His thoughts were overwhelmed by a beautiful strange girl that came to him at night, in dreams. He didn’t know who she was or where she was… he had never seen her live. He pressed his forehead to the cold glass and closed his eyes. The rain was soothing. He saw her again, in her nightgown dancing in the rain and smiling at him… the headlights of the cars hid her for a moment and when she showed up again everything was different.
It was a dream, but everything was real. Jack felt her skin touching his, he smelled the scent of her fiery red hair, he saw her sparkling green eyes. He gave to his dream wholly, though he wanted to sleep without dreaming.

- Are we ready?
- You bet!
He smiled. He could hear the fans screaming their names in the hope they would see their idols sooner. He put his thoughts together, put them as far away from her as he could.
- Let’s go then.

The lights were blinding. Jack could barely see the audience. He didn’t like it when he didn’t have contact with them, the magic was gone… he knelt in the middle of the stage in hope that he would escape the lights at least a bit and dive into the darkness, see his fans. And his stare fell on her. The girl from his dreams. She smiled warmly, he smiled back and for a second it seemed to him she blew him a kiss. Jack stood up and she was hidden again.
The band was in the country for the first time, despite most of their fans were from there. They had a surprise for the audience.

- And now it’s time for something we decided to do as a tradition when we go to a country for the first time. Two of you, lucky guys, will be selected to spend tomorrow with us and show us around… - his words were lost in the screaming crowd. – I will come down to you and pick two people. The rest, I’ll meet you after the gig for autographs.

He put the mic on the stand and climbed down in the small space between the stage and the fences. He walked end to end, shook hands with fans, even signed a few CDs. And he was smiling, but not because of the attention he got, but because of her. Because he knew she was there and he was going to spend tomorrow with her.

Someone gave him a paper. He looked who and saw the green eyes from his dreams. Smiled and leaned to her. He hugged her almost unconsciously. He felt her hands on his back and her chest pressed to his. He whispered in her year “You’re the first.”, kissed her lightly on the cheek and walked away. He chose another girl, that started crying when he hugged her and didn’t stop until the end of the gig.

The rest of the gig passed for what seemed a moment. Jack didn’t remember the interview, or the countless pictures he took with fans, or the signed CDs and shirts, or even the little blond girl that told him she loved him. He remembered just her. Her eyes. Her smile. Her hands.

- Jack, they’re waiting for you.
- Coming, just a minute.
He signed a few more CDs, took a picture with two girls and then turned and walked back to the room, to her. The hall, at the end of which was the door, seemed endless. Time stopped, as if it wanted to torture him. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Smelled her perfume. Opened his eyes. A step, just a step. He heard her laugh. An angelic laughter. Naïve like a child. Pure. Her laughter.

Jack went in the small room where the rest of the band, their manager and photographer were along with the two girls. He smiled at them and sat down.
- So you’re the lucky ones. We just need to settle some things about...
The words got lost. The room sank in darkness. There was just darkness and her body. Him and her. Darkness. A smile. He reached his hand out. She did too. They almost touched. Another smile. Just a little more…
- Jack!
He shook his head.
- Sorry, I’m tired from the trip and the gig. The audience was amazing. – he winked at the two girls and they giggled happily. – So, you’re going to show us around tomorrow. You have whole day. I’m Jack, by the way.
Everybody laughed. That laughter again. Naïve, pure, angelic.
- I’m Jesse. – she held her hand out to him. – Nice meeting you.
- I… I… I’m… uhm…
- Hey, we don’t bite, don’t worry. – the guitarist said and every one laughed again.
- I’m just nervous. I’m Lily. Nice to finally meet you guys.
Jack shook her hand, but his eyes were blind to everything except her. Her magical eyes. Sparkling. The black lining made them look even more amazing. Her lips curved in a warm smile.
The manager explained Jesse and Lily the schedule for tomorrow, told them what time they have to leave to be on time for the next gig, gave them the passes they needed, wished them good night and walked them to the door. He closed it behind them and turned to the band.
- Jack, what’s wrong with you? You don’t seem to be yourself tonight.
- Mhm.
- Do you hear me?
- Mhm.
- And can you say something different than “mhm.”?
- See you at the hotel. – he jumped off his chair, took his jacket and went out of the room.

Jesse went out of the club, arranged what time to meet with Lily tomorrow morning, said goodbye and walked her with a stare. Winter, Jesse was with a top, her jacket hanging on her purse. She took the pass out of it. Read it again.
The band name, the date, the time, the place.
The band name, the date, the time, the place.
It seemed unreal. She dreamt of meeting them for years
The band name, the date, the time, the place.
- I would say it’s better to put it away before some crazy fan beats you to get it.
She looked to the door. Jack was standing there with that smile she loved and which she dreamt of seeing live. She smiled.
- No way.
- You haven’t met a crazy fan, have you? Believe me, after what happened tonight you are being hated globally.
They both laughed.
- I guess not everyone can have what they want.
- Tell it to them… - he looked at her face and sank in her eyes.
Jesse was looking Jack in the eyes. The deep blue eyes. The eyes she dreamt of not once. The eyes that watched her last night, just before the rain started tapping on her window.
- Why are you here?
- I guess… I wanted to talk with you.
- Why didn’t you do it when we were inside?
- Overcrowded. Are you going home?
- In fact, I am… unless you plan on inviting me on a romantic candle lit dinner and then take me to your hotel room and make wild love to me… - she took a few steps toward him. – That’s how rock stars do it. – then she laughed. He laughed too. – Okay, maybe they miss the romantic part, but the idea is the same.
- Can I walk you to somewhere?
She shrugged.
- You can walk me to the apartment door, if you like – she smiled. – Shall we go?
Jack nodded and they went.

- Where are you going to take me tomorrow?
- I take it you mean where are WE going to take YOU tomorrow… we were thinking to take you…
- I meant where are you going to take me. You and me.
Jesse looked at him. He smiled.
- I thought it was US taking YOU around town.
- At least a coffee before we go. Please. I’m buying. – that smile, the one Jesse loved, was on his face.
- Coffee. 7 am.
- My room?
She stopped and looked at him suspiciously.
- Should I buy or do you have some in your room?
- I was thinking we would just talk, but if you want we can skip the first few dates and head to the physical part.
She laughed.
- I think I liked the coffee and talk plan more. This is where I live. – Jesse stopped in front of the door. – Thanks for walking me.
- For nothing. So tomorrow I wait for you at 7 with coffee?
- Make it a cappuccino.
- You have it. – Jesse smiled. He smiled back.
- I’ll call you a cab to the hotel. It’s late you need to get some sleep. – she took her mobile out and dialed a number. She called a cab in front of her building, thanked and hung up. – Cab will be here in 5 minutes. You want me to come wait with you?
- No, thank you. You did enough tonight.
He hugged her for goodbye. Felt her breathe on his neck. Felt her cold skin pressed to his. Felt her lips gently touching the corner of his. Felt her slipping away from his embrace.
- So tomorrow at 7. And don’t forget, cappuccino, not coffee.
- Cappuccino, not coffee. Sure. 7.
- That’s right. Good night.
- Good night.
He walked down the stairs and heard the lock clicking twice, then the door opened, closed and the lock clicked twice more.

