Family.

Yesterday afternoon, my aunt tagged me in this picture my aunt  Donna (http://www.spinningdaydreams.com/blog) painted. Underneath that, was a link to Chalk dust and rain. The story had inspired her to make this beautiful painting. 

It brought a tear to my eye as I tried to figure out what to say. A swirl of happy emotions went through me, but how could I express that in a Facebook comment? I ended up just saying that I loved it, and adding a heart next to that. But what I wanted to express was;

"I am honored, and I miss you guys so much it hurts" but I didn't want to just say that, because I... Wasn't sure how it would end up seeming to her after it went all the way to Michigan. She then said she wished I could have modeled for her and a peice of songbird broke inside of me and began to sing to my heart. 

So that's what I'm writing about today. Family. We're all spread across the world, and sometimes I miss them a lot, but if we lived closer, would things like this be as special? Because art is a powerful thing, and every single person on my moms side of the family holds it like a peice of chi a in their hands, proudly showing time this world. 

And it's beatuful. My Aunt Raquel recently started a YouTube channel for food, because, well, she makes awesome food! (http://youtu.be/Comizj7ktek) the youngest of the sisters, Merrianna, who is a writer, started posting an awesome short story series called green speaker! (http://www.greenspeaker.com/)

It goes back further. My great grandfather built a beautiful house out of quarry!

My great grandmother painted these porcelain sculptures in a way that made them come to life!

Everywhere I turn, I am encouraged by someone, somewhere, inspiring me, or being inspired by me. And it makes me so happy. It makes me happier than so many things, and even though I wish we were closer, our hearts go out to eachother in a simply wonderful way, a way that only those few chosen by God to have the hands to create words or paintings or stories or food or just a smile out of clay and bring this world a family. A real family. 

I love you guys.

And I can't wait,to see you again.

And here is a poem. It went everywhere, but it's got tons of heart put into it.

Do you think that he put us far away so our hearts could be together?

Do you think that when I'm inspired once, I inspire you forever?

I think that every day that I am far apart from you

My mind and your heart come together more, it's true.

Because, to put it simply,

I love you.

Because I put simply, 

It's just true.

Do you think that the paint strokes you put across the page

Can calm my heart when I'm in a fiery rage?

I think that very day that the sun shines it is true

My heart reaches out to touch the Sunrays that are you.

Because, to put it simply,

I love you.

Because I put simply, 

It's just true.

When this sun goes down 

and my day turns around

Then I think of you so far away.

I wish that I could go and stay.

And the moon comes up because some of us are night owls. 

And they stare at it for hours upon hours.

And if you feel my heart heat

Even know it's off the beat

Then, to put it simply,

You must love me too.

100.

I want to take a trip on a plane, just once in my life.

I want someone to know me that I don't know.

I want to go back in time and believe that I don’t know the future.

But I know I can't.

Live in the moment, they say.

Find your own way.

Follow your dreams.

Sing like no one’s there.

But maybe, I could just shut myself in a big room with a couch and all my friends.

Maybe those who I want to know better could be there, too.

Maybe we can watch Doctor Who and eat chocolate and have healthy religious debates.

But no.

This is the real world, and I can't do that. So when I'm desperate to meet one of my best friends in the world,

Or enjoy a friend I can’t know anyone,

Or find the red-headed little girl who was my best friend in the world,

Or go back in time and tell my little self to enjoy getting her hair brushed, and take care of her things.

I can't. But I can enjoy every single moment possible moment in this part of my life.

Taking deep breaths after walking off my church stage.

Laughing over bacon and a cheesy move with my sister.

Singing in a lonely house.

Sure it's not perfect, but I have a wonderful life. And even though change is the wordy thing I will ever have to deal with, I can take a deep breath.

And another.

Because that is what life is.

Breathing deep.

When it hurts the most.

maybe smiling is hard, and laughing harder

But maybe, just maybe, it's the easiest part.

And every single word in this “story” is real.

And it makes me cry.

And it makes me smile.

It makes me tired.

But it gives me hope.

But I still get a thrill when someone says something I made is beautiful.

