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| The Redefinition [[2]]Log 15
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The Redefinition
A Trilogy
Breathing heavily, she turned the page. She was about to redefine
romantic, and once redefined, she would live in accordance to her new
definition. As miniscule as it sounded, the consequences may very well
ban her to a life alone. She was about to seal a commitment to not
settle for anything less than what she truly desired, no matter what
the cost. Never again was she to desire something more than friendship
from a person who did not agree with her definition of romantic, if not
down to the last example, then at least down to the core idea.
Slowly, she began writing the first words. The flow and ease
picked up the more she wrote, as her mind stopped fighting and
worrying, and her heart took control.
To redefine romantic, I must first comprehend what the
concept of romantic is. Romantic is considered to be an adjective; an
adjective that describes the actions of a person towards another.
Usually that first person is in love with the other. These actions are
to be perceived as positive from the person receiving them. They are
positive, and cause an attraction from the receiver, for the giver.
Different people feel positive about different things. They are
attracted to different things.
However, many people seem to feel positive and attracted to
similar things, and this majority has created a standard that many
others follow. Contrary to this standard, there are many sub-standards
that have been created over time. People nowadays have the choice to
either follow the standard, or be viewed as abnormal, within the
sub-standards. If people feel that they do not fit into a category,
they choose one that seems most appealing.
But enough of that! I grow weary of pressing myself into a mold
that does not fit. I refuse to conform just so that I can be sure of
receiving love. I take a little of every category and create my own
definition. Whether others follow or not, does not matter. I will be my
own person, and if it damn me to a life alone, then so be it.
He must be sure of himself. Confident. I will not spend day after
day, hour after hour, explaining why he is better than he thinks he is.
I grow weary of encouraging them to step out of their comfort zone and
take a chance, whilst they talk about “her”, when I know they mean me.
If there is an attraction, take the chance, act upon the opportunity.
If there is none, create one.
Romantic is to take a chance by acting upon your feelings, regardless of the possible reaction.
He must be attracted to eccentricities. I am loud, I am crazy, I
laugh a lot, and I like estranged food combinations such as gummy bears
on pizza. I like leather bracelets, gel bands, chucks, ski caps, baggy
jeans, and hoodies. I like bright nail polish, and I like sticking my
tongue out in pictures. I like random bear hugs. It is essential that
he more than tolerates such eccentric behavior. He has to embrace it,
encourage it.
Romantic is standing in front of my door at two in the morning
with coffee and gummy bears and a hug, just because he wanted to see me
and remind me he loves me.
He has to realize that I write for the same reason I breathe. I do not
quote and quip writer sayings because they sound nice, and because I
have an attraction for all that is eloquent. I say it because it is a
fact. If I cannot write, I struggle, I flounder, I fail, and I fall. I
write more than short stories and fantasy books. I write prayers and
single emotions. When I can’t write, I lose a part of my life, and the
longer I cannot write, the more of my life I lose. Eventually, I die. I
write. For the same reason. I breathe. The written word has power. It
has passion. It contains worlds. When you read a book you are reading
the mind of another being. You are dipping into another person’s
creativity and imagination. A good book promises the sharing of
emotions and feelings. It evokes thoughts, emotions, and desires. A
magnificent book can twist your thoughts and create possibilities you
would never have imagined. Dracula shatters the conventional and
projects the fantastical idea of undead from the unrealistic realm into
the plausible and real. It is a fantastic creation and every writer’s
goal is to create something with that power.
Romantic is sitting under an enormous tree in a barren field at midnihte, reading Dracula with a flashlihte.
He has to challenge me. He has to lead me out of my comfort zone
and push me to reach the goals I dream of but don’t trust myself to
achieve. He will not ridicule me for my doubts, but will gently and
firmly pull me out. He will encourage me to think outside of the box.
Romantic is leading me through a field of wheat and creating a
large circle. Then lying down with me on a blanket and brainstorming
with me, challenging my mind until inspiration strikes once more.
