Snapshots of Horror

Snapshot of Horror Summery 

"We all have a little darkness in us. A broken man once said 'sometimes we have to chose between what is easy and what is right.' But is redemption really so simple? Or are we cursed to fall no matter our cause? Tsuna, I wish you knew the answer. Before you killed me." 

Prologue

"I wish I knew."

A cold dull grey building sat on a grey street as rain poured from the heavens. The heavy rain clouds refused to let up as the streets flooded and shadows darted among the downpour. It was a scene so cliche that it could have happened in a movie. At least that's what she kept telling herself. 

"Could you tell me why?"

Silence.

"Why did you-"

A dripping sounds vibrated around her. She clung to conscience even as it slipped from her fingertips. A tear trickling down her cheek. 

Footsteps approached her figure, reaching out, a warm hand - that should be cold to the touch she thought - cupped her face and brought her glazed expression upwards. Facing the culprit of her current situation, she struggled to keep the tears within. Gasping out her last words, her final vision was a wide sadist grin across the lips of her best friend (even now). 

"Why...Tsuna?" 

He leaned forward, his breath brushing against her ear in mocking endearment, and whispered lovingly. 

"Because I love you, Sora-chan." 

Childhood Understanding

Long ago,

There was a memory,

That called quietly,

Among these shattered dreams,

That fill my haunted history,

Little girls and little boys,

Dreamers of the future time,

Stumbling and dancing childishly,

On the gravel playground, 

We thought we could take the universe,

The heavens and the earths,

Oh how foolish we were,

In our past play times,

Yet I can't help,

But remember silly games,

The ones where we played pretend,

Wondering what could be?

Where knights, kingdoms, and dragons exists,

Where magic and music sung free,

Where flying free was not just a dream,

But a definite reality,

1, 2, 3,

Hide and Seek!

These little joys that leaped among the setting sun,

4, 5, 6, 

Tag You're It!

Chasing shadows in the presences of buildings so high,

7, 8, 9,

Ha! Got you! 

Imagination not an escape,

But something so much more,

Here we stand,

Under the rising sun,

Under the setting moon,

And I realize,

The creativity of a child,

Is not easily silenced,

If we only let go,

Of self troubles,

And remember,

Pain makes us who we are,

Since as silly as it may seem,

What doesn't kill me,

Does make me stronger,

It isn't easy,

But whoever said that,

(That it's easy), 

Clearly didn't understand,

The secret message, 

That if I hurt a little,

And I understand you,

Well, it might be worth it after all,

Since children,

Might be supposedly innocence,

In their beautiful simplicity,

It's this simplicity in a world so filled with complexity,

That little girls and little boys,

Who tango in the sunlight,

With laughter ringing free,

Understand that the details don't exactly matter,

When all you really need,

Is to say,

"Nice to meet you."

Questions

People are attracted to things they don't understand. It's a given fact, and seen many times equally in media, education, as well as in everyday lives. Sometimes though, people never realize some things are better left alone.

Have you ever been to an assembly where a veteran of war or a current officer still employed discusses their experience? And when the time of open question comes around, kids tend to ask the most harshest of questions?

Have you held a weapon?

Have you shot someone?

Have you bombed a place?

Have you killed someone?

But what I found most interesting was a question a kid whose face I couldn't see among the sea of faces.

Have you ever been scared before?

The question struck me as odd, since while humans can be compassionate. Put them in front another to ask whatever question pleases them and especially if the person in question has a violent career, you have a blood thirsty mob ready to judge instantly.

However, perhaps it isn't always the case. There are some who understand the sensitivity of the topic and react accordingly. But then again, maybe those kids who ask the blunt questions were being respectful too since a soldier or warrior would respect honesty and bluntness. How would I know after all? 

Regardless, the question, what is your greatest fear is an interesting one. Maybe I'll expand on the idea the next time I post ;) Caio~

~Sora

Sleepless

Yo people of the internet! Or rather my fellow fandom obsessed readers, writers, and daydreamers. Let's just say I'm exhusted right now.

So what is the point of this post? Not much really, I thought I would just say I'm still alive for everyone who reads my stuff or knows me vaguely. It's just been rather busy with school and life in general really. But it isn't too bad I suppose, I'm just stressed because a lot is riding on what I do now in this moment of time. If that makes any sense whatsoever. 

Anyway special call out to Karasu and Tachi! They just did finals so I'll be praying for them as well. Hope they did well and have a blast for our last quarter! 

