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  1. Someone’s Waiting For YouWith Sam faithfully by her side as always, Camille placed her hand as carefully as possible on the cool wooden banister that ran up the stairwell, away from her. For an instant that seemed like an eon, her wild seven year old imagination ran away from her. It told her that this was a steep, winding path lined with thorns and thistles. It wound its way through a shadow-laden wood that was devoid of any sound. To reach safety, she had to make it through.She knew it wasn’t true, but the chilling thought remained, regardless. With her free arm, Camille hugged Sam close to her. He was scared too. He might not know that the frightening exaggerations of one's imagination in the dead of night were not real.“Don’t be afraid, Sam,” she whispered to him. He didn’t respond, and she wasn’t sure that he’d heard her. Giving him one quick squeeze with her elbow, Camille began tiptoeing up the lightless staircase.Be brave, little oneMake a wish for each sad little tearHold your head up when no one is nearSomeone’s waiting for you“Shhh, Sam! We can’t wake anyone,” She reminded him in the same ghost-of-a-voice whisper. Sam said nothing.They reached the silent landing at the top of the stairwell. The long hallway was only inhabited by blue shadows chasing blue shadows by the slivers of moonlight peeking beneath doors. The shadows had never harmed her before, but still, she couldn’t help but be wary.Glued together as best friends should be, they crept past the boys’ rooms, and then the first girl’s room in turn. The last door was their room that they shared with three other girls. These were the nice girls who had given Camille the bed in the corner, the warmest spot in the room.Don’t cry, little oneThere’ll be a smile where a frown used to beYou’ll be part of the love that you seeSomeone’s waiting for youGuiding the painted wooden door shut behind her, Camille had to take extra care that it shut, clicking into place as silently as she could manage.“It’s okay, Sam. Nobody heard us,” she assured him. He was worried, but he said nothing. His reflective, sad eyes spoke all the words he did not.Sam did not like living in the children’s home, she knew. Sure, there were friends here, friends to laugh with and make believe with. Those were happy days, they were numerous, and he loved them. But still, some of the children, they liked to tease and make fun of him. She knew this, and it made her angry. It was only some of the other children who said these things. But they were enough to turn a happy day horrible. They liked to give nasty little reminders, like how they were not found in a dumpster. How they had been dropped off at the home in swaddling clothes with flowers and a lovingly sealed envelope. How they had not been abandoned, naked and still slimy from birth in the middle of the night. “Abandoned for dead,” they liked to say. “It’s not true, Sam,” she promised him. Don’t listen to them. I’m here to be your friend. I won’t let them get to you. Her thoughts reached out to him.It was impossible to say what brought those atrocities to mind. Camille had stolen out of bed and down the stairs to quench the scratching thirst that had woken her. It was against the rules to leave bed at night without a grown up to watch you. Perhaps these nightmares that flew in her thoughts while she was awake, the jeering faces and cutting words, was some ethereal punishment?Always keep a little prayer in your pocketAnd you’re sure to see the lightSoon there’ll be joy and happinessAnd your little world will be brightCamille climbed into bed, and tucked Sam in next to her. His floppy ears tickled her nose, and so she tucked him into the crook of her arm. Settling in, she began stroking his ear that used to be soft, but had worn think and ratty over the years. Her fingers found the tear in the seam where his cotton insides were poking out. The anxiety from the short sojourn down to the kitchen had taken its toll. Camille had begun to drift off to sleep before she even knew it.Someday, she wouldn’t have to carry Sam with her. The loyal dog full of cotton and heart was a true friend to her. He took all the trouble she couldn’t comprehend and made it his own. And then he let her take care of him and his foreign troubles. It was what she needed to survive and grow, and he was happy to take it as his burden.One day, maybe not so far in the future, Camille could look back and see the lesson of love that silent Sam had taught her without speaking a word. It is the same lesson that all childhood friends, the ones with cotton and heart on the inside, teach. A lesson of friendship and sacrifice and family, taught in a way that should not be teachable. And yet, it is. Just one of the quietly amazing things in life.Have faith, little one‘Til your hopes and your wishes come trueYou must try to be brave, little oneSomeone’s waiting to love you---If any of you have seen Disney's The Rescuers, that's where inspiration for this story and the lyrics came from. This is the first piece I've written in months, apologies if it seems a bit rusty. Nonetheless, written for you. And the flash fiction contest =P I hope you enjoyed.
