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29 / F / Sydney, Australia
Posted 1/20/08 , edited 1/30/08
Hola ^^

Here are some of my old stuff (it's still deemed reasonable to read lol).. I've been working more on graphics than writing stories, so I can only post a few old stories and poems.

Short Stories:

1 . This is my last big story (over a year ago). I would submit it for the contest however it's slightly over the word limit at 7k (but it is under 20 pages.. - I'll let the judges decide if they'd accept this or not). I wrote it when I was 16-17, but I do have to give it a warning to let you know that it Is depressing (same goes with stories 2 and 3).

The main story:
It is a major work, so there is much research involved. Here is the reflection statement and bibliography to it:

2 . Here's one that I wrote when I was 16. It's less depressing than the one above, and it is shorter, but still, I'll give you a warning.

3 . I wrote this a bit earlier, 16, for theme: "time". Warning again.

Just to let you know, I'm not gonna be bothered editing it again.. I've had 27 rough drafts for the first story already ><

I would copy and paste everything to here, but it ruins the layout, and it would be awfully long..

I'll update more of my stuff later..

I've received various lets say 'interesting' comments about those stories above, so feel free to say whatever you want. ^^


- Julia

p.s. Don't even think about copying my work..


I've found some poetry!! But they're like.. old.. *note: my stories are better since I can't figure out my poems now >< lol


The Wonders of You

Golden tresses
Matched with silver dresses
Under the mysterious moonlight
In the darkest of the nights
With your baby blue eyes
Looking into the black sky
And your ruby red lips
Makes my heart do flips
Cheeks of roses
Your gentle voice flows
When I gazed upon the misty dawn
The love of my life was gone
Upon the bed
A golden tress
A silver thread of dress
A warm mark upon the sheet
A memory of sweetness
Forever to keep


Conquering Life

Even through the pains of life
Everyone would be loved once
Share the happiness and pleasure
Go through even the gates of hell

Tramp across the deserted deserts
Swim down the deep Mariana trench
Fly like the almighty albatross
Walk to the gates of hell and back

Heaven forbids the uniting of souls
Entreating the societies value and culture
Letting go of the truth held
Loosing the grasp of truth

Even through the troubles of life
Everyone would be loved once
Share the delight and desire
Of being together, enjoy life

Tramp across the deserted deserts
Swim down the deep Mariana trench
Soar like the almighty albatross
Stroll to the Gates of Hell and back

Heaven forbids the uniting of souls
Imploring the societies value and culture
Letting go of the legitimacy held
Loosing the grasp of truth

Sections of the law forgotten
Opening the weakness in flesh
Cease to be alive and vigorous
Immensely trivial to men in the country

Beggars, Creatures and Others

The coldness and despair
Hang over them like shadows
Unable to detach

You could feel the sadness
Their faces, slouched shoulders
Eyes of burnt timber

Flared with beauty and bewilderment
Fragile in a state of imminent collapse

Holding endlessly to the life
The time they have left

The spectre of loneliness
Crept stealthy towards them

Ignored with no blessing
They find no sanctuary in sleep
Nor life when awakened

The pale drenched image
Clung to the mist of your mind
Never forgotten, never clear

Creatures banished out of society
The helpless, the feeble, the dying

To us, their life or death
Matters as little as the stars

A figure in the darkness
Growing desperate for salvation

The Effects of It

She appears as if it did not happen that fall,
Acting as if it by chance did not affect her at all.
Yet she weeps silently in the darkest threatening nights,
With crickets chirping and the glow of her bedroom lights.

At dawn, she paints her divine dreadful features,
Before she was the enchanting goddess of all creatures
Now of small swollen blue eyes and wrinkles of despair,
Cursing her brush as she banishes the locks in her golden hair.

Twisting her wedding ring till it burnt like a torch,
She watches the sunrise in sadness, resting at the porch,
Her wisdom dying with her as grief takes place,
Time heals all they say, but could never in this case.

To her eyes, love will never smile at her in infinity.
To her shallow mind, hope has vanished for eternity.
To her, life, means nothing more than a mere penny,
Her past dreams was shattered, if she ever had any.

Under her pillow lies an image of her with her beloved,
But every drop of crushed tears fades the picture away,
Inch by inch it perishes to a patch of obscurity,
And runaway memories of the past haunt her to insanity.

A never forgiving truth that brings out the beast,
The slow torture breaks her heart to pieces for a feast.
She cannot and will not face the fact, I fear,
The challenge to forget the ones that were so dear.

To live in happiness was previously her desire,
But at this moment it is lost amongst the smoke of the fire.
Her heart transforming to a bitter black rose,
Stinging everything, now there is nothing to lose.

She is losing her patience, generosity and virtue,
Incapable of controlling her anger and nature.
Nevertheless she cannot be blamed for the disaster,
It is the heaven above which remains the master.

When the incident was told to her in the sitting room,
She realized that it was ordained to be her doom.
Hitherto she lived through the shadowed years,
Coping with the twinge and ache as it appears.

It is unbelievable that she battled the land,
Surviving the effects of losing her son and husband.
Her grief and anger increases as the war continues with obsession,
But the sun stays and remembers with brightness and passion.



I’m sorry to say this
But I can’t live without you
Not one day of my life
I never thought about you

I don’t know what to do
To stay closer by your side
Though I know I can believe
We will be happy and free

Inviting affection
Unleashes the unexpected
Evoking the feelings
From a distant land

A light wind floats by
Surrounded by mystery
Along comes the angel
And I don’t know what to do

Exceptional splendor
Cloaked in seduction
Scarcely perceptible
It suddenly vanishes

Wonderful in promise
Discover and escape
To the luring fragrances
Mingle with the notes

A swirl of berries and pearls
Sweet caress, gently embraces
Slowly unveils the secrets
Breathed in misty air

Enchanting sensations
Exquisitely charming
Candles shimmer
And I surrender myself to you

Actually, I might as well paste my story in here.. I just realized myself I don't even bother to download any files..
If you Really do care about the layout, then download the first link.. Here's my major work (7.4k):

Titled: Unearthing The Present - The Future - The Past

“Whenever I prepare for a journey I prepare as though for death... Should I never return, all is in order. This is what life has taught me.”

