The Unheard Voice

This one I wrote some time ago. I could continue on it, and make it longer and more detailed and actually contain a plot, but it was an extended introduction I used for Dave and Aevan when I use to roleplay. It was s’pose to be built on within the roleplay, with otehr characters joining in by otehr writers. But… I only used it once or twice, and many people stayed away from it for some strange reason… -seriously doesn’t know- Tell me what you think pleaaase.

A girl screamed, but her gasp for breath was cut short, ending her life with a gurgle of panic. Blood dripped down the brick wall of the dark alleyway, the distinct large figure of a man bending over the pale and lithe form of the teenager. Her throat was almost completely hacked off, the muscle, bone and cartilage of what once might have been a beautiful neck was cast across the ground like discarded rubbish – which it now most certainly was. 

A light and jovial chuckle sounded from the silhouette, a grin across his smug face as he bent closer, his nostrils flaring as he smelt her torn flesh, the sharp scent of blood cutting at his senses, but he loved it. He loved every moment of his triumph. Until it was cut short. 

The wiz of an object flying at high speeds through the air caught the man’s attention, forcing him to look up, which he certainly shouldn’t have done. A moment later, a fairly well made arrow had pierced his right eye. Medieval, perhaps, but affective nonetheless. Through the thud of impact, no one who didn’t have stronger hearing than a normal person would’ve heard the smashing of glass, and no one but the victim of the arrow would’ve felt the certain liquidated metal that begun to run through his veins. 

Hissing, the man exposed his canines – no, tusks – and ripped the shaft and arrowhead clean from his eye socket, seeing he no longer possessed a right eye. Wincing in pain, the liquid metal running through his veins, the man stood up, and in one swift movement he disappeared into the night, to surely meet his death. 

A quiet whoop of joy and triumph came from the archer, his metal and modern bow lowered, and the spare arrow – just in case – stored neatly inside a small leather quiver on his back. 

“Okay, tell me that wasn’t fun?” He asked the two people behind him, shifting his body slightly so he could see them better. His fit frame was in great contrast to one of his companions, who was thin – but at least no one pestered him about it anymore. The feminine silhouette behind the thin and youngest of the three chuckled, her usual quietness broken by the new event in the night. 

“Yeh, it was fun. But if you didn’t just install the new formula on arrows, and made bullets out of ‘em too, it would’ve been a lot more fun for me.” She stated, turning around and walking in the opposite direction the killer of the adolescent girl went. As she approached the head of the alleyway, the pool of light that was cast from the street lamp illuminated her, before she turned around and was once more a silhouette. “I guess I’ll be seeing you two later.” She waved goodbye and walked away, the sound of her boots against the concrete fading into nothing before the last two companions turned to face each other. 

“You’ve been rather quiet tonight, Aevan.” The archer remarked, folding his bow in a way that showed he’d done it many times before. Slowly, he hooked it onto his back, near the quiver, and glanced down the alleyway in the direction on the killer. Shrugging, he completely ignored the dead girl and walked after the tracks of their female friend. 

Aevan, on the other hand, frowned after his friend, remarked something under his breath, and glanced sadly down at the teenager before sullenly following his friend. “Yeh, well, you’ve had nights when you were quieter, Dave.” Aevan replied, thrusting his hands deep into the pockets of his coat. “Dun ya think we shuld, uh…” He glanced back, the pale form of the teenager and glistening blood making him slightly nauseous. 

“No, we shouldn’t do anything about it, it’s not out job.” Dave replied, sighing sadly to himself. He glanced up at the street lamp as the reached the end of the short alleyway; his blond hair cut short and distant blue eyes sad in the bright glow of the light. “But I wish we’d get to these attacks quicker.” 

Aevan nodded, his longer and messy died red and black hair covering most of his face, which was naturally pale. His distinct features weren’t as sharp as his taller friends, darker perhaps, but certainly not as friendly as Dave’s. Aevan was what you’d call all right, not necessarily gifted in his appearances, but then again, he didn’t care. Pale green eyes glared out into the night, his black T-shirt under his dark grey coat was two sizes too large and torn in certain places, just as his messy dark blue jeans. Blood stained his clothes, which added to faithful appearances to ward off people, he hated it when people paid him attention he didn’t want – and dressing this way got him that attention – but he hated a perfect stranger coming up to him more. 