  2. Here's to my otterly spruce bro, Aderia, to celebrate the best day in ever: her birthday! : D HAPPY BIRTHDAY, AIMEE. I HOPE IT'S AS FANTASTIC AS YOU ARE. C:Stay awesome. Peace out. And don't forget to party! ^^
  3. Setting the Stage: A mission of infiltration, a plan twisted enough for Karzahni himself, and a manipulated son of Makuta at its center. Borrowing from the dead to steal from the living, this sinister plot aims to destroy an entire Stronghold of Toa, and at the same time, put Metru Nui itself at the mercy of the Makuta. And as we know, Makuta have no mercy. [*]Prologue/Preview: Perfectionist[*]Part 1[*]Part 2[*]Part 3[*]Part 4[*]Part 5[*]Part 6[*]Part 7[*]Part 8[*]Part 9[*] Okay, so I've been working on this epic for a while, and I'm honestly pretty excited for people to read it,so feeback is especially appreciated I don't really have a set schedule for posting new chapters, so the best I can say is keep your eyes peeled.As always, written for you.Enjoy!
  4. River, Oh River, Flow Gently For Me ₪҉₪ Aderia ₪҉₪ My life is not perfect. My life is not easy. My life is not good. But then again, since when has life been any of those things? If my life was perfect, if it was easy, if it was good, I would not be me. And, despite my flaws, I love being me. I love being myself, because it’s what I am best at. More than that, it is what I must do. I must love being me and I must be me because nobody can love my little sister the way I do. She is only four years old, and she needs love. She needs taken care of. I may only be ten years older than her, but I’m the one who takes care of her. Mother has been gone for almost two years now. Father is working, working, always working. I’ve come to accept that, though. We need the money, for the rent and food and to pay taxes, Father says. I’m not old enough to get a job yet, and even if I were, my little sister still needs me. My little Christina needs me. I doubt Christina even remembers Mother. Her parents, my grandparents, came over from Somalia when Mother was in her late teens. The town they moved in to, Drovensburg, had a large immigrant population, so they fit right in. But Mother never liked where we lived. There were packs of large, dangerous boys that roamed the streets from dusk ‘til dawn. And she was right to fear them, because they ended her one drunken night. “Nali?” Christina’s tiny voice rouses me from my trance. We are sitting on our old couch, watching our small television. “Nali, can we go outside? I don’t want to watch telly anymore.” I glance at the battered clock on the wall as I point the remote at the TV to switch it off. It’s lunch time, but there isn’t food to spare for lunch. We usually save it for a big dinner with Papa. “It’s too hot out, ‘Tina,” I tell her distractedly. Usually, the children’s pastor from the local church came around with food handouts in the summer. A lot of us in the low income neighborhood didn’t have enough food for three meals a day, and the church went to grocery stores and collected their extra foodstuffs and tried to make the world a better place by sharing. “Are you hungry? I can boil some rice for you,” I say, gazing at her thin frame. Too thin. If anyone needs the food, it’s her. Not me, not Papa. “Yes please,” Her adorable face with huge eyes lights up at the mention of lunch. “Thank you, Nali!” I unfold myself from the couch and pad into the kitchen with my bare feet. I hear Christina fiddling with the volume on the TV as I automatically start setting up the stove to make rice. And I catch myself singing softly, and out of habit. My mother never knew much English. But she did have one lullaby that she always sang to us. “Hush now, my baby Be still love, don't cry Sleep like you're rocked by the stream” The white, fuzzy noise of the TV from the other room clicks off. I expect Christina to come and join me in the kitchen soon, like she usually does. “Sleep and remember My lullaby And I’ll be with you when you dream” I turn away from the sink with a pot full of cold water and yelp as I almost slam into Christina. She’d been standing right behind me. “Christina!” I’m about to scold her gently, but I stop when I see her face is wet. “Did I spill water on you?” I ask, reaching for the hand-towel that needs washing.She shook her head, and I peered closer. “What’s wrong, ‘Tina? Why are you crying?” “I…I know that song, Nali,” She whispered. “I sing it to