- Katherine Mansfield (1922, Journal)

Sunday, 10th December, 2006
Day 0 – Me and My Cage

Today’s status: unpleasant due to the cold and more so as I woke up from the nightmare, shivering like I always do. Somehow the dream continues to haunt me ever since... that incident. I always wanted to write this familiar story, but it escapes every time when my fingers begin to type for it would no longer register in my mind. This story of my life must be revealed to you, and I shall show you all the terrible accounts that I must deal with. Now I understand why people think mental people are, well, insane. We are. Lol.

Posted by deangel at 9:41 AM

Verdammt! It took me far too long to write that. The lappy was always messed up with my blankets on the floor, and I just couldn’t express anything until everything’s silent around me. A neighbour (the attention seeker) next door would continually scream in the morning and all the helpers would scuttle about her. But now, I am at peace and feeling no distress (minus the batteries running out).

Posted by deangel at 9:53 AM

I was just crouching by the small window for a while, staring into the sunshine that streamed through the compact room. It's another pointless day. *Sigh* I'm dying for something eventful to happen. It's bound to. It must. Me: falling into endless sleep- despite my empty stomach...

Posted by deangel at 11:24 AM

*Growls* I was woken up by a tram heading to Favoriten’s CBD. Legs numb. *Yawns*
The bed is so comfy and warm; the mattress always thaws my body. *Stretches*
So bored…
So Hungry…

Posted by deangel at 2:41 PM

I was just reading the archives of my blog. There were some really old ones dating back when I first arrived here, aka Austria. If it did not happen to me I would not have believed it. But it’s true. I guess that’s why they locked me up in this verflucht place…
My oh my… it has brought back memories. Now I cannot tear myself away from the posts. I have never re-read what I wrote before…
My blog is my soul. LOL… But none of it really matters now. It’s just the past.

Posted by deangel at 3:05 PM

My pillow needs changing. It’s been drowned in tears. I… just could not stop crying. The song… The lyrics… Gloomy Sunday by Billy Holiday…
I just heard it on the radio that was playing outside in the common room. It was really… overwhelming. Hungary banned that song. Perhaps they should do so here as well. They have well enough reason to do so. I mean… so many people died over that piece of music. Even the composer, Rezsô Seress jumped to his death. Should I be worried? After all, the suicide anthem is from my home country. And after my mother died, my father killed himself… I feel like as if my serotonin, the 5HIAA levels, has just decreased now...
I need chocolate. Let me find that before I find the lyrics to the version I heard…

Posted by deangel at 3:29 PM

"Gloomy is Sunday,
With shadows I spend it all
My heart and I
Have decided to end it all

Soon there’ll be candles
And prayers that are said I know
But let them not weep
Let them know that I’m glad to go

Death is no dream…"

That is the part I can relate to… This strange tune has tightened the grip of my sadness, increased the despair and longing for my last resort… death. Uncertainty and guilt surrounds me now, it has swirled my mind into a twisted cable. Sense and reason was once again lost within. I can only hide and be trapped in the confinements of this institution. Part of me just wants to end it. Now.

My head has been hurting so much from crying. Want to stop…

Posted by deangel at 3:32 PM

I’m so confused. My previous life was great. I had it all. The best grades, the high school star status, and it was the perfect life. But I killed another and now I am only a failure in everything that was important to me. The only goodness I can do now is to die.
All alone here, nobody cares whether I live or not. I have attempted to remove myself from this life before. It has been a while. Can’t they see how bad I am now? 17 and stuck in this empty room, with only minimal visits from Pryderi who seems so sad every time I see him. To anyone who would listen, please make his sadness stop and release me from my confusion.
Everyone seems too busy to talk to me. And those who can listen cannot register what is going on in their stupid minds. I am hurting inside… So bad.
So tired… I don’t understand why people walk by my door and never look in.
I don’t have any choice in being here. This institute is killing me more. Though I can’t make repairs if I leave. And there is just nothing for me here. I love you all very much and I don’t want to hurt you any more Pryderi.
I can’t stand this coldness. I have no control over my life now.
Tut doch was jemand!

Posted by deangel at 3:44 PM

There was nobody, just neglect ab ovo . No one on this world noticed Della’s existence until she didn’t exist…By reflecting on her posts she searched for the truth of longevity, and came to one conclusion. That she can be immortal through the means of death itself. And there she stood ad lib to end the miseries life has brought her. She rose on her toes and then she took in the very last breath of polluted air.

Written word for word, this is how the story began.

Amidst the craze of instant messaging, a quiet boy was turned into a reckless man by reading an email- it was from her. He turned pale as he read what appeared on the screen. The words hardly processed by parti pris .

Dearest Pryderi,
There is the past which I cannot share with you until I am gone. It has restricted me from you. And I regret it further to say I have done great harm and escaped from the law, but not from myself. Go to my room, open my laptop and click on the Explorer link on the desktop. Perhaps you would understand me more. The truth will be revealed and nobody would be prepared to undertake the unethical world I live in. Not even you could comprehend my unhappiness.
Isolated… That is what I have become. And thus I am dead. Please do not cry. There is no need for any sorrow. Do not worry as death means nothing to me. Neither did life. I was, and now am truly, a soul lost in the infinity between the worlds. I only wanted to be a little Mädchen , untainted by the presence of people. The dissatisfaction of the leisure I once sought for nourishes my unhappiness. The planet today means as little to me the plastic bags that ruin it. And thus, I will be a beatific being as I venture through the unknown Elýsian Fields. It is a worthy arrangement. Tasting death I was offered the tranquillity and freedom from every living Hell.
Be relieved to know I have found my peace. I am no longer suffering. Now I have no fears for I have long gone. I surrender myself to my dreams. Goodbye.
Della Vanéngel.