He will encourage my random eccentricities even after we are married.
Regardless of our age, he will allow my vivacious and crazy tendencies
to thrive.
Romantic is waking me up at two in the morning with a pillow fight;
having a pizza-food-fihte-party with loads of coffee and gummy bears,
and then watching a movie together.
Romantic is accepting me for who I am, not merely pointing out my
flaws but providing me with a way to correct them. Romantic is not
afraid of embarrassment. Romantic is picking me up and swinging me
around just to hear me laugh. Romantic is throwing rocks at my window
and ruffling my hair just to get my attention. Romantic is making faces
and pretending to shoot yourself with a pen during a boring psychology
class, just because it’ll make me laugh out loud and cause the
professor to ask what’s so funny about the Skinner box.
Romantic is letting me cry without judging or telling me to snap
out of it. Romantic is demanding I talk about what’s wrong, because you
know I want to talk about it but would never ask for help that isn’t
offered. Romantic is being protective. Romantic is being willing to
take control. Romantic is taking a chance by acting upon your feelings,
without weighing the pros and cons of a relationship. You can’t spend
your life not acting upon it because it possibly could not work out. If
you don’t act, you will never know.
Romantic is making yourself vulnerable to her and letting her know how much you need her.
And finally…
Romantic is not waiting on, or making the girl to take the first step.
Thus I have taken the first steps into redefining romantic. But what will be the consequences? Dare I even ask or wonder?
She put her pen down with a quivering hand, when a sudden
noise caused her to look up. Some tapping scratch was striking the
window pane. She arose from her chair and went to the window, ducking
as another dull object tapped the window. Cautiously she rose again to
peer through, and saw a figure standing below.
To be continued…
| | |
| To Redefine Romantic [[1]]Log 14
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To Redefine Romantic [[1]]
A Trilogy
Expect the unexpected.
She put down her pen for a moment and gazed out her window at the
darkness beyond it, illuminated only by the soft glow of a single
street light. With a sigh barely audible, she picked it up once more
and began to write her burden away. Her heart was heavily laden with
blood tears, and only through writing would her crimson tears flow out
of her and find release on the paper. On nights such as this one, it
was not her mind which directed and composed the emotions, but her
heart. She herself had no control over what was produced upon the empty
sheet before her. She only knew that her burden lessened with every
move her hand made, with every scratch of the pen against the paper.
Expect the unexpected. Throughout my life it seems to be my only
consistency. Regardless of the long-term plans I make, whether I expect
them to change or not, I can learn only to expect the unexpected.
Spontaneity seems to control my life. But does this mean that I am not
meant to be loved? Whenever the prospect arises, something tears it
apart by means of spontaneity, rendering it impossible.
And yet, looking back, I must begin to believe that it was naught but
providence that has left me caught in this world of spontaneity,
randomness, and oxymoronical behavior, for I could never content myself
with normality, as often as I long for it. Indeed it may be that the
only reason I have longed for normality is because I have felt the
pressure to conform to normality. Yet I do not belong to the popular
form of normality.
I feel an urge to redefine things. It is not enough for me to be a
certain form of abnormal, as some people content themselves to be. To
simply place a label of abnormality upon me and call myself “goth”,
“scene”, or “emo”, is not enough. What is abnormal about such behavior?
Everyone does so to the point of abnormality being the norm.
So my desire is something much more than a statement… but a true desire
of expressing my personality, dreams, desires, and fantasies in my own
personal way, which happens to consist of abnormal spontaneity. The
main focus of this is romantic. What is romantic, in my own definition?
I wish to simply redefine romantic, for I cannot conform to the
romantic views of normal society, nor even the abnormal fantasies of
the common labels.
And I do believe that until I clearly stand for what I truly desire, I
cannot find my true love. For as long as I conform to what is expected
of me, I will never experience true love to the fullest degree. I will
ever be changing who I am to follow romantic’s definition’s norms.