I still want to cry.

And hug them forever.

Take a deep breath now. For me.

Is it hard? Is there a piece of something inside of you that gives you hope? If not, find it. For me, it's my family. My friends. My music. This blog in the corner of the internet, ignored by most, but I hope loved by some others. And that is, forever more, what hope is.


There you go. My 100th post. With the one year anniversary for this blog just around the corner, it shouldn't be so exiting for me. But it is. :-) thank you everyone, and enjoy your lovely Wednesday.

Chalk dust and rain

This story means a heck of a lot to me, and I started it a while ago and am just finishing it up now. I don't want to tell the whole story right now, by it involved many tears and lots of pain. So this is actually based off of something that happened in my life. The details are hazy, but,still. This is true. 

This is inspired by true events.

I smell rain in the air and clouds over head. I clip my hair up in a bun and shove my headphones over my ears, opening the door and walking outside. Evan and Jaron’s Make it better is played into my ears from the headphones and I smile the tiniest bit.

I don't know what's happening to me

I can't remember things I used to believe

I caught myself just the other day

Stealing color from words and leaving them gray. 

I sit down on the patio chair for a moment, staring at the chalk drawings my sister did earlier today. Since it’s going to rain, I think to myself, rocking back and forth a little, Those will be gone soon. I feel one raindrop fall onto my hand, and my smile grows for a second.

Yeah, I've fallen down a time or two

But no one was looking so I'm not telling you

And suddenly, I’m on my feet, a piece of chalk in my hands. The chalk touches the wood of the porth and begins to move, up down and around, making letters. I didn’t even know I was going to do this until I did. The first word, I know what it is and it’s done before I know it. Like the beginning of a letter, it addresses who I’m talking to. Who my words are talking to. 

RAIN 

Though I continue after, the words slipping and spilling out of me like an overflowing cup. Words that have been waiting for weeks, even know I felt fine until now. I felt great until I had this piece of pink chalk in my hand. 

I've got to make it better, make it all right

Got to find me a ladder to reach the light

Got to move to the exit, single file line

Before the fire spreads to my head and burns my mind

WASH THIS

I’m breathing loudly, but the soft music is so loud I can’t hear it. I feel one more raindrop on my skin and begin to write faster. 

AWAY.

Under that, in smaller letters, I keep writing, though the letters are so small you can’t really read them because of all the chalk dust. 

ALL THE SECRETS.

I’m gasping and tears are falling, though only as occasionally as the rain drops. 

ALL THE PAIN. 

I don’t know if I can keep writing, because all of a sudden I can remember why I’m writing this, why I’m hurt, why everything bad has ever happened to me. And it hurts. But the piece of chalk keeps on scratching and wobbling against the wooden slats of the deck. The pain hurts, but I draw the pain out  of me with the words I write. Because that is why I write.

ALL THE LOVE. 

As soon as I write it, I feel a pang in my chest. I want to take the words back, though I know they’re true. I press my lips together firmly and sign my name underneath it. 

I sit outside. And wait for,the rain to come.

I walk back inside, and wait for the rain to come. 

I pace the house, and wait for the rain to come.

But the rain does not come. 

I poured my soul out onto rotting wood, and still it was not washed away. I wish it was.

I wish the pain could be rinsed clean like a dish of greasy food.

I wish it could be thrown into a bin like compost, turned into something wonderful. 

I wish something would happen. But the clouds just sit there in the sky. I take a deep breath and close my eyes. I wanted to remember this for a long time, but this hurts. And the pain is not going away. I put my headphones back on, squeeze my eres shot tightly, and listen to Jo from little women scream her heart out about the fire within her. And I don't look out the window. And I don't look out the window. And I turn up my music, and I don't.

I don't look out the window.

Finally, the song is done, and I run up the stairs, not looking at the windows. And I bury myself in my pillow, and I dare to open my eyes. 

Rain.

Mirror: chapter three

Chapter 3

I walk to the window, my face a cringe of sadness. Rain pours outside and I can’t help but wish I could go dance in it. But no, I am an adult. I am a grown woman. I need to stay calm, feel the wind, and go inside. That’s what my old chamber maid told me before she died. 