But hey, it's like what my favorite Duelists and Cardfighters say. It isn't over until the last card is drawn! So pray for me everyone that I survive intact these next few months and I'll pray for the same. 

Sora

Liar With A Face

Hello, Ladies and Gentlemen! 

I, the wonderous writer and ponder of daily things Sora, have decided to step aside from the stage tonight and instead another performer shall entertain you. Her name, called affectionally by me despite not being her true name, is Karasu. May her tale of lies, masks, and romance enchants you all. 

Let the show, begin! 

~ Sora

"Here is my guest post: "Liar with a Face"

For my dearest Sky, I have written a love story. 

She asked me to make a guest post related lying and acting, 

...and thus I present to you this story."

~Karasu

I'm not sure how I acquainted myself with the duke's daughter in the first place, but I'm sure it has something to do with the fact that she was my neighbour when I was a child. With blonde hair, blue eyes, and a weary smile that stained her dishonest countenance, she always wrought in me suspicion. Yet somehow, we became gradual friends and remained in touch even when we went our separate ways. 

No one knows her true face, really. She's unsure if she even has one to begin with. But as for me, I would object to such a sentiment. 

She is a compulsive liar, perhaps out of habit, or out of nature, or a combination of both. She never tells big lies, of course. Those are too heavy and she lacks the imagination and energy to hold up such a large façade, so she tells many, many small lies instead. They don't add up to one big lie, as they are all inconsequential and mostly unrelated, in the same way the colour of your shoes has nothing to do with what you'll eat for dinner tomorrow. 

Nevertheless, regardless if her lies are small or large, one thing remains true: her life is a lie.

***

She is a brilliant actress, able to completely immerse herself deeply and wholly into any role given to her. It wouldn't be inaccurate to say that she becomes one with her character. 

It's probably because the stage is the one place where she can be completely honest with herself. The stage is her truth, her reality, and her domain. It is where she reigns supreme as queen of the theatre.

But the instant she steps off, she is thrown into complete disarray. Lost and helpless, she is the fly that struggles in her own web of illusions. 

***

She bows and the heavy velvet curtains close, obscuring her in darkness. The audience stands up and claps noisily, impressed by her performance. Some of them dab at their eyes with handkerchiefs, lauding the four hour long tragedy that had been presented to them so artfully. 

I frown with distaste, not bothering to rise from my seat. I just don't get the appeal of a dragged-out sob story between a man and his lunatic fiancé. Yet somehow, these shallow people are entertained by such contrite drama.

Ironically, half an hour later, I'm the only one still sitting among rows and rows of red velvet chairs. I wouldn't be doing something like this if it were not for her. 

The liar. 

The actress. 

"Hello," she greets me, still dolled up in her stage makeup and shimmering red dress, blonde locks of hair cascading down her shoulders. She is beautiful, but I don't he'll her this. 

There is dissatisfaction in her blue eyes, and I know that she isn't about to forgive me yet. "Good evening."

"What do you think you're doing here?" she snaps. "Don't think I've forgotten."

I look at her for a few moments before rising from my seat. Walking up right next to her, I reply, "Of course not. Look, I'm sorry. I know what I've done was really wrong."

She doesn't say anything.

"But you know what? I think you've done plenty wrong, too. Why won't you just accept the truth?"

Her body stiffens, anxious. "Truth? About what?" she laughs drily. 

I hate that forced laughter of hers. It annoys me. "About yourself. About me. About us."

Those eyes of hers are now widening. She parts her red-painted lips, as if about to speak, but nothing comes out of her mouth.

"I apologised. Now it's your turn. We can still make this right."

"Two wrongs don't make a right."

"Well, this time, it can." 

The corners of her mouth quirk upwards. "Even if I say 'I'm sorry,' it's still forced."

Smirking, I whisper into her ear, "As long as you say it."

She closes her eyes for a moment. After a few minutes in silence, she finally says, "I'm sorry."

"Hah." I stand back, crossing my arms in triumph. 

"Don't think I really mean it," she warns me.

I study her face before giving her my verdict. "Liar."

"I'm not lying."

"You are such a liar," I accuse, closing our distance. "But for a little scion, you're really bad at it. You've always been bad at it."

She entwines gloved fingers in mine, red lips drawing dangerously close. "You're the only one who ever figured me out. Not even I could do it."

I chuckled. "Now you're just flatteri—" 

I was cut off by soft lips that taste like strawberries and cream. 

