Found Poem

Hello, everyone! Long time no see!

Unfortunately, I haven’t written anything new lately, but I did realize that I have something from a couple years ago that I haven’t posted! This piece was for my Writer’s Craft class called a Found Poem. The idea of the assignment was to create a poem from lines of a book or play that already exists. The lines are supposed to be found in completely different areas of the book or play and put together so they make sense. The only thing we could change about the lines was the punctuation. I chose to take lines from the Bible and put them together. Here is the outcome:

Judge not, that you be judged.

So whatever you wish that others do to you,

Do also to them,

For this is the Law and the Prophets,

For where your treasure is, there your heart will also be.

Therefore so not be anxious about tomorrow, for tomorrow will be anxious for itself.

Man shall not live by bread alone,

But by every word that comes from the mouth of God.

You shall worship the Lord,

Your God,

And him only shall you serve.

Rejoice and be glad,

For your reward is great in heaven,

For so they persecuted the prophets who were before you.

What are you afraid,

O you of little faith?

Follow me.

Take heart, my son;

Your sins are forgiven.

Take heart, daughter;

Your faith has made you well.

Hope you enjoyed it! Happy holidays, everyone!

M.C.

Sneak Peek – I have yet to come up with a title for this story

I’ve finally decided which of my story ideas I’m going to publish on my blog. It’s been a bit of a debate because I’ve heard that, if I ever had the chance to publish something, some publishers won’t take writing which has been posted on a blog. They consider it “previously published”. So I decided on this one. Here’s a piece of it that I wrote for a school project a couple years ago.

Thanks, guys! Enjoy!

M.C.

Length: 2,350 words

Trigger Warning: Abuse

Moonlight drifted through my window, casting dancing shadows onto everything in the room. My cell phone illuminated the side of my face, giving it a faint, blue glow.

“I’m ending this tonight.”

My voice broke the silence once again, though it was a dull whisper, barely audible to my own ears.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” came the response after a few more moments of silence.

“Yes,” I said, just as quiet as before. “I’m tired of this. I can’t live this way anymore.”

I heard a deep sigh. “I know I can’t stop you, but please, don’t do anything stupid, okay?”

“You expect anything less from me?” My voice cracked, ruining my mocking, fake confidence.

“Yes, actually, I d-“

I flipped my phone shut, cutting him off. It was a rude gesture, but a necessary one. It was almost time for me to leave, so I didn’t have to argue with Liam. I had my bag all ready to go. It contained few items: some spare clothes, a bit of food, and some money which I gradually took from my father’s wallet. My alarm clock read 3:30am, and I was ready to go. I had previously deleted all the messages off my phone, leaving no evidence of where I’d gone. I had no intention of taking it with me. Besides, Liam knew better than to call me back.

I slipped out of my room, silent as death, not daring to wake my parents. I crept through the house, avoiding the weak floorboards in the hallways and the creaking stair. Noiselessly, I moved towards the back door. My house was suddenly so large; it felt as if grass could grow faster than I was moving. I finally made it to the rec room. I could see the door, but it looked miles away. I took a few steps into the room, and then I smelled it. It was stale, bitter, and sour. Alcohol. My heart began to race, and when the light flicked on, it fell out of my chest. I couldn’t breathe. Against the wall, beside the light switch, stood my father. I closed my eyes and let out a long sigh, forcing myself to breathe again, willing myself to wake up from the nightmare. I opened my eyes again and there he stood, watching me, waiting for me to make a move. I waited.

My eyes darted to the door as I mentally calculated my chanced of making it before he got to me, but I knew from experience that I wouldn’t make it. He was a fast drunk. I looked back at him and didn’t move, which caused him to frown. It was always more fun for him if I tried to run. He grumbled something I couldn’t hear and stood up straight.

“Where do you think you’re going?” he growled, surprisingly clear. Sometimes I wondered if he was ever drunk at all.

I stayed silent for a moment, thinking of a response. I figured I might as well tell him the truth.

“I’m leaving,” I snapped. “I’m done with you!”

“Is that so?” he chuckled. “That’s too bad, because I’m not done with you.”

I wondered what kind of father says that to his daughter, but then he came at me. In two strides, he closed the distance between us and smacked me across the face so hard it knocked me to the floor. I scrambled to my hands and knees to try to create some distance between us, but he grabbed my backpack and kicked me in the stomach.

“Did you think I wouldn’t notice the money missing from my wallet, you little bitch?!” he screamed at me.

I coughed until I found my voice, and then shot a wincing glare over my shoulder at him.

“I figured you’d be too drunk to notice,” I choked.

