New follower + The start of a new chapter

Firstly, I discovered that the site has a new follower. Allow me to thank Jack Bennett for following the blog. I hope you enjoy yourself and I hope you check out the pages. Speaking of which, I just added the new chapter of “Realm of Madness”. If you want to read it, click here to visit the page.

Also, I’m starting a new chapter of my other story, “Maybelline the Magnificent”. I only have the beginning of the chapter, but I still want to show it to you. I’ll let you know when I’m done with the chapter.

Here it is:

Chapter Four: Maybelline’s Hideout

Maybelline glanced at the wall clock above the nightstand, then at Joey’s bed. The small lump underneath the white blanket was still, saved for the steady rise and fall of what appeared to be Joey’s chest. It was a little bit before midnight and Joey was fast asleep in his bed. He had fallen asleep halfway through Maybelline’s story and she had tucked him in with the blanket. Not bothering to change into her nightclothes, Maybelline had climbed into her own bed and tried to sleep herself. It was nine o’ clock when she laid down to sleep, and it was four in the morning when she awoken.

Slowly, she climbed out of bed, put her the boots back on her feet and grabbed her hat and coat from the bedpost. On her way to the door, she grabbed her toolbelt from the bedpost. She opened the door, wincing at the creaking it made. She glanced back at Joey, who was, fortunately for her, still asleep. She breathed a breath of relief, before heading out the door and closing it behind her.

                                                         

On the borders of Cobalt County, she stood near the lone, rusted post that was Cobalt County’s only bus stop. She was waiting for the midnight bus that would take her to Neon City. After thirty minutes or so of waiting, the blue and yellow bus was seemed coming up the hill. It stopped in front of the post. With a metallic clink, the door swung open. The driver, a middle-aged man with a grey beard, tripped him hat to Maybelline as she stepped into the bus. He asked her where she was going at this early hour. She told him that she was just making a trip into the city to buy some breakfast.

She paid the fare and took a seat behind the driver. The bus started and they rode down the winding road. The ride was quiet, saved for Maybelline answering the bus driver’s many questions. He asked why she was buying breakfast so early. She took him that the stores always had the best stuff early in the morning, which seemed to satisfy him. He then asked about her parents and about her friends. She didn’t how to answer those questions, she didn’t have any parents or friends, so she took him whatever seemed to satisfy him.

As the bus rode down the road, Maybelline watched the small, one-story houses pass by in her window. Cobalt County was a rural area. It was empty, saved for a handful of houses that were at least a mile apart from each other. Whenever Maybelline rode the bus into the city, she couldn’t help but feel sorrow. Everything about Cobalt County was depressing. The houses were small, cramp, and unstable, saved for the orphanage, which was the largest and oldest building in the county. The land was hard and, for most of the year, not suitable for farming. The people were hard-hearted and lack compassion.

That is it for now. Have a nice evening!

New Chapter is finally done!

Chapter three of “Realm of Madness” is finally done! Sorry for not posting anything for the last few days. The chapter became longer than I thought it would be, but I still think it’s a good chapter. I added a lot of characteristic and backstory. I hope you enjoy it.

Chapter 3: My Diagnosis

Beyond the sliding glass door was our backyard. Large and colorful flowers decorated the ground. The grass was always neatly cut. An old willow tree that grew in the middle of the backyard shaded a polished white table with white fancy yard chairs sitting around it. On the table was a white vase with yellow orchids in it. A white picket fence separated our yard from the neighbor’s yard.

I found my great uncle sitting on the wooden bench on the back porch. “Great Uncle Arthur!” I shouted in glee. I ran up to him and wrapped my tiny arms around his waist. He chuckled in his gruffly and patted me on the head.

“I’m glad to see you too.” He said.

Arthur was the uncle of my father. He was about as tall my father, though, due to his bad back, he was hunched forward and looked shorter. He was over sixty and needed carry a wooden cane to help support him, but other than that he was perfectly healthy. His short, white hair was always combed back and tied into a ponytail. His bright blue eyes were always full of life and energy. He wore his usual black jacket over his usual white shirt, black pants, and black tie. My great uncle was the quintessential old man: wise, traditional, and a little grumpy at times. I loved him for it. For the longest time, he was my best friend and, through I could never say it aloud, I always felt better when he was with me.

I went to sit next to him on the bench. He looked me squarely in the eye and asked: “How are you feeling, Mary?” I could only shrug.

If you haven’t already figured out what was wrong with me, then I’ll just come out and say it: I was suffering from depression. It was because of my depression I was crying in the playground. I was always sad. Despair was constantly with me like a shadow. Somedays, it felt as if I was drowning in a sea of my own tears. It soon became harder and harder for me to get out of bed in the morning. Most days, I would refuse to eat anything. I isolated myself from my peers because I didn’t find the games that they would play enjoyable. I become so tired during the day that I sometimes sleep during my classes. The activities that the teachers would have us do didn’t bring me pleasure or joy. Almost nothing could make me happy.