You are surrounded by so much death, and yet you are alive. Have joy. The voice says, and I bite back a scream as always. I sigh and walk away from the window, but I look back at the last moment. Thunder claps for me, laughing at my pain, but I don’t care. I don’t care very much. But you care a little. 

“Begone.” I whisper to the voice. “Just leave.” 

You don’t want that. 

“I think I do.” 

If I left, you would be nothing. 

“No, I am a living, breathing, woman who is scared, and someone is living in her head. And she relives her pain every night, and she wishes that the voice was gone, that the dreams were gone. And they aren’t. And the voice that invades her thoughts and dreams and fears has the nerve to tell her that she is not a real person.” My anger boils over, hot bubbles rushing everywhere on my vision. 

You’re wrong. 

“You leave, please.” I’ve said those words so many times. It does nothing. It never did, except sometimes is makes the voice stop. But not normally. I keep my scream back, not wanting to do anything. But I know a long piece of parchment with todays activities is waiting for me in my room, rolled up with a red ribbon around it. Maybe a surprise visit from my father, but I don’t want it. I don’t want the life of someone who lives in fear of her father, because it’s too much. Because I want to love him, but I can’t tell him everything that I want to. I can’t tell him that magic is real, that I have seen magic. That magic lives inside of me. That magic is me. I realize I’m not moving, and that I am crying. I just want to run into my rood and stay  there forever, but I don’t. 

I go to my room, avoiding the mirror. I put my hair up securely, change into a more regal dress, with a hoop skirt, ivory silk, and platinum furnishings and grey leather gloves. I put on shoes and apply rouge to my cheeks and charcoal to my eyelashes. Then, after locking a thin glass hairbrush in the closet, I walk out of the room, and down the hall. I am focusing on walking, and I feel someone bump against me, and then I hear a noise against the wall. I turn and see Samuel on the ground, cringing, tears spilling out of the corner of his eye, a trickle of blood coming onto the wall. I gasp.

“I am so sorry.” I whisper. “Are you okay, Samuel.: My voice becomes rough, but I don’t care. I hurt someone, and if I’m not careful, I’ll hurt them even more. He smile a little through the pain and I laugh in relief

“I am fine, princess.” He corrects himself quickly. “Er, Crystal.” I laugh again, a genuine laugh. 

“I’m glad. I’m so glad. I’m so, so sorry.” I babble. He shakes his head.

“It’s fine, Cryst-” I cut him off, putting my hand out to help him up. 

“No, it’s my fault. I was barraging through the halls, not paying attention.” He nods. 

“Fair enough.” He takes my hand and stands. “Though I would get executed for doing the same to you.” I laugh again, letting got of his hand and adjusting my glove awkwardly. 

“True, but people of royal blood do things wrong, too.” Samuel nods. “I of all people should know.” Samuel kisses my hand, and I hand him my handkerchief. He looks at me, confused. Then I remember that in the lower village, that’s a sign of courtship.

“For…Your head.” I whisper. He nods, taking it from my hand. 

“Thank you.” He presses it to the bloody patch, walking briskly down then hall. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

The paper in my hand shakes as I go into the council room. It's high ceilings and tall ornate wood chairs are full of pomp and I try. Ot to spill my ink. My father has asked me to sit in on the council meeting. I agreed heartily, but I of course was lying. My head hurts as I pick up a quill, focusing on it, trying to slow my heart beat and making sure not to turn it to glass. I take in the three councilmen, my father the King in his throne at the end of the table, which is far too long for it's purpose. 

“Princess.” The first member of the council, Councilman Johansson, nods to me. I smile and try to ignore the dread in my heart. 

Breathe in and out all you want, but eventually you will have to give in. I am you.

No. You're not! I want to scream, but I don't.

 “Let us begin.” My father says. I nod and dip the pen into a bottle of blue ink. 