Dave, on the other hand, with his clean features, neatly cut hair and even neater grey shirt, loved being, well, the centre of attention – but not in ways he didn’t approve. His pale jeans moved with his form as he turned left, the opposite direction of the female friend, and calmly walked away from the horrific scene of a poor girl’s murder. 

Aevan sighed. No matter about his appearance, he certainly was a nice kid. But Dave, now you had your classic prat. How the two of them were good friends eluded their other companions at anytime. An age difference of five years – Aevan 16 and Dave 21 – a strange selection of stereotypes and even stranger backgrounds, these two would normally be outright enemies. 

But who cared. These were the streets of a collapsing city. And they were part of a group of people trying to keep it together. 

But for how long they could manage to keep it from tumbling to the ground, they didn’t know. 

Yeh, well, Hi. I really don’t feel like reviewing someone else’s blog. What I do feel like doing is posting junk I’ve written (by the way, I’m not saying their crappy, I just don’t want to sound up myself and say they rule… when they don’t.). So, yeh, whatever and here, a sonnet I was pretty much forced into writing, a poem that I also was forced into writing and… OMG another piece of writing I was forced to do (in my art class… I just like the description).

Lost forever and Alone Always - Sonnet
It’s always just a lingering thought
Lost in the swelling waters of a Reverie
Where things that were neve lost are being sought
Drowning in the tide of stifled memory
Could it be, will it ever?
The under currant dragging me down under
This could never be a ‘forever’
Like in a rip I’m being dragged away
This grip of emotional decay
More than this pain? I could never ever last
The downward spiral of this deceit
It should be thrown into the dark and morbid past
How could I ever keep this from you?
Of my understanding little secret self.
 

One Window is All I Need - Poem
One window is all I need
To expose my lies and insecurities,
For my emotion to come swelling back.
So instead of losing all that was said
And to stop another mask being put in place
One small window is all I will ever need.
Will you ever hear what I’m trying to say?
My words lost, the window open too wide
Exposed, am I just a lie?
Will you ever see what is there?
Is it obvious? This hidden despair?
This window exposing my secret self
For you to understand, one window is all I need.

Art Short Story about art Piece

 The Night’s Friend and the Hunter’s Game

 The moon was lingering far overhead and the stars twinkling down upon the red sands of the beach, illuminating what would be a dark and lonely night. The wind whistled across the waves that beat down relentlessly on the sands, refining the broken pieces of shell and rocks. The red of the sand darkened nearer to the water, the loud roaring of the ocean waves slowing down to a gentle lapping, so quiet you really had to listen closely to hear them. The night was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky, the velvety darkness pressing down on the world and its inhabitants.
Above the reddened sand and green waves of the ocean flew a silvery grey beast, its charcoal black wings beating to a rhythm only the animal could hear. A howl resounded from its open muzzle, echoing across the great expanse of sea and land. The rhythmic beating of its wings slowed, and the dog like beast surged downward, curving near the end of its nose dive and landing gracefully on the red sand, the water lapping around its great paws.
The Dog’s oversized tail swished playfully behind it, the great wings straightening so they reached for the sky, attempting to touch the far off stars. The Dog ruffled the floppy purple hair atop its head, flicking the falling fragments from its black, abyss-like eyes. He lowered his muzzle to the sand, sniffing suspiciously at the last few impressions of feet – which we so far gone a human would hardly have noticed them. The beast raised its head, glancing over its shoulder. The maker of the foot prints had gone that way. There were around three culprits, and the Dog could smell a sense of purpose with the last few hints that they had passed.
The large Canine howled again, raising its nose to the sky in a salute to the brilliantly shining stars and softly glowing moon, a thank-you for lending their light on such a night. The Dog growled as sand rustled behind him, the few whispers of the returning passers-by at this Point. He stared into the darkness, blessing his light reflecting eyes as he spotted the Hunters.
Fear and apprehension slipped its way into the cold interior of the Hounds mind, clouding its once steely judgment from any coherent thought.
The Dog howled mournfully. A gun went off. The thud of the fallen beast echoed across the silently lapping waves, the wind whistling across the ocean and sand, whipping up particles and throwing them into the eyes of the Hunters, and into the pooling blood of the beast.
The beast slowly shut its eyes, the darkness of the night pressing in on his consciousness, the cold tendrils of death creeping in, shutting off his thoughts, blacking out the pain and the joyful cries of the Hunters.
To them the Hound was nothing more than game. To the Night the Hound was nothing less than a friend.