It might seem odd considering how young I was. You usually don’t think about severe depression when you think about children. Children were, after all, symbols of innocence and joy. Children were supposed to bring happiness wherever they went; they didn’t get depression, only grow-ups did. Truth is, I was very different from other children. Though, I didn’t realize just how different I was until the day I spoke to Arthur.

It was June of last year; I was eleven-years-old. We were having a small get-together in the backyard as we did on most weekends. My mother, the hostess, as always, had invited most of the block. My father and Flint were in the den playing some kind of card game with my father’s friends from the army. I could hear their boisterous laughter, even from my spot on the back porch. Meanwhile, my mother and Marine were at the table, chatting with the other mothers while enjoying some meatloaf that my mother made. “Marine is the co-head cheerleader at her school, and Flint is the star player of his basketball team!” I heard my mother boast. From my seat, I watched the children of the other families played with our yard toys. I was the only child who wasn’t playing.

Then, Arthur came up to me. He sat next to me on the bench and we started talking. He asked me why I wasn’t playing with the other children. I just broke down. I told him everything, how angry and sad I was, how tired I was during the day, how I hadn’t been eating, how I was having trouble concentrating in school, and how I been having headaches or stomachaches; I even cried into my hands.

Arthur was a professor at a university in Jersey City, in the psychology department. Before that, he was a social worker at a middle school. Even at a young age, I knew he was well-versed in child psychology, so I immediately believed him when he told me: “I believe you are suffering from early-onset depression.”

“What’s that?” I asked in between sobs.

“It’s when a young child like you feels sadder than usual.”

“Just make it stop.” I murmured under my shaking breath.

Arthur began to rub my back in a comforting gesture. It was more than enough to quiet my sobs. I removed my face from my hands and looked up at him. “Don’t fret, Mary.” He told me. “We’ll make it stop. We’ll just need the proper treatment.” As he rubbed my back, I felt a contentment that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I felt as though I was being looked at for the first time. I don’t mean the regular way that someone looks at someone else, I mean the special way that someone looks at someone else. How do I describe it? Usual where someone just looks at you, they’re only looking at the superficial things like clothes or hair, but when someone really looked at you, they see more than hair or clothing. They see the aura that surrounds you, and they see inside your heart. That was what Arthur did. Somehow, saw my sadness, and then took the time to listen to my problems. There was probably over a dozen people at our house, but only he saw. I liked being looked at.

“I’ll talk to your parents about finding the right psychotherapist.” Said my great uncle. At the time, I didn’t know what a psychotherapist was, but I smiled nevertheless. Someone must had saw me cry and told my mother, because it wasn’t long before I noticed my mother making her toward us. I’ve seen mother worry about their children before, but there wasn’t a hint of worry on my mother’s face. Instead, there was only annoyance.

“What did you do?!” She said in voice loud enough to sound threatening, but silent enough so the other mothers or children couldn’t hear. It already angered me, the way she blamed Arthur. Any other person would had been offended, but Arthur didn’t let it get to him. As always, my great uncle was honest and told her that there was something seriously wrong with me. “Yeah, it’s you!” She snapped at him. She grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me inside the house. Great Uncle Arthur followed closely behind us. Once inside my mother yelled for my father. “Your good-for-nothing uncle is making our daughter cry!” She told him, eventhough it wasn’t true. Upon hearing this, my father turned to his uncle and started yelling profanities at him. Whenever I tried to use my voice, my father would yell at me to stay out of it.

Arthur never raised his voice, never swore, never fought back. He took my father’s anger like a champion. When it seemed that my father’s tirade was over, my great uncle spoke. He told them exactly what I told him, word for word. “I think Mary has depression. We must get a professional opinion to be sure.” But mother and father didn’t need a professional opinion. I could tell from the shock expressions on their faces that they believed him. For my father, shock quickly turned into anger. For my mother, shock turned into disgust. Arthur started to list the different treatments and medications we could try, but was he quickly interrupted by my father, who said that he wasn’t going to waste his money on drugs.

“We need to take every opportunity to help Mary!” My great uncle protested.

“No!” Shouted my father. “WE don’t have to do anything!” He said while gesturing in between him and my mother. He then pointed at Arthur. “YOU need to stay away from my daughter!”

“Keep your voice down!” My mother ordered. “Our guests will hear us.”

“So, you won’t take her to see a counselor?” Arthur asked.

“Absolutely not!” Exclaimed my mother. She continued, this time in a much lower voice. “What if one of my friends sees me taking her to a therapist. What if they find out that one of my children has a mental disease? What if they spread rumors about us? Do you know how long it took me create an image for us?!” As she finished saying this, she glanced toward the door that led to the backyard. I looked too and saw that the mothers were hunched together as though they were whispering among themselves.

“Now that’s just preposterous!” Said Arthur.