you all the time, you should know it.” I smooth her hair that’s woven into tight corn-rows that end in pig tails as I walk towards the stove. “No, Mommy sang it to us. I remember,” She told me with surety beyond her four years, following me to the stove. Drift on a river That flows through my arms Drift as I'm singing to you Christina was barely two and a half when Mother last sang that for us. “You can remember that? ”She nodded. “She was singing in my dream last night, Nali.” I see you smiling So peaceful and calm And holding you, I'm smiling, too I pour a small helping of rice from the old plastic bag into the water and fiddle with the dials on the stovetop. “Nali, does mommy still love us?” How can I answer something like that? I stand with my back to Christina, watching the rice cloud up the water, which is only just beginning to bubble. My inability to form words, to explain things like this to her, weighs heavily upon me. The silence is even heavier. I don’t know how much she remembers of our mother. I don’t know how much she understands about the forces that turn the world, like life and love and death. Here in my arms Safe from all harm Holding you, I'm smiling, too “Nali?” I can still hear the tears in her voice. I take a deep breath, and turn to face her again, my pent up frustration welling up in my eyes. I want to give my little Christina the world, I have always wanted to. But how can I, if I can’t even explain a thing as universal as love to her? I let out the breath in a ragged exhale, and sink down to the dirt-stained off-white tiled floor with my back against the cool oven door below the stove. I pat the floor next to me, taking another deep breath. My voice is too hoarse to sing the beautiful lullaby justifiably, but I sing anyways. “Hush now, my baby Be still, love, don't cry Sleep like you're rocked by the stream” Christina scoots from the floor next to me and wriggles her way onto my lap. She blinks at me, her eyes still asking the question. Does Mommy still love us? “Christina, you know what a river is?” She nods at me. “Mother loved rivers. She could compare anything to a river. And that’s why she loved the lullaby so much, the River Lullaby.” Sleep and remember this river lullaby And I'll be with you when you dream I'll be with you when you dream “She liked to think of existence as a life-long love song. Like a river, she told me once,” I said. Mother had also told me that she saw death as a waterfall. It’s inevitable, but you just continue on existing afterwards, but on a different plane. But Christina wouldn’t understand that. I fall into silence again, trying to simplify things for her again, then speak, “Christina, can you pretend we’re on a raft? A raft floating on a river that doesn’t end? You have yours, I have mine, can you see it?” “I can see it, Nali. In my head,” She smiled. “We’re right next to each other.” I return her smile, and continue, “Okay, now I want you to picture a trail of rose petals on the river ahead of us.” Rose was Mother’s name. “You can pick them up out of the water, if you want. It’s a calm river.” “What are the flower petals for?” “You see, mother got swept up in a current and was whisked ahead of us. Very far ahead of us on the river. But as she was carried along, she left a trail of promises, the petals. And her trail of petals is her promise to wait for us, wherever she is.” “So she does love us?” “What do you think?” “Yes,” Here in my arms Safe from all harm Holding you, I’m smiling too I gently heave Christina off of my lap and stood to check the rice. “Your lunch is almost ready, ‘Tina. Go sit at the table,” I tell her. The sound of the chair scraping on the floor mingles with the clinking of dishes as I fish one out for her and then grab a spoon as well. “Nali, are you eating?” “No, I’m not hungry,” I tell her, and the lie tastes sour in my mouth and churns my stomach. Sleep and remember This river lullaby And I’ll be with you when you dream I place the shallow dish of rice in front of Christina and sit down next to her at the table. But she doesn’t move to pick up her spoon yet. The expression her face is one of a perplexed four year old. “Do you need your booster seat?” I ask her. Her booster seat is last year’s telephone book, naturally. “Nali, what about for real?” She wants to know. “I’m sorry?” I do not understand what she is asking. “The river is ‘magination,” she explains. “So the petals