In the past I have hidden my true identity and feelings, because
the desire to be loved overruled the desire to be loved for who I truly
am. When a possibility arose, I carefully watched to see what might be
expected of me, and then produced it. But how long can one live on love
such as that? My second half may feel completed by me, but he would
never know that just under the surface I am someone entirely different,
with delights, ambitions, and dreams utterly unknown to him.
I begin now to realize that it cannot go on in such a way. I must
learn that it is better to go through this life longing for a person I
may never meet, than to spend it with a person who will never be able
to complete me, because he knows not what it takes to do so. Such
behavior would lead to my downfall.
As it is, I have had many downfalls. Conforming to a different identity
just to be loved can only lead to dire consequences. This last and
greatest consequence has left me scarred, inside and out, and rendered
me unworthy of some noble love of those from whom I would desire it
most.
In my life I can only remember two love-scenarios of important
consequence, both of which led to a sectional downfall, scarring, and
mutilation of my being. In the first, I gave up every emotional fibre
of my being unto him. I allowed him to suppress my true characteristic
nature simply because he felt embarrassed that a person of my age
should have such inclinations. Such inclinations are perfectly fine to
have in secret, but how can you be so immature as to subject them to
public view?
Emotionally, I suffered greatly, and hid my character’s spontaneous
joyful outbursts from the public. For this first result, I am however
thankful. It taught me, we both grew, and hoped to learn from the
mistakes we had made. Such emotional scars are rather easily repaired
in comparison to the physical scars I carry from the last downfall.
Ah, even now I feel my heart’s scars tear open and bleed crimson tears,
when I think of the horrendous acts I have committed, all in the name
of love. How I have dirtied love’s glorious name. Alas, for I sold my
body to lust, under the convincing lies that he brought forth.
Anything, anything, as long as it brings me his love.
But such actions bring forth no love. They produce naught but despair,
guilt, and anguish. Mayhaps some people can live with such actions, but
it nearly brought my eternal downfall. When the moment of truth
arrived, and he made it clear it was over, all the guilt I had
suppressed came bursting forth, yet I was left alone. I had not even
the strength to end my anguish by ending my own worthless life. I just
prayed for someone to show mercy and end it for me. I lay down and
prayed I never awoke again.
But I did awaken. And now guilt, anguish, and reality flung me against
the wall of truth. My own worthlessness became clear. What had I now
left? I had naught but the realization that I was a weak, blemished,
worthless creation, no longer worthy of receiving love, even if it were
offered.
I could not say how I survived the months following those horrid
events. Were it not for the Almighty Himself, I should have perished
utterly, and the downfall would have been complete. As it were, he
picked me up and set me back on the right road. However the scars
remain. This was damage that could not be undone. Nothing can remove
the blemish, and so I am forever banned from the love of those more
noble than I. I am left to shy away from it, for how could I explain
him what horrendous things I had done? No, no, it is not possible. I
could not bring myself to say it, nor could I live with the agony of
keeping it hidden.
And so I wonder if I am to be forever banned from love all-together? I
cannot say. It is most possible, yet that is not the point. I cannot
even begin to wonder if I will ever be loved, until I have defined what
it means to me, to be loved. Only when I know what love is, can I
recognize it for what it is, and then determine whether I am meant to
be loved; whether anyone is capable of loving me; if I stand alone in
my views.
Redefining romantic. What does it mean to me? I am not saying that I
wish to fully reject the historic romantic ideas, yet there are things
I long for that break from the traditional mold. [[And I do believe I
consider myself unworthy of such noble love as it is presented in such
works as of Jane Austen. Such a woman as Elizabeth Bennet, Emma, or
Elinor, I shall never be. I have fallen too hard for such a thing to be
possible.]] I long for the unexpected. I expect it. Yet in 18 years, 9
months, and 12 days, the truly amazing has yet to happen. How much
longer must I expect?
I shall continue to expect without receiving for as long as I do not
comprehend what it is that I expect. I must redefine romantic, must
give it my own meaning, so that I can be open to experiencing it.