His eyes flashed and he grabbed my hair, pulling me to my feet. His eyes were wide and bloodshot as he stared at me. I trembled slightly, and he hit me again. I knew I had lost. I wasn’t fast enough to get away from him, especially since every time I moved he hit me or kicked me. I couldn’t do anything but wait and take the pain of his abuse. I tried to curl up to protect myself, but he just beat every part of me he could get. He beat me until I bled, screaming things that became less and less understandable. I slipped into my mental safe haven, one I frequented many times in my life, and never uttered another sound as he beat me until my world faded to black.

There was a pale figure off in the distance, surrounded by darkness. It was fuzzy, though, so I couldn’t make out what it was. I blinked repeatedly, yet the figure did not clear. Somehow it seemed familiar, as if I had seen it before. Suddenly, the figure began to clear, and before I knew it, I was five years old again, kneeling before my mother. Tears began to stream down my cheeks and I screamed for her, begging her to help me. Nonchalantly, she turned and she walked away. Darkness crept in and all was quiet again until the pain began to inch its way back into my body. I was, once again, denied the privilege to die. I opened my eyes to slits and peered around. My father sat in a chair across the room, a knife glinting in his hand. I needed to get out of there, fast. I didn’t really want to die by his hand. My backpack was sitting beside his feet, so I had no choice but to leave it. I drew a deep breath, pushed my pain away and jumped up, moving as quickly to the door as I could. The dead-bolt was locked, but I easily flipped it, flung open the door and ran into the night before my father could get to me. I ran hard and fast, feeling my body burn and finally noticing the unfamiliar wetness on my cheeks.

I ran until my legs could no longer support me and I collapsed into the snow. The cold November air licked my skin and soon I realized where it was I ran to. The place I sat was the very same as when I had first met Liam those long years ago. I gasped a laugh at the irony. It still looked the same, the small community playground that was hardly ever used. The rusty swing-set still sat too close to the slide. I remembered we could never swing very high, worrying that we would hit the slide. Besides, the chains were so old they looked as if they were going to give out at any moment. The merry-go-round was nearly impossible to turn, so we would just sit on it and talk after we became too tired from trying to spin each other. We used to come here often, Liam and I. It was a refuge – somewhere I could go to forget everything for a while. Then, as my body faded into numbness, I wondered if I should just let myself freeze. I was free, but had nowhere to go. I couldn’t bear to burden Liam anymore.

I was beginning to drift into unconsciousness again when a rustle in the bushes snapped me awake. I focused on the direction the noise came from; though I wasn’t sure I could move. Out from the bushes came a large fox, not five feet from me. To say he was large would be a grotesque understatement. He was as grand as a wolf and white as the soft snow around us. He had ten long, slender tails, making his presence even more commanding. What topped it off was his eyes; a bright blue so piercing they surprised me. I didn’t think foxes could grow so big, let alone have such sharp blue eyes. He tilted his head slightly and I swore I saw his tails twitch. I was wondering why he hadn’t killed me yet when I realized what he was: a kitsune; a Keeper of Change.

In that moment, I was not ready to die. I always wished for death at home, but I was free from that; it was a past life. The thought of the Change made me start to shake. It was the chance I’d been waiting for. I looked into the Keeper’s eyes and prayed. The image of my mother walking away from me flashed through my mind, so I shook my head and ground my teeth. I had to focus. The Keeper tilted his head again and then it was like my body was hit by a tidal wave. I was drowning, gasping for air and getting nothing. Gradually, it became easier to breathe, only to have pain shoot through my body. I was on fire; my blood boiled. My skin prickled. Gravity began to crush me intensely. The wind blew through my body and suddenly the heat vanished and was replaced by deep, burning cold. The feelings came, one after the other, only to be replaced by more crippling pain. My skull was being split and my lower spine crushed. I squeezed my eyes shut and cried out. I hadn’t made any noise from pain in years. How long was I crumpled there? Hours? Days? I couldn’t tell, because every second was an eternity before the pain began to subside. After a moment, I opened my eyes and stood up shakily. I felt oddly fantastic.

My senses were so sharp it was as if I was a part of everything. Most of all, though, I could feel the water. The seemingly dry air was filled with it. I was aware of every bit of moisture on the planet. I ran my fingers through my hair, surprised by its sudden length. It had grown down to my knees and turned a deep, midnight blue. My hands moved to my face, but I couldn’t feel my ears! I traced my fingers up to the top of my head and rubbed my new soft, fox ears. I regretted that immediately. It sounded like dragging my fingers over an amplified microphone. I looked at my hands, which had a faint blue glow. I quivered excitedly and looked back up at the Keeper. His expression made me do a double-take. His eyes were widened, and as I watched, they narrowed and looked me over. I felt naked under his gaze.

“Impossible…” came his voice. “How can this be?”

“W-what?” I stammered.