Pryderi gasped out in dismay and immediately grabbed his mobile. Frantically dialling to reach her. To hear a response, breathing, anything!
He contacted the Polizei and staff of the mental institute, pleading for assistance as he made his way to her cell. They disregarded the call until he made another as he stood in front of her…

The sun had set an hour before and he found her body hung in her room. The lyrics of Gloomy Sunday scattered beneath her feet on the concrete floor. Pryderi cried bitterly. The deepest agony and sorrow echoed in the room but only the cold body and improvised bed sheets hung behind.
The pain endured by this boy would have killed to the extent that the blackness in the mind would need to be filled with endless concrete. It was then that Pryderi realized the value of one’s life. For he lost his secret beloved, and pleaded to Eir to have her life returned. Alas, it was as if she had a stake driven from her head to body, for neither she nor her soul could ever wander or dream again.

The navy uniformed Polizei just claimed ignorance and their coldness sent a shudder down Pryderi. There was nothing they could do, for society now accepts suicide as a means to… escape the world. Perhaps life is not the highest of the goodness and that death may not be the greatest evil.

Pryderi entered her messy room. The radio was still on, reporting on just another sui caedere .
He sat devastated on his admirer’s cold water bed believing that there could be no warmth to be felt again. He remembered about the email. The laptop. It was placed in the bedside drawer. He reached for it. The metal was hot to touch, though the room was colder than the Austrian winter breeze. The screen slowly flickered violently like a strobe light, its electrical disturbance causing a headache. A blog appeared before him titled by the famous words from Othello. Only ten- but only one was enough to cause pain.

Blog : I Am Not What I Am – Mysteries Uncovered

Monday, December 27, 2004
Day 10- Waves of Sentiment

It is all ‘tabloidification’, the usual celebrity scandals and vulgar images of cellulite and fat shoot by Paparazzi. Ugh! Even such sensationalist forms of writing become a bore in the end and ugly looking people revolve to be a turn off. Since we cannot control those blockbuster issues – poverty, unemployment, globalization- I guess I shall stick to the entertainments in life. Like those appetites for limits of behaviours and endurance which results in murders, rapes, kidnaps, massacres, all those dramas and disasters.
I surf the net day after day, to satisfy the need of pleasure, and wait for something horrifying to appear. It was always the same useless news appearing again and again. Until 00:58:53 UTC 26th December 2004. Video footage of the tsunami stopped all unnatural wars within the world. The waves were a re-enactment of a spider- it flared out before attacking its prey. And I, oh I loved the havoc. Moments of terror and horror crashed the camera's flash. Even from the heavens, it would have looked like as if it had been flattened by a nuclear bomb. Hmm… It is nearly dawn; the sun is coming up the street still at this time. However my eyes were drawn back to the images… Really horrific.
A little girl's body, like mashed potatoes, swelling with water and crushed- just not edible. A pair of pants, discarded along with the carcasses, with an anonymous owner. A confused and angry man, standing nearby black plastic bags all lined up, disbelieving that the Fates not only took his home, but his entire family with them. A photo album was still soaking wet, the pictures of the perfect moments obviously ruined; all the years of captured memories destroyed like the depicted surroundings. An old woman, tearing out her hair, beating her chest, dragging herself with each step, in a continuous delirium as she discovered the familiar places where houses and temples once stood. The list could go on until the edge of the world.

I glanced to the window again and what I saw was really weird… There were boats on the main road, trucks gone to sea, lagoons in once draught locations, buses and cars turned upside down. And all of a sudden, storm clouds approaches the airstrip landscape, threatening to destroy more damage than humans ever could.
A clip started, which brought me back to this humble abode. A news reporter's recorder, showing a couple drowned; found clung to each other as their last hope of reuniting their love at least. This was lacrimae rerum . But I am satisfied now. The world could not remain disaster free.

The wind is whistling and the rain is shouting in union. I feel imprisoned by the raindrops, oh how it taunts me to hide from its splatters on the roof. So why do I feel this and not of life? I cannot help but sigh. The cracked mirror beside me could only distort the reflection of my soul further more, wilted on the window's ledge. I grabbed the equally dying plant and threw it out of the window. It smashed at the pavement, thundering like the suddenness of the tsunami. To this, I had to smile. My mind blanked and I suddenly started to weep, not knowing why. So I continued to weep because I noticed that I was crying. And then I could only shed another seven tears because in the end, there is nothing to weep about.

Posted by deangel at 5:32 AM | 1 Comment

Comment by |_3cr37!s
All should be free! Free yourself from the confinements of your room. Go out! Enjoy the light while you have it. The above powers cannot affect us in any way for we have our own laws. The darkness is quite frightening- I know, but you must overcome this dread. And keep on throwing things! It does calm you down. ^^

Thursday, 3rd February, 2005
Day 9- World of Spies

I felt a presence. It could be a stray cat seeking refuge. My eyes were weighted with fatigue. My body ached. I had to force my eyes to open and blink to searching for any snippet of light. The presence was then gone. I wanted to yawn though paranoid of the grotesque the darkness held install for me. The room was of no help. Even the moon disappeared.
Finally yawning, I nested my head back into the soft pillow. The sweetness of azaleas enclosed around me. Closing my eyes, I patiently tried to sleep again; nevertheless, the presence returned the second I shut my eyes again. Immediately eyes wide I gazed up above straight at a pair of hazel eyes.
The presence created a chilling sensation throughout my body. The stages of death began as my body temperature fell. I was unable to detect any sound, or the weight of a body. I could only tremble as numbness overtook my spirit. I could not move. Now I know it was rigor mortis which set upon me. I felt frightened, and then my eyes betrayed my fear. The hazel iris began to change to a warmer colour, the greens and browns replaced by shades of red. It did not once blink. It watched my emotions and the decay starting first in my lower right abdomen. It would have seen my veins be outlined in red and green as bacteria decomposed my blood. My marble appearance- reality?

