I Wrote something in my journal while I was in the park on Tuesday, my last day in New York and I would like to share what I have written. Remember this was a couple of days ago while I was still in the city, so it's all sadly in the past now, but it is written like the present day.

Tuesday, August 18 7:07PM

Today is my last day in New York City. This is truthfully the most beautiful city I have ever been to. This place...it bewitches you the moment you arrive. Either you fall madly in love with her amazing city lights or you want to leave as soon as you enter her terrifying domain. I don't want to leave her long embrace but I have to. All I can do is promise her that I'll be back to make love with her never ending nights, and kiss her a silent goodbye. New York grasped my heart, as she has done to several unsuspecting people and I dare not even try to get it back. I feel that both my body and soul belong here, in this city that never sleeps, and I belong in her pastures of dreams and oppotunity. The only thing that is missing, the only thing that she cannot allow the people in her mists to see is the blanket of stars that is always above us. No, there is too much sin and horrible corruption in her wake for these glissering innocents to show themselves. She understands, though and therefore nover argues with the purity above. But I think thats what makes this place so terrifyingly amazing. There is more than enough gray here and it's a very dark shade of gray at that. But that is but the color of her soul, her body is a whole different meaning. She is a painting, made up of many different colors drawn and painted by the artest and the insane that are in captivity here. It's full of colors and mixtured of amazing things you never could have dreamed about. Beauty, wonder, and glory as well as hunger, fear, and sorrow. A Sea of troubled emotions surround the city and devour her, feeding it's hungry soul, never getting full. But, she the people that live here can handle it. You have be strong in order to live in a place like this, or else you lose your mind along with everything else you have ever had. You see, the city makes up of three people: the business class and the rich, who don't really pay any attention to those that are around them, the artests that take in everything that they see and hope to make something of themselves (I think these are the people that truely live here, for they understand how to without losing their minds) and the insane, who have lost everything and can't gain it back. They weren't strong enough to live here. If I ever move to this city, I hoe to be part of the artists and learn to understand her beautiful insanity, or else I may just become another shadow, another soul lost in the sea of time.

What makes a man, a man? Is it his ability to love, hate or perhaps even hurt others? Is it to kill anyone without a second thought, without mercy? What makes him leave without the slightlest goodbye?

A man makes a perfect human being, for humans love the feeling of being in demand, in control. Dominance without resession, hatred without cause.

Human. Hu-man. hu-MAN. Hm...the race of man. Where is the woman in this equation? Is she supposed to sit and love her man unconditionally? Why? How? How can she love him even when he's killed the most precious part of her? Her will. Her defiance. Her voice. They very things that were her mind and soul...gone. Why does man have the need to sqeeze a womans heart till it is nothing but small drops of blood? Why does he have the need to control her mind till she can no londer think for herself...till she's a vegetable. Like a labotomy where they don't even have mind enough to beg for death. No mercy.

So, I ask once again. What makes a man a man? Complete control over women, or those that are around him? Or could it possibly be the lack of such control over himself? But what if he has control of himself? Does that make him less human? Hm...that is a question worth pondering.

Snowflakes are small, crystalized substances that fall to the earth and cover the ground with soft snow. As they fall, and they lightly touch your warm check before they finally melt away is almostlike a caress of death. It is said that each one is different, though alike in the same way. Each design is alive in it's own way, but we never see it. They are too small to see individualy.

Scientists say that in the sky, there are billions, no, tons of billions, of these little flakes live, and we see their homes as clouds. White, fluffy clouds that can take shape in any form our imagination can come up with.

But what if, each time they had a war, it rained? Their soft, lazy clouds turn deep black in seconds, and thunder is their battle cry, and lightning is when their swords clash creating a spark. That sounds like the gods are fighting. For what reason? Who kows? There are several reasons of war, though few make any sence at all. And they die, they melt. And so comes the peircing rain that can feel like needles going into your flesh.

Now it's time to stop and think. Who, really does that sound like? Does it really seem like the Gods are fighting, or is it much worse than that? What if, each raindrop that falls and touches you, sending shivers down your spine from the deathly cold water, represents a human that had died in the past, and is dieing in our time now? We have war, sometimes for no reason. We kill, and when we die, we disinagrate, as the snowflakes melt.

Are we so different from a snowflake? Each one is different in it's own way. Each one is cold, and some just heartless. Are we anything different from a snowflake? We like to think so, but are we really? Cold, ruthless humanbeings that take over everything in it's path. We promise love, peace, and prosperity...but only had over destrution. Heat is in our blood while cold is in our hearts and soul. Are we much different from a small, insignifigant thing that only comes once a year?

Questions will never be solved until we start to look at them seriously.

Snow and Rain...Humans and death...
Will it ever end?