Over 

Isn’t it… LAME??? -blinkblink- I don’t really like it, but all my otehr short stories are kinda… weird… O_o;; But yah, I like the one I wrote for lit. It’s based on a character of mine and what happens in a certain spot of his life. Like… a new student coming and the break-up of a relationship. Doesn’t go into to much detail over the break-up though, and what it put’s him through. I might make it into a multi-chapter story on FictionPress.com… -thinks-

Aww well. Bye bye.

OMG HOLIDAYS!! -does a strange little dance- I GET TO SLEEP IN AND BE MORE ALIVEEEE!!! -gigglesnort-

BYEEEE -runs off screaming excitedly-

Rockeh the Strange
 

Teachers? What do I think of them? Well, I can be vague with this; I don’t think much of them. But, in all of the lies in the world, this one is obvious. Of course I have opinions about Teachers; I just don’t like half of them. All in all, I have only about five favourite teachers. A few of the qualities those few teachers that I like have range from a fun loving personality; the ability to teach in an interesting way; are engaging; are funny and try new things to interest their pupils.
 

What does it mean to be a good learner? I have no idea, to tell you the truth. I’ve never thought about it. Perhaps it means to listen to everyone, learn from almost everything and put effort into what you’re doing. I have no idea, other than that, and attempting to tell you what the good qualities of a good student might be is a little far-fetched at this point. If I thought about it more I could probably tell you.
 

Expectations from this class? Lack of homework and understanding. I have no idea why understanding but yeh. And my expectations from you as a teacher, Mrs Mcleay, is to be open-minded in my topics of choice to write about. If melodrama is what I like, it’s what I’ll write about. =P
 

I don’t know what it means to have a good learning environment. Frankly I don’t really care for answering these questions. But… if I must… I guess it would mean to have the right utensils for learning, a good teacher and other students around you who are eager to learn – as well as the teacher being eager to teach.
 

And I’m skipping the last question. My brain isn’t working anymore. All I can think of is… well… William Dean Martin and his sexiness. Or… The band I’m part of, and how I’m going to be missing out on tomorrows practise because I have to go on an excursion with this class. It’ll be sad that I’m missing out on it, its our second practise and I love all the guys.
 

ANYWAYS! I won’t go further into detail. MELODRAMA ROCKS!

 Rockeh the Unstable O_o;;

 P.S. This message was not meant to offend

O_o;; I’m bored. Nothing interesting has happened today. I don’t expect anything to happen either. -shrugs- We almost froze off my friend Millie’s bellybutton today. She ate the ice… O_o;;

 I might be moving schools next year. To a co-ed one where I’ll probably end up practising my lonerism. =D Yippee… -rolls eyes- But I’m still thinking it over, Mum’s letting me descide if I move or not.

 I’m not really /learning/ anything. Science is boring and I ended up drawing some strange tattoo designs in my Little Blue Book.

 Laura’s doing strange things next to me. Help… please… -slinks away from her-

 Ooooh. I’m happy. I got A+ on a short story for my Literature class. She liked it. =D Which is good. ‘Cause writing is my passion and I love possitive feedback on it as well as C+C.

Has anyone noticed I’m picking random subjects to write about that are /boring/? I have… O_o;;

Uh… Mum’s forcing me to go to Phillip Island this weekend. It’s a little cold to go to the beach. But maybe I can beg her to take me surfing. I love surfing. Even if I stink at it. =P

 It’s friday… YAYNESS!! Sleep in tomorrow if I can, before I’m dragged off to the Island. And I’m gonna draw while I’m down there. Practice my shading and drawing folds in clothes. Or I could design some strange creature like thing…

 Okay… shut up Madi.

 … I’ve got a sticker on my forehead. =D

 Garness… I’m so tired.