Suddenly all was dark again. Everything. It was all gone. I could not feel my bed under my sweating body, or any sheets that covered me. I was not home, not underwater nor flying. Time stopped. I truly believed in my fate as the nerves in my brain ceased to function. My heart stopped destroyed by the pumping adrenaline. Senses blocked and natural reflexes in disappeared. I existed in a haunted world of fear and shadows. My soul was suspended in the wild imagination through the creation of what I sought in those hazel red eyes.
But I knew I was safe, after all, what is not real, cannot kill. Right?
A shiver just went through my body. And again. Is the physical me trying to tell me something? I was truly in fear of the pair of eyes, its redness like a massacred flesh. Is that what is installed for me after I die? The mystery of… oblivion?

I think over it again now and maybe it was the winged spirit, Euripides that carried the sword of death and waved its wings above me…

Posted by deangel at 1:42 AM | 2 Comments
Comment by |_3cr37!s
What did I tell you? You should go out! Man should not fear at all, especially death.
Comment by deangel
*I blocked your IP address from posting.* This is my personal blog, and I do not appreciate such pointless attempt of advice.
Edit: Thanks for the suggestion though. I’ll go out some other day… Perhaps…
Comment by Nizt[-]
Yea! Now that’s how you live (or die?). LOL! Nothingness is bliss.

Sunday, 10th April, 2005
Day 8- The Heart’s Flame

Glancing through the carriage window, I saw the majestic building, the attractiveness shadowed by the rich. Statues and precision cut trees bordered the white pebble road leading to the front entrance. Meandering around the fountain I glimpsed the laughing crowd within. For once I prayed that I could enjoy the night with Pryderi and to keep me from the terrors. But my prayers were not answered.

In a late début armed imposingly with the jewel of nobility embroidered as camelias over her navy velvet gown, I descended the marble stairs- very distinguee. The servant announced, “Lady Della Vanéngel, the Marquess of Magyars .”
This caught me off guard completely. What happened to a welcome note? And I definitely was not a princess from Hungary! Then recognition hit me. I could not believe I did not recognize sooner. The ball room smelt of cigars and musky perfume along with the long lost wooden fireplace. I was back in time in another figment of the imagination. Another world where I would be lavishing and could not be disturbed by my past as it would not have been born then.
I laughed and the noise silenced suddenly and Strauss was heard no more. Face radiant, dress sparkling; I was perfection under the level of the eye glasses. Would-be partners from the beau monde greeted me at once, pressing me to a dance. Nevertheless with my head held high, I dutifully headed to Pryderi and him towards me. Somehow he was wearing a very ancient outfit, but it went accordingly to blend in with everyone else. Guests parted for me in either acknowledgement or admiration and I could not identify anyone else save for Pryderi. I one way or another turned to be the attention of that evening with the beau ideal . Maybe it was my dress; it was cut really low to suit the fashion trend in Paris.
Pryderi led me to the floor, continuously dancing one song after another, along with a debate of my future. I could not even forget the memories of the past, how could I have looked forward in time?
Whispers of jealousy started amongst some females. They challenged each other to produce ludicrous rumours about the newly arrived guest- me. They found the perfect lie, and spread it to everyone within the room. My status in this Austrian country meant nothing to them. Moments later, glares were issued from the ones who once admired my exposed beauty and the garnet rings displayed grandly on my fragile fingers.
Unfortunately, one who was not so strong could not have handled loneliness. I was meant to be bright and noble for I was born into the name of the beautiful woman. And look what I have become.

Pryderi gingerly held me spirits and approached the situation in a light manner. He said was unreasonable, and claimed there was nobody else in the room looking at me. But soon found out what the fuss was about, overhearing a whisper. I was not from the demimonde nor a courtesan as they cruelly and hypocritically proclaimed myself to be. What is wrong with the women?
I had to use an amethyst to control the thoughts of evil and anger in my mind; and to quicken my wit for defence against the multitude of falsehood. Unfortunately, even with that flaunted on my expensive ball gown, it was of little use. Pryderi was somewhat puzzled by my actions as I forced a brilliant flash of teeth and a laugh. But he could see that my eyes were filled with a rage and disappointment even the slanderous tongue could not match. He left me to refill the drinks. I was young, alone, abandoned, destitute and dying in the middle of the dance room.
A servant threw a log into the fireplace; the death brand gave a moan as the fire sparked to life. The living energy was withdrawn from me as it once did from Meleäger. All I could do was to remove myself from evil that surrounded the people. Pryderi was still unaware of this measure of self destruction that has combined to clot within me. He was too busy in conversation with a stationed officer. I could not handle it. Abruptly, I left the dance floor and fled to my carriage. If I had not, the flames that burn within me, I would have kept my stance and fought the battle of virtues- arguing that a good heart is more important than propriety. I would use any means of violence to keep me up high. Alas, I was too weak. I exit the doors and heard footsteps behind me. I could only run as far as I could. Pryderi surely would find out my secret - the illness I had developed.
As I entered the courtyard, I felt the invisible flame scorch my alveoli and coughed out ashes and grease. My delicate palms transformed to a texture of the starfish and it slowly burnt the flesh like acid into ash. It hurt… So bad… I was hungry too!

I was back again. I withdrew my gaze from the entrance of the Schönbrunn to my hands. They remained unharmed, no mark or pain administered. All that I could see, was a tiny c engraved into my red nail polish. I called Pryderi and urged him to forget tonight.
So has my destiny been written like Ovid’s character? Or is this the truth of reality?

Posted by deangel at 7:15 PM | 0 Comment

Wednesday, 15th June, 2005
Day 7- Breath of Life

The Danube chilled but revitalized me. A few somersaults later, the goose bumps disappeared and a flush spread across my cheeks. My blush quite visible from the reflection of the natural mirror. The ripples became silent as I floated on the waters. For once I felt peace, my fears drifting away. The endless screaming of children muffled by the waves held me amidst the serenity. I stared up into the clear glass ceiling.
A person passing by would have claimed to see Venus afloat. Because my soft hair moved along with the waves. Such a sensual body would even have been admired by all. My sarong was now transparent to the curves that were hidden beneath. Wild flowers placed themselves beside me, and butterflies crowned me with sweet blessings.