Music of originality is dead, books of imagination are burned. Where is the creativity? It was thrown away by the need to be the same. In this world, everyone is special therefore no one is. All the beautiful original plays that ran broadway and were loved by all because of the sheer brillance of it, were replaced by tv shows like American Idol. There is nothing in this world that is it's own anymore. There were shadows that once applauded us for our ability to have and show amazing emotion. They were the keepers of the arts. They recorded everything that was new and different. They kept in their never ending rows of files records of conversations between mothers and daughters, arguments as well as peace treatys between people. The shadows had the first form of artwork ever painted, the first book ever written, and the first thoughts ever given. How extraordinary these shadows are! These amazing things have been here since the dawning of time! Our own little audience that will never leave us, and when that audience applaudes us in our own creativity of our words, it sounds like butterfly wings, beating against the soft winds that pushes our hair behind us.
But, what happens when we lose our ability to create? What happens then to our audience when the curtain closes and the play is finally at an end? Why, they leave just like we would after and ending to a movie. They wave to say goodbye, and they leave us. Who would expect them to stay and get bored with us turning out to be exactly like everyone else? Why, that would just downright rude to even suggest such a thing!
The question now is, when do they leave? Perhaps when the burning of books comes because we have no use for them anymore, or maybe it's when the pill that takes away all emotion comes out as doctors tell their patients that it's not good to feel. No, it has to be way before that time. One by one the shadows dissapear with the dissapearance of creativity. Some stay until the pill, then leave because there is nothing else to see. The worse thing about it is with the pill, the art of curiosity is gone so no one trys to figure out what's wrong.
The shadows are gone, and nothing can be done about it
Unless.....
~END~ (for now)

As the sun rises in the east, and the birds chirp their little song, a girl lays awake in her bed, listening to the absence of humans this early morning. She is a simple girl, a teenager, not of any importance to the greater picture of mankind. She is merley there, naked and vunerable to the world outside her room, but too insignifigant for the outer world to care. What does she think about, as she lays atop her blanket letting the sun shinning from her windows hit her pale skin?Where is this girl's mind that makes her do this? The manner in which her body is carelessly spread across the blanket is almost sinful. Nothing is important to her right now. Not the war that is going on halfway across the world, nor the old man down her street that is having a heart attack for the third time this month. She is just taking in this selfish moment with every breath that she breaths. But is that bad? Perhaps in her own way, she is giving herself up to the world around her? Perhaps she will allow anyone who walks into her domain to do whatever they wish to her naked flesh? At this moment, she will give her body to anyone, and she won't care. This is her moment to allow herself to feel absolutly nothing. She won't refuse anything, and she won't feel regret later, after this moment is over. This isn't an act brought on by drugs or alcohol, or anything of that kind. No this is her own doing, and her's alone. She is choosing to abuse her free will. But that simple fact alone makes this the most sinful act a human being could possibly do. To just lie there without any modesty or self-awarness is repulsive and disgusting. That is what most people would think...but is it really? Simply laying there, not doing or thinking anything, is it really that bad? She feels nothing. Not peace, not comfort. No she let go of all emotion just for this. Is she really all that vunerable? She is giving her body, this is true, but what of her mind? Her soul? Her heart? Anyone that would see her right now wouldn't be able to tell you where these things have gone. They can't tell you at all, and if they ask, all her answer would be is "Nothing" and that wouldn't be a lie. Some would look at her and say that she is beautiful...some would say that she is a whore. No matter what your opinion would be of her, it would be wrong. She's not anything. She is just simply there, letting the time pass her by without caring about the consequences. Here, at this moment, she is alive. She is truley the only human being on earth because right now, she doesn't have a purpose or a cause.

She is just there.

I've noticed that I've been posting alot of my stories lately. I have no idea why. Maybe I'm just tired of keeping them all to myself? I don't know. I'm thinking about continuing The Other World, since it is no where NEAR finished, but then again, perhaps I should just leave it alone...see what people think of it. I don't know why but through my writings I feel as if I'm putting my soul up for anyone and everyone to see. Everything I write is so important to me, I don't want anyone to think badly of  it, but then again, I want someone to completly bomb it. Strange huh? Well, I don't know if you guys will like it or not, but I'm going to start posting more stories that I have yet to show anyone. It's time to stop being afraid and step up to the plate! And watch out! Here I come!

OMG! That sounded cornier than I wanted it to be lol. Well if you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

             I can hear the snow crunching beneath my feet as I walk away from the dark house. I can hear the wind whispering in my ear, almost like a congratulation that the job is finally done. Hell is now over, or at least I am no longer in it. I turn to look at the house I hope to never see again. I figure I will wake in the middle of the night, screaming from the horrors of which I saw...and felt. Although it's dark brown and a little dull on the outside, the house is still very nice; two story, probably very expensive, with a couple of plastic flamingoes innocently standing on the front lawn. It's a perfect rich house in a perfect rich neighborhood. You know, I can honestly say that I feel sorry for the unsuspecting buyers who will actually think this is their dream house. Well, it's not like the neighbors are going to tell them what happened in the basement. It's not like they are going to tell those innocent by standards that the women who disappeared were locked and chained in the room beneath the house, like a small torture room.