I must expect the unexpected… but what can one expect, I wonder, when one attempts to redefine romantic…
I must accept the consequences of my actions, to this I must sign my name. And so I sign it with my heart's blood ink,
Ketlyn Leah Rawley
To be continued...
†Starshine♥Faerie™ | | |
| Vame Haven Chapter 6Log 13
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[[For more of Vame Haven see http://www.writerscafe.org/writers/faeriegorgeous ]]
This one is short, and an incredibly rough draft (I have not read over
it yet, this is fresh from my mind to the screen), but my favourite
chapter so far.
Vame
Haven©
By Ketlyn Leah
Rawley
For the rest of the day, Drake and Damon
kept Crys away from the discs. She wouldn’t admit it, but the search for her
identity was taking its toll on her, and the longer she searched the discs, the
more discouraged she grew, and the more the light in her eyes faded.
That evening, when Crys went
to wash the cocoa and flour out of her hair, Damon used the opportunity to talk
to Drake in private. “Drake, you’ve known Crys longer than I have. Tell me, how
is she? She laughs, she smiles, she jokes and teases. When she speaks of her
family I can see the horrendous ache in her eyes, but cannot hear it in her
voice. What do you think?”
Drake sighed and looked at
Damon with sad eyes. “It is Crys’ subconscious nature. She feels pain. She
feels emotions stronger than anyone I’ve known. But she will not show pain
openly. Why do you think she carries her bangs the way she does? To hide her
eyes. She knows I read emotions from eyes. Whether she knows it’s a vampire
ability or just my ability, I do not know. Every reminder of her family makes
her hurt. You should have seen her when she saw their family picture load up on
the computer screen. Her eyes literally flashed with pain, but no tears came.
“What do I think of it? I’m
worried. She is battling two natures. Her first is to fall into a million
pieces and cry until her strength fails her and she dies. The other is to shrug
it off and move on, laughing and smiling. She is caught between two extremes,
and can find no middle ground. And if she doesn’t find a middle ground, a third
nature, so to speak, one of the two natures will win, and she will be consumed
by it.”
“Are you saying eventually she will
either be utterly consumed by her hurt and feel nothing else, or else be
consumed by indifference, and lack the ability to feel?”
“Somehow, she has simply got to find
a way to allow herself the pain when she feels it and the joy when she feels
it. Last night is the first time I have ever seen her show what she felt, when
she felt it.”
“It
seems when her Vamean instincts surface, that her third personality surfaces,”
Damon observed. “Like when the Restok were chasing after her.”
“Sometimes, it’s as her two battling
personalities portray humans on one side, and the Restok on the other. She has
to let the vampire in, and join with the human.”
“It’s
funny you should say Restok,” Damon murmured, as if lost in thought.
“How so?”
“You
know the myths surrounding the origin of Restok?”
“Mutated
humans, turned into the monsters they are from slaughtering vampires and consuming
their blood.”
“That
is what is assumed. It’s funny, it was told to me by a stranger in the woods,
when I was a boy, about eight thousand years ago. I always thought he was mad, but
now, I wonder. You see, he told me the Restok were Vameans.”
“That’s
impossible. Half-breeds can’t reproduce other half-breeds,” Drake contradicted.
“Drake,
we know what happens when Vamean babies have vampire blood smeared on their
teeth. What happens if it is human blood?”
Drake’s eyes widened at the thought.
“Damon, are you saying… great Rahme this is why the Restok wanted Crys alive!”
“Shh! That’s my fear,” Damon hissed.
“But we can’t tell anyone about this. No one! Not even Crys. Do you know what
such knowledge could do to her?!”
“She
is battling enough personalities as it is.”
“If
we are not careful, instead of accepting one, she will accept both.”
“You
mean, like a multiple personality complex?”
“It
would be fatal,” Damon nodded.
“What
can we do? We cannot simply force her
to become a warrior!”
“No.