and promises are too.” “Oh, no! No, no, that’s not how I meant it,” I insist. “The river and petals represent something very real. The river is being alive.” Mother and her endless metaphors in her beautiful and exotic native language had made that clear to me. I’m not sure how much of this Christina understands. But, she wants to know. “What do the promise petals mean for real?” “Well, they’re still promises. But instead of flower petals on a river, they’re dreams, like the one you had last night, where Mother was singing to you.” Sleep and remember this river lullaby I’ll be with you when you dream “She loves us very much, Christina. You need to understand that.” “I know,” she says to me. And then something that wrenches my heart. “I love you too, Mommy.” I’ll be with you when you dream ₪҉₪ A/N-Disclaimer: Lyrics are from the movie 'Prince of Egypt', they are not original. The story was inspired by two little girls I met IRL and had a chance to talk to.
  5. Aderia

    Faux

    Prequel: Perfectionist (A Short Story) ₪҉₪ Part 1 Setting the Stage: A mission of infiltration, a plan twisted enough for Karzahni himself, and a manipulated son of Makuta at its center. Borrowing from the dead to steal from the living, this sinister plot aims to destroy an entire Stronghold of Toa, and at the same time, put Metru Nui itself at the mercy of the Makuta. And as we know, Makuta have no mercy. ₪҉₪ “You were created to be perfect. Anything less is unacceptable.”Those were the words that had welcomed Evior into the world. He had woken up on a bright metal lab table, being carefully observed by Makuta scientists. Evior was every bit the spawn of the Makuta. He had the dark armor and surly air about him, completed by a handsome Kanohi Shelek. In his short century and a half, he had been trained like any Makuta would be. Occasionally he was sent to oversee external Visorak movement, or acted as a trainer for Rahkshi or other minions. But mostly he served as the main hit man for the Makuta. If they needed someone captured, it was his job. If they wanted something stolen, he took care of it. And more often than not, they needed these errands run. Once in a blue moon did they actually order an assassination, but when they did, the duty was his.Slightly taller than a Vortixx and muscular like a Makuta, Evior made an intimidating enemy. The Makuta knew this. But even more dangerous was his barbed whip, which was his weapon of choice. If his physical prowess and combat capability failed, Evior had at his disposal the same forty two Kraata powers that the Makuta did. The drawback was, however, he could only use them for short periods of time, or at a very low level of power before he succumbed to the resulting headaches, fatigue, nausea, etc. Somewhere deep within the fortresses of Destral, in some underground lab, designs to negate this drawback were being worked on.Evior had yet to fail a mission. And this, he assumed, was the perfection that was expected of him.Now, as he sat in a shallow cavern, more of a scoop out of the side of a hill, Evior tried to imagine what would happen if his current mission did not succeed. The ring of lightstones in the center of the cavern cast dramatic shadows over his companions. This was a completely different kind of mission. It required stealth, it required deceit, it required wit and constant vigilance. Most importantly, and what Evior found most frustrating, is that he could not complete it alone. The two of his companions were bickering like rahi birds, making no attempt to keep their voices hushed.“I’m telling you, this is the worst possible place to set camp,” Kalott’s voice was shrill with irritation. From a distance, one might think her a Vortixx. But upon closer observation, it was clear she was not. She was more gangly than lithe and wore a Kanohi mask, whereas Vortixx do not.“If you don’t like it, then you can go scout out a new location. I for one am perfectly content here,” the other being replied. This was Scuro. He was almost comically opposite of Kalott. He was a red and brown armored brute, and this unfortunate color combination left the impression of rust. He could wrestle down an Arthaka Bull and still have strength to spare. A fierce light danced in his eyes, and the combination of the glow of the lightstones and the curve of his Kanohi Tryna made him look savage.