 

You know, it's strange. Even though I have been in that house for over six months, until today, I've never seen what it looks like from the inside. It's actually very beautiful and pretty expensive; a glass table with little glass fruits; soft furniture, like sitting on a cloud. And oh ht Kitchen! The Kitchen is huge! Probably the biggest I have ever seen! Don't even get me started on the bedrooms! You know, for only one person it is a big house. Maybe that's why he required so many female companions and toys? Hm, I never thought of it that way.

 

I sigh to myself and watch the fog appear and disappear with each breath I fake. All those beautiful, useless, objects are now destroyed. It's a shame; really, all those expensive things are gone to waste. I would take something for my own, but I don't want to leave too much evidence I was there. I turn and walk away from that filthy house, dropping the ax I used to castrate that bastardous man. I can still see him, crawling away from me, begging me not to hurt him, not to kill. His teary brown eyes, blood running down his handsome face from a gash I made just a few moments ago, above his fight brow. Yes, I am beginning to remember more and more like short clip, playing in my mind. That ass got blood all over my brand new white evening gown. Not to mention the freshly- washed carpet his maid spent hours cleaning. Tactful. And he said I made a mess of his basement? Look at him! Bleeding everywhere, with no intension of stopping!

 

               How truly ironic this is. Not even a month ago I was in his place. I was the one on the floor, begging him to stop, screaming until my throat was sore. I still had the naive thought that maybe, by chance, the neighbors would hear. It isn't until now as I stand here, looking at the house of horrid memories, do I realize something they heard. They heard every scream, every cry, every beg, that was made they heard and they knew. They knew I was in there, and they did nothing about it. Nothing! I don't believe they even called the police.

 

I look up to the stars, to find peace in those glistening little innocents in the sky, but instead, I see dark snow clouds form, covering up everything I have to believe in. I understand exactly what those beautiful stars are truing to tell me. I am no longer worthy enough to gaze at such peaceful beauty. I have taken a life and feel no remorse. In fact, I couldn't be happier. It's strange, don't you think? I'm waling in the snow, so happy, my body doesn't even mind the cold.

 

You know another thing that's strange? I remember every bit of the room beneath the house, but only bits and pieces of what happened a few minutes ago. How strange. The stuff I want to forget won't leave my mind, but what I want to remember is almost completely gone. Interesting how the mind works, don't you think? Well, of course I remember the satisfying sound of the ax hitting his skull, and the sound of his blood splattering against the perfectly white walls. I remember his eyes. His cute puppy dog eyes wide with terror…and shock. Oh the horror! The Victim has turned the tables, and now SHE, no... I have become the one in charge. It's sad, really. The poor pathetic fool tried to run... no, crawl away. It was amusing to watch him crawl to the next room, trying to get away from me. It was almost like playing hide-and-seek, only he wasn't a good hider. All I had to do was follow the trail of blood, and there he was! I now know why he took so much amusement in watching me run. Although, I believe I'm having much more fun than he was, for when I was running in the basement, there wasn't anywhere to go. At least now I'm getting exercise and the wonderful sensation of being a predator. You know, he was always whispering in my ear how much he loved to hear my screams, and how it excited him to see me cry. The only difference is I'm talking about the satisfaction of slowly bringing him to his death; he was talking about the excitement of a ... different level. I believe you know what I am saying.

 

I smile as I remember, piece by piece, torturing him, hurting him. He used to say how alike I was with a rabbit. How I would step into the darkness of the room, and stand completely still, hoping he wouldn't notice me. Now who's the fucking rabbit? Now who's the one running way, trying to hold on to as string of life. That little disgusting, flea-infested rabbit is dead now as we speak. As I walk in my no longer white heels down the street feeling a sense of pride. Pride. I have not felt that in so long. I've almost forgotten there were emotions other than fear and shame. I could really get used to this. Me walking away, my head held high in some sort of dignity, and forgetting everything that happened the last six months.

 

I sigh and turn again to stare upon the house. I start laughing. Soft at first, but soon, I could hear echoes of my own maniac laugh. I can't believe how easy it was to kill him! After so many days of being afraid, terrified of him, it was so easy to bring him to his knees and destroy him. Isn't irony a bitch?

 

I turn, still laughing to myself about the irony of it all, knowing that not a single person had seen the death of that man. Of course I don't believe anyone would really care. And so I walk away. Away from the house, away from the neighborhood, satisfied that the last person to set eyes on me, was that man and he, of course is dead.  

Well that story that I just put down...I seriously want to know what people make of it. How do you guys like it? Were you even able to read it? I'm thinking about continuing it, but I'm not sure if I really want to. Perhaps just let peoples imagination run wild...or maybe it'll be better for me if I do continue.

I have no idea.

Anyway, please review, because even though I'm going to write whether you guys like it or not, I still like the satisfaction of someone actually reading my stuff. I like the thought, so sue me.

