Friday, February 4, 2005

   Grumble grumble +_+
There are sereously not enough hours at night to sleep.*grummble mumble grrrr* Faera no happy when Faera no get sleep, Faera get ANGRY! Roar! ZZZzzzzzzzzz
Today just do whatever you like, post comments on my hard work in progress story, post advice or whatever I just need sleep!!!
Ja Ne
~Faera~ *_+ ZZZZzzzz
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Wednesday, February 2, 2005

You're on a jog and you spot a man playing catch with his dog, you.... (Choose from 1 to 3)

run up and join the game, on the dog's side^_^

Eh,keep on walking

Say hi to the man and jog on

Ball! Ball!! Balll!!!!!

after that little scuff is over you get thirsty where do you get your drink?

any lake or strem nearby

from a handy little waterbottle you always carry

local store

Blood

Yum. Thirst is quenched now you want to have fun, what is fun to you? (Choose from 1 to 4)

Scaring little kids

lounging at home

scaring grown people

bubble bath ^_^

devising mischeivious things

setting traps in the park

oh no you being chased be a wild dog!! What do you do?

RUN!!

turn around and chase the dog

I want my mommy!!

turn into a giant wolf

What is you fave color?

Red

Blue

Green

Red...no Green.

Orange

When it is a full moon what do you usually do?

AAAWWWOOOOOO!!!!!

nothing

Chase little woodland creatures

Oh how lovely

some one catches you howling at the moon and throws a shoe at you how do you feel?

Hurt, why would they do that?

I'm not howling you dope

GRRRR!! &tackles human*

One word squerrel.

Come here you little furry goodness

So cute

*slurp* what squerrel?

It is midnight do you go to bed?

Yes I need my beauty sleep

NEVER!!

Why the world is mine for the taking!

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Silent Noise








(c) 2005 by Zoë


Chapter 1

My mother has always told me to get married. Thinking about it, I think the first time she told me that was when I was nine. I thought she was dumb but of course I was young and cocky.

I live the usual day-to-day existence that most people do these days. I look at the women a bit with desire, mostly with a kind of fear. Oh, not so much a fear of the person (that's the best way to think of a woman, a person) but a fear of how to deal with them.

I've noticed that as this decade wears on, people are getting very weird. People don't like people very much anymore. They make a lot of noise and seem to be drunk all the time or stoned.

I've heard all the lines about how drugs make you more creative and how they relax you and how they make you better able to cope, but from what I've seen, alcohol gives most people a license to be jerks and drugs turns most people into walking mannequins. Talking to a person who's high is like talking on a very bad connection. You have to repeat yourself a lot and then you're never sure if the other party is really there.

I guess deep down I don't like people myself. Hey, why be different?

My parents still live around here and I visit them fro time-to-time but while I love them, we don't see much of each other. I prefer it that way. My parents are the kind of people I'd probably not like very much if they weren't my parents.

Oh, they're not bad people. They mow their lawn and raise their kids well and curb their dogs but for the most part they're rather boring people and we share almost nothing in common other than chromosomes.

They've been married for all their life or at least 26 years. They threaten to split up at least once a year, kind of like an anti-anniversary and then they make up and life goes on. I can't imagine them together, they don't really have that much in common, but then I can't imagine them apart, they seem like a matched set.

People tend to grow together with time.

As for me, I mentioned earlier how women unnerve me. It's true. I don't think it's my fault either. After all, it used to be simple. Women were women and men were men. Men went out and found women and they got married.

Not anymore! Don't get me wrong. I'm not against women's equality, but I've just learned the rules for Monopoly and now we're playing Parcheesi. Actually, it's worse than that because nobody’s got the rules figured out yet.

That's what makes it so unnerving. I don't know what to say or do without offending and then I end up not saying anything to someone who wouldn't be offended and then I screw up both ways.

There are times I wish I could just get away from all of this. You know, become a trapper up north or a hermit or maybe a forest ranger, but I know deep down I couldn't live away from the city.

There’s a kind of energy in the city that keeps you moving. There's never night in the city, it's always alive. Maybe I'm afraid of the dark.


---


I'm told that life for a girl on the prairies is dull. Don't believe that, I had a great life and a very close family. My parents married late in life after living together for a while. Pretty risqué stuff back then. They both grew up in the same town, not far from where they live now.

Some Welsh settlers originally founded our town in the late 1700's who wanted a quiet isolated area of country to run small community farms. Sort of like a large town sized kibbutz. Everybody shares around here and there's a charge in the air that keeps you happy.

We owned our own farm area and contributed to the town stores like everybody else and everything was pretty good. As I grew up, I went to the local school and ran with the other kids.

We'd hunt and chase and have a great time.

As I entered puberty I learned about the birds and the bees and as my gang grew into young adulthood, we added some very exciting games to our repertoire.

We all had our little tricks and this made our games all the more exciting. Our poor teacher, a local would have misery when the younger children would do it involuntarily as a reflex when she tried to discipline them.

The town reverend was Presbyterian. He seemed to take it all in stride. I found out from my mother that he was one of our people. I'd read all the old books about my kind of people and had come to the conclusion that the church thought we were evil. I didn't feel evil. I've never hurt anyone in my life (except of course for Stevie Walker once because he kept punching me). Even when I hunt I try not to hurt the animals too much.