His eyes shot to mine, then he radiated a pale white light and proceeded to transform before me.

I’ll admit, he was handsome. So much so, he seemed other-worldly, like a god. He was tall, probably 6’5”, and thin, though not lanky. His hair was long, straight, and show-white like his fox fur. His piercing eyes were narrowed in a calculating gaze. I blushed, despite myself. It was like he was looking inside me, making me embarrassed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?!” I cried.

He flinched, as if I’d woken him from a deep slumber, then composed himself. “Your tail… or shall I say, tails.”

I blinked, then looked behind me. Coming out of the back of my pants were three fox tails, much like his, only the colour of my hair. I looked back at him, my eyebrows furrowed.

“Members of Change are only supposed to have one single tail. Only the kitsune have more than one tail,” he explained. “It shouldn’t be possible. Keepers cannot create kitsune.”

“So does that mean I’m a Keeper, too?” I blurted, slightly stirred by the idea.

“No. You must not try to create Members, for it is far too dangerous. Your powers have not developed yet. Though I suspect we can expect great things from a mortal kitsune.”

“A mortal kitsune?”

“The kitsune are, essentially, entities. We are spirits created by the gods and given magical and shape-shifting abilities. That is how the Change came to be. A kitsune passed a portion of their power into a mortal. The number of tails marks the amount of power a kitsune contains. Thus, the reason Members only have a single tail. But, you have three. Therefore you are a kitsune, not a Member of Change.”

I was speechless. Why did this happen? How could I become a kitsune? I had always been curious about the Change.  I brought it up with my parents, once, but my father had hit me for mentioning a “curse”. When people first found out about the Change, they often sought out the kitsune, desiring power. Most of those people ended up dying during the process of Changing, so it was deemed a curse. People began to fear the Change. The kitsune were also very mysterious, which didn’t exactly help the situation. I never thought it was a curse, though, but a new way of life. I always figured it could be a way out of my life. Yet here I was, Changed into a kitsune. I had a feeling my life was about to become extremely complicated. Suddenly, the Keeper shook his head.

“My apologies, I’ve been very rude. My name is Jeremy,” he said, “but my fox name is Shimo. As you could probably guess, my elemental power is mainly ice.”

He smiled at me, making my heart flutter a little.

“My name is Naomi,” I replied, pushing the feeling from my mind. “Pleased to meet you.”

“I’m well aware of who you are, Naomi,” he grinned, flashing a set of straight, white teeth. “We’ve been waiting for you to leave that… interesting home of yours for a while now.”

“We?”

“Ah, yes. The Order of the Kitsune. I suppose I’ll have to escort you there. There is much we have to explain and discuss. You are obviously special; we just have yet to find out how much.”

Something about the way he said that made my heart beat faster, yet concerned me at the same time.

This is subject to a bit of change / improvement as I write the actual story.

Weekly Writing Challenge: Frozen in Time

Here is my entry for the Weekly Writing Challenge, found here: http://dailypost.wordpress.com/2013/09/16/writing-challenge-dialogue/.

Length: 409 words

Enjoy!

“I don’t understand.” I furrowed my brows. “You’re so young; you should be doing childish things and have no worries of the world.”

There was a flash in her eyes and suddenly her stone face became distorted with fury.

“You have suffered – I can see it in your eyes – but you are a naïve fool!” Mika spat. “You are not the only one familiar with pain and you are blind to those who know greater pain than you!”

I snapped my gaping mouth shut, suddenly embarrassed. How could a child make me feel so young? “Like you?” I blurted, regretting it before I even finished the words.

“You have no idea,” she whispered. Her narrowed eyes were filled with a deep, age-old sadness. She turned and began to walk away.

“Wait!” I cried. I lurched forward and grabbed her shoulder. “I’m sorry. You’re right; I am naïve. You’re also right about my pain. Please help me understand yours! I want to help you! Who knows, we may even be able to help each other.”

Mika shook off my hand, turned to face me and our eyes locked. We stood there for what felt like ages, looking into each other’s eyes. Eventually, she sighed and her shoulders slumped.

“All right, fine. You must first promise me that you are sincere. Too many times have I confided in straight-faced statues for human beings, pretending to care merely because they’re expected to.”

“I promise you. Like you said, I am familiar with suffering.” I smiled stiffly, thinking of my father.

She chuckled humourlessly and returned my stiff smile. “How old do you think I am?”

“You look about ten.”

Her smile formed into an unbecoming grin. “I was born in 1936. I was Changed in 1946.”

My mouth was handing open again, I noted. “You’re 74 years old?!”

“Yes. I aged well, ne? Now, how well do you know your history?”