But by Rahme we simply cannot let her, or any
of the other Vameans, fall into the hands of the Restok.”
“You know, we could be wrong.”
“Of
course we could! But then again we could be right. Can we take that chance?”
“What
can we do? She has to take things slowly as she looks through her father’s
discs, or else she will overload. But the longer we wait, the more danger there
is.”
“We
have to take her to Vame Haven.”
“I hate rushing her.”
“Drake,
you know her best. She will go wherever you tell her. She’ll do what you tell
her. You have to explain why it is imperative that she come to Vame Haven as
soon as possible.”
“Damon!
I will not exercise that sort of power over her! That’s misusing her trust in
me. No. If she goes, it is her decision.”
“I’m
not telling you to bewitch her into coming. Just, find a way to explain why we
have to leave now, without telling her about our fear concerning the Restok.”
“Like
what, tell her you’re invited to a birthday party that you can’t miss?” Drake
retorted sarcastically.
At that moment, they heard Crys
leave the bathroom and Damon didn’t have time to respond, simply casting Drake
a stern look instead. She came into the living room and sat across from Damon
and Drake on the big armchair, drawing her feet up and hugging her knees.
Dressed in black sweatpants and deep
green hooded sweatshirt, her emerald eyes flashed in competition, trying to
out-color the sweatshirt. Her wet hair framed her face, her bangs fell into her
big eyes, and looking at her, Drake couldn’t help but think that she was just
like a little girl, lost in a big city, just trying to find her way home.
“So how’s my chocolate raspberry
doing?” Drake teased.
“Just
fine. How are you, egghead?” Crys shot back, grinning from behind her knees.
“What
a horrendous waste of cocoa your escapade was,” Damon lamented, standing up
from the couch. “Where did you two children put the muffins anyhow?” he asked,
walking towards the kitchen. “In the container on the top shelf of the
preserver,” Drake answered, waving vaguely toward the kitchen, as if it would
help Damon discover the muffins.
Crys’ head suddenly shot up from
behind her knees and she looked at Drake with a suppressed smile. “Drake? Did
you tell him about the gummy bears?” Drake’s face exploded into a horrified grin.
“No,” he said.
At that moment, they heard a loud
cough from the kitchen. Drake and Crys looked at each other in silent dismay
for a moment, before bursting into muffled laughter. Drake was trying valiantly
to keep his face straight, whereas Crys buried her face into a pillow, fairly
choking on her laughter.
“Come on, let’s get out of here,”
Drake whispered, getting up and reaching out for Crys’ hand to pull her from
the chair. He opened the patio door and they both slipped out. They ran for the
nearest tree and then collapsed on the grass, still laughing.
“Oh it’s a beautiful night,” Crys
sighed, staring up at the sky.
“You
want to see something amazing?” Drake asked, reaching for her hand. “Come with
me.”
He helped Crys up and led her
through the dark meadow. “Now be careful, the ending’s a little abrupt here,”
he whispered, slowing their steps. Crys strained to see, and as her eyes
refocused, she saw that the ground beneath them suddenly dropped. What seemed
like thousands of kilometers further down was a field of flowers, bordered by a
ripple-less lake, gleaming like a new mirror, its colors shimmering alternately
blue and silver as the moon gazed upon it.
“Oh, Drake,” Crys gasped, clenching
his hand for fear of falling.
“Amazing,
isn’t it?” he murmured.
“The
lake, the sea of flowers, the moon, and all those stars,” Crys said softly,
tilting back to gaze at the sky. So enchanted was she with the sky that she did
not notice Drake looking at her much in the same way that she was gazing at the
sky. Still looking up, she lied down on the grass with Drake, their hands
interlocked as they watched the stars sparkle.
For a while longer they stared in
silence, before Crys turned to look at Drake. “They can’t be an accident, can
they Drake? Someone that beautiful was put up there for a reason, wasn’t it?”
she asked. Drake smiled. “No I think you’re right. They are no accident.”
