Chapter 17: Chrysalis

September 1, 2007

1720 words.

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Chapter 16: Clarity

August 17, 2007

1172 words. Not bad. Read the rest of this entry »

865 words. Read the rest of this entry »


July 11, 2007

Doing a Ti:

Dear Ladies and Gents

Where did you go? Come home!


Chapter 14: Misprint

July 8, 2007

Wordcount to follow. 1124 words. Read the rest of this entry »

1076 words. Done!
Read the rest of this entry »

1039 words. Not bad, but it took me too long to get this chapter out. Read the rest of this entry »

More than anything, he wanted to see her smile.

He wanted her to be free to pursue her dreams, and to be happy.

He hugged their wedding picture, now coloured with age, close to his chest, as though trying to recapture that magical day once more. Thirty years ago, when they had married, he thought he had it all. A good job, a wonderful life, and the road ahead filled with nothing but promise. Thirty years later, he was alone in his room, with a keyboard that reminded him painfully of his wife. A keyboard that he had purchased.

He remembered her request. How he had turned it down. He wanted her to focus on their growing family, on their three sons, not on music. Not on something that would distract her from raising their three children. He was content to be merely the man of the house, bringing home the bacon and letting his wife handle their home. She had been more than up to the challenge; they had three fine sons between them, but their eldest was a single father, while their middle son had just gone through a heart-wrenching divorce. Their youngest was still studying, but he did not seem to have any problems… yet.

He pressed a key. Their song, a plaintive melody, played in his mind, but he could not play it. What he made on the keyboard sounded nothing like the song they used to listen to when they were newlyweds. He looked at the picture again. He stood behind her, while she sat on the chair. He was so proud on that day, and she was so radiant… Where did their love of thirty years go?

She told him that she would be leaving the country, and before she did, she wanted a divorce. She looked happy to be pursuing her dreams, and yet… her tone had been heavy. When she had left their home three years ago, he did not think it would end this way. He watched her forlornly as she walked into the apartment complex, her shoulders heavy, her feet slow. He was the cause of it… He was the one who had caused her so much trouble. He had never told her thank you, never said sorry… always assuming that she knew. He did not buy her gifts, did not know how to treat her. His sons had had to tell him to buy flowers for their mother before he went to meet her; he would not have know.

He could not tell her what he wanted to tell her. The words stuck in his throat, refusing to come. He struggled to give words to the emotions he felt, but all that came out were stutters that did not make sense. He looked at the wedding picture in his hand and then put it back on the desk with a sigh. He looked at the single, plain gold band on his finger. He had worn it all these years, even though she had taken hers out. He thought back to all those years they were married. He had been selfish, always taking without any consideration of his wife’s feelings. He had not appreciated her, thinking that once married, everything was perfect.

Her request for a divorce proved him wrong.

He pressed the key again.


Now, he could not hold her back. He did not deserve it. Instead, he spoke to the man who was trying to woo his wife, including by giving her the chance to go overseas to further her studies in music. He told the man of his wife’s motion sickness, of her sensitivity to cold. He even wrote down a list of medication for the man. He left the place quickly once the man had accepted his paper, and spent the next few days outside of the house, leaving early and coming home late. He spoke to his son’s fiance, telling her to appreciate his son and that his son was a easy-going person. She had accepted the lecture good-naturedly.

He had not attended his wife’s final performance, but sneaked in after everyone had left. He waited by the piano, hands sweaty, heart beating. When the auditorium doors opened and he had heard the students saying goodbye to her, he began to play their song. It went on in spurts, sometimes too long a pause between notes. Some notes sounded despondent, uncertain. She was stunned by his playing, but he did not notice. All he wanted to do was to play for her, just this once, to tell her that he supported her dream.

When she approached him on the stage, he apologised for not having any talent, and that she had to wait so long for him to say thank you. He thanked her for raising their family, and apologised that he had not been a good husband. He stuttered here, struggling to tell her how he felt, the gratitude for raising their family, the regret that he had not learnt to appreciate her better. A tear fell down her cheek. He would not come to see her off at the airport. Instead, though, he could give her a gift. He gave her an envelope, telling her it was the signed divorce papers. Then, so he could not see her face, he left the auditorium.


He sat alone in their house. Looking up, he could see the planes flying overhead. One of them had to be hers. His sons had tried to comfort him, but he had simply shrugged it off. It was not in his nature to reveal his feelings. He watched the planes fly, feeling that his heart had flown away. His grandson asked him what he was thinking, and he told the young lad truthfully, “I lost a thirty year old love… and the most important person in my life.” He looked at the young boy sitting next to him, and told him gravely, that he should not turn out like his grandfather. Instead, his grandson should learn to take care of the people around him.

His grandson pointed behind him. He turned, not knowing what to expect.

She stood there, tears in her eyes.

He got up and walked to her, as though in a dream. He asked her why she was not on the plane.

She told him that although she acheived her dreams, it would be empty if the man she loved was not by her side. She asked him if he would follow her. He looked at her disbelievingly. Then, as though afraid that it was a dream, he said yes. He said it twice just so she could hear it.

She smiled back at him. He took the luggage from her arms.

They went back into the house.

Let’s never let go, love.

Based on a drama I just finished watching. 1133 words. Orz. That was a load. ^_^

Chapter 10: Chances

May 20, 2007

1013 words. A whole lot of nothing this. 😛

Naoko vaulted over the wall. Landing, she hit the ground running, holding the bundle in her hands close to her body. She took off towards the nearby forest. Behind, the dogs barked as they caught her scent. Soon they had fallen silent, but Naoko was not only too far ahead of them to hear their barks, she was also making for the quickest way out. These hunting dogs were not normal; once they were in the hunt, they were silent and effective killers. Like most dogs trained this way, they were also much faster than usual.