But, anyway, I think I could have written this one better, but over all, I'm pleased with myself. I kinda like it, even though it's childish. You guys are just going to have to deal with it, aren't you?  Yes, thats right, I'm a clam! I have no idea how, but whatever!

I never thought I would be saying this, but review review REVIEW

The Other World, by Samantha Feger

 

 

Once upon a time, in the far away landscapes of another world, lies a queer, unusual place, which is a simple glimpse of the feared unknown. This…World is a place where reality has not dared descend, for to even take in simple piece of sheer wisdom that this World has to offer, you would have to forget all that you know of the word reality.

           

           This other World can be found, not by those who search for it, but by the few chosen who have not even known its existence, until that fateful day, that will change everything they thought to be true. In our world, we would dismiss those that have seen its wonder, and think them insane. That is the society we live in today. That is the place I live in anguish and sorrow for the rest of my days.

           

           I, at the age of seventeen, have caught sight of the unknown World, in the most unlikely, yet the most unoriginal way imaginable; A dream. That is, of course, the first way the World visits. It searches for your subconscious, and if you are worthy, it will grasp your dreams, and feed your hungry soul questions that only you could answer. Questions about yourself that you have never even thought about, and you will search for the answers deep inside of you, and try to understand…but that is not in your power. Therefore, instead of grasping around the knowledge that you gain, your mind splits. You see, no human brain can comprehend it, and when you finally see, when it's finally within your reach, you miss, and you fail.

           

           That is what happened to me. I remember every little thing I learned by going to this World, but…I fear that in my society, I haven't a mind anymore. And so, I inhabit here, in this small hospital for the mentally ill.

 

So, I pray to you, reader, to read on, and try to understand my predicament.

 

The first time it took me, the first time I met this…unknown World, I was in class. There happened to be a test going on, I don't remember what it was about (understand, it was many years ago). I do, however, remember feeling a sudden drowsiness that became worse within seconds. My head felt heavy, and every time I blinked, it became harder to open my eyes again. The room began to spin, and before I knew what was happening, I was spiraling into a deep black hole.

 

I awoke again with a start. I couldn't see the ground I was laying on, so I scrambled to my feet and looked around. Nothing. Everything was black. I couldn't even tell if I was standing on the ceiling or the ground, I didn't know what was up or down, right or left. I even spun around in a complete circle, hoping the perhaps I wasn't the only source of color in this endless sea of black nothingness. Again, nothing. What was the strangest, however, was the fact that I could still see myself. You see, I would like to say that it was so dark I could hardly see my hands stretched out in front of me, but that would make too much sense, and this world rejects any and all that we know to be sensible. I could see my pale, white hands clearly. It was as though the only light to be found in this black abyss was coming from inside of me. I was just a small, pale, candle light flame that could be seen in the darkness.

 

The only thing I could do, I realized, was walk. That seemed to be the only real thing that connected me to the world I knew, the world I came from. So, I just started walking, putting one foot in front of the other. I was surprised at how desperate I became to make everything sensible again, so I just concentrated, deeply, at my footsteps, hitting the ground I could not see, and hearing the echoes from the darkness, coming back to me with a rhythmic beat. I just took as much comfort in the reality of simply walking, and I remembered faintly where I'm from.

 

Suddenly, there was a noise behind me. I have no way to explain this noise, to make you understand just how unusual it really was. I remember also thinking that it was beautiful, but then again, any sign of something there, other than myself, was considered an amazingly crafted piece of music, a work of art, to my ears. My mind welcomed that noise, like a starving, dieing, man welcoming food, and a sense of peace and understanding overcame me, and for the first time since coming to this place, I smiled. Ah, but alas, that feeling in me, is not to last.

I turned, and there, standing before me were three full-length mirrors all in a neat little row. Each one had an image of myself, but…there was something that was different in the way the reflections looked, but I couldn't quite see what. It was different…but the same. It was really me, in those mirrors, but…what made them all separate, as though each mirror held its own personality…a separate view of life? I stared at these glass reflections in wonder. How can the same image be so different? A mirror is supposed to show your reflection, your outside image as others see it…right?

           Anger and irritation slowly absorbed my confusion until I felt my finger nails digging into my sweaty palms, making my white knuckles turn red from the blood dripping off them.

 

"What is the point of all this?" I screamed out to the darkness "Why am I here? What the hell kind of place is this? Making me doubt that which was real, it's not right! This shouldn't be happening to me! Not to me! Not to…"

I fell to my knees in despair, my heart beating wildly against my chest. Nothing was there, but I felt as if I would get some sort of answer. All I heard was my own words thrown back at me in a harsh echo that pierced my heart, my soul like a thousand tiny needles, mercilessly mocking my pain. My moment of weakness.

 

"Why?" I whispered, hugging myself, shaking from the tears I had no idea were falling. "Why, dammit?"