Jesse stood to the window. She saw him get in the cab. She wanted to run downstairs, to run after the cab. To ask him home to warm up. To taste the corner of his lips, the lips. 7 am. The hotel room. A talk.
She poured herself a glass of vodka and drank it. She went for a quick shower and fell asleep right after on the couch. Woke up an hour later. Still 3. She sighed and tried to fall asleep again. The yes. The corner. What taste did his lips have? The smile. The eyes. The corner. The eyes. The smile. The lips. The eyes. The corner. The eyes…

Jack went into his room. Her eyes, her smile, her lips slightly touching his. He lay on the bed and imagined what he would say to her tomorrow. He soon fell asleep.

6:00. Two alarm clocks rang in two sides of town.
He opened his eyes.
She opened her eyes.
He got up an looked at his reflection.
She went in the batch room.
He went out of the room.
She put her shirt on.
He came back with coffee and cappuccino.
She locked the door from the outside and walked down the stairs.
He went in the bathroom.
She got in the cab.
He was dressing
She showed her pass to the girl on the desk.
He was sitting on the bed.
She was walking down the hallway.

617, 619, 621. She knocked. He looked to the door. Took a deep breath and opened. Jesse met him with a smile.
- Good morning! I hope you got what I wanted. – she entered the room, put her bag on the bed and took the cappuccino cup. – You’re amazing.
Jack smiled and took his cup.
She turned to him and hugged him. Felt his lips seeking hers. She pulled back a little. The eyes. The corner. What will they taste like? Smile. The eyes – the lips – the eyes – the lips. What taste? He leaned slightly and touched her lips with his own.

Jack locked his room and walked towards Jesse. They took the lift. They didn’t look at each other. She turned to the small mirror in the lift. He saw tears in the reflection.

Lily was walking next to Jack, in front, and was talking passionately. Jesse was behind them, walking slowly, hidden everything behind the black sunglasses.
- I’ve never seen him like this. – the guitarist said. – I’ve known him for years and I’ve never seen him like this. Obsessed. In love. Why?
- Because I can’t leave my life for him, no matter how much I want it. He’s a rock star, he travels, meets so many people, I won’t be able to bare the thought that someone else is holding him.
- And you’re going to kill him for that?
- Everything fades sooner or later.
She smiled a bitter smile and walked to Jack and Lily. He looked at Jesse and she smiled. A fake smile. She couldn’t smile a real one. Fake or none at all. She didn’t want to show him her tears. She didn’t know he already saw them. Her hand hit his lightly and her little finger caught his. She smiled again. Almost a real smile.

Lily took a picture with the band. Then asked for autographs. Hugs. The last. Goodbye. Jesse hugged everyone. She followed them with a stare while they got on the bus. Jack was the only one still standing there.
- Go. I don’t want to keep you.
He took her by the chin and lifted her face. Two damp black cuts ran through it. He smiled. A fake smile. He couldn’t smile a real one. Fake or none at all. He swallowed his own tears and hugged her.
Her body started shaking in his arms. She backed and took her glasses off. She was crying. She couldn’t hide the tears. He smiled. Almost a real smile. Swallowed again. And again. And again. Tears came to his eyes.

Two stares, the sparkling green and the deep blue, met. She stood on her toes and kissed him. Her lips touched his, at first gently, slightly felt, then as if two lovers were saying goodbye.

He went on the bus.
She put her glasses on.
He swallowed.
She swallowed.
He smiled. A real smile.
She put her fingers to her lips and blew a kiss.
He did the same.
She smiled. A real smile.

“…but when you’re reading this letter I would probably be in a different place, somewhere around the world. Know that I always keep with me the memory of two beautiful green eyes, forever in me.

P.S.: I love you.

Jack”

Jesse smiled. His eyes. His smile. The corner of his lips. Their taste…

15.04.2008 - 28.08.2008
Replica

Warrior Soul

2008-08-23T13:20:00.002+03:00

Winterheart Guild had gathered. In fact, a guild was a hard thing to say - four people, believed to control seasons. Most people considered Autumn, Winter, Summer and Spring for a myth, for they were looking as anyone else.
Autumn was an old man in a long, blue robe. His beard and hair were waist-long. He always had a staff which most people thought for a stick to keep wolves away. In fact it was quite the opposite - with it, he always had two wolves following him. Guarding him, as if guarding a brother.
Winter was a beautiful woman in a light gray dress and long brown hair. She never spoke much and when she needed to say something, she said it more with her piercing blue stair than with words.
Spring was the most beautiful of all. A young woman, not more than thirty, wearing fairy dresses in gentle pink, white or blue shades. She had wonderful wings, butterfly-like, but visible just for the guilt.
Summer, dressed in bright yellow clothes, was radiating the might of fire. Long black hair was cascading down his shoulders almost ti the middle of his thigh.
It was time. The four felt that soon something important is going to happen. Something that would have a say on the events in the next few ages. Winter started first.

- They say the prophecy is true. More and more signs say that it will happen soon.
- Which of the many prophecies, Winter? - asked Spring, while fixing her dress.
Winter eyed her with her cold eyes. She turned away from the fire, back to every one and said quietly:
- "Somewhere within the darkest moors, between black cliffs like the Devil's teeth a child will be born, with a warrior heart. Son of the stars, of ice and flame, he will walk the earth. With pride in his step and an iron will and a mind sharp as a Demon blade."
- And we should worry about that because? - Summer said, while playing with a tiny ball sun rays.
Winter turned her stare to him.
- You know that in this land even the ice winds can lead to madness. It is important that he finds something to fight for that will keep him on the side of the Light.
She closed her mouth and sat on the ground, among the fallen leaves. Autumn stood up and started walking slowly around the fire.
- There is more of the prophecy. Winter didn't say it, probably never even heard it. Prophecies are always divided and given to different creatures. It would be harder to have the whole prophecy and use it for your well-being. "Deep within the shadows of the woods, among the beasts that dwell in the darkness, a child will be born - daughter of the Night and the rising moon. She will run like the wind and in her heart - the secret powers of her elders." She is the key to keep the boy. We have to make them meet.
- They are still not born - Spring noted.
- Not yet. But they will be soon. Winter, look after the boy. Spring, you take the girl. I and Summer are going to make sure we make the two warriors meet... no matter what the cost.

***

A woman, not more than twenty was standing on the edge of the cliffs. She was looking up to the stars, admiring the Northern Lights. She stroke her belly.
- Soon, my son, you will see the light of day. And then, Ilija, everyone will honor you.

***

Ilija was walking proudly in the village. Handsome young man, he was famous for his sharp mind. Women of every age and status thought him to be the most handsome man there ever was. Ilija was barely twenty, but did things about which even mighty warriors that came through the land never dreamed of. His will was tested many times and had never failed him. For twenty years Spring was looking over him, saving his life not once or twice, but doing it only when he was really in need. Most of the times he dealt with trouble himself.
He barely ever spoke. Sitting in the house's garden, sharpening his blade and practicing seemed much more appealing to him. Ilija wanted to master the sword perfectly, to feel it as a part of himself, from his arm and not like a weapon or a burden.

***

She was running in the forest. Only light came from the Northern Lights were. Running from the beasts. Her face was scratched. The child had to survive. She found a small cave and stopped there.
Years later Luna was running in the forest. Her clothes were scant, but not this, nor the cold was stopping her. She had to overtake the hind and kill it if she wanted food tonight. Luna mastered the blade perfectly, feeling it as part of herself. She was eighteen, but as a fighter she was no match for anybody. She had a warrior soul and her heart was caring the wisdom of her elders, though she didn't knew even her mother. Winter was pacing slowly after her, watching with her piercing eyes.

