A Small Glass of Pink-Python-Pink-Blossom for you Herr Rabbit...oh shucks, oh shucks!

A Lazy Beat...

(a night in Bali)

From his seat upon the house ornings, the stars his hanging roof,

Sat a man with no regards, music twisting from his throat...

He smiled his moon-like, Cheshire grin, his eyes glowing slits,

As he looked down upon me, sang and hissed 'Hey kid.'

His voice a lazy beat, as his heart beat a writhing tap,

His body coarsed with reptile electric as his feet spun him up the roof,

Sweeping a look behind, he gestured once to me, 'Wat's your game kid?'

As he spun and danced out of sight...

I caught a look again, as he played with the shadows and made soft hues with his voice,

He rounded upon me, grasped my hand and pulled me under...

further from light,

He inspired greatness, swang in corners, danced the streets with stars sparking fires...

his eyes their kinder.

Oh walking shadow, eternal mood...

Sing me at night, show me the way to your moon...

He smiled at this, tilted his hat, crept off into mist, swung back...

'Come' he said 'Find it yourself.'

Eyes alight, with a cats gleam...

hardened skin, he leaps...is gone.

Night.

 

 

I have been gone for a century and one...

returned from behind the earth and in it,

I took the sailing boat right and then north-east...

and told an old tale for passage across,

they took me to be another...

with the broken trails of silver and gold,

I tug here and there about...

Through a hallway,

where shadows take form...

and grin at me with yawning mouths,

moths...

 

 

I took up the coat,

took up the banner-flute...

and called the dark creatures,

that are more and more to me...

like an old forgotten tune,

that is true and belonging to me...

What is shade is not always hideous,

and what sounds horrid can be

 the most marvelous of fates...

I travelled back to the halls of stone,

where the statues creep...

and the flowers weep,

at what we have done to gain our names...

I see through the dust,

to a faded light...

I seize the rice from the bowl set there,

I turn around twice

and chant 'lot's of rice'...

the Sinister Meeting Room calls,

I am ushered in to begin again...

with someone standing with me ten thousand years before.

 

 



 

     

  Well hello there....

 

    I have recently had so much inspiration for my stories and just life in general. Maybe I'll learn to become an architect...maybe I'll create a character called Miss May Be.

    The other night I happened to be chancing a casino under the guise of Scarlett to any questionee there and I stumbled across four or five different people that so...intrigued me. They all wore black outfits, including the girls with them and they were very well-made clothes. It was also that they just held an atmosphere about themselves...that they knew something and even though they were there and gambling, it was all a mere bit of humor to them.

     They also...ahm were wearing identical matching amulets. Very goth...and [I'm serious] in the rough shape of a dragon with a drop of red glass beneath the creatures' tales.

 

    I soo wish I knew if they belonged to some elite, dark and intelligent group...or cult. :]

Gave me heaps of ideas for new stories...but, alas...I have so many other stories going on in my head right now, and that I'm working on that it may need to sink back into the Story DreamTime for a while...until it develops more.

 

   Wishing you a merry Christmas and a billion pink pythons...

 

    Much Love,

    Miss CLScarlett xx

 

   



The Tides Greet and a small Instance of Conversion with the Enigmatic Mr. White n S.

I found it again...that place,

Something I'd forgotten.

I never would have expected to...even when it used to be so my love,

and what inspired certain parts of my writings...

 

Envision...

closing your eyes,

and a deep, dark space.

But not...scary dark,

but a heavy dark...

that is almost more a cool presence

 than anything else.

I don't know how to say it....

except that it is such a depth-ful and lucid thing,

that you feel you could begin seeing objects;

and places...and pinpoints of gold,

There in the darkness.

 

I used to see images in it,

moving scenes...

and it was so much like the

doorway to eternity that occasionally opens to me...

that I feel they are,

or belong to...

the same force or presence.

 

I slipped the ordinary shadows of my mind...

in a movie theatre today,

and saw again that heavy,

Creating-pregnant darkness

 to the side of my eyes and just behind them,

 

I smiled...

It was almost,

euphoric.

 

  Mr. White n S. : 'Driving you so....really Scar, how much more can you stand, when life has almost completely filled your mind with broken shards? It only becomes more crowded by the minute, and I know the holes thrown in glass inside are beginning to match the holes you make in walls...out.'