 

Just then, I felt soft, warm hands grab my shoulders from behind, and gently, but with such strength that it almost frightened me, hoisted me up to my feet. These hands, when my knees failed me, kept me from falling once again. I looked at these hands, and though I could not see the face of my captor, these hands had a light that was the brightest I have ever seen.

 

"Look at the mirror on the left" A soft, deep, male voice whispered in my ear. This voice sent waves of warmth down my spine, making me feel light headed. No way could this voice be human…it was too soft, too understanding.

 

I was frozen. No matter how much I willed my legs to move, to do as the voice said, I couldn't. The shock of such a strange and beautiful voice that seemed to sing instead of speak, coming from a place like this, kept me still. These hands forced my body to move, though I have no idea how. He gently walked me to the left mirror, and I thought that then, I would at least be able to see the man behind me. To catch a glimpse of my silent captor, but all was forgotten as soon as I set eyes on the first full-length mirror.

 

I drew in a sharp gasp, as I looked at the woman staring back at me. She was an older woman, older than me, around mid-30s. Her blue-green eyes that had patience and love, stared at me with such kindness, it took my breath away. Her hair, tightly pulled back in a messy, fizzy pony tail, seemed unkempt, but, in a way, it suited her.  She wore a long, white gown that seemed to flow when it lightly touched the ground. No, it wasn't a wedding gown; it was something else…something that represented the innocence of her character. Her skin, though pale, looked like it had been threw a lot, but I didn't know why. How can someone have so much kindness in her eyes? So much love…? I was thinking that she had to be some sort of saint, like Mother Theresa, whose only goal is to help those in need, and spread God's love. Perhaps this woman was a nun? No…there was something else…something there that I was missing. Then I saw something that was behind her, clutching to her for dear life…something that will never let her go; a child. Ah! Now I understand! She is a mother, a wife. She takes care of her husband and child with as much love, patience, and kindness she has to offer. That's why she looks so beautiful, so natural. She bent down, and scooped the child in her arms, and held him close to her chest, protecting him from whatever thing he may fear. I saw only love in her eyes. A love so deep, that when we made eye contact, I felt it like a wave of warm water, washing me; purifying me. I have never felt so much comfort in my life. I realized, looking at her, I felt sort of in awe at what she did. How can a woman give up everything for another human being? There was nothing more natural than a mother and child, hugging each other, in such love and devotion…it was such a beautiful sight! I wanted to be that woman. To have that much love and patience, it's always been something I've always wished, desperately, to have!

 

"Now, it is time to look into the next mirror" Said that captivating male voice, and he started pulling me, slowly to the right. I glanced at the woman again, not wanting to leave the sight of her loving gaze, but knowing deep inside of me, that I must. So, with much difficulty, I let my leader pull me to the next mirror.

 

This one! My God! There is no way for me to explain those, wise, knowing eyes that devoured me the moment I looked at them. Her long, red hair fell down in curls just beyond her shoulders. She was wearing a long, plain brown robe that covered her feet. She held a rolled up parchment in her left arm, and she was cradling a book with the other. This woman was a scholar. She smiled at me with such knowledge I felt like a child looking up at her in admiration. I felt myself be drawn towards her, like a longing, a need. Her wisdom was had become her heart and soul. In her eyes, I could tell that she knew everything there was to know about the world, but…she still wanted to learn. It was like a thirst for more and more knowledge. You can never learn too much…exactly like me. I wanted to know! I wanted to learn everything she did! I wanted to be her! And because she was my own reflection, I was her! She was me! I felt a sort of hunger take over my body. I needed, no, I HAD to be that woman! She knew everything! She had seen the world, traveled to places I never even thought to dream about! I reached my hand out to touch the glass, I thought, perhaps, that if I could touch the cold glass, just a simple touch, everything she knew would come out of the mirror, and into my mind. I thought that, maybe, I could know what she knew. That if I longed for it enough, it would come true, but as I reached further and further, getting closer to the glass, the man behind me grabbed my hand, when my fingertips where inches away from knowledge.

 

"No, it is not time for you to decide yet"

 

Decide? Decide what? But before I could even ask my question, I found myself standing before the final mirror.

What I saw in the reflection, shocked me so much, that I forgot to breath for the first few seconds of looking at it. Here was a woman wearing armor, and holding an unsheathed sword, that had three golden Aninkra symbols; Aya for independence, Gyawu for leadership, and Pagya for bravery. This woman held her shield to her breast and her sword to the side of her, standing in such a way, that even tough we were the same height, I felt that she was above me. Her eyes were full of content, so sure of herself. She was strong to her ideas, and knew exactly what she was fighting for: herself. No one controlled her, and no one got in her way. I have never seen anything so beautiful, so amazing, in my life. As her cold, hard eyes looked into mine, I felt that she was looking into my soul, seeing if I was her enemy or her ally. I fell to my knees, as I stared up at her. Her long, red hair flowed to her waist, like the blood that she had spilt threw her many years of fighting. She could bring down any man with just a simple look. She was a warrior, a fighter, and a protector. She didn't fear anything, and everything feared her. She was everything I wanted to be. I had always fought for my thoughts and ideas, but never openly. I have always wanted that much courage to go against the crowd, and shout out that what we were doing was wrong…but no, I was too much of a coward to do anything that might make people glare at me in disbelieve and hatred. I have always stood up to what I believed in, and never backed down when I wanted to prove something, but I have never done anything to make the world see me. And that is the only way to make people understand that there is a fine line between right and wrong. This woman has fought and won the world's attention. She is strong, determined, and beautiful, and at that moment, I envied her.