“Decently. 1945 marked the end of…” My voice trailed off. It all suddenly made sense. “My god… The bomb. You were –“

“–Living in Hiroshima at the time. I was far enough from the center to live, but close enough to suffer from everything else. I lived like that for a year before I was Changed. Long enough to watch everybody around me die –“

Her voice caught and she stopped. All I could do was approach her and hold her in my arms.

“I’m so sorry…”

I would like to note for those viewing my blog: this story and the characters in it are both my own. I have been working on this story for a long time, though admittedly I haven’t gotten very far with it. The narrator is a young girl named Naomi Thomas. I hope to post more about this story in the near future.

Thanks, guys!

M.C.

Angels of the Lord

I will start my blog out with some fan fiction. This scenario occurs between one of my own characters, Alessa, and the character Castiel from the show Supernatural. I own no rights to any Supernatural characters or content.

Length: 781 words

Thanks, guys!

M.C.

A flutter of wings alerted Alessa to an angelic presence. She turned, expecting her companion, only to be met by an unfamiliar face. He was tall with dark hair and deep blue eyes, clothed in a loose-fitting suit and a dirty trench coat.

“Who might you be?” she asked, stiffening slightly.

“I am Castiel,” he responded, his voice gruff. “I have never seen or heard of you in heaven; who are you?”

He was forward and to the point. Typical angel, Alessa smiled inwardly.

“Hello, Castiel. My name is Alessa. I haven’t been around for very long and I was only in heaven for a short while before I was sent back to Earth. It’s no wonder you’ve never heard of me. I barely made it through the gates, you might say.”

“There are no gates into heaven…” Castiel said, deadpan. Alessa fought against rolling her eyes. Yes, typical angel. Were they all really like that?

“Sorry – expression…” she muttered. “So, what are you here for? I figure you must have sought me out for a reason.”

“I was in the area and felt your presence. I didn’t recognize you, so I decided to investigate.”

“Are you hunting the group of demons, too?”

“Yes, the Winchesters and I –“

“The Winchesters?” Alessa cut in. “Who are they?”

“You aren’t even aware of the Winchesters…” he mumbled, more of a statement than a question. “They are human hunters. They have knowledge about the workings of heaven, hell and everything in between.” A small smile crossed his lips. “They are good friends of mine.”

Alessa’s head was spinning. Human companions? Hunters? Why hadn’t Keegan – or God, for that matter – informed her of these people? More importantly, Castiel had human friends. People who knew what he was. Why was he overlooked when she had been told not to reach out to anyone, herself? A pang of jealousy stabbed into her chest. Shaking her head, she cast the feeling aside. Her duties were for her, alone, and she had to obey her terms.

“I suppose you’ve been an angel for a while?” she asked speculatively. “You certainly act and speak like one.”

Castiel looked at her, his head tilted and his eyebrows knit. “Well, of course. I’ve been around since the beginning.”

Alessa shifted under his gaze. “Do you remember what it’s like?”

He paused. “I don’t understand.”

“Being human.” She finished softly.

He simply stared at her. She couldn’t possibly know about his falling from grace; she barely knew the workings of their own kind. In that case, what was she talking about? What could she –

“You…” he gasped. “Were you a human?”

She chewed her lip and looked away, shifted, then nodded. Geez, she thought it was general angel knowledge. Clearly she was meant to be kept a secret. But wait…

“You weren’t?” It was her turn to tilt her head. Damned angel habits were beginning to affect her.

“I was born an angel, like everyone else. Or so I thought.” He scratched his chin. “Interesting…”

She felt like a science project. “So you don’t know… You’ve never felt emotion? I was like that when I first came back to Earth – focused, emotionless – but then something happened and now I’m like a human in an angel’s body.” Did angels even have bodies?

Castiel scratched his chin again. Discomfort flashed over his face and was quickly replaced by exasperation. After a few moments, he sighed. “I rebelled against heaven because I could – I can – feel. I did what I still believe to be the right thing, and I ended up falling. I became human for a short time. Yes, I do know a bit about what you’re talking about. However, I don’t have any more of an idea of how to deal with it than you do.”

“But how do you manage your duties when you’re tied to someone?” she cried. “How do you know you’re making the right choices?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed again. He looked so tired. “Sometimes you won’t make the right choices, despite your best intentions. All you can really do is hold on to what keeps you here – whatever keeps you fighting.”

An image of light, tousled hair and bright, smiling eyes shone through her mind. Yes, whatever – whoever – kept her fighting: the person she swore to protect, against all odds.

“Thank you, Castiel.” She smiled at him. “No matter what mistakes you’ve made, I’m sure your friends will always forgive you in the end, because what else are friends for?”

A ghost of a smile appeared on his face. “I hope you’re right.”

And with the soft whisper of feathers, he was gone.

“Typical angel,” she chuckled.