***

- It's done, Autumn. Just as you wanted it.
- Good. Now all that is left is to meet with one another, Winter.

***

News of a forthcoming war reached the small village quickly. Ilija was sharpening his blade. He was going to go to war. And win it. Because he had a warrior soul.
Luna was preparing for war as well. She had decided that even alone, she was going to win this war.

The guild was watching their lives. They knew that just now was the best time for the two to meet. Winter smiled at herself - Luna had turned into a stunningly beautiful, smart and quick-witted woman, which was fighting for her life all the time and was ready to have hers at whatever price. Winter knew the only thing missing in Luna's life were friends. Every one of Winterheart thought Ilija was going to become her friend. The two of them - the Son of the Stars and the Daughter of the Night, as they called them - were the ones to set the course of events from now on. They were going to face each other and after realizing they both had a warrior soul, they were going to become friends.

***

Ilija was fighting tireless. Months had rolled since he went to war. Thousands of people were killed or mortally wounded. Hundreds known faces were looking at him with their empty dim stare after every fight. People he was fighting with side by side minutes ago. Every night he thanked Ukko for sparing his life and every morning he started with a pray to him. He believed that the North Star was going to keep him and lead him home.

Luna was one of the few women that went to war and men often laughed for her expense that she couldn't even lift the sword. Mocks were quickly ended after her blade ended set on someone's neck seconds later. The only thing that stopped Luna from killing them was that people were few, they could not endure the cold and most of them were untrained.

***

Flat white field. Luna took a good look at it. She say the army on the other end - big men, some on horses with swords and clubs. She looked at the people behind her - most were farmer boys, with scared stares, that could barely lift the sword. She sighed thinking it was going to be a hard battle. She faced her people and tried to lift their spirits.

A few hours later the field was red with the spilled blood. Bodies all over. Luna's hair was stuck on her back and forehead. She was still fighting. Surrounded by four men, each of them at least twice her size. Ilija was watching with interest a few yards from them. He couldn't believe that there was someone on this earth that mastered the sword even as half as good as he did, and Luna was doing it more than perfectly - every step perfectly measured, every move accurate. Ilija was amazed. Two men were already on the ground breathless. Ilija smiled. He had to try her out himself. She seemed not much older than him, but her skills were astounding. Luna twisted her blade and it went in the third's heart. The fourth attacked her, but she was quicker, pulling her sword out of the dead man and piercing his belly. He fell on the snow. His surprised stare at her.

Luna smiled and threw aside a lock of hair from her eyes and sighed victoriously. Ilija looked at the blade in his hand. Looking at Luna, he decided the time was right to test her.
- So... you think you can kill four of my best men just like that and walk away? - he sounded annoyed - Prepare to pay for it, bitch!
Luna turned around and looked Ilija.
- And you obviously think you can call me a bitch and walk away. Son of a bitch!
She jumped towards him. Their swords dancing a deathly dance. They were attacking fiercly and sparks set off the squeaking blades. Ilija drove her attacks away with ease and even let himself smile ironically while warding off an attack that would have taken his head off.
- Is that all you can? - he smiled and a moment later a narrow red cut appeared on his cheek. Just then, he realized that the battle was going to be even. She was really good with the blade, he should be more careful with her. He had underestimated her...
Luna was not waiting time paying attention to his lines. She had learned long ago that the battle was not a competition and she was trying to kill him before he killed her. He was a serious opponent, warding off every attack, even foreseeing her next step. She was doing the same, but it didn't lead her to the so wanted victory. If the battle was prolonged, they were going to get tired, and a tired warrior made mistakes easily while trying to end it faster.
- So you're trying to kill me? - she said while warding off his attack.
- Not exactly. But your skills got my attention. I didn't believe that...
He looked at his arm - a new cut appeared, a little above his wrist. He looked at Luna and she smiled at him.
- That someone mastered the sword better than you?
- Exactly. - he stood up and attacked again.
- Obviously there is. - she hit his hand with the blade and he dropped his. Her sword was set on his throat. - Now do you believe it?
- No.
He took her by the leg and pulled her down. Luna fell, but the sword was still in her hand. For a second Ilija bent and had his. Luna hit his leg with the handle of her sword. Ilija fell to his knees. His blade millimetres away from her throat, her blade - millimetres away from his.
- Who will win?
- Warrior soul.
- What?
- You have a warrior soul. Few are the people who have one, even fewer are the women with one.
- I was born under the Northern Lights and all my life I have hardened my soul and will...
- ...to be the best. I did the same. I never believed there was someone that could fight half as good as I can.
- Neither did I.

Ilija smiled and took his sword down. Luna did the same, but she was still ready to ward off an attack from him.
- Maybe we met for a reason.
- The North Star tells us the war is not right.
- So with ending our fight we end the war?
- This one, yes. But there are a thousand more we have to fight. We have warrior souls and in this dark we must find our own way. And though we know that the winding path will lead us to the grave, we will go on. We still have battles left to fight. We must keep our pride until the end of our time.
He looked her head to toe.
- So we are going to look for that path from now on?
Luna nodded. She got up and held out her hand to him.
- Luna
- Ilija. - he took her hand and stood up as well. She was barely reaching his shoulder in height and he wondered how could she master the sword.

***

Autumn was watching the two warriors.
- Warrior soul blazes through the land of frost and snow. Their pagan hearts and flesh built to endure the cold. With a warrior soul unto death against all foes they will fight. They are born under the Northern Lights...

14.03.2007 - 20.03.2007
Replica & Rand

Night Of The Wolf

2008-08-21T15:08:00.002+03:00

The full moon was rising. A girl, not more than twenty, was watching the moon from the window. She could taste the sweet pain of the Transformation. The door behind her opened and in the dark room, an obscure figure entered. He stood behind her. She held her hand up and locked fingers with his.

- Are you ready? - he asked.
- Not more than I am at every full moon from four years till now.
Nia turned her stare away from the moon and looked at him. His eyes flashed in fierce and a smile came on his face. She smiled and looked at the moon again. Tuomas lit a cigarette.
- Your last before the Transformation?
Tuomas just nodded.
Pain pierced Nia. She squeezed his hand and wriggled. If someone could see her now, he would maybe think she's dying. But Nia was, in fact, born anew. Tuomas put out his cigarette and bent over Nia. He was studying the Transformation with interest, watching as if it was the first time he ever saw something like that, while he himself was used to it. He was used to agony and pain when the human in him was dying and the wolf was awaking. Nia lifter her head and looked at him with her last strength:
- To live is to love the pain...
- Pain is temporary, Nia.
She smiled a bitter smile, then every muscle of her body went slack. Her skin became white and Nia was looking like a dead man. She was lying there, breathless, cold and pale... just lying.
Tuomas let her hand go. He locked the door and by the time he got back where Nia was, he felt the well-known pain. He smiled and thought "Here we go..."
He fell on his knees. Wriggled. Minutes later his body was next to Nia's. They were lying - cold, indifferent to the world around them, their empty glass stares were roaming somewhere out, probably in the moon.