It was a great town. We had a really neat mix of people from all over the world. When they heard of our town they slowly came over and joined us. In a sense they were minority groups, but we never made any distinctions. Couples mixed every which way would walk the boardwalks at night. We even had a few gay types. Nobody minded.

From time to time people would come to our town that wasn’t one of us and then the town had to be on its best behavior. No outsider ever stayed long. If they did, they would eventually find out about us, but then, if they still were there, we'd just take them in, give them the gift and then they'd be one of us.

We've never had any complaints.

As I grew older though I started to feel a bit apart from my friends. It was assumed that I'd find a mate among the townsfolk but as usual it was my ever wise mother who told me to go where my heart lead.

She said every heart has a match. Usually souls are born close so you can find each other, but from time to time souls get lost.




Chapter 2



A typical Saturday night. Sitting in a smelly singles bar looking for someone to take home for the night. Boring. Why do all the girls in this town look so sleazy? If they took the time to look good, maybe work out like I do, they wouldn't have to hang out in bars like this. Hmm, bad logic there, why do I have to hang out in bars like this? I guess deep down I like it.

Hello, what's this? Now there's a looker. God, a silk drape dresses in gray and white. Wow! And that face! Slim and just a little oriental, just right. Incredible!

I watch her drift over to a table and settle into a pose that would kill most of the men here. She slowly took in the room, resting for a moment on each guy, sizing them up and then moving on to the next. I was both desperate for her to get to me and yet terrified that she would continue on.

Then we met. Her eyes were a golden hazel that burned with a secret. Even across the room, I felt the fire. A smile crossed her lips and she moves on. I'm crushed.

After a chance at someone like that, the others in the room are too pathetic to even think about. I turn to the bar and finish my drink. I have to have just one last look and then go. I turn and she's gone. Damn!

Getting up, I turn to the exit and slowly plow my way through the crowds. I push the door the door open and turn down the street. As I cross the back alleyway, a shudder, like a cold wind, moves up my spine, and then passes. Someone is behind me! Well this mugger's picked the wrong night to hit on me. I turn suddenly and raise my fist.

All I see is a skirl of gray silk and then nothing. God, am I losing my mind? There's a glint of metal on the ground. I bend over and pick it up; it's some sort of medallion. I pocket it and head for home.

---

Ummm. A good catch. Just what I need. I can still feel him. I begin to walk, taking in the sounds of the quiet neighborhood. I hear the squabbles and the televisions and the mothers singing to their children. I hear the older sounds of the people who once lived and have left their sounds in their old homes. Happy sounds and sad sounds.

I turn the street and the raucous blare of some deaf fool’s music strikes me. I gasp and shudder, covering my ears. Hurrying, solace is found at the next turn. A beautiful old church, the young gentle harmony of the long past choir caressing me. I move to the great oak and rest against it, soaking in the age and the serenity.

My eyes see nocturnal friends. The cats, mice and other fellow night owls, large and small; one believing himself hidden in the bushes. He starts and realizes that he is safe. He comes forth and brushes his bristly whiskers against my hand. I gather my little friend up, cradle him in the warmth of my arms and press my lips to his face.

He rubs against my face tickling me with his silky fur. We look into each other’s eyes and I see his flare. I rub his soft ears then lower him to the ground. He gives a soft growl and slides into the bushes.

I continue through the dark streets to a little path leading to the beach. The trees and flowers speak with their scents, one whispering a subtle perfume, the next shouting a harsh pungency. They snatch at me with their wooden fingers and beg me to stay; yet I continue.

The trees part and a glowering waterscape greets me. I step into the cool sand shedding my sandals. I pause and reach for my clasp; the dress billows around me to the ground. I stretch and run my arms through my hair. I look up to the moon, only a quarter full. How sad, the light is so pleasant.

Crouching, I rest my hands on the sand then rock up onto my toes. I relax, feeling the cool night air moving over the beach. Within minutes I am done and begin to move over the sand. I run and jump feeling the pull of my muscles. Warm now, I look for a little something to eat.

A small field mouse scurries in the tall grass and I bound over. I am not really very hungry, but the hunt is fun. I pounce on the little one and give chase. I almost hope the mouse gets away, but I am very good at this and the chase makes me hungry. After toying for a bit, I leap and land on it. As is my custom, I apologize and then snap into it. Two bites and I m finished. I love the warm rush as the juices run down my throat.

I run for a bit more, splashing in the water and just being silly. I snap at the puss willow, playing that they are birds to catch or menaces to trap. Finally I tire, grow drowsy and curl up near my dress and drift into sleep. I dream of mice and my new man.

- - -

I walk home through the dirty streets, drunks begging for dimes and punks strutting. God, I hate this place. I guess it wouldn’t be so bad for those rich fat-cat aldermen. They live in the ritzy area of town. Sure.

I move up the walkway and push open the door. In the lobby a couple of weirdoes are groping to the sound of some punk/new-wave screaming. I grit my teeth and not for the first time think about how much fun I could have with a machine gun.