“Derrick, you know I’m right.” She said to my father. “These two are already ruining my party, do you want them to ruin our family name as well?”

“Susan, please.” Spoke Arthur to my mother. “Mary’s mental health is more important than-”

“Shut up, Arthur!” My father shouted, interrupting Great Uncle Arthur again. “Don’t ever talk to my wife like that, and don’t ever tell me how to take care of my child! She is my daughter, so I’ll handle it!”

“She needs proper treatment-” Arthur tried to explain before being interrupted by my father for a third time.

“She just needs to get over it and stop being so soft.” He said.

“She might try to hurt herself with treatment!” Arthur warned them. I think he was hoping to get a reaction out of them; something to get them to care.

Instead, my father, in a tone of voice that made him sound tough, said: “If she does, then it’ll be her own false.” With that, he wordlessly stomped back toward the den. Whenever he did that, it usually meant the conversation was over.

Once my father was gone, my mother stepped toward me. She kneeled so to be at eye level with me. In a stem voice, she said: “Mary, don’t tell anyone what happened here. What happens in this house, stays in this house. Understood?” Without thinking, I nodded my head. “Good girl.” She stood and faced my great uncle. She narrowed her eyes at him, then she signed. “If you want to help so much, Arthur, then you be her shrink.”

“I have a career, Susan.” Arthur protested. “I have papers to grade, students to teach. I can’t come up every week and-”

“I don’t care, Arthur!” She shouted. “Make it work!” Then she calmly walked back outside as if nothing happened.

And that how it started. Great Uncle Arthur began to see me and have “therapy sessions” with me. Sometimes, he would take me to the park and we’d play together. Other days, he would take me to see a movie and we’d talk afterward. This one time, he took me on the tour of the university where he worked. Arthur loved me like his own daughter, but he can’t always be there for me because of his career. We had no choice but to meet every other week; sometimes it was every other month.

I learned something new about my family on that day. I learned that my father not only hated his uncle, but he also hated weakness; couldn’t stand to be around weakness. He was a decorated member of the American military, he worked hard every day to provide for this family, he personally made sure that we had more then we needed, and he took pride in knowing that the family was strong. So, when he learned of my depression, he began saw to see me as the weak link of the family. I once asked Great Uncle Arthur why father was so hard-hearted. He told me that war had a way of changing people, that he didn’t mean to come across as uncaring, that my father was suffering from post-traumatic stress disorder, and that he refused to seek counselling.

My mother was a different story. For her, it was all about appearances. Since she didn’t work, she devoted her time to cleaning, gardening, shopping for new clothes, planning parties, and anything else that would make the house or the family look good. She pressured us into doing certain activities, wearing fancy clothes, and join certain clubs at us schools, all so she could boast to her friends about what wonderful children she had. She took pride in being a “trophy wife” and enjoying all the benefits of being married to a man with money. She was happiest when she was showing off a new and expensive to her friends; she would smile as her friends practically became green with envy. So, having such a wonderful life and still have a child with depression would look bad.

Oh, and if you’re wondering if my older sibling helped at all. Don’t waste your breath. Marine hated me the moment I came out of our mother’s womb. When I was first born, Marine refused to touch me. Flint, on the other hand, didn’t care about me at all. He didn’t even bother to feed me, even when I was crying. I don’t know how they found out, but when they did, they began to take turn whispering things in my ear while I was sleeping. They said things like, “Mom and Dad are going to put you up for adoption” and “You’re going to end up an orphan”. I knew it was them because, while they were doing it, I was awake. I had my eyes closed, but I was just pretending to be asleep. I heard my bedroom door open, I heard footsteps entering my room, and I recognize the hush voices of my siblings as they spoke into my ear.

Saved for Arthur, no one in my family cared or did anything about my depression. I was expected to neither act as though I was happy, or suffer in silence. Mother and father made me promise to never tell anyone outside of the family of my condition; to keep it “our little secret”. My father took it upon himself to monitor my mood. He would notice my lack of interest in things that previously gave me pleasure, and would punish me. Sometimes, when he was too busy, he would entrust Flint to “teach me a lesson”. As you can imagine, my depression only gotten worse and I soon became aloof toward others around me. I started not caring about what happened around me. It felt as though I was on autopilot and was just going through the motions. Don’t misunderstand. I am not saying that my family were the cause of my depression. They were just one of many factors.

Chapter 3 of “Realm of Madness”

The third chapter of “Realm of Madness” is almost done. I just need to finish writing a few more sentences and then chapter three will be done!

I’ll edit the page when I’m finish, but, in the meantime, here is a preview of chapter three.

Enjoy:

Chapter 3: My Diagnosis

Beyond the sliding glass door was our backyard. Large and colorful flowers decorated the ground. The grass was always neatly cut. An old willow tree that grew in the middle of the backyard shaded a polished white table with white fancy yard chairs sitting around it. On the table was a white vase with yellow orchids in it. A white picket fence separated our yard from the neighbor’s yard.