***

They awoke in ten minutes. Tuomas blinked a few times to the moon light and his eyes became yellow and fierce.
- Nia...
She turned her face to Tuomas. She grinned and her jaw became longer, looking like a muzzle. Her eyes became the same as his. She felt her hands and feet turning into paws. She looked at Tuomas and saw the same happening with him.
- Tuomas... it's time.
For every human being, those words would've sounded more like a quiet howl of a lone wolf. But they were just that - children of the night, victims of the moon, Reborn.
They jumped on their feet and found their way out of the house into the boundless forest. Here and there under the trees there was a moonlit clearing. They looked at each other. They lifted their heads up, to the sky, to their curse and destiny and howled.
More howls answered and seconds later more Reborn came from the shadows. Every one of them was different - Nia was the only black wolf, Tuomas the only white. The first that came to them were a wolf in rusty color and one in gray.
Nia looked at Tuomas. They knew. It was time. The Night of the Wolf. The Night of the Reborn. Their night. Now or never. Nia howled to the moon once more and led the two wolves into the forest. Tuomas waited a few more wolves and led his pack in a different direction.
Reborn ruled tonight. The moon drained them, but it also gave them strength. She made them suffer, but to be happy too. She made them forget themselves, but remember who they are too.

***

Nia was running through the forest. She felt the wind in her fur, the soil and leaves under her paws... she felt the power of the moon. She knew that in some other part of the forest Tuomas felt the same. This was one of the few things that connected them - their love for the moon, for the Reborn, for the nature. This and the strength to help each other when they needed it. Nia didn't know for how long she was running, but when she looked up to howl at the moon, she saw the sky was growing lighter. She knew it was time to go home.

***

Tuomas was home for a long time. he was wondering where Nia is. She never came late. He was pacing the room, making circles nervously. He felt her scent and went in that direction. His white fur was gleaming in the silver moon light and Tuomas looked like a ghost, headed to the shadows, just to vanish in them. He was heading to Nia.
He found her on the floor, wounded.
- Can you heal the pain when you call my name? - she was transforming to a human again and held out a half-human hand to Tuomas.
He looked at her wound. Deep, deadly. He howled in pain then lowered his head to Nia's and whimpered, as if whispering:
- I'll be there, even when you bleed. In the Night of the Wolf. See the moon, see the stars... in the Night of the Wolf. They are ours, Nia. I won't leave you.

***

Hours later Nia regained consciousness. She could clearly remember being wounded. Deadly wounded. Tuomas took care of her. She went out of the bed. Tuomas was there, the same place she saw him before they both went in the forest - leaning on the back of the chair, his stare wondering somewhere outside.
- In this crazy world you proved that you are mine. Proved that I can count on you.
- I'll be there, even when you bleed Nia. In the Night of the Wolf. Always.

18.05.07 - 02.07.07
Replica

Under Your Tree

2008-08-16T23:52:00.002+03:00

The leaves were falling, lonely. It seemed to her they were covering the memories and not the ground. It seemed to her his eyes were looking at her again. His voice echoed in her head. She closed her eyes and leaned on the tree.
She remembered those nights... the last she spent with him. Those nights when he was sleeping in her arms and she was guarding his sleep. The fears down deep stirred. "What if you don't ever see him again? What if you don't have the chance to tell him? What if he laughs at you?"
She looked at the rising sun. For a moment she wished he was there, next to her. Then the wish went away and tears and desperation came in its place.
- There's nothing good in this morning. - she turned her head away. - Why did it have to go this way? I'm tired, I can't go on anymore... I don't have strength...

Memories flooded her mind. It was as if they were competing which will make her suffer more. And all were with him. All of a sudden everything went quiet... a small voice deep inside her started whispering: "You found a warm heart. Heart, that will welcome you. Trust your desires. Let him find shelter under your tree. Let him stay here. He always liked this place. Let yourself belong to him. Let this place belong to him."
- One day, when everything was falling apart like a snowflake on my palm, you gave me your heart and stole mine. But is your heart mine? Will I ever have the strength to tell you how much I love you... will you have the strength to answer me back?

26.05.2007
Replica

Caleb

2008-08-16T20:30:00.002+03:00

Carla sat in front of the piano. She looked at the people in front of her, at a young man in particular. He smiled at her and she smiled back. Then her fine long fingers slipped over the piano keys and played a beautiful melody. Carla closed her eyes and sang in almost a whisper: "There's a man in this world who has never smiled. You may know his tragedy, in the later years, by heart. In the beginning there was a mother, father and a child - a troubled little silent boy, whose life they were to destroy. Known to us from this day on, like his father - Caleb."

The man closed his eyes. He remembered a conversation he had years ago with his mother. He barely understood what she spoke about back then, but now... it still wasn't everything, but understood a big part of it. Then he remembered his father. The only time he ever heard his father apologizing to someone... he remembered how his father turned his head every time something was wrong. He remembered the last words he heard from his father before he died - "And all this are words that are not meant to hurt you, but kill you, my stupid son!" Then he remembered how he smiled secretly while his father's body was lowered in the grave. His mother told him, in tears, that a person can make a difference sometimes.

Carla kept on playing the gentle melody while telling the story farther. "All his solutions, it seemed, were only problems in disguise... glueing on his drinking face and he got ready to erase another day."

"Remember, my son, at the end of every tunnel there's a little light." Those words, his mother shared with him in hope that everything would be fine one day. A few days later he heard her talking on the phone saying "He can fulfill his every dream... I’m happy as long as he’s not." Then he dreamed. He let himself spent one afternoon outside, on the bench in front of the house, dreaming how one day his mother would be dead.

"He went out, played with thunder and then stood under that apple tree where the snake let him feed on lost hopes..."

"Somehow... I lost one more way back home..." He remembered the day when he went in the lake with his boat. He imagined that in the middle there is a huge monster and started rowing towards it. Slowly, while his child's hands were barely holding the oars he thought that the monster was in fact hos mother. A beast, a sinner, right for so few things. He thought that just the past had made him blind to the way he turned the pain into a way of life.
He came back to here and now.

"He was a portrait of a man his mother drew to hate forever..."

He remembered that day when he understood it's all a charade and his mother wanted to keep it until the end. He could not take any more pain from the past and felt anger building up in him. Over the hills, under the sea, if needed, with will itself, with the whole Universe, He would fight. Everything around him sank in total darkness. All that was left were the pale outlines of the few people left to listen to Carla. He looked around the room and saw the sword on the wall.

A few quick steps and he was there, took it off the stand. He felt the cold metal in his hand and in minutes everyone were lying dead on the ground. He was covered in blood.
- When nothing moves, all's so still... - he faced the blood-covered white-lacquered piano and saw Carla. She froze in her place, her hands still on the keys. Her face was white, her glass eyes staring at his. - Carla, darling... have I not told you never to sing this song?
He aimed a blow and stopped the sword inches away from her neck. She screamed and started crying.
- Why?
- ...dried up flowers are so beautiful. That applies for all things - living and dead. This necessary evil has no heart, Carla. His hand stroke. Blood splashed on the white and black keys and the wall behind.
- Because this is my story... I am Caleb.

"Flowers and people - he will now enlace. The price he must pay serving his whatevergod..."
She closed the piano and walked to him. Smiling. He took her hands and they got out of the room.
- The last words you sang were truly right. - he caught her by the neck and before she even realized what was happening, he was already strangling her. - Too bad you won't be able to pass them on.
She was looking scared at his eyes.
- Who... are.. you?
- I am Caleb. This is the price I must pay serving my whatevergod...

12.07.2007
Replica

The Darkest Lie

2008-08-05T21:00:00.003+03:00

Come embrace the darkest lie...