I laughed as a puzzled group of children lost their hidden item in the waters. And I was observant enough to see where it was thrown to, and calculating the whereabouts the object was in the flowing river, I dived for it. Despite the proud sun, its gleam could not have shone at the depth I was at. Confused, I emerged, startled to find myself surrounded by icecaps. It begun again. My body desperately trying to adjust to the temperature change.
I assumed one more dive would help me return to normal. The ice disappeared, the indigo clearness returned. Coming up again, I was more amused than alarmed to find ruffe, mud minnow, sturgeon, pike-perch in the air. Bells started to ring with vigour. It was utterly an unbearable noise. I dived back under, this time pines peaked below me. The branches sliced at my feet in delight. I tried to float to the surface.

Oxygen escaped me, and my soul went along with it. The virtues left and vices came. I waved my arms in a frantic notion to save my life, yet I knew from then on that this was to be my destiny. Surviving the wide arms of terror could be it. I would not have to wait. I can feel it coming for me…

Posted by deangel at 10:52 AM | 1 Comment
Comment by Platonium
You sound more like Ophelia to me than Venus. Venus emerged from the water, you went the opposite. I shall pray for you my child.

Saturday, 21st August, 2005
Day 6- Unseen attack

It was a perfect time for an evening stroll. The cool temperature of 18 degrees warmed my cracked hands. The sun had almost dropped on the River Danube, reflecting the purple sky and red clouds in a breath-taking sight. Zephyr blew humid wind tossing my long golden hair, its waves in the movement of sea currents. It really was a beautiful sight. If only I had someone to share it with… If only my… I cannot reveal it now…

Anyways, I bent down to blow the dandelion, but it was an origami. I lifted my head up, and the distant fields were of paper flowers and on the branches of old trees, the leaves became paper money. A tree leaf landed on the tip of my nose. I caught it on my palm and spied around. I was on a concrete pavement with no tree close by or a breeze in sight.
A few minutes pass by as I headed to the bridge, relaxing as I saw a mirage of trees. Again I breathed, but no air entered. I clutched my pink skirt and collapsed to the ground. Strangely suffocating- suffering from an unknown delusion.

I did not understand what had happened. It was another illusion. But this unknown thing, something I could not see or feel was killing me. I should have seen hands which clutched my throat or plastic which would have kept me from breathing. But nothing. Who? What is this thing?

Posted by deangel at 8:20 PM | 3 Comments
Comment by Platonium
What remains in your shadow of sin? You should ask God for forgiveness. A horrific event must have happened for you to be so enchanted with this new realm. I do not fully know your situation, but please consult someone. Your friend Pryderi perhaps? A family member? I advise a psychiatrist or even a minister.
Comment by deangel
Who do you think you are? I am fine the way I am now. You are the threat more like it.
And no, I cannot tell anyone. It is true that you do not know. Nobody understands at all! I have no one. Pryderi would take too much care. My family is long gone. And no way am I going to a psychiatrist! You have no idea where I am now. What conditions I am under. All these random people are watching over me, trying to help me. I tell you and them likewise that it is no use! These are my thoughts. It could be what happened or not happened.
Comment by Platonium
A blog is something of a personal account. I am sorry; I just assumed it to be real.

Tuesday, 28th October, 2005
Day 5- War’s En Passant

Pryderi is rara avis and a grandmaster in chess. I was staring at his beautiful features, and I thought, he would be the perfect husband material.
Continuing the Vienna Game to the Frankenstein-Dracula , I found myself missing a wholesome rook and pawn after the 10th move. I glared at the black metallic pieces, cursing their smallness.
“This is what you get for dolce far niente ,” laughed Pryderi.
My defence structure looked well. Analysing the pieces, I remembered being taught this opening. As I reached to move my G pawn, the mood of The Sacher Café changed. The hall was no longer a tranquil place, it became deadly silent. The incandescent tick tock would have been a welcoming relief. I stared at the moving lips of coffee-fanatics, but not one syllable or slurp arose. Looking around the artists life, it was the same. No one seemed to notice the silence. When suddenly, I was fine. In a blink, the customers shouted for orders, and the machines roared with life. The chatter returned. No one had even noticed me gone insane.

I peeked nervously at Pryderi, and noticed him watching me carefully. He gently took the slightly shaking hand, asking if I was alright. Normally, I would have smiled even with quivering lips.
But as his fingers touched mine, the cafe in Kaertnerstrasse turned into a battle zone. Pryderi was dressed in military green, and so was I. We were kneeling down. Caught and victims of Hungary- Austria in1937. Believing it was one of my illusions I immediately adapted to my surroundings. The experience of such reality shook me. It was as though I could taste the everlasting bitterness in the coffee I drank. I even choked on the mix of crisp coldness and gunpowder.
A sudden eruption gave way to my ears. A single shot fired. I froze still and collapsed to the ground as Pryderi dropped on the mud. I screamed, but nothing came out. My throat ached, but still no sound. I saw the flash of metal out of the corner of my eye and stared in fear. A man was coming towards me with a gun. He aimed. As I blinked hard, a second loud shot echoed in my ears. Not another sound was heard. But a thick warm liquid dripped upon my lip; a sweet yet bitter taste never to be forgotten.
Looking up, Pryderi was still watching me with a mystified look. But his eyes stared back, genuinely concerned.
Should I tell him?

Posted by deangel at 5:37 PM | 1 Comment
Comment by Platonium
Tell him. May God bless you.

Friday, 16th January, 2006
Day 4- Confused Mission

I could not see anything for all was dark. Smell nothing but the fear that crept through the body and stunned me like the act of a scorpion’s poison. All senses had shut down as if the power had been switched off by some visible source. All confined through invisible bars except hearing. Or was it also a delusion of the mind? Was I even in the state of consciousness? I knew not, only the overwhelming and deafening sound of wings flapped by an ethereal being.
My ear drums felt like exploding and I forced myself back into realism with a sudden jerk. It was just an experience of mere seconds. However it thoroughly shocked me; I trembled with a thundering heartbeat under the covers. I looked at the clock above the headstand through the mirror - it was late, 3 A.M. and so I tried to sleep. Though I still thought about, one may call it, the hallucination.
I hoped I was not becoming mad. I feared of all whiteness and the smell of an asylum, the thought of being locked away for eternity. I decided to not be afraid and surrendered my mind, body and soul. I sought for knowledge like oxygen. I must be composed and compos mentis .