I found my great uncle sitting on the wooden bench on the back porch. “Great Uncle Arthur!” I shouted in glee. I ran up to him and wrapped my tiny arms around his waist. He chuckled in his gruffly and patted me on the head.

“I’m glad to see you too.” He said.

Arthur was the uncle of my father. He was about as tall my father, though, due to his bad back, he was hunched forward and looked shorter. He was over sixty and needed carry a wooden cane to help support him, but other than that he was perfectly healthy. His short, white hair was always combed back and tied into a ponytail. His bright blue eyes were always full of life and energy. He wore his usual black jacket over his usual white shirt, black pants, and black tie. My great uncle was the quintessential old man: wise, traditional, and a little grumpy at times. I loved him for it. For the longest time, he was my best friend and, through I could never say it aloud, I always felt better when he was with me.

I went to sit next to him on the bench. He looked me squarely in the eye and asked: “How are you feeling, Mary?” I could only shrug.

If you haven’t already figured out what was wrong with me, then I’ll just come out and say it: I was suffering from depression. It was because of my depression I was crying in the playground. I was always sad. Despair was constantly with me like a shadow. Somedays, it felt as if I was drowning in a sea of my own tears. It soon became harder and harder for me to get out of bed in the morning. Most days, I would refuse to eat anything. I isolated myself from my peers because I didn’t find the games that they would play enjoyable. I become so tired during the day that I sometimes sleep during my classes. The activities that the teachers would have us do didn’t bring me pleasure or joy. Almost nothing could make me happy.

It might seem odd considering how young I was. You usually don’t think about severe depression when you think about children. Children were, after all, symbols of innocence and joy. Children were supposed to bring happiness wherever they went; they didn’t get depression, only grow-ups did. Truth is, I was very different from other children. Though, I didn’t realize just how different I was until the day I spoke to Arthur.

It was about two years ago, when I was ten. We were having a small get-together in the backyard as we did on most weekends. My mother, the hostess, as always, had invited most of the block. My father and Flint were in the den playing some kind of card game with my father’s friends from the army. I could hear their boisterous laughter, even from my spot on the back porch. Meanwhile, my mother and Marine were at the table, chatting with the other mothers while enjoying some meatloaf that my mother made. “Marine is the co-head cheerleader at her school, and Flint is the star player of his basketball team!” I heard my mother boast. From my seat, I watched the children of the other families played with our yard toys. I was the only child who wasn’t playing.

Then, Arthur came up to me. He sat next to me on the bench and we started talking. He asked me why I wasn’t playing with the other children. I just broke down. I told him everything, how angry and sad I was, how tired I was during the day, how I hadn’t been eating, how I was having trouble concentrating in school, and how I been having headaches or stomachaches; I even cried into my hands.

Arthur was a professor at a university in Jersey City, in the psychology department. Before that, he was a social worker at a middle school. Even at a young age, I knew he was well-versed in child psychology, so I immediately believed him when he told me: “I believe you are suffering from early-onset depression.”

“What’s that?” I asked in between sobs.

“It’s when a young child like you feels sadder than usual.”

“Just make it stop.” I murmured under my shaking breath.

Arthur began to rub my back in a comforting gesture. It was more than enough to quiet my sobs. I removed my face from my hands and looked up at him. “Don’t fret, Mary.” He told me. “We’ll make it stop. We’ll just need the proper treatment.” As he rubbed my back, I felt a contentment that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I felt as though I was being looked at for the first time. I don’t mean the regular way that someone looks at someone else, I mean the special way that someone looks at someone else. How do I describe it? Usual where someone just looks at you, they’re only looking at the superficial things like clothes or hair, but when someone really looked at you, they see more than hair or clothing. They see the aura that surrounds you, and they see inside your heart. That was what Arthur did. Somehow, saw my sadness, and then took the time to listen to my problems. There was probably over a dozen people at our house, but only he saw. I liked being looked at.

“I’ll talk to your parents about finding the right psychotherapist.” Said my great uncle. At the time, I didn’t know what a psychotherapist was, but I smiled nevertheless. Someone must had saw me cry and told my mother, because it wasn’t long before I noticed my mother making her toward us. I’ve seen mother worry about their children before, but there wasn’t a hint of worry on my mother’s face. Instead, there was only annoyance.

“What did you do?!” She said in voice loud enough to sound threatening, but silent enough so the other mothers or children couldn’t hear. It already angered me, the way she blamed Arthur. Any other person would had been offended, but Arthur didn’t let it get to him. As always, my great uncle was honest and told her that there was something seriously wrong with me. “Yeah, it’s you!” She snapped at him. She grabbed me by the wrist and dragged me inside the house. Great Uncle Arthur followed closely behind us. Once inside my mother yelled for my father. “Your good-for-nothing uncle is making our daughter cry!” She told him, eventhough it wasn’t true. Upon hearing this, my father turned to his uncle and started yelling profanities at him. Whenever I tried to use my voice, my father would yell at me to stay out of it.