 Scar: 'Holes? There is light...there still is. And to stop treading around the shards only results in fatal collapse, and you know, You know...what happened the last time the string broke.'

Mr. White n S. : 'Such childish words...when there's more, so much more, and I know you will break. You're already enough like me already...the ice, the voidness...a creature bred with no more than a turmoil of emotions that belong to another beneath a hardness that grows by the second, and a machine. Only mechanical the motions that you go through, and the words you speak...in an attempt to sound nice, because the truth is far simpler. Come on...make me show them. I...dare you. I'd be more than happy as it seems far too distasteful for your own hallowed self.'

  Scar: 'Pleasant words from a manipulative-shape shifter.'

  Mr. White n S. : 'Avoidance...count your costs dearly child. They're all you seem capable of noticing these days.'

  Scar: 'Rah-rah-rah...go stab yourself in the foot.'

  Mr. White n S. : 'You're only proving my point.'

  Scar: 'And what...is your point?'

  Mr. White n S: 'That you are at war...any fool can see if they merely look close enough. Or no...perhaps you have built yourself up strongly enough: I'll give that. Though, the tale of three sides and a million smaller versions of the same, imploding into one another...is not new. Though you consider it to be and I shall be there...the being you shall become when it all finally converges. Who you turn to child, turn into. You have always been the gateway to my first physical step.'

 Scar: 'Only when the sun touches the earth.'

 Mr. White n S. : 'Well they say that isn't too far away either, don't they?'

  Scar: 'Only in your deluded mind.'

 Mr. White n S. : 'Keep whispering...keep lying. The only person you're wonderful at lying to is yourself Scar.'

 
  Ahm.....

      So...merry Christmas Cherubs! I feel like I haven't Blogged in such a long time, and the way things are, the ideas only cluster and grow more and more when I don't write: so that must be an upside. You know...
      I heard the term a few days ago, that our brain is filled with trees...that the memories themselves are a lot like trees. Growing, and wilting whenever fog drifts through.
      I also discovered that apparently...in some countries in the 18 and 1900s, cats were born with mutations: particularly, wing-like flaps on their backs that looked like wings, but of course...didn't allow them to fly. Maybe it was a hoax, but there were a lot, and in different countries and time periods. I've even read old poems about cats like that.
     It's fascinating, I think.

    I went to see Rise of the Guardians today, and...it was beautiful, and I just...forget. How easily we do. And I end up thinking, that it really is true that our words have powers. Sometimes you can say so much shit about yourself, and be thinking it and feeling it, that it becomes a cloud that obscures so much else...hence often resulting in a shadow-like dark presence that seems to follow one around, I think.
    But for the first time in a little while I spoke some positive things out into the air....and it was just, an instant weight almost, lifted from me. And hey, with the fact that I keep saying and thinking to myself that fate and death are following me around...then no wonder it would eventually happen.

   What I'm saying, is that...words do have power.
   
    But this movie....it brought me back to a happier place, and just...made me feel how important and life-giving belief of some sort is...that's what I often forget.

    Anyway...the villain in it, Pitch, made me nostalgic for Sodom; my Mr. White n S. Problem is, when I see movies like this I'll often end up feeling the moths for days afterwards...and in the past, when I was younger, after I'd seen a similar sort of movie, I'd do my drawing adventures: my Writing DreamTime, and it would cure it...to an extent. :]

    Enough chit-chat anyhoo...

   My book is currently being professionally evaluated, and so I shall leave you.

   Much Love,
   Miss CLScarlett xx

   P.S. You can like my page on Facebook now by clicking on the link at the top of the page (that of the peculiar bottle cap), and by doing so can ask me questions or just chat. :]

    
  
 

 



The Ghosts Wedding Dress: a creature Birthed from the Ice and Stone...a Wood.

   They told me we were floating on the edge of something...

   Some kind of an age, or way of being...

and that if we didn't go back to the Sea,

   We would all be lost.

 

   Sometimes I feel like my more natural place is between the layers of water. My skin and eyes and face feel alive and young and eternal and nymph-like again.

   Often throughout the day (and especially in this heat wave of late), all I can think is that the skin - all our skin, and mine - is crying out for water in the form of sweat. We are mostly filled with water, and we cry water and we sweat water and we drink water...if not for our desire for oxygen, maybe we should belong deep in it.