Before I realized, it was 3:50 A.M. and hurriedly bid ‘good night and sweet dreams’ to those online. I knew what I had encountered couldn’t really be happening to me. A silly lil girl I called myself. But it did not take long to happen again. I was starring at the ceiling one moment, and the next, engulfed in complete darkness. The sound was overbearing and my eyes shut tight. I could feel the strain as I was unable to feel anything.
I heard the wings again, then hymns sung by a celestial choir. It slightly calmed me and I felt my spirits rise. Afterwards, it was a voice of a woman I could not identify. I spoke to her in a hurried fashion. Unfortunately, I could not grasp what I said. “Let me go!”, “Stop it!”, “No…” were screamed with the highest terror I had ever heard. The force shattered my mind. Not even the blockbuster films would be able to capture the intensity of it. I felt this presence of an adult, just someone bigger and older, advancing with chains on his blooded hands. The sight blurred and became faint.
I arrived back to my familiar bedroom, panting heavily with perspiration all over my body. The segments were seconds in the mind, quick and short; like scenes packed closely in a film. When I looked at the time, it was just near 4 o’clock.
I tried to sleep, but was wide awake. I heard my lappy’s fan, soft but enough to keep one awake. A breeze chilled me but my heartbeat would not decrease. What had happened? Were there spirits in my room trying to tell me something? Was this apartment built above a cemetery? Or was I just losing it because of lack of sleep?!
I wondered about the events. Since then, I had not received any messages or were able to decode them. They could be in the past, future or happened then and there worldwide. In the meantime, I was still alive.

Posted by deangel at 6:04 AM | 1 Comment
Comment by 3p!CuR3
Rely on your senses girl! It’s the only certain object you can count on. Be weary.
You should also get at least 8 hours of sleep everyday, drink plentiful, and be cheerful. If you relax and then you won’t be so anxious or tight, then you will gain the ultimate treasure…

Monday, 20th March, 2006
Day 3- Devil Death’s Dance

The wind peeled away the fluff in the sky, revealing the glistening gems above. The lights flashing red on the sign of the Nachtschicht. I entered the nightclub, accompanying my classmates to an eve of excitement. The steel door opened and I could smell the stench of drunkenness and taste the ecstasy. I hesitated, almost predicting how rotten I would be tomorrow. My classmates pulled her in, the music reclaiming the stronger sense. Surveying across the levels I saw into the lives of adults- all wasted at one end and the other drowned. I had already lost sight of any familiars and turned to spend the night with better known-strangers on messenger.

Just as I was heading out, an arm wrapped tight below my breasts. The thin nylon dress provided little barrier to the hot embrace. I prepared to wrench away and resist the tall man. He looked like an older version of Pryderi I realized. His coal black hair and ink blue-black eyes was equipped with the most ruggedly adorable countenance I had ever seen. He led me into the dance floor with a smile, and slowly pulled himself further closer to me. I was intoxicated with the scent of his opium cologne. Whist charming me with his mellifluous voice, he was waiting for pleasures he could barely, barely wait for. I did not know until later.
I was surprised to find myself standing after vigorous dancing and an uncounted amount of drinks. Alas, again, I fell into a delirium of lust. And it went too far.

He filled me with another drink and led me to the back door leaving to private apartments upstairs. I immediately sensed danger as the music became less deafening. I struggled to turn, though collapsed under the tipsiness into his muscular arms. I tried to scream out, but all that came out was a hoarse whisper of ‘no’… ‘stop’.
Half conscious, I was dragged to a layer of coral rose petals. I was trapped, his ugly intentions far too clear. My dress had been torn in two. The innocence I once repaired disappeared as he brutally raped me. The stranger debauched my wrecked body again and again.

And me? (Well I am writing this now am I not?) My weary body rested on the crushed petals, till Death closed my wet bloodshot eyes craving for white doves.

Posted by deangel at 4:55 AM | 2 Comments
Comment by Platonium
Watch it there… I think you’re getting a little too carried away with this issue. And do not forsake your life until God summons you.
Comment by 3p!CuR3
Oh please.. Death is non-existent. And who is God? Have you seen him? Have you met him? What does he look like? What does he eat? Does he pleasure himself? Can you reply without having to mention GOD or prayer or being such a goodie-goodie?!

Thursday, 29th May, 2006
Day 2- The Stance of a Ghost

I ran from memento mori . It was the skulls that ache for the touch of my flesh. Bright light blinded the steps. I was in a frantic antic disposition as I tried not to stare into the brightness. I could feel the moisture from the mist, pushing me towards the reflections. It made me look deep down.

The blood was not my only own
Yet it is too familiar that I almost regret the past
I remember sprinkling Evening Star petals
On the coffin, faking laughter that came as tears

I escaped from Hungary to Austria’s 10th District
To absconder from her and the police at my Achilles heels
And hide the paranoia amongst the norm
I not quite succeeded on destroying the past

Since recent delusions of my drugged state
I saw her again with the loved ones I once lost
I took her life, now she has taken mine
Forever I am to suffer my wrong doings

Inhaling a breath of life’s poison
She took the role and responsibility to punish me
All there is to say is that it was only my child
No further comments needed

I have no control over my mind. I do not trust my senses anymore. Maybe suicide is the only way out? Even the European Union headquarters situated in Vienna now is also discussing suicide. Well it may have been a while ago, but even the Presidency of the EU strongly condemned the suicide in Tel Aviv. I watched it on the news here. But then that was more of a terrorist attack than a single lone death.

The poem is my shadow, the brand of the scarlet letter on my soul.

Posted by deangel at 3:29 AM | 4 Comment
Comment by 3p!CuR3
Comment by Nizt[-]
Yea… crazy alright…
Comment by deangel
You know what else? I am stuck in a mental institution right now.
Comment by Platonium
No wonder.

