stories unfold and caramel apples bob up and down.

I thought of another story to tell.

Ohgodwhyisthishappeningtome.

He tells her, once, of the sweet, caramel apple. Bobbing red with a fresh layer of lie. He stares at her. She takes the apple, peels its lie layer by layer and hands him the fruit. He devours it whole and leaves the [apple] core of truth to her care. It rots and burns her.


He tells her, twice, of the beautiful, fragile flowers. Alive with happiness and grace. He stares at her. She gives him her youth and watches as he mercilessly plucks the petals one by one. He hands her the wilting flower of her youth and walks away.


She grows old.


He tells her, thrice, of the pure, unstained canvas. Rough with tales of aging, yet light as a feather. He stares at her. She glances at her own canvas, framed up and hanging around her neck. She removes the canvas from the frame and passes it to him. Her soul is in his hand.


This time, he walks away, vanishing, leaving her with the wilted flower and the burning, stinging core of truth.


Every single person he meets, and yes, he meets every single one of them--they pass him their apples, their flowers and their canvases. 


Oh yes, and his name is "Life".


lalalala.

sigh.
sleeeeeeeppppppppp.

Post-it ノート: .______.

Imagine how a gangsta walks like.

NOW WITH 120% MORE SWINGABLE ARMS!

That's what I did.

*swing* *swing* *swing* *swing* *swing*

I am bursting with ideas. And yet unable to write them down. I am able to picture them, but not pen them down. This is disastrous.

And facilitating sessions... I really, really don't want to use 'Twilight' as an example. Sigh.

HP fanvirus still going strong.

Alice Apocalypse, Chapter 3

Her fingers weave into each other. Sure, they used to dream in colours, fantasies soaring, unbidden songs painting a mirage upon her stark, putrid soul.
Her fingers ache to tear away the canvas, taunting, haunting but yet so true. So true it makes her cry. Her fingers sift through the years, the memories compiled into a scrapbook that yellow with each lie that lolls about in her mouth. They are tearing apart, breaking down, drifting away with the wind. She can no longer remember Eden.

"Nox, I'm in Nox." she whispers to herself, reassuringly.

The chant has become a string, a delicate-oh,so-fragile thread between reality and desire. Her mantra, her lifejacket to keep her safe from the clutches of despair. No, she will not fall prey to envy. She will not coat her lips with the syrupy taste of jealousy. She will not remember Eden, she will not know of the happiness--there was nothing to be thought about of Eden, it was nothing but a place too far away for her to reach out for. A place for idealists, perfection, beauty-- nothing for her. Eden and Nox were words too different, like the like poles of a magnet (alike, in the aspect that only the most extreme superlatives can be used to describe them). Repel, repel away the thoughts, shoo away the emotions.

"Puppet, frayed, ugly, bitter. I don't deserve emotions. I don't, I don't." The blunt words pierce at her heart, but this is the truth.

She remembers The Casting.

"You don't belong here, you never will."

"Disgusting child, oh what have we done to deserve such devil?"

"Her heart. It's black. Her eye, it rebels."

"Don't look into her eye, sweetheart. It's a mirror."

"It's a curse, a curse."

"My Alice ! AliceohAlice with the beautiful eyes."

"She's nothing but a danger, her eyes, they rebel against our common rules!"

"Mom?"

"Away with her!" 

"Alice, Alice, don't. Don't leave me!"

"Mom, I don't. No! Let me go!"

"You are naught but ugliness herself, your left eye, a curse. Banished to Nox, you will be! Monster!"

"Alice, my dear Alice. Don't let them take you away."

"I'm not a monster!"

"UGLY!"

"Shut up!"

"MONSTER!" 

"I'm not a monster."

"GO AWAY! NO ONE LIKES YOU!"

"I'm not a monster. I'm not."  

She left for Nox, even before The Casting. In the darkness of the night, she left. Comforting silence engulfed her and she never saw the need to hear those derogatory terms. She was a monster of the night, a monster of Nox.

"Alice, you have to know that your eye is a blessing." her mother pats her head.

"I wish I were blind."

"Alice!"

"That way I wouldn't have to see their eyes and look at mine in the mirror. Oh wait, my left eye is a mirror, right? Just good enough for me to peer in the dimmed light in Nox, isn't it?"

"Alice." 

"I know. My left eye is a mirror. A devil, they say. The cards on the table do nothing but condemn me."

Alice flips her hand over to reveal the imprint of The Joker on her palm.

"Alice!"

Silence.

A joker symbolizes a loner, forever to be hidden in the shadows, to be avoided. Alice the Joker, she thought wryly. The name did seem to suit her.