  I believe it even more as a Pisces. :]

 

  In the place I used to live - before Here, with all its wide streets and uneasy similarity to the home of my Cara from my books - we had this salt-water pool [as well as a creek], and :] we often reffered to it as a valley. Because even though it was very close to huge shopping malls and bright lights, in the area we were in...none of that was visible. Walking to the top of our property, all I would be able to see were rolling hills and the power lines: chattering away with their alien talk. We were at the base of this sweeping hill with houses positioned right at the top, so we were always in the base of the valley.

   And the pool...

It was always as cold as ice, and even though that made it harder to escape into, we did and...it was incredible.

   I'd often get myself into the water by envisioning myself as an ice dragon, with smooth, blue scales, that dwells in the water and longs for the chilling embrace of that water. I'd close my eyes and leap in...and I could envision it and see it and it was euphoric. :]

 

   There are many things I miss about that home.

 

    I wonder if anyone ever watched LOST...it, it's the story I wish I had written, or could write now as a novel for the people behind the idea. I had so many dreams about it and most particularly, about Richard...it really started with my brother, and he was the one who prompted us to start watching every episode, until I had seen every single one.

  It still haunts me, and I think...that the things and beings that plague us the most, are so close to being loved things. Because the most terrifying things, go hand in hand with beauty and yearning I believe.

 

  
  Why else would we be so attracted in so many ways to gloomy and rather chilling things; because despite their nature, there is something hypnotic in them that calls to us.
   It's why I love Sodom, my Mr. White n S so fabulously, despite his often dry humour and cruel remarks...he's always the first to put his arm around me when I'm truly down.

   There are the real people too of course, and in the end, there's nothing like a real hug or kind word, but sometimes they aren't available and you have to make do.

   But lately there's definitely kind words for me...from a dear, dear friend.

 

    I have also discovered a rather home-like place.

   It's called FanStory, and it's a website for all writers. You pay $2.88 to become an actual member (per month), and you can post your stories and poems and millions from around the world can review and grade it. It really works and it has so heartened me.

    Love, love, love it.

 

   I also believe that I have found the person and friend I shall take with me to the Night of Writing Dangerously. Am so looking forward to one day doing it.

 

  However now...I shall go and work on my second book in the series, as lately I have not written so much in that area, and it's needed. In the end, you can read about writing and advice and other stories for eternity, but unless you go back to the actual writing itself...everything else (all that advice), becomes pointless to an extent I think.

 

  Falling deep and falling asleep...

we while away the hours and hows,

Noises deep...bring the sleet,

and We lay upon our ice-cold sheets...

We turn around stumbling,

to the monsters we create,

and we Surrender ourselves to fate...

Hidden we are,

As not,

Until down that fabled road we walk,

Be here now and less unbidden...

Make the stars shine,

From underneath heaven.

 

 

 

 

  Merry Christmas Cherubs!

  Miss CLScarlett xx

 

 

  P.S. Come and look at my page on Fanstory.com, I am listed as Miss C.L.Scarlett.

 

 

       

 

A Malient View of Dogma and Cloudlesness For You.

 

 

 

Things connect...I believe...

like tiny strands on a billion-strand network

of the most delicate computer.

 

And we all can snap so easily...and break so hard.

Turns out fate enjoys freezing us cold every once in a black moon,

But Oh the...thrill and otherworldly light life takes on when you...

believe that you're going to die.

 

It's not how people expect...

that looming shadow always trailing you,

That has a physical weight almost.

Death has brushed up against me closer than normal lately,

and it's taken me on a trip: in a manner of speaking.

 

All I understand about it is that I'm glad a majority of it has passed...

what still remains is merely like an impression,

and the even greater belief that anything can and possibly will happen.

It's...

it's the sort of mad, terribly sad and furious desperation

that you see in the movie,

Blade Runner,

with the Replicants of real people.

They burn ferociously bright but die younger than any other,

and just the fact that they know they will die...

sends them into that state of mind.

 

Recklesness of a sort goes hand in hand with close encounters.

 

A light switched on,

and a Blade gently pressed to my heart...

sometimes you can't feel any of it,

Sometimes it's all there is,

and the world pales...

and the voices call.

 

 

 

I grew wings yesterday...

and flew away to a place,

Where I saw old friends,

and drank down the violet tonic

and danced in an empty pub.

