The human life span is incredibly short. humans seem to find this extremely stressful, and thus try to fill each and everyday with the most they possibly can. Some humans, enjoy doing "death-defying" acts. Which baffles me. Why if you are so afraid of dying would you want to tempt it? Ahem. Master William is seeking to expand the lifespan of the average human, for the benefit of those few humans he cares for. Also, because of the current dangerous goings-on, He will provide permanent shelter and protection. Of course, to apply you must be human, your age matters not. Master William will not accept abundances of families seeking his alliance. If you wish to be taken in, you must work for it and earn your keep. He will accept as many as he needs for the experimentation, and very few for extra services. Those that are interested are to seek me out, and after inquiry will bring you to Master William for appraisal.
Good Luck.
Sincerely,
Lolan
Tuesday, December 15, 2009
Thursday, September 24, 2009
The Depth of Emotion
We are fire. We are ice. The wind the rain, lava and snow and everything in between. Our lives have been behind the looking glass for so many dead hours. Its simple. Its simply hard to carve through that reflective mirror that has trampled through our paths. Our grass is dead. Our homes are burned. Our incoherent thoughts are bleeding into our retinas yet each second we try to hide, more and more of this fear, this....emotion, blurs our vision. We've found ourselves wilted. Flowers, empty of their petals and missing a few leaves. Are we broken? No. Our stems are tall, straight and a vibrant green. But our decorations have fallen to the floor.
We see death daily. In the stale air, on the road, in the browning of our yards and in the lone feathers falling from the sky. Each time it becomes more real to us. More, tangible. Like you can touch it without fear of it's lanky appendages bruising your skin. Or coating your muscles with disease. We survive knowing that it's there. Knowing that some day, that man that harmed your child will be gone.That the nurse overdosing her patients will fade....and that the two pint bully at school won't last past 95. When it happens, we cry. We scream, we run and pretend that it was never there. That it was never coming. That death, when it shows it self, has not been slinking around this whole time. We will never know how to deal with it. We will never know the right words to say, or who we should be comforting. We will feel exposed. We'll feel betrayed and lost. The only bright side is that we know for a fact, where they went; and when we are finally calm enough to think straight, we go back to thinking of death as an intangible source.
Our hearts can only take so much. They aren't machines. No one can unscrew our rib cages and replace the batteries. Taking us apart and reassembling us won't do the trick. How do you handle a fragile package? You don't. You leave it alone until it's unwrapped, then put it somewhere safe so it won't become damaged; and when you're ready to take it out again, you dust it off and handle it with care.We are not glass. We are ceramic. We can be glued back together. Finding the pieces may be hard, but it is worth it when we return to normal.
I'm not asking you to forget. Nor do I want your trembling heart to cease it's beat. I want you to become the shallow water leading to the ocean. Let the boat slide smoothly from the shore, then gently rock it out to sea; and when it passes through the storm...allow it to return in one piece. To say nothing of the scratches in its armor.
Poisyn
We see death daily. In the stale air, on the road, in the browning of our yards and in the lone feathers falling from the sky. Each time it becomes more real to us. More, tangible. Like you can touch it without fear of it's lanky appendages bruising your skin. Or coating your muscles with disease. We survive knowing that it's there. Knowing that some day, that man that harmed your child will be gone.That the nurse overdosing her patients will fade....and that the two pint bully at school won't last past 95. When it happens, we cry. We scream, we run and pretend that it was never there. That it was never coming. That death, when it shows it self, has not been slinking around this whole time. We will never know how to deal with it. We will never know the right words to say, or who we should be comforting. We will feel exposed. We'll feel betrayed and lost. The only bright side is that we know for a fact, where they went; and when we are finally calm enough to think straight, we go back to thinking of death as an intangible source.