“The forest is full of bears, and they've begun to come into the town just outside the castle grounds. It'd this continues, they could come here, and that could be a problem.” Councilman Johansson says. I write down what he says in Latin, not our own language, Tathern, because not so many read it, so if the documents were ever to be found we would be safe. I frown.

“Is not it already a problem?” I ask, my voice loud and clear before anyone else can speak. “The villages are being invaded by bears. Why did we not take care of this when it was first a problem for our great city?” I am surprised at my boldness, and I close my mouth quickly. The thought had barely crossed into my mind before I spoke. I can not help but wonder if it was really me who said that, or the voice did. 

My father sighs and puts his face in his hands.everyone glances around, as if I just made a terrible mistake. I remember hearing vague rumors about making the King mad during a council meeting, and I take a deep breath as he opens his mouth to lecture me. 

“Princess Crystal, it is not your place to-” He begins, But councilman Baudry speaks up. 

“She has a point.” He says, rubbing his heart in apology for interrupting his king. “I do not like to be wrong, and I am so often, but I admit it when I am. The villages should fake as much priority as the nobles.” I had always looked up to Councilman Baudry, but now I smile wide as everyone else nods. 

“I suppose that is correct.” Councilman Johansson admits. I try not to grin and continue to write. The third councilman, Jaques, speaks up.

“The sentiments of this are very nice, but what are we going to do about it?” Everyone turns to the King. He looks off into the distance, his face set in a thoughtful frown. I dare to raise my voice again. 

“What if we moved the wall guards to the outlying villages, and move the kings guards closer to the outside of the building?” Councilman Jaques nods.

“That would be a good idea. But who would protect the king?” I think for a moment. 

Does he really need twenty people watching him at all times? The voice asks.

“We’ll have only two guards to watch him.” I say boldly. “The most agile and the most experienced.” Everyone nods.

“Who would that be?” My father asks skeptically. I smile.

“I know just the two for the job.”

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~

“Samuel?” I say, my happiness exploding when he smiles and turns around, walking towards me.

“Princess.” A maid I pass says, and I nod my head to her.

“Hello.” Samuel moves towards me too, and I take a deep breath.

“I have some blessed news, and the council said I could give it to you.” He nods, his brow creased in thought. 

“Alright, thank you.” I smile and let the words slip past my lips, unable to speak slowly. 

“you are being promoted to king’s guard along with MacArthur.” The two have worked together since Samuel became a guard, and MacArthur has been working under the King for a decade. Samuel looks at me, struck numb.

“You are serious?” I nod, my smile growing.

“As I ever am.” He laughs, and I do to, overjoyed to see him as such. Vulnerable, joyful, and better off.

“Who do I have to thank for this?” He asks, and my smile fades into nervousness. 

“Who suggested the promotion?” I ask, my face sweating a little. Samuel nods.

Stupid girl. Calm yourself. 

“I did.” I say. “At the council meeting today.” He laughs, his eyes lighting up.

“I can never thank you enough!” He takes my gloved hand and kisses it. I smile.

“I am just trying to be who I want to rule as one day.” I say. Samuel shakes his head.

“You are going to be amazing at that, by the way.” I shake my head.

“If only you knew what had to be done before I would be fit to rule.” The words come out as if they were bottled up inside for a long time, and I did not know it.

“No. You are perfect.” I feel a tear slip out of the corner of my eye, and Samuel leans in and kisses me on cheek. I touch it gently. 

“Thank you.” I whisper. “That means a lot that someone thinks that.” I take a deep breath, blink four times, and curtsy.

“Well, Samuel, if you are the king’s guard now, I guess I'll see you a lot now.” I smile once more and turn away, my cheek tingling and my heart beating in quick, short beats. “Don't.” I whisper, not of my own accord. It's the voice speaking. “Don't you fall in love.” I gasp. “Don't control me.” I whisper back fiercely. 

Im not controlling you. I'm controlling my own body, which you inhabit. And one day, that will not be the case.