 

"Now" whispered the voice "you have seen all three mirrors. You must ask yourself: Which are you?"

 

Which am I? What a strange question to ask! Anyone can see that I am the mother, for I wish to have children one day, and I will nurture them and fill them with life, as they will do for me.

 

But, as I looked into the mother's eyes, I saw something there…surely there was love, patience, and forgivingness…but something else. Something else made me frightened by what I saw. Then, I remembered something: my mother had given up her whole life to take care of me. She had dropped everything for her husband and child, she became someone else for them. Yes, she was selfless, but I'm not! I'm not meant to be a slave of my own love and flesh and blood! How can I be? To give up all my hopes, all my dreams, just to be shackled and locked away, like a caged bird, until I die? No! That is no life for me! That cannot, will not, happen to me! I am not her!

 

If I'm not a mother, then I am the scholar! I had thought the same when I was looking at her, so it is me! Surely it is! I looked desperately at the reflection in the second mirror. Her knowing smile still touched my heart, and in an instant, my longing returned.

 

"Look into her eyes, and tell me what you see"

 

I obeyed without a second thought. Though now I think it's silly, being controlled by a man of whom I hadn't even seen, but there was something in his voice that made me want to do as he said. Perhaps it was the kindness in the way he spoke, or how his voice seemed to be a song of an exotic tropical bird. Whatever it was, I didn't question him. I looked into her eyes.

 

"I see knowledge and wisdom." I said, simply.

"Look deeper"

 

And so I did. I expected to find more knowing in her eyes, but no. What I found was loneliness and sorrow. Many years of solitude reading books and traveling alone. She had only found love and friendship in the many books that surrounded her feet in piles. Yes, she knew every single character by heart, and she had fallen in love with a couple of men that held her ideals and tastes, but every one of them was fictional. Nothing in her life was real. She lived only in her mind, because the human race was too cruel to befriend. That is where the wisdom comes from…from seeing too much.

 

What? No! I don't want to live alone. I want companionship, love. I want to be able to laugh, not smile sadly at the world. No, I don't want to see! I don't want to learn! In yet, I do. I want to know, but if it means to life alone, and only dwell in my mind, I don't want any part of it.

 

If I am not the mother, nor the scholar, then I have to be the warrior! I looked at the woman in the third mirror, searching deep in her eyes for something other than what I saw. Trying to find something that was not visibly there. No. There was nothing but contentment, nothing but determination. I almost sighed with relief, but then it hit me. There was nothing there. No emotion but that of a warrior. She looked down at me with such a cold gaze, that I couldn't help but shiver and hug myself. What she saw was only her goals, and her goals alone. She will allow nothing to stand in her way. No hesitation to strike down an enemy, or even an ally, if she thought they were slowing her down. So cold, so heartless.

I stepped back, away from the mirrors, while questions took over my mind.

Which am I? Which one defines me the most?

 

The mother, the scholar, or the warrior? The slave, the loner, or the heartless?

 

"Neither one" I whispered "That is my answer" I heard a soft chuckle come from behind me.

 

"You are wrong"

 

"What?" I balled up my fists in anger and irritation "How can I be wrong? Only I can tell what I am, no one else! You have no say in what is wrong and what is right!"

 

I turned, raising my fist to give that asshole a right hook. How dare he tell me what I am, and what I'm not! How dare he bring me here! Damn his voice, and damn him! I will not be controlled any longer! But…right as my fist was in the air, I saw him. The man with the beautiful, amazing voice that I so willingly gave control was just as beautiful as his voice.

 

He seemed to be the definition of light. If I am a small candle in this....black abyss, then he...he is a fire, a huge fire that all the water on the face of the earth, cannot vanquish. Yet, he didn't burn. He was the sun, the giver of warmth. He took away all darkness, and gave off all that is light, and purity. I was drawn to him, though I did not feel like the fragile moth that eventually gets consumed. His eyes, full of an unending patience, were different colors, the right, yellow, and the left, blue, and they fit him somehow. On him, it wasn't strange, as it would be on others. His hair, lightly kissing and teasing his shoulders, was brown with yellow streaks, but, at once looking at it, I knew it was natural. He was without a shirt, and I could see his masculine frame, every ounce of his muscles, but it didn't take away from his facial features, it added to them. He was tall, but not towering. And in his smile, I felt peace. For once in my life I felt I could actually feel that he understood. I felt that no matter what I did, he would never judge me.