 

       Oh really darlings...it was my friends' 21st birthday...and the last time I went to one of hers, we all went to a midnight screening and dress-up themed Harry Potter event. :] I know...such a dork heyy?

The dress is awesome...if I can be a gal about it :]...

Very goth and from this curious little place that I found up a narrow staircase that always

has equally curious music playing and a somehow nice but somehow off-beat scent to it.

TrashMonkey....

 

I am in love...

 

   But I dressed in my winged shoes, my dark Alice dress, my home-made wings and racoon-baby-ring eye shadows...was soo fun. :]

 

Hell Bunny...

 

A few days ago...the door to eternity opened up to me again...

as it usually does at nighttime.

But, maybe it's just that...like when I mentioned that one time that sometimes I feel like when I walk along a path, the trees and air around me and to my sides somehow...

presses in against me.

But in the case I'm referring to, it was so intense,

that I could actually pick up bits and peices of how others were and felt,

just from a brief glance or way...

and heyy, maybe I am imaging it all, but it sure feels real,

and...

Sometimes I hate it, sometimes I love it...

Because it's not so much from wanting others to just be happy and okay,

but more that if they aren't...

I pick up all they're off and pain-ridden emotions.

 

Perhaps not so melodramatic as that hehe :], but sometimes it's like that.

 

In fact, it's exactly like this movie preview I saw ages ago where the main character had the ability to see auras and shapes and presences in all these brilliant colours around certain people where no one else could.

:]

Believe what you want to believe dear friends, but there's always unexplainable things I think,

and explaining them...or trying to understand them kinda...

unravels them.

 

 

A touch, a soft breath...

Takes the wind soaring,

to a bed...a land, a place.

I once dreamt...of a red mirror room.

Each dream I'd have of it,

I'd know it was there...

Waiting for me,

Like some strangely calling land.

I'd scamper through corridors,

and down winding ways,

to Find what had eluded me...

a Spell in-bound Bound.

I walk along a path,

I walk along a bridge until I come...

To a place where I choose,

I choose to walk past the gentlemen There...

they bow to me,

With Lost Star eyes...

a Darkness that glistens and draws me in,

With soft acknowledgements and suave calls...

Yet I turn,

and they watch me pass...

Wise and yet hungry smiles on their suddenly sharp faces,

Until I am gone,

and I have lost sight...

But I continue,

And it goes round,

and further in and to...

Darker,

But it is always darker between the light and the shades.

The shades are more beautiful,

for their...

Hidden-ness.

Call, call...

and slip through the edges,

Until one can look into the mirrors hidden behind the scarlet curtains of that room,

And see oneself, ourselves...as we actually are.

 

 

 

An umbrella for you love...

Whispers, whispers.

Stay with me,

and always watch the ocean...

Because one day,

It will be where They appear.

And where we will go...

When it's edgeless,

and we're edgeless,

and we are given our Eyes...

again.

 

 

 

 

Much Love,

 

Miss CLScarlett xx



 





A Road to a Road to a Road to a Road to a Road to a Well.



It's strange...

this, wanting.

It's like I've finally been shot through with life -

like a syringe of fleuroscent candy-light...

I put my whisp-thin palms firmly-trembly against a surface,

I notice a bottle that reads Drink Me printed on its side in old cursive...

I drink it,

I put it down...

There are soon more - soon many others more - and I drink them also.

We weigh...and we weigh up the consequences of our heart and nature,

and soon we are consumed,

I feel like I'm seeing the light for the first time or the last...

and lately...

It feels more like the last than anything else.

But if it's true...if it's all true,

then I'll have realized that fate and death had never truly stopped knocking,

and hey...

they do so looove to hit me in the most unexpected -

and unguarded -

places.

Needlessly said...

It's more a detached-incredulous-relief-bitter-

making-you-want-to-scream-and-cry-and-laugh-

bewilderment.

And then there's it,

the most...

I never expected this sort of a situation to feel like

This.

You've created the greatest electricity collar...

Herr Fate,

My body a ticking time-bomb,

and the penalty...

a drop of blood for him, forced unwillingly -

and by my own hands -

more times than I can count,

So as to live.

What kind of a life is that?

No.

None.

But...

To choose,

a life lived pacifying death...

or death,

or until fate just decides,

to run his blades through.

 

Un-melody just,

the only kind...

of decent act in any state.

Is to allow this one,

to wings she grows,

and a life lived on despite the blows...