Mirror: chapter two!

chapter 2

My eyes come open and I see I have turned my quill to glass. Cursing silently, I walk over to my locked closet, taking a key from over the doorway. I open it and set the quill on a shelf, among the other many things I have turned to glass. Pieces of hair, rattles from the nursery, circlets of silver, birds. Anything I was touching when the memory came back, or I just lost track of myself. I put it in this locked closet. The quill turned into red stained glass, shining like blood. I sigh and close the door, locking it tightly and carefully putting the key back in it’s place. I see out of the cover of my eye that the sun has just begun to rise. I sigh and turn to my dresser, picking out a dress to wear. After thinking through the activities I have planned for today, I choose a purple and cream dress of velveteen with white-gold trimmings. Even though I must live the sad and alone secret-full life of being my father’s daughter, I do enjoy the beautiful dresses. When I’m paying attention and not turning them to glass, that is. After managing to button it up all on my own, I take a the black cloth that covers my mirror off, and stare into in the mirror, where may face does not exist. Ever since I was  little, I couldn’t se myself in the mirror. Thinking I was a freak, I would get up early in the morning and get myself dressed and brush my hair, so the maids wouldn’t know. U put a cloth over my vanity for so long until I could make sure no one saw me pass right in front of it. A knock comes at the door and I quickly let my hair down from it’s pins and brush it out. I can’t see myself there. I put it in a braid over my shoulder and call out.

“Enter.” My regal voice comes easier after so many years. The door opens and my sister, Willow, walks in. 

“Good morning.” She says, glancing at the mirror. I smile back a little, getting up to put the cloth back on the mirror. 

“Good day.” I fit the cover snuggly back  on it, tying it in a know in the back. “What do you have planned for after your sewing lessons today?” Willow sighs and sits down on my bed. 

“My first riding lesson is today.” I smile, remembering when I turned13 and had to start riding lessons. 

“It is not hard until you have to learn side saddle.” I say, patting her on the hand and sitting down next to her. She tries for a smile and I try to remember innocent days. Sadly, I don’t know that I had any. “Don’t’ worry though. As long as you don’t get Master Smithe, you’ll be fine.” She laughs a little and  I give her a small smile. 

“Father says Master Smithe is an ‘Pompous man who knows much about his profession’.”I laugh, feeling giddy. 

“That is just another way of saying he is a brat who is good at his job.” Willow’s face lights up in an firework of  laughter. 

“I know.” My smile grows sad and I take Willow’s hand. 

“Look at you, all grown up. Soon you’ll be having your princess ceremony and be taking those vows to protect our kingdom.” Willow squeezes my hand and smiles.

“Soon you’ll be marrying the handsome King Saber and living in Scould with him.” I shake my  head.

“Who knows whether or not that is true?” I say, hoping it is not. A knock comes at the door and Willow rushes up to answer it. It’s two guards, Samuel and an older man I recognize from my childhood days called MacAthur. 

“The King wishes to speak with both of you.” I nod, quickly standing up and slipping my cream satin shoes on. Willow puts her hair over her shoulder and walks briskly out of her room, holding her head high. I smilie a little and try to follow her example. 

~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.~.

I only stumble the tiniest bit as I walk into the room, my smile not wavering at all as I go sit next to my father, taking a sip of water to cool my parched mouth. 

“mane lumen.” My father says, and I nod.

“mane lumeen.”  Willow says, taking a dainty bite of her jam and cheese toast. I mumble the greeting and serve myself a small scoop of strawberries and peaches. I eat it quietly, staring at the gas lamp in the middle of the table. My father smilies and has some small talk with Willow, which I tune out. My mind wanders to all the guards in the hall, Samuel among them. It’s silly to pretend that he or I could ever love each other, but it makes me forget for a moment. It makes me happy. I take a deep breath and set my hand on my father’s shoulder. He puts his hand over it and smiles at me. The smile is empty, I can tell. The smile never reaches his eyes. 

“What did you want, Father?” His smile wavers a little. 

“I just want to tell you something before it becomes palace rumors. You know how that is.” He laughs a little, but my face stays stony. He sighs and reachers across the table to take Willow’’s hand, squeezing both hers and mine. “I’ve been going to Wafe a lot, lately, and now I can tell you the reason.” He takes a deep breath, looking at me with his deep green eyes. “I am going to wed Princess Carlotta.” I gasp. Princess Carlotta is twenty seven, only ten years older than me, and no one likes her. 