The elevator light shows all the elevators at the top as usual and most of them not moving. I push the button. Nothing happens. I’m convinced the ritzies in the top floor penthouse block the doors just to irritate the rest of us low life.

Finally, an elevator car comes down to ground level and I enter. Some moron poured a bottle of beer on to the tacky red carpet making the interior car smell like a brewery and my feet stick to the floor.

Pulling free from the elevator I walk the short path down to my “luxurious 6th floor suit.” Turning the key in the lock, I push open the door and move into the darkness. Enough light enters from the balcony to let me see and I leave the lights off. I like the dark. A quick stop at the kitchen to pick up a coke, and I go to the bedroom.

I slide my hand into my pocket and take out the medallion I found on the street. It looks like bronze or brass and feels cool in my hand. It has some ornate design I’ve never seen before, with triangles and circles woven together. There is some sort of writing on the outer rim but I can’t make heads nor tails of it. I place it down on my night table; turn the light out, and the radio on. “Africa” by Toto is playing so I lie back in the bed and wait for my favorite line about “Wild dogs cry out in the night, looking for solitary company….” Someday I’ll figure out how you can have solitary company; it sounds just like what I need.

As the music progresses I grow sleepy and yet for some reason, restless. Another night of insomnia ahead. Look out world. Turning and rolling, finally I find a comfortable position and begin to nod off. The last thing I see is the moonlight bouncing off the medallion and then I’m asleep.

- - -

The sun stream over me and warms me from my slumber. I rise and shake the clinging sand, then run to the water and dive in to wash myself. The waves holds me but I pull free from its gentile grip and throw the heavy burden it leaves on me to the wind.

Suddenly I hear voices and realize the danger. I hurry to my cloths and change so that I may wear them. I drape the cloth about my naked self and gather my hair up into a braid. Clasping the broach, I step into my sandals and settle on a large warm rock for a moment as I gather the morning about.

I return along the path I took the previous night and walk through the same neighborhood. In the harsh daylight they seem quaint yet somehow dulled and dead. Not quite real. The children play along the roads and their laughter thrills me. I love children. They can see what I can see, when they want to. We share the same secrets. But then they grow older and they forget. First their soul dies and then they die. Ashes to Ashes.

I shake the gloomy thoughts from my head and walk to my home. The old wooden door greets me with furrows, and groans happily as I push against the warm surface. I pass my landlord as I begin to climb the stairs to the upstairs suite where I live.

She’s a nice person in her own way. She’s a “liberated woman,” a badge of pride she wears larger each day as if to shield herself from ant possible harm. Behind it, she’s a charming woman concerned about me and the city and the world, oh, just about everything. Kind of a world mother who won’t admit it to herself.

She askd if I am alright. "I am." She warns me about ataying out all night with a wink. "I really am alright." "You've got to bring over the young man," she sais to me. "What makes you think it is a young man?" I reply. She smiles and says that if it isn't it should be. "some feminist." I throw back to her, she begins to laugh. well, when you're ready; you must bring him over. I will, I say climbing the stairs and entering the old rooms.

*More to come soon~Faera~*



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Tuesday, February 1, 2005

   *zips into room and barrels full speed into you* OMG! Guess what!!? I got a car!! Wanna see it? *shows you vehicle* *sparkle sparkle shine shine* Its a VW Beetle with a soft top. Mine! Sure beats cathcing a bus and walking. Though I kinda like walking and riding my bike. This can be real good for those long road trips I've been planning and it eliminates the middle manin rentals. *drools, so shiney, so clean,..it simply won't do we need to dirty it up a bit yep that we do* Road Trip here I come where am I going nobody knows....come to think about it I don't know......
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Monday, January 31, 2005

   Nickie Nic
Hey girl this is for you I know you miss me and I miss you too meet me at you know where. For all the rest of you HI! and now BYE!!
JA Ne
~Faera~
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Friday, January 28, 2005

.:You live your life: ~innocently~:.
You see the world in black and white but color
surrounds your heart. Happiness is your escape
and a smile is always brightening your face..
one that feels sometimes tough to keep up. You
are plain sweet and just be careful.. dreams
are easily shattered.


How do you live your life? (with pics! ^.~)
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Red/Green/Blue:
To you, the world is logical. Everything happens
for a reason, life is scientific. You like to
find solutions. I doubt you needed to take this
quiz in order to realize this.



What color do you see the world in?
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Wednesday, January 26, 2005

   Sorry!
I am having major writers block, so the story is a work in progress. i assure you that all will be well soon just gotta finish this essay *Blech +_= * Well bye for now
Ja Ne
~Faera~
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Tuesday, January 25, 2005

You are naturally born with a gift, whether it be
poetry, writing or song. You love beauty and
creativity, and usually are highly intelligent.
Others view you as mysterious and dreamy, yet
also bold since you hold firm in your beliefs.


What Type of Soul Do You Have ?
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My inner child is one year old!

Everything is new to me. I like watching the world
go by around me, and I don't sweat the small
stuff--or the large stuff, either. Just so long
as I stay warm and safe and dry, life's pretty
good.


How Old is Your Inner Child?
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