Cigarette smoke. A story comes to my mind. A story of the love of a man and a woman. Of course, not everything is perfect. They have a 15 years difference. But that didn't stop neither of them to love like he never did in his life.
I can guess you are curious what happens with them in the end, but to understand that, you first have to read the story. Let's call him N., and her - Jhee.
N. was almost 34. A few days were left to his birthday when he met her - she was alone at the bar in the pub, a cigarette in her hand and a glass of alcohol in front of her. N. went closer and looked at her. He could still see tears on her round face, that left thin black lines. He sat on the bar next to her. Oh, how little was needed and he fell in love with Jhee...
The next few days they saw each other at the pub, they talked, but they didn't know the other's name.
- So, are you going to tell me your name, Stranger?
- Are you?
- I asked first.
- N.
- Jhee.
They smiled at one another and then, just like in a cheap Hollywood romance, a beautiful ballad played and he asked her to dance.

I guess you know what happened next. Jhee fell in love with him, though she is 18 and 34. No one approved of their relationship, her friends said she had no business with him and so on, and so on, but they stayed together.
A few months later Jhee didn't come to meet N., she didn't pick up her mobile, not her home phone. He went to her house. Went in and how surprised was he when in the corridor a path of rose petals and candles awaited him. He followed it to the bedroom. Opened the door and saw her on the bed - in a light lace nightgown, with a burning stare. She was lying there, innocent, embraced by passion. A tension fell over N., his senses felt only her. Her perfume...
And she closed her eyes...
And she gave wholly...
And she inhaled the unholy scent of passion...
If N. only knew he was embracing the darkest lie...
I remember how I woke up. I was there, in bed, in my darkest suit - that of the night. The memory of last night was devouring the truth.
And I closed my eyes...
And I gave into the memory wholly...
And I inhaled the unholy scent of passion...
I went up looking for her. I found drops of blood on the snow white bathroom floor. The trail led me to the kitchen... and there was Jhee... on the wall it was written in her blood "I love you Nathaniel" and she herself was lying breathless on the floor.
Then I, Nathaniel, made her a promise. I made it to myself, I made it to her. I promised to tell our story and show what consequences can love have. What power can it have... and how from a wonderful feeling it can turn into the darkest lie...

03.08.2007
Replica

Who Killed Mary?

2008-07-22T03:55:00.002+03:00

I came to Hazard when I was seven. I lived with my mother. My father married her and when she got pregnant, he took all the money she had and ran away. This is why we came to Hazard.
Hazard is a small town in Nebraska, it's population is not more than 80 people. Everyone knew in minutes we came from a town nearby and what happened with my father. All the eyes were full of prejudices.

I started school with the other twenty children in town. I sat next to Mary - the only person who ever looked beyond the shell and saw the man in me.
Three years passed since I met Mary. We went out almost every night to walk by the river and we watched the sun set. Mary liked to watch the sun set and I liked watching her. I sometimes saw the sheriff's car parked on the road and I felt his prejudiced eyes in me. Everyone said that nothing good is going to turn out of my friendship with Mary.
I remember one day, we were on the grass under the cool shade of the trees and we dreamed how one day we were going to make a boat and sail down the river to escape from Hazard. Then Mary smiled and kissed me on the cheek.

No one understood how I felt for Mary. No one cared until one day Mary disappeared.
She came the previous day and asked if I wanted to go for a walk. She knew I was down with a flue the week before. I said no. She offered to stay with me to keep me company, but I declined again. I remember she took a scarf from the coat-hook and put it on her neck. She told me she was going to go for a walk by the river and the scarf would make her feel I was next to her.

The next morning someone knocked on my door. I opened and saw the sheriff's badge. He told me Mary never came home since they saw her in my house. Then arrested me. I saw the people of Hazard whispering and their eyes filled with worries and blame.

I was sitting at the police station and listening to the sheriff's accusations. Then one of his colleagues came in and told him Mary was found dead in the river. Strangled with my scarf. I remember I started crying and the sheriff hit me. I remember I was dragged in front of the whole town to the car and forced me in it.

We were on the bridge over the river. Where Mary's body surfaced this morning. The sheriff wouldn't stop cursing and hitting me, and I wouldn't stop crying. I fell on my knees. I put my head through the bars and looked down through the river. I saw Mary's face, her smile...
I felt the bullet entering my chest. I looked one last time at the river, at my Mary... who killed you?

21.05.2008
Replica

Gravity of Love

2008-07-18T13:40:00.002+03:00

"Try to think about it ...
What’s the chance to live your life and discover
What it is, whats the gravity of love"

The storm was coming near. Black clouds were threatening the crystal blue sea. The ship was slightly rocking from the waves. The lighthouse behind them was too far and now looked like a tiny star in mid-day. The next lighthouse was a thousand miles away from here, in a land no one knew.

She looked over to the foamy waves. Something was telling her the storm would be hard and long. This was not going to be her first, nor last storm she would endure. She closed her eyes and let the wind weave the smell of sea in her hair.
Her heart was telling her this time she had to trust it fully to endure the storm. She was going to follow the trail of past storms to get out of this one.

It was all a matter of deal between her, the ship, the waves and the clouds. She had seen how a storm, similar to this one, destroys ships of others like her. She knew the experience of survival was the key. The experience of survival and trust in the heart were the key to the gravity of love, and it would help her in enduring the storm.

Few were the people who trusted their heart to lead then through the storm and she was one of those few. She knew that always in the eye of the storm there is a lonely dove, who would lead you through.
She looked up to the darkened skies. They were close to the storm, close to it's eye. And then she saw it - a pale spot on the sky, the white dove was flying over the ship and showed the way.

- Let's go then, into the eye of the storm...

To the white dove in all my storms.

18.07.2008
Replica

Thoughts of a madman...

2008-07-17T01:26:00.001+03:00

Love... we all crave for it and we hope to one day find it. It is the thing that moves our lives and makes us feel complete. It is the thing we give and hope to get at least a tiny bit of it in return. It is what gives us wings. What is love, truly?
We walk the long way home just to get hurt by the ones we love. What illusions did we have for this person? What did we see in him? Our own reflection? Reflection splitting in two...
The people we love find all seven ways to keep us near. So near, that when they reach out they could touch us... they sure know how to grow the seeds of love. But can they... can we feel something more than lust?
We let others, the ones we love, steal our will to live from us. We let then crown us and then kill us.
"Love is a little death between two little lives, nothing more." These words burn my mind every time I close my eyes. The words of an artist...
And when it is all over? Then we are left ti exist for ourself, for the hope that someone would give us life again.
Our life suddenly gets out of control, out of our own control and is dependent on a feeling... on an illusion. We always give a chance to eternal love and we always die when we hear the words "This is the end."
Say the words I want to hear again and again, but don't expect me to believe in them like before. Burning and all-consuming love is the only reason.
Nothing is free. For every moment of happiness and feeling of completeness we suffer countless moments of despair, tears and helplessness. Just when we have lost our wings, when they had been torn away from us, we deny love and die. Love is killing us, yet we crave it. We give and get nothing in return.
Such wounds cannot be healed, so come... come, come, come...
We deny love, we deny it's existence, we deny ourselves, we oppose to our human nature with the only purpose not to die again. And just when we thought that we would never love again, because we decided not to, we end up on the same place where we said to ourselves "Never again!", and we're screaming "I'm in the same nightmare again!"
Again we have let ourselves be someone's toy...
And again we are too weak to say it is all over...
Again and again unconsciously we end up here where we denied love and we walk over our own promises, ready to give one more chance to eternal love.
Say the words I want to hear over and over again... lust is the only reason to be here. Lust and human nature.
And when I look into your eyes, I say "Take me again..."