“Um…” I whisper. “Why?” How could he just forget mother like that? Like the two children he had with her were nothing? Father laughs.

“I should think it’s obvious. I love her.” The words seem to slip over his tongue like they are nothing. 

“But…You loved mother, the Princess of Shoct. The woman you were married to. The one you grew to love slowly and wonderfully.” The words are loud and exactly what he used to tell me, before we both grew up. He looks hurt. He lets go of Willow’s hand, taking both of mine and staring at me squarely.

“I loved your mother like I have nothing else.” He says. “But she is gone, and I must create new roots to keep me on the ground.” There he goes with his principles again, acting like magic is not real. But I know it is. I am magic. I close my eyes for a moment, breathing the demons in and trying hard to breathe them out. Then I turn my attention back to him. I smile. 

“I understand.” I lie. I lie like I never have. I kiss him gently on the cheek, getting up and walking out of the room, my heart beating fast and tears coming down my face. 

How could he do that? When she died, he promised Willow and I would be the last ones he would ever love. I know there’s something behind it, because he would never. The father I love would never…

This isn’t the father you love. The voice says. I resist the urge to scream. 

“I do love him.” I whisper, my voice harsh. “Everyone has problems. You’re mine.” The last two words accuse the vocie of so much it hurts. 

No, dear piece of glass. You are my problem. I shake my head, the urge to scream rising. 

“You can leave any time.” I feel a shiver run through me. 

No. I keep you alive. You were born without a heart beat. 

“You keep saying that, but I think I would kow if it were true.” I want to believe that I need her, and that if I didn’t, I would have cast her out by now. 

I went into you, giving you this power, and helping you find who you are. 

“No.” I whisper, a tear slipping out of the corner out of my eye. “This is not who I am.” I stand up, walking around the room, my head spinning in circles so fast my mind becomes glass, my heart bleeding through me. 

Life is nothing, just a reminder that I’m not dead. 

“Life is pain, and you’re trying to sell it to me.” I say to the voice, ending the conversation by walking out of the room, though I know that the voice follows me wherever I go. 

Pictures and writing update

I went to Mcdonalds to get ice cream with my little siblings and my friend Paige yesterday, and some if the pictures turned out really nice, or at least I think.

She alway poses like this.

Sweet girl.

Ice cream!

My brother and some of his friends showed up after we got there to hang out, so that was fun.

selfie! OHorrible picture, I know. But it looks a lot better than the original, so I'm pleased.

Sweet dude.

Another selfie wht my girl.

Jubby with her ice cream.

I was sitting next to her, so I got a lot of pictures of her.

This may be my favorite black and white that I've taken.

A favorite.

This is filed under "doesn't go with post theme, but posting it anyway."

This one was an accident, and I really love it.

Now, a writing update. I just finished chapter three of Mirror! Yay! So I'm posting the next two chapters soon. Stay tuned, because this is getting to be amazing fun!

Tea photo shoot

My little sisters were having a tea party so I took come pictures of my tea. Enjoy!

Mirror:Epilogue and chapter one

Epilogue

I still remember the whole thing. Everything he drilled into my head. Everything he said to me too many times, so many times that I almost dreamed it instead of the voices and demons haunting them. But what’s the point now? Now that they are gone. It repeats in my head now. The words my loving father said so many times. 

“Walk slowly into the room, careful not to trip. Sing. Dance. Smile pretty. Look at your suitors with an inviting look in your eyes, but no too inviting or course. Don’t adjust your crown too often, that’s not very humble looking. Feel the beat of the music in 3 beats, never 4. You are graceful. Always remember that. You are beautiful, even if you don’t think so. I think so, and until there is someone else to tell you that, I will continue to.”

Again, what’s the point? I am done. My mind hurts, and I just want it to stop, even if I have to kill myself. I look at the stone in front of me, the black of my dress, and I let the demons take over. Just let them go. I feel glass cover my body and I shatter.