Arthur never raised his voice, never swore, never fought back. He took my father’s anger like a champion. When it seemed that my father’s tirade was over, my great uncle spoke. He told them exactly what I told him, word for word. “I think Mary has depression. We must get a professional opinion to be sure.” But mother and father didn’t need a professional opinion. I could tell from the shock expressions on their faces that they believed him. For my father, shock quickly turned into anger. For my mother, shock turned into disgust. Arthur started to list the different treatments and medications we could try, but was he quickly interrupted by my father, who said that he wasn’t going to waste his money on drugs.

“We need to take every opportunity to help Mary!” My great uncle protested.

“No!” Shouted my father. “WE don’t have to do anything!” He said while gesturing in between him and my mother. He then pointed at Arthur. “YOU need to stay away from my daughter!”

“Keep your voice down!” My mother ordered. “Our guests will hear us.”

“So, you won’t take her to see a counselor?” Arthur asked.

“Absolutely not!” Exclaimed my mother. She continued, this time in a much lower voice. “What if one of my friends sees me taking her to a therapist. What if they find out that one of my children has a mental disease? What if they spread rumors about us? Do you know how long it took me create an image for us?!” As she finished saying this, she glanced toward the door that led to the backyard. I looked too and saw that the mothers were hunched together as though they were whispering among themselves.

“Now that’s just preposterous!” Said Arthur.

“Derrick, you know I’m right.” She said to my father. “These two are already ruining my party, do you want them to ruin our family name as well?”

“Susan, please.” Spoke Arthur to my mother. “Mary’s mental health is more important than-”

“Shut up, Arthur!” My father shouted, interrupting Great Uncle Arthur again. “Don’t ever talk to my wife like that, and don’t ever tell me how to take care of my child! She is my daughter, so I’ll handle it!”

“She needs proper treatment-” Arthur tried to explain before being interrupted by my father for a third time.

“She just needs to get over it and stop being so soft.” He said.

“She might try to hurt herself with treatment!” Arthur warned them. I think he was hoping to get a reaction out of them; something to get them to care.

Instead, my father, in a tone of voice that made him sound tough, said: “If she does, then it’ll be her own false.” With that, he wordlessly stomped back toward the den. Whenever he did that, it usually meant the conversation was over.

Once my father was gone, my mother stepped toward me. She kneeled so to be at eye level with me. In a stem voice, she said: “Mary, don’t tell anyone what happened here. What happens in this house, stays in this house. Understood?” Without thinking, I nodded my head. “Good girl.” She stood and faced my great uncle. She narrowed her eyes at him, then she signed. “If you want to help so much, Arthur, then you be her shrink.”

“I have a career, Susan.” Arthur protested. “I have papers to grade, students to teach. I can’t come up every week and-”

“I don’t care, Arthur!” She shouted. “Make it work!” Then she calmly walked back outside as if nothing happened.

I learned something new about my family on that day. I learned that my father not only hated his uncle, but he also hated weakness; couldn’t stand to be around weak people. He was a soldier for the American military, he worked hard every day to provide for this family, he personally made sure that we had more then we needed, so when he learned of my depression, he began saw to see me as the weak link of the family. My father did have an exception: he was sympathetic toward those who were damaged by war, but was about it. I wasn’t a war veteran, so I wasn’t worth his sympathy.

My mother was a different story. For her, it was all about appear. Since she didn’t work, she devoted her time to cleaning, gardening, shopping for new clothes, planning parties, and anything else that would make the house or the family look good. She pressured us into doing certain activities, wearing fancy clothes, and join certain clubs at us schools, all so she could boast to her friends about what wonderful children she had.

New Follower + New Story

Firstly, allow me to thank Millie Schmidt for following the blog. I hope you enjoy what you see.

Secondly, I just updated “The Infinite Guide”. Now, there are two new chapters to the story. To see them, click here.

Lastly, I wanted to share a brand new story that I am working on. The preface and the first two chapters are done. I’ll put them in its own page soon, but for now, here are the preface and the first chapter:

Preface: My Name is Mary…

Hi.

My name is Mary.

Mary Sweets.

You’ll have to excuse me. This is my first time on a site like this and I’m a little nervous. I just thought it was a good idea to start with my name; I didn’t know how else to start. Like I said before, I’m a little apprehensive about sharing my story. Nonetheless, I needed to tell my story to someone. When I discovered this site, with it creepy stories and bizarre anecdotes, I thought it would be the perfect place to write my story. I doubt that anyone would believe me, I mostly want to tell it just to prove to myself that it wasn’t make-believe; that it wasn’t all in my head. There’s another reason I’m writing this: I don’t want to forget. I don’t want to forget the most traumatic experience in my children that would ultimately lead me to my improvement as well as the six people who would become my best friends in the whole world. Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.