To the sorrow we will go,

Until we can turn the light on again,

and then amend,

amen...

am.

Downtrodden - beaten back...

down the old devil's track,

I'm scared...

but maybe that's the whole idea of enduring,

Of staying put,

even when you are terrified.

At least,

at least I have an exit strategy!

Bahahahahahaha!

 

My gosh I just feel reckless and wild and

I wish...

that it would storm.

That the clouds would bulge ugly and purple,

and that the lightning would shriek and tear trees apart,

and that the thunder would be so deep and long and wide...

that you can feel it trembling in the core of your spine,

and in the space between the skin of your feet and the bones there.

That the wind would blow so feircely and

with such arctic wild coldness and

clear-ness,

that the grey would be stripped from buildings,

and the smog would lift and...

the trees would bow with its' weight

and their leaves blown into spindly threads.

Like wool.

Like tall grass.

Then the rain would splinter through the clouds and...

everything,

would be washed away.

There'd be nothing...

and all the medical papers would be

washed

down-streeaaaaam,

and

the records,

and

the darkness

and

the drowsiness

would lift.

 

An endless, clear rain-water,

that would wash away all the maps and clocks and presumptions.

And I could just...

wander away,

follow a pale, cobblestoned path...

to a city by the sea,

where there are no walls,

and all things stop...

as does time,

and it all just...

Where the long road ends,

and the streets are wide

and ...

I can feel my edges again.

 

  Much Love...and know that I miss all of you, my friends out there in, :] , the 'real world'.
     Yes I know...the place I work is a cult :] .
  But please don't worry about me too much yet, all of these things are really only what my body
seems to be telling me, and...I haven't even, I don't even know if it's true.
  It might, hopefully...just be all in my head. :]

  Miss CLScarlett xx

 



Doorways into the Backwards Post Office and a Tall Tale...

Who wants to be a Fire Heart....?

 

:] Of course you do silly...it is the biggest wish and the greatest desire...

 

 

To be filled with a burning fire...or an electricity,

power upon power.

As a Fire Heart you can hear more and most definitely see more...

You are the ones who See what the Skyy sees,

The gears and mechanics that brace the night sky,

the way that stars are not merely just stars - but whole planets,

swirling and spinning at crazy-fast speeds

and with a billion techni-colour bursts of light and hues.

 

More than likely...as you grow into life as a Fire Heart,

you will grow scales...that reflect the true colour of your Inner Fire,

and they will shift and change their appearance...depending on your moods...

 

Only fear the Hunters, the crawling smiles that get too close and the fearful Black Jade...

 

 

  Harhar...I feel like all my vigour and jolliness has been sucked out of me today...mainly, it feels like a trembly sort of a day. Where I just feel flat-eyed and that I don't fit into my skin well....these are perhaps, not as bad as the days where I feel just....humid, which is often when the weather will feel humid too. But you know the feeling...when you just feel hot and stuffed in and somehow both hungry and not and thirsty and not.
  There's no definite conviction or emotion or way...but it's not peaceful either.

  I want the days where I feel a peaceful heat in my bones...and when the trees and land seems to draw closer to me wherever I walk (don't ask me to explain that either hehe). Or the days where I am bitter or the emotion is negative...because at least that's a definite emotion.

  But enough....

  Sometimes the world feels otherly.... do you ever get that?
     Say if you look up at the night sky, and it just seems so vast and wild that, you feel like it's all on the verge of moving or doing something.
   I think there's places in the world where the line between ours and some other place or dimension or presence or...I'm not sure what exactly, brush up against each other...that in certain places and situations, more things are possible and there are doooors.

  Sounds rather mad an idea? It most definitely is...I've become more and more convinced lately that in some ways...I have the crazies inside of me. What I mean by that...is that, it's an off-kilter mind-space inside of me, and sometimes what I write or say doesn't seem to make sense anymore...but really :] we're all a bit crazy aren't we?
  I just think for me, the craziness has had a chance to grow starting with the island I spent a year on...and extending in ways now. I think the isolation and way of that sort of institution-like place can really...make you go tropo...island fever hehe.

  Ah to be a bird, a heard...a shrub...don't mind the madness, it's only mildly contagious... XD

     An off-beat sensation,

Like tiny running keys...

That grows with the shadows and cracks in the walls,

A music only you can hear,

A warping of the mirror you've always held to you...

and a distaste for the obvious,

a Pin-pointed at two...