“But
who put them there? I’ve never seen stars like this before, they’re the most
beautiful thing you’ve ever seen, aren’t they?”
Raising their interlocked hands,
Drake was silent for a moment before he answered. “They’re beautiful, but
they’re not the most beautiful thing I’ve seen,” he finally said, softly. Removing
her hand from his, Crys looked at him questioningly. Asking himself whether he
had taken complete leave of his sanity, he continued, “If their creator were to
put all of those stars together into one dazzling star, it couldn’t outshine
the beauty I see every time I look at you.”
Crys remained deadly silent and for
a few horrendous moments Drake wondered if he had maybe damaged their
friendship for good. As he looked over at her he saw that her entire body was
trembling, and when she sat up it became clear that she was crying.
“Crys!”
“Drake,
I, oh, I, you, all this time, you,” she babbled. Getting frustrated with
herself she took a deep breath and tried to speak coherently. “All this time,
I, you, I thought, it was just me, and, you, I, oh, why’d you say that?” she
stammered, still barely able to bring out a clear sentence amidst the tears.
“Because I’ve always loved you and I
can’t stand keeping it in me a moment longer, even if it is selfish to admit it
to you,” he answered.
“You,
I, all this time, I,” Crys fell into incoherent stammers and tears once more.
“Crys?”
Drake asked tentatively.
“I,
I’m fine. You, I, o—oh!”
This time Drake didn’t let her
finish. He wrapped her in his arms and she collapsed against his chest, still
crying. For a long time he sat there rocking her, as she fought the tears and
tremors that raged through her. His revelation had completely stripped her of
the barriers she tried to hide behind for so long, and the truth that he felt
the same for her that she felt for him completely unnerved her. As the minutes
passed and she realized he was still holding her, and that she had not imagined
his words, her breathing calmed and the tremors stopped.
Taking a last deep breath, she hugged
him back and finally whispered, “I love you too.”
She
never saw the tears of relief that filled his eyes. She never felt the single
drop that fell on her hair as he buried his face in it and kissed her head. She
only felt his arms around her tighten, and only heard his soft whisper, "I love you Starshine."
What are ya'll's thoughts?
-Naamarie-
♥Starshine†Faerie™ | | |
| Vame Haven Synopsis & PrologueLog 12
60281027
If I don't get this out in the open I will EXPLODE.
I sent Vame Haven's synopsis, prologue, and first 5 chapters to a literary agent! ! !
I'm scared to death. I do not know what I fear more, a rejection notice, or nothing at all. If he doesn't respond, then I am spared his cruel words, but if he responds then it was worth his time to write the cruel words.
Oh dear.
Here I post for everyone the prologue and synopsis. Tell me what you think loves?
I shall update the rest of the world about my life tomorrow hopefully. If I haven't died of heartfailure before then.
Naamarie
-Starshine-
Synopsis
"Crys is a Vamean. This startling revelation is brought to her by her
best friend out of the blue, in the dead of the night. She is a
half-breed, half human and half vampire, which makes her a potential
threat to the vampire's greatest nemeses, the Restok. After so many
years living in bliss ignorance of her true identity, Crys is abruptly
thrust into an entire new world unknown to her. After a malicious
attack from the Restok that leaves her family less, Crys' only anchor
is her best friend, Drake, who is a vampire, and her self-appointed
protector.
After a narrow escape from the Restok, Crys is
confronted with what it means to be a Vamean warrior, and that she is
more than just a Vamean, but one of several Vameans prophesied by "The
Vamean", Rahme Tresmont, thousands of years ago. Denying her identity
as a Vamean will lead to her inevitable death at the hands of the
Restok, yet accepting it promises a lonely and dangerous life as a
warrior leader of the underworld.