This story–my story–is going to be a long one. I would love to type this all in one sitting, but, due to forces that are beyond my control, I can’t. Consider this first post as a preface and the later posts as chapters. In hindsight, I should have just written a whole novel and send it to the nearest publishing agency, but, like I said before, I doubt that anyone would believe me. My story isn’t a sad one, nor is it a scary one. However, there are some parts of my story that are depressing and even disturbing. Consider this a warning: this story will contain violence, gore, vivid images of graphic scenes, the death of innocence, and other mature subject matter. If any of this doesn’t appeal to you, then I suggest that you stop reading. Listen to me, getting ahead of myself again. Sorry. I’ll just start from the beginning.

Like I said before, my name is Mary.

Mary Sweets.

Chapter 1: Before the Madnes

It was the thirty-first of May, in the year 2018. The school year was ending and autumn was slowly turning into summer. The once crisp, golden brown leaves that would fall from the tree branches became an almost radiant shade of green; some trees were even blooming lovely pink flowers. Tomorrow was the first of June and I would be turning twelve-years-old. The party that my class held for me earlier that day was good. “MARY SWEETS, COME OUT HERE RIGHT NOW!” The shrill, raised voice of my mother rung in my ears, but still, I didn’t move from my hiding place. In the far corner of the playground that was built behind my elementary school, were lush bushes surrounding a tall, wide oak tree. It was there where I seat, underneath the tall oak tree, hidden by the bushes.

I was a petite girl; only four feet tall and sixty-five pounds. I had pale green, round eyes, fair skin, and long black hair that was tied in twin ponytails by large, bright white hairbows. I had a petite nose, rosy cheeks, and a round face. I was wearing my favorite white, short-sleeved blouse under my favorite black denim overall skirt. I was wearing my favorite pair of white socks with black polka-dots and my favorite pair of black dress shoes.

“MARY SWEETS!” I heard the voice of my mother again. She was calling on for me to come out from my hiding spot. It was the end of the school day and the other children were gone. The only people left in the school were the janitors, some teachers, and my mother, who was looking for me. “MARY!” She yelled again. I didn’t move from my spot. I wasn’t a disobedience child, quite the opposite. I always did what I was told, I never acted out or throw temper tantrums, and rarely did I do anything that would be considered rebellious. It was just that, on that day, I wanted to be alone; I didn’t want her to see me cry.

Cool tears ran down my cheeks like rivers and I was trying my best to silent the sniffles and whimpers that was coming from my mouth. I wrapped both of my eyes with my hands, but so soon as the previous tears were gone, new ones took their place. I hugged my knees, which were pushed against my chest, with my tiny arms. “MARY!” My mother screamed again. I could tell that she was getting impatient and angry. I continued to cry and sob quietly. I was staring downward at the soil. Tiny insects, like worms and beetles, were crawling around my shoes. “MARY SWEETS!” I didn’t want to disobey her, but, at the same time, I didn’t want to come out. I just wanted to be alone with my tears. You might be wondering why I was crying. The reason behind my tears would become clear to you soon enough

“MARY!” My mother yelled again. “IF YOU DON’T COME OUT BY THE TIME I COUNT TO THREE, I’M CALLING YOUR FATHER!” My sobs suddenly stopped and grasp escaped my mouth. I could tell that she wasn’t joking; she meant what she said. If I didn’t come out in less than three seconds, I would only find myself in more trouble than I already was. “ONE!” My mother began to count. “TWO!” Finally, I begrudgingly stood and walked around the trunk of the tall oak tree, in clear view of my mother, who was standing in the middle of the playground. As she stomped toward me, I wrapped the remaining tears from my eyes, hoping that she didn’t noticed.

My mother, Susan, was a slender, beautiful woman. Like me, she has long black hair that fell from her head in curls and framed her heart-shaped face. Her eyes were the color of sapphires, big, round, and shimmering sapphires. She had an ample chest, suntanned skin, and full lips. She wore a black dress that stopped at her knees and hugged her body. Her black high heels were undoubtingly getting soiled in the grass and dirt. She was wearing a lot of make-up; pink eye shadow, pink lipstick, and pink blush on her cheeks. She grabbed me by my wrist and pulled to her side. “Don’t EVER hide from me again!” She said through clenched teeth, her eyebrows knitting at the center. “Especially when I’m calling you. Understand?” I feverishly nodded my head. “Good.” Her face relaxed, if only just a little. “Now let go home.”

With that, my mother dragged me toward our blue sedan, which was parked outside the front entrance of the school. My school was about twenty minutes away from my family’s house, thirty if you walked. My family and I lived in the suburban part of New Jersey-Hamilton to be exact- so everything wasn’t too far away. If we needed something, we would just hop in the car and drive there. I’ve never really been outside of New Jersey. I sat quietly in the passenger’s seat as my mother drove down the different streets. I watched from my window the many shops and family-owned businesses that we pass by. My mother didn’t speak to me until we were at the house.