            I saw his wings, taller than he, white and feathered, like a thousand white doves shed their wings to give to him, in honor and love. At once, I wanted to give him something, anything that would show how sorry I was for wanting to strike him, then understood at once that would be a silly, stupid thing to do, for he already knew.

 

"It is true that you are the only one who can answer that question, but it is not true that whatever answer you give will be the right one"

Lord! I knew his soft, deep, sing-song voice well, but looking at him as he spoke…a whole different meaning. He had such power, but he didn't abuse it like others would. Like normal people would. He was so captivating. it felt as though every breath in my body left me, to go to him.

"Who are you?" I managed to breathe out.

 

"I am nobody, and I am everyone. I am your imagination, and I am real. I am as you want me to be, and I am myself"

            

            "I don't understand" My mind tried to grasp the words he was saying, but all I could was stare at him, dumbly, and try to not look too much of a child. I realized to him, I was probably nothing more than an infant.

           

           "You will, in time" He walked over to me and put a hand on my shoulder. He was so much taller than me, but it was hard to look at him as a threat. The way he presented himself was nothing less than soothing. I looked up into his different colored eyes, and even now, as I sit here and think, try to remember, I don't know what emotion I saw. It wasn't lack of emotion, but…this didn't seem to have a name. A mixture of many, but only one, and whatever it, or they were, I had never felt this peaceful, this understood, in my entire life. From that moment, I forgot where I was and only focused on him.

           

            "What is your name?" I wanted his simple name, that way I can have some sort of knowledge of him, but every name I was thinking at the time, didn't fit him…didn't fit his purity.

 

"Ah, I cannot give you the name I was born with, but I will give you the name I was given."

 

"The name you were…given?" I was in a daze, I was trying to hold onto every syllable he stated, but he was talking in riddles. I couldn't understand anything he was saying. A name he was born with? Given? What does all this mean? Why can't he just give me a straight answer for once?

 

"Yes. Everyone is born with a name, and everyone is given a name. The name you are given is the one that your parents thought up. Mine is Flay." He paused for a second to read my face. I'm guessing he did this to see if I had anything to put in. Not this time. I just stood there, stupidly waiting for him to finish. "The name you are born with is a name that you can only find yourself. In your world, humans call this a soul name, and I cannot give you that. It is much too sacred."

 

A soul name? That was the most ridiculous thing I have ever heard in my life! Everyone only has one name, and that is given to them by their parents. There is no such thing as a soul name…right? Somehow, the thought of having one disturbed me, but, in a way, I wanted to know. What is my soul name, if I have one? I doubt that I do, but…there's always that small possibility that always allows the impossible.

"Do you know my soul name?"

 

He looked at me and smiled a knowing smile. I felt as if he were laughing at my curiosity…or ignorance.

"No, I do not. That is something you will have to find out for yourself."

 

I looked down, at nothing, to concentrate on what my soul name might possibly be. I can only find out for myself…what does that mean? Questions that had no answers came and went from my head. I almost felt dizzy at how fast my thoughts were moving. My mind was trying, hard, to grasp this whole concept.

"Flay…" I said, trying out the name on my tongue. It…fit him somehow. His character, his personality, was the complete opposite of his name. Flay means to whip or lash, and to strip off the skin, or outer covering of something. He was not the type to hurt anyone at all. He was a guider, an adviser, a teacher. He was not meant to kill, and despite the difference, it suit him so perfectly, but I have no idea how.

"Carol" He walked over me to and took my chin in his hand, lifting my eyes up and forcing me to look deeply into his. "All these questions forming in your head! You must find one that is stronger than the others, then, and only then, can you find an answer for all."

Find one…and find an answer to all? None of this made any sense to me at all! I slapped his hand away, suddenly angry, and stepped back, looking at him for sings of any other emotion than just understanding. Surprise, irritation, hurt, SOMETHING! But no, all I saw in his eyes was the same damn emotion that he started with, and that just spite me more.

 

"Why?" I could feel my voice rising in my throat, as my anger slowly came out "Why me? What is the fucking point to all of this? What can I gain from this?"

 

I turned, and behind me, where those God-awful mirrors I hated. My body shook with anger and frustration. I wanted nothing more than to kill those images. How could they be me?

 

Flay grabbed my hand, and put his arm around my waist, holding me in place. Somehow he knew that I wouldn't be able to move once he touched me. Somehow he knew that deep within me, I wanted to kick and break those mirrors, till ever glass particle would be too small for anyone to look into, and that included me.

 

"The reason this is happening to you," he breathed into my ear, and I wanted nothing more than to punch his God dammed lights out, but I couldn't bring myself to move, "is because you are different from the rest of your kind."

Well, that caught my attention.

 

"What do you mean?" How the hell am I different? He let me go, and I turned, once again, to face him.