“The wind and rain are going to blow straight in here. You’re lucky we don’t have a real fire to feed.” A scowl darkened her Kanohi Iden.The two sides of the argument pressed on, neither of the two seemingly willing to shut up. Evior’s gaze fell upon the last ‘member’ of their party, lying as silent as ever in the back of the cave. His mission, his team’s mission, was to infiltrate and secure the Toa Stronghold on this island for the Makuta. The Brotherhood wanted this particular island due to its proximity to Metru Nui. And now it was within their grasp, thanks to this last part of the team.Ducha, Toa of Water, or at least, she used to be. A Brotherhood operative had come across her body, crushed by a rockslide, about a year ago. Sources identified her, and traced her back to the Stronghold. Makuta Mutran had formulated the plan from that point. Evior didn’t know how to feel about this job. While it was genius, the immorality of it haunted him continuously.As much as Evior didn’t enjoy the presence of Scuro and Kalott, they were a key part to this mission’s success. Evior’s job was overseer and guardian, which didn’t bother him. But Scuro and Kalott had the real work to do, and their task sent chills through Evior’s frame. Working together with their respective Kanohi Tryna and Kanohi Iden, they would puppeteer the body of the Toa of Water, thus gaining access to the Stronghold.Dark clouds obscured the setting suns. The ceaseless jabbering presently brought Evior back from his wandering thoughts.“Tomorrow’s a big day,” He cut in abruptly, and his companions fell quiet. “You need rest.”“Good idea,” Scuro nodded. “Kalott can keep watch first.”“What? And get soaked through the armor by this storm that’s coming? I don’t think so.” She shook her head indignantly.“The storm will pass us by, don’t worry.” Evior said tiredly. They’d spent a sleepless two days traveling to the island, and then trekked another half a day to their little cave from where they’d concealed their ship. They were all exhausted. “I’ll stand guard,” He told them, even though he had no intention. There was no need for a guard. As Scuro and Kalott milled around, trying to settle down, Evior closed his eyes and focused. Invisible energy pulsed out of Evior, and the two of his companions dropped immediately into a Kraata-power induced slumber. “Sweet dreams.” He murmured, drifting off in histurn. ₪҉₪ Toa Inéha sat up, gasping and trying to suck air back into her body. The black and purple armored hand of her sparring partner, a Toa of Gravity, appeared in her unfocused field of vision. Obligingly, she grabbed it, and was hoisted to her feet. She tried to squeeze out her thanks between undignified, gaping inhalations, but had to suffice with a grateful slap to her partner’s back. “The Great Spirit gave us Elemental Powers for a reason, you know,” Valeron chuckled as the young Toa of Psionics recuperated. “This was a training session!” She told him accusingly, leaning heavily on her trident, although she couldn’t keep a smile from creeping onto her Kanohi. “You had no need to drop me from thirty feet up in the air.” “I had every need,” the Toa of Gravity countered, returning the smile and mock indignity. “In a real battle, your opponent wouldn’t help you up after you got the wind knocked out of you, Inéha. The least you can do is attack his mind while you recover. But really, what you should have done is one of those telekinesis tricks and landed on your feet.” “Yeah, well,” Inéha shook her head. “I don’t plan to be falling thirty feet in a real battle any time soon.” “You don’t plan those types of things,” Valeron told her, most of his light mood had worn off. “Whatever you say, Valeron,” Inéha consented. “So what do you say? Are you up for a patrol, old timer?” ₪҉₪ “Do you think it’s true?” Inéha inquired, nudging Valeron’s arm as the two of them picked their way along the rocky beach that ringed the front half of the Stronghold. “You know, about the Dark Hunters and the war in Metru Nui?” “I know it’s true,” her companion answered, eyes not wavering from his path. “They talk about it in the Control meetings every week. “Oh,” The idea of war, both the innocent and the instigators dying, put a damper on Inéha’s mood. “Well things have been awfully quiet around here for a time of war, don’t you think?” The Toa of Gravity nodded, “But don’t get comfortable. If Metru Nui calls for help, we’ll be the first to know.” The Toa of Psionics cast her eyes