Updates

Firstly, let me say sorry for the inactivity. I just moved out of my dorm and am setting in at home. I also applied to some summer jobs and programs, so I might be busy with those. However, I’ll make sure to post when I have the time.

Now that I have some free time, I can show you what I been working on.

I’m still working on “Midnight Embrace”, but I did changed the plot a little. Here is the new summary: Once upon a time, there were two families whose power and wealth were unmatched by anyone else. Believing that they could increase their wealth and power, the two families arranged for the youngest members for their clans to join in matrimony once they came of age. And so, since he was born, William “Will” Midnight, the heir to the Midnight Estate and all its riches, was expected to marry Alexandrea “Alex” Embrace, the heiress to the Embrace Estate and all its assets. However, Will, despite all the pressure to marry, is not sure if he wants to spend the rest of his life with Alex. Will, like many members of his family, can flawlessly predict the outcome of events and choices in all possible timelines. Alex, like many members of her family, can use turn herself into a weapon for others to use. Having sent thirteen years together with Alex, going to the same school, and learning to use her in combat, Will can safety say that he does like Alex, yet there are some things about Alex that bothers Will. For example, Alex likes to have random and spontaneous tackle fights. She also enjoys smothering Will with hugs and kisses. She’s also extremely clingy. This is very discomforting for Will because he has an intense phobia of ‘cooties’. On top of all that, a group of extremists, hoping to start a new world order where everyone is equal, are plotting to assassinate the members of the richest families in the country; they already got Will’s mother. Now Will is on a mission to track down the people who euthanized him mother before they do the same thing to him and Alex.

Also, I’m working on a new story. I’m calling it  “Realm of Madness”. Here is what it will be about: In recent years, some theories, or hypotheses, had suggested that “insanity”, or what we define as “insanity”, is a physical place that one can visit. This place is not accessible by traditional means; it is believed that this place exists in a pocket dimension that is separate from our own. The physics of this “realm of madness”, as well as its origins, are yet to be known. Meanwhile, in the rest of the world, a young girl from a small Icelandic town mysterious disappeared during the night. That was four years ago, on the girl’s birthday. Three years ago, a young boy from England also mysterious disappeared. Two years ago, a young girl from India disappeared. One year ago, a pair of twins from Japan disappeared. Now, 12-year-old Mary, a sufferer of insomnia and depression from the States, disappears from her family home as well. Before she disappears, however, she is given a birthday gift from her parents: a stuffed dog made from mismatched colored fabric. It is that night, Mary is taken to a place of pure chaos, the Realm of Madness. She must find a way to escape the Realm of Madness, but can she find a way for the others to escape as well?

Finally, I finished two new chapters for “The Infinite Guide”. After finishing this post, I’m going to update the story.

Anyway, that it for now.

I will talk to you later.

New Follower + New Chapter

Someone else had started following the site! Thanks to LittleFears for following the site! I hope you enjoy my artwork and stories. Speaking of which, I wanted to share the ninth chapter of “The Infinite Guide”. I know I have not updated anything on this story for a long time, but now I want to post the ninth chapter of book one before I update the page.

Here it is:

Chapter 9: A Night to Remember…Forever

She wondered if she should be going outside as she sewed on the final touches to her costume. She still saw the tears swell in her eyes of her enemy as she expressed her warming with a shaky voice; Fiona found herself forcing more on Izzy’s tears than anything else. Poor Isabella-

She extinguished the line of thought before she could continue it. She reminded herself of what was important: her hatred toward Izzy Armstrong; everyone hated Izzy and her brothers. Then again, they hated her too.

She can still remember the times when she felt as sad that she almost cried while in school, and saved for Fox and a handful of teachers, no one really cared. Her classmates would say things like ‘don’t be sad, Fiona’ or ‘it will be ok’, but that didn’t make up for the thing they called her when they thought she wasn’t listening: freak. She couldn’t stand being called that.

“Ouch!” Distraction caused her sewing needle to go through the material of her costume and into your finger. Immediately, she drove her finger into her mouth, licking and sucking on the wounded finger. When she pulled the finger out, she was relived to find the finger not bleeding; it was still stinging though. Using a pair of sewing scissors, she cut the string and placed the needle along with the others in her sewing box, which was a wooden box in which she kept her sewing tools. She held her costume up in front of her and nodded. It was suitable for wearing.

Her hesitations faded away as her dressed herself in her homemade costume. This was a huge step for her. Not only was she going to a party with her own original costume, but she was eager to socialize with her fellow classmates without fear of them judging her choice of clothing, instead they would praise her for her beautifully crafted dress. She’ll be respected and accepted, they might even invite her to hang out with them. In addition, she wouldn’t have to worry about people teasing her about her birthmark, her witch’s hat was big enough to cover her forehead. She was positive that this was going to be the best birthday ever and that nothing was going to ruin it.