But yes, there was no happiness in Eden, there was nothing, except the sprinkling of salt over her wounds. 

Alice gingerly picks up the papers, stares at the scribbles once more. She stares at a drawing of Aurelia and her. Alice's fringe is long, too long. It covers her left eye. Aurelia merely grins and nudges Alice. Aurelia was the first to know her secret. She was also the first to tell it.

''Aurelia?"

"Yes, Alice?" Aurelia smiles, looking up at Alice.

Alice shuffles her feet.

"I have a secret."

The word lures Aurelia in, as she tugs on Alice's hand.

"What is it?" she mumbles, excited.

Alice pushes her fringe away and anxiously beams.

Aurelia falls back, shocked.

"Devil," Aurelia calls, disregarding their friendship.

Alice pauses in motion, letting her fringe drop back to cover her eye. 

Devil. Aurelia called her a devil. Devil.

Alice stares hard at Aurelia's sketchy drawing. The lines seem to unscramble themselves to form a word. Devil. She wishes she could remember the happy moments in Eden, let the feeling of joy wash over her [for once in such a long time]. But there is nothing. Alice rethinks.

"The first time I got my flower."

It is blank.

"I received chocolates."

Blank, still.

"Rolling in the grass!"

Nothing.

"Singing with the choir!"

Blank, Empty. Nothing. Black. Fuzzy.

"You're nothing but a monster. Ugly, pathetic. You don't deserve Eden. You don't deserve anything."

Nothing.

Nothing.

Nothing.

_______________________________________________________________________________

Oh what is this I don't even.

T.T 

I was planning on writing to complete another chapter of Alice Apocalypse but it came out in tatters.

Oh, I'll just publish it and watch as you squirm in horror at the nonsensical stuff.

~o~

Acrophobia--Fear of Heights and a little waffle

An unbidden image arose in her mind.

A monochromatic world, the tiny dots that stained the canvas of her thoughts. They were so miniature, so small. She felt too big, looking down upon all of them. The ledge was reshaping, closing in into a compact area. So painfully tight, so painfully worrying. There was just a fleck of dust to stand on, but her weight was going to make it crack. She was going to fall. The mist clouded over her mind, tracing and retracing a single word that haunted her peace.

She felt her finger slide desperately, gliding across the air, cutting into the breeze swirling around her. Her fingers fumbled over the specks of dust that lolled around, drifting gleefully around the air, thick and lazy. Slender and pale, they opened and closed, as though trying to catch what little ray of glittering sunlight there was in her hands.There was nothing to hold on to, nothing, nothing.

Nothing.


She gasped, the contraction of her lungs, as though a hand had cupped over her throat and wrung the life out of her. It was hard to breathe, so hurtfully hard to breathe. It was impossible to suck in just one small gulp of air-- her muscles were losing control. Paralysed, in mid-air. Her heart thumped, palpitated, and threw itself countless times over the thick walls that was keeping it from escape.

escape-- what a sweet word.


Just one step back, back onto solid, firm ground. If only she could lift up the stumps of her legs, if only she could leap... The muscles in her fingers flexed. As she squinted over her shoulder, it was to her horror and its cheer that the ground was so far away. The gravel was inching away, increasing the distance between them.

There was an invisible feather upon her legs-- tickling them mercilessly with a mocking laugh. She was floating, held up by stronger forces, the wind whipping against her face. Their hands brushed past her bangs, pulling them back gently but firmly. They slid their cool fingers up and down her arms, gleefully asking,

"Can you see now? Can you?"

She shook her head, but all she could manage was a tilting of her head to the left, then right. There was nothing to see, even as her fear's hands peeled her eyes open and purred for her to see the world laid out beneath her. Her shoes, red and pointed, were huge. And she felt as though she was stomping on all those little atoms, splintered into single blocks of life, exploding and then reforming, the cycle of life repeating. She shifted her weight to the other foot, but then paused. What if she were to roll off and fall?

"I don't want to fall," she whispered in a muted prayer. "Don't, don't, don't let me fall. Someone. Someone."

-Inserts troll face--

...
Writer's block.

Shoot.

Wrrryyyy~?

Now, how to solve it?

I need some traumatic incident to happen to me.
Somehow, they help me to write.

How do I get on my writing spree after the camp?
Sigh sigh sigh.

I had an incredible idea.
And had the whole plot forming.

But when I got to my laptop,
-inserts crickets chirping-

WRYYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY?
-Inserts troll face-

GYAH! -Yanks hair-
TT^TT

My sorry fate...
Bleargh.

Screw you, that big opaque fog that twirls around and clouds people's minds.