Uh… I need to update both my ff’s… erg…… stuff P!ATD ff… -giggles evily-

ANYWAYZ LATERZ

Rockeh the Indestructable Emo. =P

I wrote something incredibly bad just before. But when I went to send it the internet gave out. Brillaint. (Sarcasm included)

 Anyway, my band will hopefully be doing our first practice soon. It’s all my doing if we do practice, we need some motivation and I seem to be the one with the most. Which is practically near none. -shrugs- Aw well.

Anyway. The thing with that is… We don’t have a guitarist. So, now I turn to my friend Eden. I think she plays guitar… Maybe I’ll just pester her until she tells me.

 Which means…

LATERZ!

 =D

We were once again forced to write an entry in our blogs. I was all ‘okay, cool’ but then I found out what I had to write. I was less than enthusiastic. Seriously, I would’ve loved to written something with a bit more.. topic. But ah well. -shrugs- 

Out of the things we have done in our writers journal the most important and helpful to me would be the unusual vocabulary. I don’t use grids for when I’m writing a short story of anything, and I don’t need my Personal Alphabet. I don’t care about that. So the most useful was the Vocab. Okay? Okay… 

I haven’t learnt much about me as a writer. I’ve been writing for a while. Hence the Roleplaying I was once so avid in doing. Bow I’ve partly lost interest seeing it’s hard to keep up with internet buddies while you’ve got school work to do. So I don’t have the time. And I don’t roleplay. So I read Fan Fiction, a lot. So interesting and so easy to catch up on, and you don’t have to write anything yourself unless you choose to review an aspiring authors work. 

 The few certain things I’m looking forward to in life in general include such things as when I get home from school. And… other things I can’t be bothered trying to write down. Things about aspirations for the future. 

I… don’t… really… have anything else to say… O_o; 

Oooh Laura gave me an idea. I’m going to see Panic! At the disco in October. How wicked is that?!11!!one =D I’m the only one out of my group of friends who is definitely allowed to go. But maybe that’s because my parents are more lax and I’m experienced in the concert department. I’m so excited about it though, and I hope all my friends can come. It’d be so awesome. The last concert I went to was Yellowcard, and I saw Trial Kennedy play. Trial Kennedy rock. But soon, (when I see Panic! I’ll get to see Kisschasy( for the third time) and Something With Numbers(for the first time) and it will be so cool) I’ll see my favorite bands play. But I also love From First To Last, My Chemical Romance, Senses Fail, Papa Roach, Circumsystem, Closure in Moscow and many others. =D 

So, see ya later –insert random word here ;D- 

-coughcough- Well, you don’t absolutely need to know these few things about me, but… You do now. >D 

 I don’t have many nicknames, mainly things like Mad and Madi. But I also have a few self appointed Screen Names, with such things as Poison Rose and Rocky. Across the wide land of the internet I am mainly known as Rocky. 

 I like things. You know, things that people like. But what I love is stuff. Which, in my strange way of saying so, is that I’m restricted with what information I can give you… But what the hey, might as well tell you a little something. 

Music is one of my passions. I love a whole range of bands, but I’m not so fond of Pop artists or R’n’B. My favourite genres are pretty similar to each other. I love Punk Rock, Emo, Screamo Emo, Indie Rock and Alternative or General Alternative. 

I’m the lead singer of a band, but we haven’t even gotten together and played even one note… That’s partly my fault. I just haven’t gotten around to setting a time to play together. Damn. 

Anyway. I adore writing. I write Fan Fictions. About different Bands, but I seem to love writing it from the perspective of a character of my own creation. I have only one published Fan Fiction at this present time, but it’s multi-chaptered and is uncompleted at this time. I’m only up to chapter Four and I love checking for reviews. I won’t make a link here, seeing it isn’t exactly… right to be publicly shown on this blog. My teacher probably reads it. =P 

I should probably rap this up, but one last thing. I draw, a lot. Mainly on this Oekaki I love. The people there are brilliant, beautiful and funny. I’m trying to get around to commenting more on their pictures, but I find it hard. I’m shy that way. I admire mostly everyone’s art there. Which is why soon I’ll be doing more Fan Art for them. =D 

So on my final, boring concluding note, I’d like to have you know that I hate writing bout myself sometimes. 

Bye bye for now!