What is it called...

this adoption of mentalities?

And believe me dear friends...

I'm not really sooo mad,

Just a bit melodramatic,

Please don't take me too seriously,

but hold the reigns,

Because oneday I might...

and it will be too late,

Only for so long can one,

toy fretfully with fate...

He doesn't like to rest,

and his shadow does hound,

I'd like a respite please,

Mr. White n S...

there is no sound,

Only a shadow abiding by...

Why do greyhounds soak up the sun,

When they cannot feel the heat?

Why do I plunge myself into labyrinth's,

with full knowledge of my choice...

Maybe a flat life terrifies me,

and Maybe I'm addicted to being the victim of a dark force,

Maybe it's to find, find, find

find...

what we can with what time we are given...

Maybe it's boredom,

And that perhaps Scares me more.

 

 

  I think it takes gall and a certain strength to write (I'm not saying that I have those, and please don't think I'm boasting...), what I mean by that...is that, when you truly write, you put many parts of yourself into the stories and characters and poems and everything else. We have to be prepared for the possibility that one day someone could and probably will put two and two together and realize how we were referring to ourselves and those we know...and often how warped our viewpoint can be.
   But we have to chance it...for some absurd reason unknown to me...that we write whatever we write and then allow all those personal encoded truth-lie-tales, to be judged and beaten down as they're edited and changed.
  In some ways, by choosing to write...we're permitting the critisism of ourselves.

  Heyy, and before I go I had one crazy-ass theory yesterday that came to me...
   The ideas for stories...when they're really powerful often just come from no-where, along with all their characters. Like, for one story I wrote, I didn't have any plan to write it, I was just sitting on the couch one day and, bam...I had this burning, burning feeling inside of me...that I desperately had to start writing, and so I did...and in one week...I had the draft of a new novel. Crazyy huh?

  But my theory was that...well either there's some elite society or group that controls everything...and that part of keeping us under control is sending out to our brains all these random story ideas...like implanted memories, or planted memories...to occupy us.
  Or...well, Stephen King's theory is really nice...that stories are artifacts that we dig up. But then it could be more...like a disease. Yes, a disease or a flu.
  They float around all the in-between places...and then randomly latch onto people...that stories are living creatures, and we are merely the host through which to channel this tale.
    Ooh, that's rather creepy...they're like...aliens.

    Maybe they're sent to us from above?

    Who knows...but hey, you up there , keep sending the tales please or else, please let me catch the story bug again hehe...


  Anyways...

  Byeeeeeeee

   Miss CLScarlett xx
  

 

  

 



Mr. Green-High-and-Mighty Smoke Man and his Backwards Mirror...

Envision...

 

 

A word, a breath...a sound,

A slight shifting in leaves on the path beside you,

A changing.

 

You're walking along a silent street path,

on and on...

and as you walk, you glance up towards the skyy,

See it clothed in fairytale-like grey clouds...

Monstrous,

and as darkly billowing as a swarm of wasps,

Thick air...gloom-dripping air...

 

As you walk along, you begin to pass a row of rusted-down

red houses, with trembling eaves...

 

"Psst."

 

You pause, turn in the direction of the foreign and somehow mischievious noise.

Your eyes are caught up in the blue-black eyes of someone...something...

a creature mayhaps.

At times he - you're certain it's a he - seems to be coated in brittle shadow fur,

and at others...

he seems to gain the appearance of a dwarf-sized man in a jet-white top hat and

long, unravelling lavender pin-striped coat.

 

The world tilts...and you find your feet

crisscrossing and

unwinding...

in an effort to bring yourself closer to his side,

for a reason you cannot name...

 

"Show off...show of..." he hisses.

 

You cannot help but stare at the needle-pointed teeth between his crescent smile

 and black-dripping

claws...

that hang languidly from the tips of his fingers,

but his smile is catching and you find yourself still

and unable to leave.

 

The world quietens about you,

and you fear that it is so silent...

that anything could happen...

and that more and

 worse 

monsters could creep through the cracks on the side-walk...

than just your dwarf-wolf-man...

 

"Hey kid." he snarls.

"Seriousness is old-schooool...and we do looove, to howwl...

try not to break your train of thought,

or else it will all become denial."

 

He lifts a careful claw, to tip down his hat at you,

and you find yourself wondering...wondering,

 

"Who are you?" you say.