"Take me again..."

Thank you to the remarkable poet Tony Kakko for the wonderful words written in 2004.

Blinded No More

17.10.2007
Replica

Sing Your Song For Me

2008-07-17T00:43:00.001+03:00

- Hush, everything will pass. It’s just a storm. Come, I’ll shelter you. Come, I’ll protect you from the storm. I’ve seen it all before and nothing changes.
She cuddled close. She felt him closer than ever. Because he caught her when she was falling. Because he was keeping her from falling again. Because now he was sitting next to her, on the cold sand and was watching the sea with her.
- Nothing is changed, just me. I change with every storm. And nothing seems the same no more… nothing. Just the rusting leaves in the forest where the trees sing.
He looked back to the little forest they passed through some time ago. That small forest which was his world and where he could escape everything… but not from her. Because the trees sang her song. Sang her song for him.
- Sing your song for me. Sing it, like you always did before. I love it! – he looked her and smiled. – Come on, sing your song for me, please.

“Sing your song for me, like you always did before. And I will be waiting for you here, on this sea shore, where nothing will ever change…”

She smiled back and started singing. She was singing quietly, so that just they could hear the love ballad. She was singing for him. She was singing her song for him.

“See I don’t think I need to feel
just as long as you are here”

She stopped and lost herself in thoughts for a while.
- So funny, isn’t it, everything’s been done before, yet it feels new to me once more. That “I’m here”, those words…
- The breeze in the forest trees singing your song for me. Will you sing your song for me always?

31.03.2008
Replica

Sleep

2008-07-14T21:50:00.001+03:00

She woke up. It was long before dawn. Tears in her eyes again and her heart was beating franticly. And it was not even morning... she felt the anguish settling in... and again all she could do was show it the way to her heart and leave it there.

He was sitting in the corner opposite her bed and was watching her. He wanted to lie next to her and to hold her, do heal the hurt behind her eyes and in her soul, but she wouldn't see him... she never saw him except when they met in her dreams.
"Hurry up, don't fall behind, fight! Don't fall behind and let them take control of you! You need to heal the hurt behind your eyes and chase away those fickle words out of your mind... fight..."

She was laing and staring at the ceiling above her. Thinking... and crying. Pain...
She felt sleep creeping in and surrendered.

He made a step forward and the light from the street lamp fell on him through the window. Another one, and another, and another, until he reached her bed. He put his hand in her hand and looked at her face - serene, almost happy. If, at that moment, someone could have peered into the room he would have said that a strange shadow was over her and nothing more.
"Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in like waves of sweet fire you're safe within... sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in and carry you over to a new morning... sleep..."

Fire... a big wall of fire surrounded her. But she was not afraid of it, she felt sweet intoxication of the glow of the flames.
Nightmares jumped against her, smiling wickedly, but when they reached the flames they were gone with screams. Then she heard someone's voice whispering "Sleep, sugar...". She looked around and saw him - he was her friend, but they met from time to time and just in her dreams. He was standing on the other side of the fire-wall and the heated air was twisting his image. She reached out for him. He stepped through the flames and was right next to her.
"Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in like waves of sweet fire you're safe within..."

They found her body the next morning in bed - her face serene, her hand as if holding someone else's hand and a strange shadow on the wall behind her.

”Day after day, fickle visions - messing with your head…
Fickle, vicious!
Sleeping in your bed, messing with your head - fickle visions…
Fickle, vicious!...

Sleep, sugar, let your dreams flood in - like waves of sweet fire, you're safe within…
Sleep, sweetie, let your floods come rushing in and carry you over to a new morning…”

Sleep
Poets Of The Fall

Replica
14.02.2008

Woman/The Porcelain Doll

2008-07-02T03:08:00.005+03:00

This was originally something I wrote in a really hard period for me when all the people I thought cared for me proved that they don't actually give a damn about me. This was when my back then boyfriend just cheated on me and we broke up (for a different reason, just for the record) and suddenly I felt left out alone in the middle of winter with no one to warm my naked body. This is a contribution to all the women out there. Not all female human creatures, but all women. The original dedication of The Porcelain Doll was to four people, one of which was me. Two of the other three proved to have fooled me and turned to be a fake plastic doll instead of a porcelain one. I forgive them for all the times they cried on my shoulder and for all the times they didn't let me cry on theirs because they were "busy". I forgive them for all the problems I solved for them and for all the problems that were never solved for me by them. I forgive them for letting themselves become too blind and forget the person who was there to help.
The whole idea is divided into two parts - first one is called Woman and contains the lyrics of Maroon 5's song Woman. For me, this song describes the best way what a woman should be like.
The second part is called The Porcelain Doll and it is a story that came from nowhere, yet it seemed to fit in my mood perfectly. It was a matter of a couple of hours work to find the perfect words in which to put my feelings and let everything out. The original story had an explanation of the whole plastic/porcelain doll thing which I am now not going to publish. I did it back then to make it clear to every single girl friend of mine to understand the falsity she possessed.

Woman (part I)

If I'd be so inclined to climb up beside you, would you tell me that the time just isn't right?
And if I should ever find the key you hide so well, will you tell me that I can spend the night?

Leaving your smell on my coat, leaving your taste on my shoulder... I still fail to understand what it is about this woman...

If l could bottle up the chills that you gave me, I would keep them in a jar next to my bed.
And if I should ever draw a picture of a woman, It is you that would come flowing from my pen.

Leaving your clothes on my floor, making me walk out the door and, I still fail to understand what it is about this woman...

Helplessly melting as I stand next to the sun and as she burns me, I am screaming loud for more.
I drink every drop of liquid heat that I've become - pop me open spill me out onto the floor!

Leaving your smell on my coat, leaving your taste on my shoulder... I still fail to understand...

Leaving your smell on my coat, leaving your taste on my shoulder.... I still fail to understand what it is about this woman...

Maroon 5 - Woman

To be continued...

03.02.2008

The Porcelain Doll (Part II)

The lights went out. The key turned twice, then the metal bars in front of the door fell and there was just silence. She was in her box staring at the ceiling - sky blue with huge white and pink fluffy clouds. "What a beautiful descision for a toy shop! When I was a child the walls were wallpapered in green and pink, and the ceiling was white... how much the world changed from then!"

She was six when one sunny saturday afternoon she was on her walk with her grandparents and she stopped and stared at every porcelain doll on the shop's windows. Every time she would ask for a doll, but her grandmother said she was too little to possess such a fragile and expensive thing. Then, the girl with the short dress in champagne color and matching gloves wished to be turned into a beautiful porcelain doll. She wanted to have their skin, their big eyes, red lips that never lost their color, those perfectly arranged curls that never needed combing or redoing, the wonderful dresses in different shades of beige, pink, blue, green and red...

The next day she woke up in a pink box in the middle of the toy shop. She looked straight in front of her - she was is the biggest toy hsop in the town, on the center. She saw people passing by the window and stopped to look at the lovely doll. She saw her pale reflection in the window - her skin was porcelain, smooth and shiny, her eyes were big and green, her lips full and red, her hair as she always dreamed, in curls, and her dress was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen.
A couple of days later, a young woman stopped at the shop window, and like everyone else, looked at the doll. Then came in and bought her. An hour later she was out of the town, in a small mansion. She supposed she is pretty and she would stand out in the humble living room they put her in. And she was right... every time someone came to visit, he alyaws marked how beautiful the doll is and some of them offered a price. But always did the lady say the doll was not for sale.
When she died of old age, the doll was still in her box, on the shelf above the fireplace. The lady's heirs sold her to the antique shop for a remarkable price and she was again at a shop window.