Sunday, 10th December, 2006
Day 1- The Unspoken Truth

I laughed thrillingly; but my heart and mind could never be mended from the loss. A week later, I broke down. The community all sympathized with me, and advised me to go away for a while. I had been waiting to hear it after painstakingly turning myself into a thinly rake. It was a perfect excuse to escape the stupid town in Hungary. And so I left the past. Almost. My breakdowns were due of my victim – haunting me in dreams. The unforgiving soul poisoned her mind.

Dear Pryderi,
As you can see, I am not who I claim to be. I am not innocent at all. It was the only way for me to survive until now. But I cannot say I want to redo what should not have happened. These past few days I have considered my life. The hysterical moments all flashed before me in. I am not certain why I am writing this to you when I will be sending you another email.
In all my life I could not believe it would happen to me. You see, I was pregnant… My child… She would have been just like me. How could I possibly have a child? I was too young. Too reckless. And I was afraid. I never could raise a child of mine with such disgrace in my life. And thus moving to here was my only option. My parents left me a legacy enough, enough to last a few generations.
Guilty was I. And my child… Oh my child! My poor babe. And she… There was an abnormality detected from a sample of her DNA. So I had an abortion. But I was satisfied. For it was the knowledge I held to know that I could kill another. I gained stronger with this powerful ability. It is not hard at all.
Yesterday, I searched up a lot of suicide notes, letters, statistics, quotes, methods… You must realize I was brought up into the normal Christian family. I went to Church every Sunday and learnt how God is of almighty importance. But it made no difference to what happened to me. God could not help me. So I figured and turned to Epicureanism, and all the philosophers that questioned the teachings.
I believe that I will have the pleasure from the tranquillity, ataraxia as Epicurus says as I have no fear of any Gods or death. I hardly care about the time before I was born, I mean, we did not ‘live’ for we had not been born yet! Death is a foolish concept as to the living it cannot effect because they are not dead yet, and those who have died, well they just do not exist anymore and become… atoms. The idea is quite reasonable.
You would understand me fully if you came into my world. Just everything you hold so dear. Hide the truth within you and enjoy the life we all have to live. I have been dying in searching this happiness. Now it is my turn and I can face it without fear. The stars are calling for me. But there is nowhere I will go.
By the time you are reading this I know that all my worldly possessions gone. Either dead or broken- the sign of the inevitable end. It was as if fate knew and was waiting for the laugh on Eir’s side. Watching intently before a movie screen- and nothing can ever be real. But this, my life is shattered. The mirror in which I once saw myself in was fragmented with bullets that missed myself at the last millisecond. I always have wondered, dreamt even of the end. Yet I still shiver writing this as I feel my chest ripped apart and my heart beat ceasing and on the verge of oblivion.
Austria. My saviour. My confinement. And you, my connection to the earthly realm. I leave you all.

Posted by deangel at 5:41 PM | 1 Comment
Comment by Nizt[-]
Ficken Sie Christianity. As I always say, “the living being is only a species of the dead, and a very rare species.”

Unfortunately, Pryderi too, committed suicide shortly later with a request to be buried beside her and play Gloomy Sunday at the funeral. But he understood her at last. She was his secret beloved, but now no longer. She finally had power over of her direction in life- her fate. And all she ever wanted was to be happy. In death, they both had a smile on their faces.

These are her stories. This is the reality she saw, she created, and she existed in.

36 cr points
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28 / M / CA
Posted 1/20/08 , edited 1/20/08
Hi, so I read the long-short story of yours. And your really good. Since your going to submit it, I suppose you want to be criticised right?
Anyway, here goes. First page is amazing. Did you make that yourself? Ok, so uh, your use of foreign words is pretty interesting, but my suggestion would be to use only ones that people will easily identify from the root. For example, I think a majority people can identify verdammt as 'damn,' you dont need to have the definition. Either that or you could preface any usage of foreign language with a context that makes the meaning somewhat, but probably not entirely obvious. Its obvious you spent a hella lot of time on this, and you make a lot of great references, I especially liked the Elysian fields one...yeah. Also, are you sure you used 'ad lib' correctly?

Overall, amazing story, I feel that you would have this contest in the bag.
PS, plz post on my story in the Writer Help Corner, since I know yur a good writer.
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29 / F / Sydney, Australia
Posted 1/20/08 , edited 1/20/08
Yea I made the first page myself, that only took one night.. That story however took almost a year rofl.

It's supposed to be German, easily identifiable ones (or in another language entirely) wouldn't make the story real since she is supposed to be Hungarian, living in Austria. I had to provide foreign language to judges before, so yea.. (It also helps me with the language because I'll forget what this and that means lol)

I know there are plenty of mistakes in there actually, since I only got early 90s for it. My mentor from US sent me back alot of feedback with reds in it (I haven't updated it). So you're probably right.

I don't think it's fair if I submitted something in where I spent a year writing, when others have spent only a month doing so. So I probably won't submit it.. I won't have enough time to read everyones and do another lol

2651 cr points
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34 / M / Florida
Posted 1/27/08 , edited 1/27/08
I enjoyed both the blog-style story and the "Forgiveness" story, it shows that you put a lot of work into the blog story, maybe even a bit too much

(Footnotes are for non-fiction, if fiction readers don't know a word, then either a) They need to go look it up, or b) Its maybe a bit too technical for a fiction. Fictions should be smooth-flowing and entertaining, meant to be a break in the monotony of everyday life, not an additional chore.)

I enjoyed the stories, can't wait to read more. Try to put less thought into your stories and just let your imagination flow onto the paper/keyboard, I think you've got a great sense of creativity.

Btw I'm only saying some of these things since you seem to be quite an able writer, and I think you can take a bit more criticism than other people. You don't have a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes, so criticising things like that would be useless for you. And I don't pull the things I say out of my butt, I was an english major in college.