Chapter 1

I’m here. I’m dying. I’m bleeding. But most of all, I’m dreaming. I’m in a hole of black, the voices I always hear surrounding me like a poisonous gas. They tell me exactly who I am, though I think I know. I try to stay calm.

 The voices invade my dreams so I can’t rest even when I’m sleeping. I feel myself writhe around, covered in sweat, trying to jump back into my body, finding it inhabited with three voices, just as it always is. 

I know it is just me, because I have asked, but I can’t keep asking, because what are you supposed to tell your father who thinks you’re impossible already? Who thinks you lie? Who thinks magic doesn’t exist, though his daughter is inhabited with a demon. But he doesn’t know that. And he never will. The voice says. How can I tell him, the one who thinks only three things, being honest, being strong, and trusting, bind the world together? I can not, but I can be just strong enough to control a dream. I stand up, imagining that blood is gone. It turns to glass and falls to the ground, shattering, 

I ignore the voices telling me what my life is, because I know already. My life is hell. No one knows it but one, and it is hell. I blink. I blink again. I imagine my room, waiting for me, my maids, arriving to dress me for the day, the stone of my father’s castle strong around me. My closet full of more dresses than I need. My horse waiting for my daily ride. My crown sitting on the vanity, waiting to adorn my wavy black hair.I take a deep breath and shoot up in bed. There it is, everything, the voices quieting down a little. I take deep breath in through my nose, and out through my mouth until my heart slow enough I can feel my body. I realize I am digging my long finger nails into the palm of my hand. I take one more breath and stare out the window, looking at the moon to see what time it is. An hour past midnight. I know I won’t be able to sleep anymore, the dreams were too bad. I sigh and take a piece of parchment from the table next to me. I go to my desk and pick up a quill, dipping it in the glass bottle full of  ink. I think about what my doctor said yesterday. 

Record your thoughts. Then burn them or let them fly away. This will make you honest, make you become more like the roots of a tree. I sigh and bring the quill, dipped deeply in green ink made from emerald grass. My hand glides across the page, writing words in English and Latin. et voces in meo capite. Make them leave. Non potero. I want them to go. Scribe, dicunt. They’re wrong. Me frangis, vivificabis me. Shatter me, make me live. I take a deep breath, setting fire to the paper. The smell seems familiar, and I think I have smelt it in my horrible dreams. It is oddly comforting, though. On the first page I wrote, about three months ago, I wrote that I wanted to die. Now I want to live. I wonder if it really did help, or maybe I am just getting better. The dreams don’t come as often, and the voices are quieter these days. 

I get up and pace around my room a few times, my heart slowing down a little, then heating up again. A sharp rap at my door comes and I pull on a robe over my sleeping clothes and run to open it. The wood creaks and a young guard I’ve never seen before stands there, a pitcher of water in his hand. His brown eyes bore into me, worry creasing his brow.

“I smelled smoke, your grace. Is everything okay?” I sniff the air and remember my burning paper. My voice becomes formal and I cover up my hoarse voice. 

“Oh.” I shake my head, a prim smile crossing my face. “I am fine, thank you.” He takes a deep breath. “Just getting rid of some documents I don’t need.” I take a deep breath and the guard nods. 

“Alright.” He turns to walk away, but I put a hand out to stop him.

“Excuse me one moment, sir.” I say softly. He turns around.

“Yes, mam?”

“You can call me Crystal.” I tell that to all the guards, even if They work for me, they obey me. They never call me by anything but your grace or Princess Crystal of the house of <name.> Why would they treat me as a friend? I know he too, because that is what he was taught, will continue to call me by my royal name. Your grace. That is who I am to everyone. No one is my friend. He  smiles a little.

“Thank you, Crystal.” My gasp is small and short, barely visible. He accepted me too fast, almost. “And you can call me Samuel.” I smile, a real smile for once. I can’t remember the last time I smiled. Stop. I chide myself silently. It is too late for such thoughts. I go into my room and pick up my quill, scratching out the guard’s likeness onto a paper. Samuel. I don’t even know if I’ll see him ever again, but he called me by my name. It felt real, but I don’’t know. But his name. Samuel. I fall asleep with my face against the desk, and a smile against my face. I feel just a little giddy that I might have a friend, and the rest is worry for my many problems. Life is too fast and yet too slow to know who is your friend and who is an enemy. 