Sweeping her in my arms, in the dim light of the theatre, I kiss her back. 

Isolation, Can You Handle The Cold?

Hello my fellow writers and readers alike, welcome to another question of the week! I do hope you've all been having a good day but if you aren't. Regardless, my prayers are with you. (elegant sweep bow)

Now, the question this week is simple but complex at the same time. What is isolation to you? What is your definition of isolation and why? 

Isolation. It's my greatest fear, and my greatest comfort. Strange? I've seen, heard, and experienced stranger. But isolation for me, has been my companion from the moment I was born to now. 

We all crave some form of comfort from others even if we say we don't. I don't care if you're a loner, introvert, social outcast, rebel, socially awkwardly, and ect. We all need someone or something to keep us going. Even if we hate to admit it. 

My personal story, is that I'm descendant from three generations where everyone had a sibling. The grandparents, mothers, fathers, cousins, uncles, and aunts all had siblings. I'm the only one who doesn't. Let's add in the fact I'm a naturally socially awakard child, somewhat introverted, and you have a recipe for disaster. A lonely one. 

But I don't mind it. Honestly. Even now when all my close friends are far away and I barely see them day to day. Since I still stay in contact with them through text, call, email, and blogging. Plus, being alone teaches you the true meaning and worth of what is valuable. 

Watching and observing the world, it's amazing what people miss if they only stop, stare, and mediate on what they see about the world around them. Maybe they'll realize that kid they think is annoying and bratty is really just craving for someone to CARE, maybe that person who is watching the skies and barely paying attention to the current conversation isn't because they don't care but they are just too busy seeing how beautiful this world God made, maybe that shy person is really an unbelievable story teller, maybe that absolutely normal seemingly boring person is a hero, maybe that cruel individual is only because they forgot the meaning of LOVE and need someone to remind them, maybe that group of rebels are really supporting a life changing cause, maybe that individual you care less about will save your life someday, maybe you'll save their life, or maybe, that person will bring about a revolution of unimaginable levels.

Who knows? 

What I know is this, isolation taught me hatred, it's taught me love, it taught me pain, it taught me healing, it taught me damnation, it taught me salvation, it brought out the worse in me, it brought out the best, it taught me selfishness, it taught me kindness, it taught me the loss of dreams, and the discovery of them. It taught me failure and success, the difference between winning and succeeding. It taught me that GOD LOVES ME. That the good as cheesy as it sounds, outweights the bad. Most of all, it taught me life.

I'm not prefect. I'm imperfect. But I'm loved, and that everyone, no matter how alone you are. How damned you feel, you are LOVE. And that is what matters. 

So tell me, what does isolation mean to you? What is your definition, experience, and what has it taught you? 

~Sora

Originally Written Feb 14, 2015

Masks, Hide Me Not, Hide Me Yes?

Hello all! So here is my first guest post, merely since my best friend who I consider a brother started too and I was interested as well. We are all writers, readers, and dreamers after all. Therefore, I gave him a topic...masks. Since I'm sure all of you have wear enough for multiple lives... At least I have, but that is another story. So ladies and gentelmen, give it up for my brother in all but blood Richard Lee (also known as Tachi to me)! 

~Sora

Ps. Here is a link to his blog! http://thedailyhonorpress.blogspot.com/?m=1

Andy is the boy with blue eyes like an endless ocean of God's blessings, while the other boys my age seemed to beg for the same ocean. The girl he is always with tells everyone he knows Einstein's equations and Yellow Submarine on the guitar. He lets me wear his football jersey and kisses me on the cheek. We all roll our eyes, but burn inside.

I don't know why but Andy wanted to be my friend. I'll stand by you to the bitter end, he said. No masks because we're friends now. 

No masks he said.

We sat on his bed as he showed me how to form my fingers into a A-minor chord on his guitar. He wanted to teach me to play the guitar. Then his older brother came crashing into the room , all six feet two of him, and punched Andy straight on the jaw. Andy sighed, and I cried. Go away, his brother said, you don't want to see this. His parents will kill him. He dragged me to the door and locked the lock.

Andy didn't come to school the next day, or the next. When he did come a week later, his eyes were black and his face was cut in red.

No masks because we're friends now, I said. 

He gave me a glance.

A few days later the truth came loose. 

No masks, right Andy? You said no masks. Why did you hide it all from me, and take it all out on yourself? 

Till we meet again in Heaven, dear friend.