I'll be waiting for your next story
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29 / F / Sydney, Australia
Posted 1/27/08 , edited 1/27/08
I had to put alot of effort for it, it was my Extension English 2 Major Work.. rofl (So I had to put footnotes there for the judges). Forgiveness was my Extension English 1 Mini Major. Thus I had to do quite an amount of research for it.. The thing is, most of it did just come from my mind, I pick a topic to write, and most of it does come out like that; the added research from the story above was to increase the realism by providing more facts, relate it to some philosopher or event, and understand what I had to write. It's kind of a habit now to just look up on stuff and add it to my stories ><

Anyways, thanks ;p

As for criticism, try having both of your English teachers not Liking the story/genre/everything about it, saying it in front of the whole class, and then giving you the worst score after a perfect speech because they think suicide is too cliche~d. (The problem with that was that half your mark from the subject is the exam (or submission), and the other half is based on where you are ranked in the class. I got the lowest ranking in that course, therefore I got the lowest mark from what the external judges gave the whole class. I received a good 46/50 from them, but the lowest in the entire class was 30/50 - putting my average mark down to 38 for the course >< - nvm if you have no idea what I'm talking about, its a complicated process..)
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30 / M / Melb/Vic/Aus
Posted 1/29/08 , edited 1/29/08
overall, poor effort.

i could sit down give you advice about just every sentence but yea, you sure aren't worth the time...

But yea, can't really expect much from kids nowadays...

Why don't you just like save the judge's time and not submit...

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29 / F / Sydney, Australia
Posted 1/29/08 , edited 1/29/08
I am a judge, so that's not for submission ;p
422 cr points
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F / Im My Mind...
Posted 2/7/08 , edited 2/7/08
YOu are one sentimental... I may say...
Are you writer, if I may ask?...
366 cr points
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29 / F / Sydney, Australia
Posted 2/7/08 , edited 2/8/08

kreina_mica wrote:

YOu are one sentimental... I may say...
Are you writer, if I may ask?...

Lol sentimental? uhm.. maybe a little lol
And everyone who can write, is a writer ;P (but no.. I'm not a pro writer or anything.. )

p.s. welcome to the forum ^^
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F / Asia
Posted 2/8/08 , edited 2/8/08
Your poems are all nice.. and about your journal-like story.. gosh! I can't imagine a person can write like that, about subtle to serious traumatic issues, without experiencing them. It's written quite well.

There were quite a few words I wasn't familiar with, they didn't sound like English terms either. So it'd have been cool if you had a glossary to them.

Also your style of writing is much like a pro writer, have you published any books before? Anyway thanks a lot for sharing your stories and poems with us. =)
388 cr points
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25 / F / S'pore
Posted 2/9/08 , edited 2/9/08
Your story leaves much to be desired, and I won't waste time on your poems.

The blog entry story was rather monotonous, and I kept thinking of shakespearian language whilst reading it.

Just some comments on your writing, hope you don't mind. (:
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29 / F / Sydney, Australia
Posted 2/9/08 , edited 2/10/08
Thanks for the comments everyone ^^

sagiri007 wrote:

Your poems are all nice.. and about your journal-like story.. gosh! I can't imagine a person can write like that, about subtle to serious traumatic issues, without experiencing them. It's written quite well.

There were quite a few words I wasn't familiar with, they didn't sound like English terms either. So it'd have been cool if you had a glossary to them.

Also your style of writing is much like a pro writer, have you published any books before? Anyway thanks a lot for sharing your stories and poems with us. =)

Sometimes, it's easy to write about things you don't know - because then you can make up sooo many things than ones that you experienced. Another way to write well is to experience things, and then make it more extravagant. And of course, show not tell it.

If you download the story from it has some definitions in it.
Basically, there are German words (since the protagonist is in Austria), and some other foreign phrases.

Pro writer huh? lol Uhm.. never published anything whatsoever.. (I wish I could lol, but writing isn't that serious in my life).

curacura wrote:

Your story leaves much to be desired, and I won't waste time on your poems.

The blog entry story was rather monotonous, and I kept thinking of shakespearian language whilst reading it.

Just some comments on your writing, hope you don't mind. (:

You're right with the Shakespeare references (as stated in my reflection statement),

"Grievers hope there is a better world in the afterlife; unfortunately, postmodernism and the mockery of existence expressed in Stoppard’s Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead, provide little relief for the sufferers." (Ros and Guil talk about Hamlet)

" Hamlet’s “strumpet” .. makes Della’s destiny in life descend until she is of no existence."

But monotonous? lol I think you need to be a bit older to understand everything.. Most people find things uninteresting because they lack the understanding of it. Most people Hate Shakespeare just because they don't get what he's writing. I love it because it's easy to comprehend.
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F / Asia
Posted 2/9/08 , edited 2/10/08
^ Yep, I get what you mean.

Sure.. I'll check it out. Thanks.

Yeah.. like curacura said, your style of writing is a bit like Shakespeare's. It's a little tough to understand but it's worthy trying so. Yeah, I know.. not every person aspires to become an author. =D

Also I'm not into classical literature much, but I've read a few works of them. One of my favorites those days was Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller.. it was one of a kind story.

To Below: Maybe the ones who read your PDF were already familiar with those German terms. =D

Yeah, it must be. I heard about Death of a Salesman from my sis, since she studied it for English Lit.
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29 / F / Sydney, Australia
Posted 2/9/08 , edited 2/10/08

sagiri007 wrote:

^ Yep, I get what you mean.

Sure.. I'll check it out. Thanks.

Yeah.. like curacura said, your style of writing is a bit like Shakespeare's. It's a little tough to understand but it's worthy trying so. Yeah, I know.. not every person aspires to become an author. =D

Also I'm not into classical literature much, but I've read a few works of them. One of my favorites those days was Death of a Salesman by Arthur Miller.. it was one of a kind story.

lol.. The people who read the PDF file said that I shouldn't of included the glossary info. So here, I posted without any, now people are saying it's a bit tough without it ><

After reading a classical novel every one or two weeks for a year, you find yourself needing to like it to bear it.
I've never read that script though.
5 cr points
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Posted 2/12/08 , edited 2/12/08
Hey a sydney girl! cool. i just did my hsc this year XP. 3units of english. i submitted my ext1 english creative piece for this comp though it falls short of the word limit by nearly 200. so booo to that. oh well im not here to win the comp just want some c&c on my writing. Please take a look
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