Porcelain dolls were very rare and valuable therefore. Now the dolls were made out of plastic - a material which was lighter, cheaper and harder to break than porcelain. But the plastic dolls were so fake - hypocratic faces, frozen in a smile showing their pearly teeth, huge eyes with painted black dots in them to imitate light, plastic hair that just by the time the doll was on the windo looked like they hadn't been comber ever, dresses with no decency... and still no one bought the porcelain doll.

One morning, long before the shop keeper came to the shop and a while after dawn, a young man with glasses stopped at the window and started at the doll. His stare was piercing throught her and made her feel strange. He was watching her, tilting his head to one side, then the other. Then he looked at his watch, took a cigarette and smoked. He stood there until the shop keeper came to open. The two spoke briefly, then the young man came in and bought her. It turned out he was collecting porcelain dolls and she was the last to be produced. He paid for her an enormous price and proudly took her home.
There she met other porcelain dolls, all to the last in their original boxes and put on a stable stand.

Every night he took her from the little table in the livingroom and carried her to his bedside table. He always put her straight, facing him and watched her until sleep overpowered him. Then she would watch him sleep and knew if she were human, she was going to cry. She was falling in love... her porcelain face never changed, nor her hair, nor the dress, but she felt changed forever. She remembered the afternoon when the man came home, grabbed the box, held her tightly and whispered "I love you."
Years went by, he aged and remembered his porcelain love less and less. He found a woman of flesh and blood, fell in love with her and stopped saying to the doll he loved her, he even stopped looking at her. she had the feeling that if now her face stayed whole, she was going to live forever... or at least until someone by mistake didn't break her...

His wife left him two years later. She said his most beautiful doll keeps staring at her, as if blaming her, and she couldn't take it no longer. She never called again. He spent his days at home, thinking about her, screaming her name in the nights when nightmares came to him. His heart was broken...

One morning he woke up and saw her porcelain face - her eyes full of love, lips as if smiling. then he remembered his wife and got mad at the doll. He put her in the darkest corner of the kitchen to not look at her, but she always attracted his attention. Then he took her and went in the yard.
He opened the box and took her out of there. Looked her straight in the eyes, just like when he first saw her years ago on that shop window. He kissed her porcelain lips and let her go.

She flew. His kiss was still burning on her lips. And then she felt the hard asphalt under her and heard the sound of broken porcelain...

05.02.2008
Replica

...or how people choose to see the world in black and white… (part II)

2008-07-02T02:35:00.001+03:00

“I stare the eyes of a man alone,
a man I used to care for,
a man I used to know.

For every tear that falls,
a wound grows bigger
into my already bleeding soul…”

“See me running, see me running”

A street. High walls surround me. Walls with not a single window. I see others running beside me. My lungs are burning, feet are failing me, it's getting harder to even move, but I run. Fear makes me go on. Fear of pain... pain of love. And I run...
I look back to see my dear's face and I feel a new flow of energy...

“Today, it's in the air again today, another incident that just went off…”

I can't go on anymore. I stopped, to catch my breathe and he leveled up with me... I felt his lips on my skin, the fragrance of his perfume. I felt the sweetness of the love caress and I stopped my run.

He gave me all I needed. He made me feel loved and... I didn't know what to do...

“Did I act like a fool cos I didn't know what to do,
when you gave me just a little bit more than I bargained for,
a little too much in my hands when my hands are tied
It's the ultimate fling to go frolicking,
licking the muck from the soles of the boots of your pride,
everytime you lied”

“If I deny you what you're searching, do I do it out of fear?
Am I ruling out my reason, killing that which I hold dear?”

If I deny what you are looking for and deny I love you... do I do it out of fear really? Am I ignoring my senses by killing what I hold dearest?

“When you're sleeping right next to me, I know you're the one
So when I hear you calling my name, why do I turn away to run”

When you sleep quietly next to me I realize you are the one. When I lie in your arms, I realize your heart beats for me... then why am I running when I hear you call my name... why am I still afraid...

“Out of my way I'm coming, another excuse before I'll stay”

Out of my way! Don't try to stop me! I won't stay here, I can find an excuse to walk away... I can find an excuse to go out on that gray street, to be surrounded again by the high brick walls and to run until my lungs start burning again. I have to go out there!
I need to take my place where I may safely feel alone. Isolated from the pain, from you, from your eyes, from your smile, from your caress...

”So to save face
I'll hold my place
So I may safely feel alone...”

I know I will tire and I'll stop running again. I'll look back again and I'll see your smile again. And the street would be forgotten, my run would be forgotten. I will be yours until I don't feel pain again and I don't run away.

“Have a little more of not enough
More of what is less but isn't love
Little of the same you're dreaming of
That's enough, that's enough.”

And though I fear pain and disappointment, I'm holding out my hands to you. I hold them out for an embrace. I hold them out for you to shackle them...

“And though I fear these shackles, like my darkness closing in
I will hold out my hands, I will hold out my hands...”

19.06.2008
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Passion Colors Everything... (part I)

2008-07-02T02:34:00.002+03:00

- Passion colors everything, you say. Then why are you running? What are you running from?
- From pain.
- Life is pain. No pain, no love and vice versa. You can’t really stop it. And this way you hurt yourself even more.
- Enough of this, you don’t know me at all!
- Don’t I, dear? Was it not me who caught you every time you fell? Was it not me who gave you whatever you needed without you even asking for it? Was it not?
- It’s not about that…
- What is it about then? Tell me, I’d love to know…
- It’s about self preservation.
- Damn you, it’s about you being scared of life! You’re not a teen anymore, dear, take a hold of yourself and open your eyes for the real world.
He walked away without saying a word. He left her there, on the top of the hill and went down without even turning back to see if she’s coming. Fireworks started. They were supposed to watch them together, smiling, their faces illuminated by the colourful little lights. But he was gone and she was there all alone. “Was he right? Is it really all about self preservation? If that night I hadn’t decided on that thing would I be hurting today?”
Tears rolled down her cheeks and she couldn’t stop them. He said many times that passion colors everything and now it was her passion for love that colored her tears black with pain.

He was making his way through the people, not paying any attention to the fireworks over the lake. He wanted to be away, to take off this mask of indifference he’d been wearing for such a long time and look at his real, passion colored face. Was he really scared of life?
Twenty minutes of fireworks. Twenty minutes of no one paying attention to the beautiful passion colored creature crying. Short applause and everybody went away. “I wonder if he sees in black and white. I wonder if someone like him ever sees in color.”

He was in the bathroom – same old full of color bathroom, but he was seeing black and white. He looked in the mirror and took off his mask. Here and there some color appeared on the walls, then everything became colourful.
- Passion colors everything, dear. It really does. Even with this mask of indifference it colors you with the colors of sky and rain and sun and love. I’m just scared to show it.
He was looking at the reflection in the mirror smiling at him and then it started talking.
- Do you actually believe yourself? Do you really believe that you can make passion color-blind? It’s just an illusion, this mask. She knows it is. YOU know it is. You cannot escape passion, no matter how much you run away from it. You may hurt her, but she will come back. You will be passion colored again.
- I can’t be, not in front of anyone else but me.
- Passion colors everything. It’ll color the mask of indifference very soon and you won’t have a choice, but to keep the colors and add new ones everyday. Passion colors everything.