I take a deep breath and put the quill down, looking at the face in front of me. It ended not looking like the guard, and more like my father looked when I was younger. A crease in his brow, light brown soft hair, like the color of maple milk. A smile on his face, love in his eyes.  A small child’s hand is wrapped around his finger. I imagine he is looking at my mother, before she died, her blonde hair and green eyes beautiful and regal. 

The picture is one I have drawn too many times to count. Its lines come easily to my hands, and when I draw it, tears come easily to my eyes. I want to let go of the good times, but I can not. I close my eyes and remember that fateful day when the link between me and my father was severed. Nothing keeps me from thinking of that day at this hour. This is the best time to remember. This is the best time to die again.

The drawbridge is let down, and the carriage is driven further and further away from my view. My small hands, the hands of the child  I am, rub against the window, rubbing away a little of the frost on it. Tears stream down my face and my other hand reaches down to tug at my heavy black dress. 

“I miss her.” My sister Willow sobs into a maid’s lap. “I miss my mommy.” The tears spread wetness all over my face, making it a flood of loss and pain. I sigh,because she will never know the pain I feel. She will forget the next day. I, however. Will never forget. I run out of the room, leaving behind crying people and a trail of tears. 

“Why?!” I scream, a shiver running through my body, as if something is awakening. “Why should I live, if she must die?” A voice comes from the depths of my chest, right next to my heart. 

You are alive, it says. Because I gave you the blessing of life. I run into my room and shut the door. I'm sure fear shows on my face, ad I can't have people see me like this. Not when father’s reputation is running away, not with the rumor, untrue as it is, that he killed her. Though I am a young child, I still understand that he needs me to stay strong, for him, for the kingdom. 

“Who are you?” I ask, trying to calm the tremor in my voice. “Why do I hear you so closely? How can I hear…You?” I listen carefully, but no more sounds come out from anywhere, inside of me, nor outside. I walk over to my window, pressing a hand to it, trying to steady myself. A shiver runs through my tiny frame again, and The window frame begins turning to glass. I scream and back away. It stops spreading, and I stare at my hands. My breath are quick and scared. I close my eyes, sitting on the very edge of the bed, trying to ground myself . My little hands reach up to my mourning wimple, crumpling it in my hands and holding firmly onto it. In a moment, it feels cold and stale. I move my hands away, and it looks like frosted glass. I rub my fingers against it. It is glass. Solid glass. The voice in my soul comes back, joined by others, so loud I can’t hear what they say. I do my best not to scream. Because a young child screaming will not do well for my father’s reputation. 

Photo Mishmash

Here's a bunch oof photos I took in the past while.

ANGEL FOOD CAKE!!!!

Not really sure where this came from... But it's a bit fun...

Anyway... Also, I'mgoing to post an interview on Wednesday and Chapter  one of Mirror on Tuesday! Yay! :-)

Kids and flowers...

I went to the park with my little siblings and a friend of mine yesterday, and took some pictures of the pretty flowers. :D 

I like this one so much. I edited it twice. I couldn't decide between black and white or bright, contrasting colors. Which one do you like best?

I got this shot between EJ climbing off the bench and running off to play and Clara complaining about how she wanted to sit in the middle. Considering, I like the way it turned out. 

It's not very often that I like black and white on my pictures, because I only have one black and white filter on the program I use, but by combining it with other filters, I can sometimes get one I like. 

I love the way the colors turned out on this one. 

And this one leaf on the ground I found there turned out being one of my favorite pictures ever. 

I didn't actually take this at the park, it was in the yard at a friends house, and the yellow made me so happy. 

Thanks for reading! What do you want me to write or photograph next? Would you like to see more pictures of people? More simple meaningful pictures like the one of the bench? Comment and let me know,and I'll see what I can do.