Our hearts can only take so much. They aren't machines. No one can unscrew our rib cages and replace the batteries. Taking us apart and reassembling us won't do the trick. How do you handle a fragile package? You don't. You leave it alone until it's unwrapped, then put it somewhere safe so it won't become damaged; and when you're ready to take it out again, you dust it off and handle it with care.We are not glass. We are ceramic. We can be glued back together. Finding the pieces may be hard, but it is worth it when we return to normal.
I'm not asking you to forget. Nor do I want your trembling heart to cease it's beat. I want you to become the shallow water leading to the ocean. Let the boat slide smoothly from the shore, then gently rock it out to sea; and when it passes through the storm...allow it to return in one piece. To say nothing of the scratches in its armor.
Poisyn
Wednesday, June 10, 2009
To,
To My Girls,
You are beautiful.
To My Sons,
You are strong.
To My Friends,
I'm Sorry. I thank you.
To My Family,
It's not your fault.
To My Hosts,
Be Brave, be strong. Because you can do anything.
To The New Parents,
Be Patient.
To The Children,
Learn whole-heartedly. You only have this once.
To The Soldiers,
Remember mercy.
Kai.
You are beautiful.
To My Sons,
You are strong.
To My Friends,
I'm Sorry. I thank you.
To My Family,
It's not your fault.
To My Hosts,
Be Brave, be strong. Because you can do anything.
To The New Parents,
Be Patient.
To The Children,
Learn whole-heartedly. You only have this once.
To The Soldiers,
Remember mercy.
Kai.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Siren Song
We were so young...when we first met. It was as though the universe aligned and everything was so right. I can see that day, way back then. I was standing alone on the balcony, staring into the coming dawn, when my Romeo came through the trees and onto out pathway. Slowly, sauntered up the steps and asked me with his charming accent if my daddy was home. He was dressed so well. Dressed so formally in a full tux, shiny leather loafers and a crisp hat. The earrings in his ears were pure diamond, like the cuff links at his wrists. He was gorgeous, and he stole my young heart right out of my chest. I was dressed in a long white casual gown, and considering the warm weather I hadn't bothered with a jacket. My hair was loose and at the time, had been rather long. I couldn't talk, couldn't move. Luckily my little brother, Phury, came from the foyer and called for me. My future hellren offered me his arm and walked with us into the house.
We were mated two years later. Three years after, our daughter, Sohra, was born. Two after that, our son, Thrhill was born. We were a happy family, the young were content to play in daddy's vast gardens and we were safe. One day, my hellren was called away on business and I didn't hear from him for days. Days that quickly turned into weeks and months. Soon a year had passed with no word. I had given up hope of seeing my beloved again. The days were bleeding into summer and our son was growing curious about his father's whereabouts. Our daughter was content with his missings, a detachment that I to this day, cannot understand. We received a letter, on the 17th of April. Oddly, it was addressed to Thrhill. Being far to young to receive letters, I read it, as was my right. The letter was horrid. It detailed things far to complex for a child. Far to cruel and grotesque, even now I shudder at its contents. I hid it away, I did not tell my young what the letter contained. I told them we had terrible news.
Their father had died in combat. He had passed honorably, and surrounded by his brothers-in-arms. I arranged his funeral and we mourned. Oh, if only I could put into words the grief I felt, the sorrow that haunted me for placing that look on the faces of my young... It pained me so, and even now it keeps me awake. Decades later, when my darling son had gone off to aid in the wars and my beautiful daughter was mated and having her own young. My hellren returned to me.
As I knew he would. However, as I also expected, he returned to me a different male. All of the male I had known was gone from this being that stood before me. Hands and face covered and dripping in the blood of another female, his once caring and gentle eyes turned bloodthirsty and feral by the bloodlust. I led him astray from the house, unwilling to allow this to take place in my fathers home, where my family may walk in upon it when they awoke for the evening. I ran, barefoot into the garden. Through the flowers and grasses I had watched my young play in so long ago. Across a field I had lain in as a girl, and farther still to the river and the waterfall on the very edge of our land. He followed, of course. Chased me down, snatching and ripping at my clothes along the way. Ripping at my hair and my skin, wanting to make me fall. As I stood on the lip of the waterfall, bathing in its mists, I opened my arms to him. Bared my throat and welcomed him.