"Passion... it lies in all of us... sleeping... waiting... and tough unwanted, unbidden... it will stir... open its jaws and howl...
It speaks to us... guides us... passion rules us all... and we obey. What other choice do we have?...
Passion is the source of our finest moments... the joy of love... the clarity of hatred... and the ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear... if we could live without passion maybe we'd know some peace... but we will be hollow... empty rooms, shuttered and dank... without passion we would be truly dead..."

30.05.2008
Replica

To everyone out there who try to hide from love and passion. To two of my closest friends and maybe to a rock star.

Illusion/Delusion

2008-07-02T00:03:00.002+03:00

I’m surprised at the way the mind of a single man can work. It can generate dreams that, in turn, generate the hormone of happiness, or stimulate your organs to produce liquids.
The thought that a single tone you hear can bring is really an amazing ability of the mind. It’s an uncontrollable process, the evocation of a day dream or an emotion. Whether we let it spill in every direction it wishes or we set the path it goes is up to us from there on.
The mind could be controlled if one wished to control it. Or, it could be left in a complete disarray, it could be led into an endless labyrinth of the thoughts, feelings and emotions one holds.

With this ability, a person is practically able to satisfy himself in every possible psychical way. Even some, or should I say most, of the body needs could be satisfied for a certain time. The mind can make you smile and feel up in heaven, feel loved and important just with the single thought of being in the arms of the most beautiful person of the corresponding to your orientation sex you have ever seen in your life. The mind creates the illusion the senses take as reality. It makes them see the person, makes them smell his perfume, taste his skin and feel the warmth of the flesh.
This same mind can destroy everything with just a little twist. It can show us an apocalyptic scene of loss, of what seems an endless suffering and pain, of a sea, salty from the tears we cried. The mind can make us see just darkness if it wishes.

I caught myself day dreaming the other day. It came unconsciously, while I was listening to music and it seemed that I didn’t take the effort to stop the flow, so it was already spread far too far. But I didn’t want to end it at the moment I realized I am a prisoner of an illusion. I was feeling happy, I was smiling, I felt good. I felt like a person on drugs would feel when he took his dose. I felt and saw the world around me in much more color, in much more bright color than before, much more energetic. I was, however, taken out of my day dream as soon as the battery of the player died and it took me some time to replace it with a new one.
I felt as if I’m a junkie who couldn’t get his dose today, nervous, seeing the world in dull and boring colors. I, then, realized how the mind can be one’s drug. I realized that inside, every single one of us is a junkie, we just refuse to realize it, because, again the mind, has already created an image of the homeless junkies with black circles under their eyes, with their torn clothes, begging for money, or stealing, just to get their daily dose and we do not like this image.
We prefer to see our humble personas as a person who has no obsessions what so ever, a person who is noble, a person who is courageous, brave and valorous, wise and knowing all. We prefer, once again, to be fooled by the mind’s illusion of the self.

I wonder do we ever see who we truly are. I wonder if we are brave enough to open our eyes for the illusion the mind creates and see the dark side of our mind, heart, soul and the dark deeds we consciously or unconsciously do… can we see beyond the light into the dark?

Replica
01.07.2008

Little Angel

2008-06-23T15:36:00.003+03:00

He opened his eyes and looked at the clock. 3:32. Another nightmare just faded. He took a deep breath and turned on his other side. Then he saw her – she was sitting on the edge of the bed and smiled at him.
Her features were almost child-like. Her big brown eyes reflected the moon. Her lips curved in a smile. The leather corset she was wearing emphasized her breasts and waist and slowly turned into a skirt. She held her hand to him and he saw blood on her palms.
His phone rang right then. He reached for it and when he turned back, she was gone. Half an hour later he fell asleep again.
He dreamed she was there again, kissing him, her hair cascading in her naked body and hiding her breasts…
The alarm clock forced him out of his dream. He spent the whole day thinking about her and hoped he’d see her tonight again. He came home late. He didn’t want to turn on the lights. The hope that she is already here waiting for him was light enough…
He opened the bedroom door and saw her – her big eyes, the irresistible lips, the leather corset and skirt, her soft hair cascading to her waist.
- Who are you? – he asked.
- Come… - she smiled, and like the night before held her bloody hand to him – Come. Don’t be scared.
He sat on the bed and touched her cheek. She did the same leaving a bloody trail on his face. Her hand went down his chest and stopped right where his heart was. He took her chin and kissed her.
He felt her hands on his back and then her nails tearing his shirt. He slipped his hands on her back looking for the corset’s laces. He felt two wounds – one on every shoulder-blade and backed away from her.
- Who are you?
- Who do you want me to be?
He smiled and kissed her again. He continued his search for the laces on her back. She took his hands off her and took the corset and skirt of and leaned in the bed. She smiled.
He lay next to her and she wrapped her legs around him. He was caressing her back and kissing her breasts. He felt more wounds on her spine, and the symmetric two on her shoulder-blades.

***

He was lying in her arms. He felt her skin on his face, he felt the leather of the corset too. She was caressing his head as a mother would caress her child’s. He looked at her face and she smiled and kissed him. He backed away and looked at her with wild eyes. He felt pain in his chest and looked down – her hand to the wrist was in his chest. He felt how she tightened the grip around his heart.
- Who are you?
She wasn’t smiling anymore.
- I was an angel once.
- Tell me, how did your wings got broken?
- I broke them myself.
- How did your spine…
- This was the punishment from the other angels for my broken wings.
- How did your tongue got split?
- I split it myself.
She pulled her hand sharply and he saw his own heart in her hand. She got off the bed and stood in front of the window, facing the dying man. The last thing he saw was her, as he saw her the first time, holding his heart and the blood dripping from her hand…

"Tell me now how your wings got broken...
Tell me now how your spine got whipped by leather...
Tell me now how your tongue got split..."

18.12.2007
Replica

A tiny update...

2008-06-23T15:30:00.003+03:00

Okay, so this is the second time I start an English blog and this time I plan on finishing it. I'm still working on the links list and the template, so it'll be a while before it looks as good as my original Diary of Dreams, just be patient. :)
I've decided I'm gonna post my stories in a random order, since I'm too bored to go through the old stuff and see what's gonna be translated and what's not. I'm not gonna announce anymore of those updates I make, this is the last post of this kind... for now. *roll eyes*
Enjoy your stay and leave a comment. :P

23.06.2008
Replica

Is everybody in? Is everybody in? Is everybody in?...

2008-06-19T13:18:00.003+03:00

Hello people who have stumbled upon my Diary of Dreams.
This is my personal diary in which you can find all about the world I live in and the vast sea of emotions I hold.
If I have to make an introduction I can start in the trivial way: Hello, my name is Silvia, I'm 20, been around blogger.com for over 2 years now, I write stories that I dream in my head and I would like to become a famous writer and find an audience, a broad one, that appreciates my work; or I can do it in a more untrivial way and risk to sound like a person floating in the clouds: Dreamer, addict, lover, December, best friend, worst enemy.
It's really up to you to decide which sounds better...

This blog is the English equivalent of my first blog, which I write in Bulgarian. Not all the stuff I have there will show up here, just the significant things. I won't be changing my mind on that matter, so if you wish to read something that is not translated, don't beg me to put it here. Better to ask... you might actually get it.
All the translations here I do myself and since English is not my mother tongue there might be stupid sounding things. Feel free to comment on everything you like and remember to always ask permission before taking (parts of) my stories.
Have a great time!

19.06.2008
Replica