 

"The World where I'm from chooses humans that are worthy, to pass the Truth." He chuckled at my confused, and annoyed look. I was sick and tired of games. I wanted answers and I wanted them now. So I just sat there and glared at him. Everyone who has been under the wrath of my glare, knows that with that simple look, I will be able to get anything out of them, and as I expected, he threw his arms up, laughed nervously, and proceeded to tell his story.

"The World looks for people who are worthy enough to not only understand, but to seek the Truth for themselves. All these questions you have, are ones that you can only find for yourself." He paused for a moment, and gazed at me, as I waited ever so patiently for him to finish. He sighed. "The World is a place of knowledge, wisdom, and understanding. However, there are dark forces at work in the World that is corrupting the human race with war and famine. You see, the human heart and brain is so easily manipulated, and it is easier to bring out the shadows and darkness of humanity. So, there are seven 'angels' that go out into the human race, and pick the seven that are worthy enough to understand, and fight what is happening. To help them find the being within themselves, and fight off the darkness of their own hearts, learn the very name of their soul, and help take back the very purity of the human race."

 

I sank to my knees and looked up at him in wonder, and fear.

"You chose me?"

 

"Yes, Carol. You are the only one I have found to be worthy enough to understand." He grabbed my arms, and lifted me up with such softness, that I was surprised that he was even able to lift me to my feet. "Now, in order for you to even begin understanding, you must answer the first question… Which of the three women are you?"

 

I looked deeply into his eyes, hoping that I could find the answer in them, but knowing that I have to find it myself.

 

Suddenly, his eyes lit up in surprise, then instantly went seriousness. With a blink of an eye, he changed emotions. At first I thought I imagined it, but looking at him, I realized that something had happened. I didn't know if that was bad or good, but whatever it was, it frightened me when he let me go, and smiled an almost sad smile.

 

"Carol." he paused, anticipating what my reaction would be, and then continued, "Carol, it is time for me go, and for you to wake up."

 

"What? No! You can't go!" I tried to grab for his arm, but my hand went right threw him. I began to feel panic run through my body, as I desperately tried to reach for him, to grab him. I didn't want him to go. How was I going to find the answers out all by myself?

 

"Carol, you must think only about that question. Search for the answer in your soul. Then, and only then, will you be able to find peace within yourself."

 

With that, he was gone, and I was again, left alone to look at the three mirrors. It was strange, however, because even though I couldn't see him anymore, I still felt his lingering presence, as though he were watching over me. I looked at the mirrors with a sort of wonder. What if I looked at them as a whole, instead of individually, what would happen? I looked down, thinking hard about nothing but the question. What am I? Who am I? Am I either one of these women, or am I…

 

Just then, my jerked up as my mind realized the simple answer. Of course! Why didn't I see it before? It's so simple, it's almost pathetic! What is wrong with me? I should have been smarter than this! I should have known!

 

"I'm all three" I whispered.

 

"What?" A screaming voice woke me from my daze, and I realized I was not longer surrounded by a black abyss, but people, and light, and many different colors. At first, it confused me. What is going on? I looked at the large man in front of me who was far too ugly to be even remotely similar to Flay. His face was red, and there was a vein showing at the top of his bald head.

 

"Miss Parlor, who do you think you are, sleeping during one of MY tests?"

 

Oh yes! I remembered where I was! I was in a classroom at school, but at that time, I couldn't have cared less if I was in the White House, waking up to the President of the United States of America, I had the answer to my question. That was the only thing that mattered

"I'm all three, that's who I am, and that's who I'll be."

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Flay emerged into a room with six people, all sitting down at a large round table. They looked at him, waiting, as he sat down at his spot. Each person was wearing a cloak that covered their faces, as he was, but he knew, just as they did, who each person was.

 

"Evening, everyone" He smiled charmingly.

 

"What the hell took you so long?" Said a female voice, and the figure it belonged to stood up, and slammed her fists against the table.

 

"Well, Shuuna, hello to you too. You seem ever so lovely this evening"

 

"Oh cut the crap! Did you at least find someone?"

 

"Yes I did." He chuckled. He had always loved to poke at her impatience, but he knew this was far too important to keep at it.

 

"Aren't humans fascinating?" Said another figure, this time with a male voice, though it sounded almost child-like, leaning back in his chair

 

"Yes I have to agree with you, Kiol, humans can be interesting." Flay smiled.

 

The figure to the left of Flay nodded slightly, and looked at him. "Did you have any trouble with this one?"

 

"No, no I didn't. In fact, she already found out the answer to a very difficult question."

 

"Well, that's good for you, I had trouble with mine!" the figured sighed in his deep voice that held so much power in simple words, yet almost no emotion. "All well, at least it's over now."

Flay smiled "No, Marell, it's merely the beginning."

 

End

 

Well, tell me how you like it ok? I know it's a bit long, hell, it's a bit too long for a blog, but I still want to know what people think...thanks! Please comment! I'm open for critics!