 

His grin stretches impossibly long...

and his eyes swarm with the shadows cast by his incredibly tall hat,

 

"I am the in-between...and the dark shades you see when you're half-

glancing dear-deary. I am that inexplicable longing that gnaws as moths

between the cracks and warbles that sit between

south-West and south-North. I am the diamond-grinder

in the smooth....

and I am in your sights today...

just as you are in mine."

 

A shiver climbs its' slow fingers up your spine...

and you turn away,

finding suddenly that you can't bare the sight of

that tell-tale-easy-difficult-grin...

when you are seized.

 

You fling your eyes back, staring down

as pain nibbles deep holes into the skin of your arm...

He smiles wider, his claws digging deeper...

and quite abruptly you can see the fur again,

and it is everywhere...

on him, on the path...and winding up your arm.

 

Consumed by the vision, you only barely here his voice murmuer into your eardrums...

into your soul.

 

"Take care, and take a few wrong paths...you're far too goody-two-shoes

for myy liking dear...

I have imparted a gift...

a coat of Imperitive-Disasociation...

and you will be cursed to

he-he...not know your own damn thoughts,

because looking through the looking glass will only prove to you how...

how...

howw...damn far your thoughts and mind have fallen from sanities-light,

and how far there still is to fall...

and that one day...

to wake up a monster when the day before...

you saw yourself as a human.

But really...

reallyyyyy.

Who can tell the difference?"

 

He releases a shocking, stabbing laugh and a cloud of bitter green smoke

floods rapidly up about your dwarf...

sucking him from view.

Your sight begins to clear and once again you realize that you are alone...

staring rather dumly at a crack in the sidewalk...

and that the only remnant of strangeness,

are the millions of thick grey fur patterns that lace your arm...

a marked apart, a mark apart.

 

 

Beware the villain who cares...

and the scream that looks back at you from the mirror.

 

Don't ignore it, and please don't keep it in.

Because if you do...oneday...

you'll realize,

that you have become the thing,

that you have hidden away.

Ignoring it...

merely gives it more privacy to latch hold.

 

 

 

  :] Heyy darlings,

 

 

       Feeling rather double-minded today, and still thinking about the future (as always Scar...).

 

   Probably...of noteworthy things in my life...I have three days in a row off from my job, which is brilliant! Just drinking ciders from morning to late at night, and writing, and reading advice for writers and so on and so forth.

   Perhaps one thing I would like to mention...is that lately I'm getting into short stories in every way. Reading Stephen King collections of them (and boyyy are they as intense as any of his other full-blown novels) as well as this gorgeous group of ones by Isobelle Carmody named: Metro Winds.

   I have always been...fascinated by tales of faerie princes and princesses...of children being taken from the human world to be cursed and held in immortal worlds where there true love searches all five corners of the earth to find them. (And yess, the earth does have five corners...I'm just yet to convince all the scientists of my theory).

   It also seems to be the case, that I'm trying to write more short stories. This Blog is a huge outlet for experimenting with that...and I think I am doing alright with it. But...of everything, I've discovered that they are so freeing and enjoyable to create...especially when you only start with a vague idea and just let improvisation take you where it will. Like the above story, or my Ice Children story that was in a previous Blog entry.

 



 

    I wish I were a cat, I wish I were in a circus...or able to disappear off the earth. I wish a lot of things...but most of all I feel happy...

 

   Harhar...just wait for it Scar...too happy and fate usually brings out the gatlin machine guns. :] Oh perish the thought that I should get too comfortable.

 

    But anyway...looking forward to the partayyyy I'm going to this sunday next (after this one coming)...for I shall be dressing up in a marvelous costume inspired by fantasy and confusion and dastardly loveliness. :]

 

 

   Much Love,

 

   Miss CLScarlett xx

 

   P.S. I have decided to add Miss to my pseudo-name if I ever get it printed on a future book of mine. So it shall be Miss C.L.Scarlett as my commonly known name. :]

 

 

  P.P.S. The best match for a person, in my humble (ahm, cough cough, humble...right) opinion, is someone whose the complete opposite to your nature. Say, if you are often gloomy thought-wise (like me...), it's good to have someone who is genuinely happy in himself or herself...himself in my case hehe. :]

 

 

 

Thinking of a certain violinist character of mine :]