She ran through the brook, water splashing as she stepped in them. It was too shallow to throw the dogs off her tracks, but she hoped it would give her the extra few minutes she needed. Breathing much heavier than usual, she stopped for a moment and looked behind her. The forest was unusually silent, which made her start running again. The bundle she held closer to her, adjusting the makeshift pouch in which it rested. She could not see, but rather felt as dawn broke. She did not have much time; the time window was quite small and specific.

The trees were thinning ahead of her, but she could hear the soft footsteps of the hunting dogs. They were silent like the wolves when they hunted, and they would be as merciless. Not paying full attention, she tripped over a root, and fell headfirst. Turning it into a one-handed cartwheel, she landed feet first, barely even registering the impact. One of the dogs jumped out from behind her, missing her by just an inch. There was just one single bloodcurdling howl from the pack before they fell silent again.

They jumped her as she was clearing the last line of trees before the riverbank. She reached into her clothes and pulled out a small bag of pepper, which she tossed over her shoulder to the dog behind her. It yelped and headlong into another. As it did, she reached up for a low-lying branch, pulled herself up, and jumped upwards. Taking just half a second to estimate, she pushed herself against the tree, jumping across the river to the other side. She landed just inside of the river bank, grabbing a branch to pull herself clear. The river was wide enough for her to attempt such a jump, but too deep for her to actually wade across.

When she had landed, she watched as three of the five hounds stopped just shy of the riverbank. The two that she had blinded with the pepper powder ran headlong into the river, but they pulled themselves out after a few minutes. Nodding gravely to the dogs, she disappeared into the forest. The dogs eyes glowed unnaturally as she disappeared, but they retreated after watching the empty banks for a little while longer.


Sukina sang as the sun rose over the horizon. Standing on the steps leading up to the temple, she looked out on the village that served the Temple and sang her song. Her voice could be heard over a long distance, silencing all, including the poultry. Many came out to look at who was paying tribute to the Lady; most were the old and sickly who had been dumped her by their families. The village that served the Goddess of Death was comprised of both volunteers and the outcast of societies. The latter were not familiar with the traditions of the Lady, but those who were woke up with a smile on their faces; the Miakan, the Head of the Alin’sa, had returned. It was often said that when the Miakan returned, so did the Lady. And when the Lady returned, rebirth happened. The crops would grow, the harvest would be bountiful. Tragedies would be more bearable, for they knew that the souls rested well with the Lady.

The young woman singing at the top of the Temple stairs could be seen from a fairly far distance. Dressed in white, she shone as the sun rose and reflected off her clothes and the large gold necklace she wore. The song was more than ritual to her; it was pure emotion. Behind her, sitting unseen behind a pillar, the Goddess listening to the song. Putting her head against the pillar, she let herself be lost in the song. Quietly, inside the temple, a piano played, accompanying the song. The Goddess smiled. Kishan was very good at drawing the best out of his sisters; their talents increased many times over whenever he accompanied them.

When the sun was a third over the horizon, the Goddess opened her eyes to see the third member of the family standing in front of her. She bowed before the Goddess, offering the bundle to her. The Goddess nodded gravely and took it from her, and the girl looked at Sukina singing longingly. Smiling, the Goddess stood up, carrying the bundle carefully in one hand, and patted the girl. The girl ran towards Sukina, jumping off the stairs and doing a pirouette in mid-air, landing gracefully on the landing below Sukina.

Her movements matched the singer’s tone, intense and passionate. Sukina’s song reached deeper into the emotions of her listeners when she saw her sister dancing. It was more than just a song now, nor just a tribute. It was an offering. The Lady smiled. She watched her Daughters sing and dance, but not in her honour; they were doing for the sheer joy of it. In many ways, they were just like their mothers. The crucial difference was that in terms of raw talent, Naoko and Sukina far outstripped their mothers, but the two Priestesses had made up in emotion what they lacked in talent. She smiled. There was a gurgle in her arms, as though agreeing with her assessment.

The baby was awake and smiling happily. It reached out to her, and the Goddess took its hand. She began walking while holding the babe in her arms, disappearing into thin air as the last notes of the song died away.

Talking to muses

May 18, 2007

310 words… What the hell girls? Bear in mind: This is me, this is Sukina, and this is Naoko.

I’m starting to think that maybe I should just add another category to my sidebar.

It would be useful.

Talking to muses sounds like a pretty good idea.

Thank you.

Still, you should really consider doing this costume, along with Kio. If nothing else, the photo op would be good.


I’m serious!

*Naoko is rolling on the floor with laughter*

Dimmie just said that I have a big happy face. Saya has “guilty that I did so many bad things” face. Plus… I cannot angst like Saya.

You mean you can’t emo like her.


That’s easy to rectify. *Sits up and grin* Just talk to your exes and get them to make you feel miserable. Or… you know, get him to tease you.

…. His teasing me doesn’t make me feel emo.

No Su, it doesn’t. Hmm.. why not make her listen to Pink’s Who Knew? That always makes her sad.

… It makes me sad, not angry angst.

Right… We all know you really want to be Saya. You like her more than you liked most female characters, except Mizuno.

And we all know that you don’t like the real-life versions of the Sailor fuku, which is why you don’t make them.



…. Remind me again, why are we having this conversation?

*Both smile innocently*

…. Right. *Headdesks*

And in case you guys were wondering, THIS and THIS and THIS is the costume I’m thinking of making… They have a lot of zips (I think) and it’s a three piece.

She’s considering it.


WHAT THE HELL??? NO! I don’t have time to go to the tailor and get materials and… TT_TT


Also, you need to watch Loveless and finish reading the Manga. You’re going to be a very short Kio.

… meep.