towards the horizon. The suns were just beginning to descend. She saw a ship way off in the distance, probably on its way back from a distant trade. “I’m a Toa. Life should be adventure, and danger, and adrenaline. Not training and patrols and sentry duty. What good is all that training you put me through, if I don’t have a chance to apply it?” “You’ll never be assigned to a field position if you don’t learn to use those Psionic powers of yours in battle.” Valeron reminded her. Inéha replied, “What good are flimsy Psionic powers, really? I’d rather be able to move mountains and shake the earth.” “And with enough training, you can do just that.” Valeron sighed, because they’d been over this a thousand times. “Valeron, I’m no Toa of Earth. You know that,” She refused to meet his eyes. “What I’m suggesting,” Her mentor continued, “is that you focus on training with your Elemental Powers, instead of your hand to hand combat or weapon specialization. Think about it. You could provoke a herd of rahi-bull into a stampede. You could trigger an avalanche with a well placed telekinetic blast. Is that much different from causing earthquakes or moving mountains?” Inéha shook her head no. She’d heard this whole spiel before, or at least the like. The Toa of Psionics frowned, and activated her Kanohi Mask. “Do you know why I chose this mask?” She asked the Toa of Gravity. But she didn’t give him time to answer. “When I was a Matoran, the village I lived in had one Toa. And she was a Toa of Psionics. And trust me when I say she was almost as well trained in her element as you are in yours. But all it took was one enemy, one, with a mind shield. The Toa was no match for his raw strength. The enemy turned out to be an assassin, coming after our Turaga. A few of us Matoran tried to stop him, but really, what match were we? We ended up losing four Matoran, one Toa, and one Turaga to the brute, because our one protector couldn’t even throw a decent punch.”Inéha emphasized this with a punch of her own that shattered a nearby boulder to fragments. “And when I became I toa, I promised myself that wouldn’t be me. That’s why I got rid of my Mask of Possibilities, which is a mask most Toa would be lucky to wear in their lifetime. I traded it for a Mask of Strength. And my Pakari gives me more than just strength, it gives me security.”Valeron had been nodding in understanding, and he saw that Inéha was winding down. He saw a chance to voice his thoughts. “To be honest, Inéha, I think the only ones on this island that could best you in physical combat are the commanders here. If you’re not satisfied with that, I don’t know what to tell you. But if you learn to master your element, you would be unbeatable, simple as that. And if you would just let me, I could show you how.”Inéha was silent as she began walking again. Valeron followed, letting the young Toa mull things over. She’d been a Toa for almost three decades, and he’d known her for about fourteen and a half years. She was no fool, but she was not without her own stubbornness. After it became clear that she needed no more combat or physical training as she insisted, Valeron had taken every chance he could to encourage, nag, remind, suggest, and advise her to start using her elemental powers. He knew it irritated her, but he hoped that one day his message would stick.He’d heard the watered down version of her story before, but even with today’s expansion, it still didn’t completely explain her stark refusal to use her elemental powers. Valeron knew that she knew she was one of the best fighters; she didn’t need him to tell her. Even so, she did not want to move on to elemental training. It was strange, because most young Toa chose to hone their elemental powers before anything else. Valeron’s best guess was that something scared her about using her powers, but he couldn’t be sure. If he was to be the best mentor he could be, Inéha would have to be the best learner she could be. But for now, he would work with what she gave him.He had begun to review in his mind the lessons of his own youth when quiet laughter caught his attention instead. “What’s so funny?” He asked.“You’ve been my teacher for so long now, almost a full decade. And it’s taken me this long to figure out that the old ones really are thewiser ones. Whenever you want to begin this new training, I’m ready.” ₪҉₪ Review
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