Mine hellren, home at last.
The force of his attack drove us both off the edge. And I welcomed the end. It has been so long since that dive. And I've grown wiser in my countless years, as I watched my young grow and prosper. I've learned my choice was a good one. Ill-timed perhaps. But well thought out. I suppose...my point for tell you all this is lost...I'm hoping my son and my daughter will reach out to me. Perhaps even my brothers...
Chosen,
Envy
We were mated two years later. Three years after, our daughter, Sohra, was born. Two after that, our son, Thrhill was born. We were a happy family, the young were content to play in daddy's vast gardens and we were safe. One day, my hellren was called away on business and I didn't hear from him for days. Days that quickly turned into weeks and months. Soon a year had passed with no word. I had given up hope of seeing my beloved again. The days were bleeding into summer and our son was growing curious about his father's whereabouts. Our daughter was content with his missings, a detachment that I to this day, cannot understand. We received a letter, on the 17th of April. Oddly, it was addressed to Thrhill. Being far to young to receive letters, I read it, as was my right. The letter was horrid. It detailed things far to complex for a child. Far to cruel and grotesque, even now I shudder at its contents. I hid it away, I did not tell my young what the letter contained. I told them we had terrible news.
Their father had died in combat. He had passed honorably, and surrounded by his brothers-in-arms. I arranged his funeral and we mourned. Oh, if only I could put into words the grief I felt, the sorrow that haunted me for placing that look on the faces of my young... It pained me so, and even now it keeps me awake. Decades later, when my darling son had gone off to aid in the wars and my beautiful daughter was mated and having her own young. My hellren returned to me.
As I knew he would. However, as I also expected, he returned to me a different male. All of the male I had known was gone from this being that stood before me. Hands and face covered and dripping in the blood of another female, his once caring and gentle eyes turned bloodthirsty and feral by the bloodlust. I led him astray from the house, unwilling to allow this to take place in my fathers home, where my family may walk in upon it when they awoke for the evening. I ran, barefoot into the garden. Through the flowers and grasses I had watched my young play in so long ago. Across a field I had lain in as a girl, and farther still to the river and the waterfall on the very edge of our land. He followed, of course. Chased me down, snatching and ripping at my clothes along the way. Ripping at my hair and my skin, wanting to make me fall. As I stood on the lip of the waterfall, bathing in its mists, I opened my arms to him. Bared my throat and welcomed him.
Mine hellren, home at last.
The force of his attack drove us both off the edge. And I welcomed the end. It has been so long since that dive. And I've grown wiser in my countless years, as I watched my young grow and prosper. I've learned my choice was a good one. Ill-timed perhaps. But well thought out. I suppose...my point for tell you all this is lost...I'm hoping my son and my daughter will reach out to me. Perhaps even my brothers...
Chosen,
Envy
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Quote?
"It was always better with strangers."
"I asked, sadly she said no."
"He was The One. I wasn't."
"Plenty of liquor-we'll make it."
"Bastard turned out to be straight."
"Actually, I took my own virginity."
"My partner in sin found God."
"Happy enough...was her tentative reply."
"She knows what my Kryptonite is."
"Lust walked in. Love walked out."
"In his smile I saw forever."
"Tomorrow, maybe, I'll sell the ring."
"I asked, sadly she said no."
"He was The One. I wasn't."
"Plenty of liquor-we'll make it."
"Bastard turned out to be straight."
"Actually, I took my own virginity."
"My partner in sin found God."
"Happy enough...was her tentative reply."
"She knows what my Kryptonite is."
"Lust walked in. Love walked out."
"In his smile I saw forever."
"Tomorrow, maybe, I'll sell the ring."
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