As the rest of the prophesied Vameans are found, Crys is joined by the
fun-loving and vivacious Jake, prankster Ryan, serious and diplomatic
Roscoe, happy-go-lucky Hannah, and the quiet, withdrawn Rebekah. As
these Vameans, guided by the underworld's head senator, Damon, start
down their destined path, they must eventually realize that their fate
is leading them to something much greater and more horrific than anyone
had anticipated. Suddenly, they are left to fend for themselves, as the
Restok's intricate web of lies and evil infiltrates the underworld, and
they alone have the power to put a stop to it; if only they could find
the key.
It is now that they must rely on each other and strengthen their bond
if they want to survive, but instead they seem to be distancing
themselves. Distrust grows as accusations and lies spread amongst them.
Are they ever going to get out of it? Can Jake and Crys find a way to
pull the group back together, without Drake and Damon to help them?
What is the secret behind the Restok? Can they prevent the impending
doom for vampires and humans alike? Only Rahme can say... "
Vame Haven
In the year 2978, North and South
Korea became one; both halves were under communist rule. In 3625 China, Japan,
Taiwan, and Korea built an alliance with Russia, known as the Rujakotach
Alliance, to take over the world. The United States, Canada, United Kingdom,
and Australia built an alliance, called the United C.A.S.K., to resist the
Rujakotach. The rest of Europe refused to ally with either side, building their
own alliance—the European Old Guard. A third world war broke out as the United C.A.S.K.
fought to keep their territory, the Rujakoch Alliance fought to take over the
territory, and the European Old Guard fought to keep their territory as well as
take over any territory they could.
Then, complications arose in the
European Old Guard, as France and Germany argued bitterly over where the EOG
headquarters should be located. Finally, Germany turned on France and conspired
against them, turning all other countries in the EOG against them, and wiping
France’s population out. Germany became headquarters for the EOG and became
determined to rise in power and recognition. The world would fear them. Their
fight for survival turned into a fight for domination.
The war lasted for 75 miserable
years. As the years went by, the difference between United States, Australia,
Canada, and the United Kingdom slowly dispersed; the four countries were
referred to as one: The United C.A.S.K. They became one government and one
country officially in 3668.
As the United Cask alliance flourished, the other alliances began to
falter and fail. Japan turned against Russia, Korea snubbed China, Italy spited
Spain, and Hungary raged against Czech. The only alliance that held together
was the United Cask. The true reason was never discovered; the presumption held
by the public was that they were the only alliance fighting with valor. While
valor and honor were part of the reason, they were not the main reason.
With wit, intelligence, and determination, they managed to arrange treaties
and contracts with Japan and Korea. If they surrendered to the United Cask,
their original territory would be restored, under United Cask government, with
full pardon. In return, they had to help put an end to the rest of the
rebelling countries. Taiwan, China, and Russia refused the contract, joining
the EOG alliance instead. As country after country in Europe was utterly
destroyed, however, Taiwan and China followed Japan and Korea’s example.
Russia, Italy, Spain, and Greece fell one after the other as the United
Cask wiped their civilization out with bomb after bomb. It wasn’t until half of
Germany lay in ruins, however, that what was left of the EOG surrendered.
The United Cask rebuilt and modernized the destroyed countries as well
as Japan and Korea. The greater part of Germany was rebuilt, but parts of it
remained as they were before the war. No explanation was asked and none was
ever offered. It simply remained a mystery.
By the time the year 8000 arrived, the greater part of the world enjoyed
peace and modern convenience under the United C.A.S.K. government. All parts of
the country were lost in the hubbub of happy lives, well-paying jobs, and easy
travel. Only small parts of Germany, with their villages and houses of the 31st
century were isolated. Though they lay merely 200 kilometers from the large
cities—and with modern transportation, these trips took no more than 10
minutes—they were a world of their own. And, as is usually the case with little
worlds like this one, strange, and sometimes even supernatural things can
happen… things that could change the world… things that the world never
discovers…
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660282
Someone from Hong Kong keeps viewing my site. And I have no idea how they find it because the referrer url is always blank.
That's kinda creepy.
And tomorrow's my birfday. I'll be 18. WOOHOO
-Cryssie Leah
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