                                                                                                         

After waving goodbye to her father, who waved back from inside the car, Fiona stepped through the front doors of her school. She stood inside the hallway, shaking with anxiety. Despite being in the far side of the school, she was able to hear the loud music; it echoed through the walls and vibrated the floor underneath her feet. Of course she still couldn’t bring Jinx along with her, but that didn’t stop her from sneaking the cat in a wicker basket, which she prepared along with her costume. She couldn’t leave her beloved cat alone while she was out having fun, it wouldn’t be fair.

She peeled back the sheet covering the basket, revealing the black cat inside; curled in a cozy ball. “Ready Jinx?” Jinx looked at her with his deep green eyes and meowed. “Alright then, let’s go.” She said while placing the sheet back over basket. She inhaled deeply, feeling a little nervous, exhaled, and, once she was calm enough, strolled towards the gymnasium, where the Halloween Bash was taking place.

She felt something hard and blunt struck the back of her head. She cried out and fell to her knees, the basket with Jinx in it, falling to the floor in front her. The cat immediately got on his feet and ran to his owner, who was rubbing her sore head and weeping. Her witch’s hat, tore from her head, giving the throbbing wound, which felt like the burning of a hundred suns, air to breathe.

“Well, look at what we have here.” She heard a tough-sounding voice spoke behind her, followed by wicked chuckling. She looked up to find three figures surrounding her. Tank was standing over her, a steel bat in one hand. Mike and Johnny were standing behind her, both carrying rolls of duct tape.

Tank held the bat firmly in his hands as he spoke. “A witch and her cat.” Without taking his eyes off of Fiona, he spoke to his brothers. “You guys know the rule about witches, don’t ya men?”

Johnny smiled as he ripped a strand of tape from the roll. He nodded and said, “Anyone caught in the act of witchery…” The bat swung and it landed on Fiona’s shoulder, sending her on her side, shrieking in pain. She felt the bones beneath the skin snap and break. “…will be given to a trial…” Johnny took a piece of duct tape and placed it over Fiona’s mouth. She let out a series of muffled groans as he finished speaking, “…in which no one will be defending your case.”

“Arrest her.” Tank ordered. “Make sure she can’t move.” Jinx’s back arched, his tail shot upward, and his hissed and groaned at them, his fangs and claws prepared to attack. Tank gestured to the cat with the steel bat. “Arrest her cat- I mean, her demon partner too. Stuff it in the backpack.” The two brothers did what they were took. She could felt a pair of large, tough hands pin she to the floor. She saw a hand grab her feline friend by the back of his neck, making him groan and hiss louder, then the hand lifted Jinx and the groaning and hissing suddenly stopped as he was stuffed inside a backpack. She heard the sound of ripping of duct tape, followed by the sensation of sticky tape around her wrists.

She wanted to thrash her arms at them, but she had loss feeling in one arm and she couldn’t control the other, what with it being confined against her back. She began to frenziedly kick her legs, only to have them bounded together by duct tape. She yelled and screamed through the tape on her mouth, crying from the pain. She felt herself being lifted from the ground, and after what seemed to Fiona as an era of walking, she was inside an empty, dark room.

She was dropped onto the floor. She opened her tearful eyes to see a large metal cylinder radiating with heat. It didn’t take her long for Fiona to recognize the metal cylinder as a boiler. A tattered backpack with faded colors was dropped beside her, inside she could hear the meows of her pet. “Now,” Tank exclaimed. “To judge the accused. What is the jury’s verdict?”

“Guilty.” Mike and Johnny said in unison. Tank smiled proudly.

“Excellent.” He said. “Let the punishment begin.” That was when Fiona saw Tank pull out a lighter.

Chapter Nine of “Gypsy Adventure & Romance”

Today I tried to donate some of my blood, but they told me that my iron was too low to donate, so I have to wait until next time. Just wanted post that.

Also, chapter nine of “Gypsy Adventure & Romance” is added to the page. Here it is:

Chapter 9: First Meeting

Maybe it was the traffic or maybe it was the events that transpired earlier or maybe it was because he was travelling for hours, but Knight felt exhausted. His eyelids were getting heavier as the bus ride grew closer to Rome. When the bus finally made it to Rome, the sky was quickly turning a dark purple. People were blocking their windows as a cold gale swept the city. Shops and businesses were beginning to close as lanterns lit up one by one to illuminate the streets.

Fortunately, the bus stopped in front of a hotel. Bellezza di Roma, was the name of the hotel. It looked to be about three stories tall. Colorful flowers hung underneath all of the windows and the exterior walls were made of red brick. Hanging from the roof of the hotel, were two flags: one was the flag of Italy, the other had a painting of the Colosseum. It was a very modest hotel and it was perfect for the kind of work Knight was planning. He went inside and booked a room.

At the front desk, he was given the key to Room 218. He climbed the steps, unlocked the door, and shut the door behind him. The room was also modest; a single bed, a wooden desk, a window with light blue curtains, and an adjective room that led to the bathroom. The spring bed, with its ebony sheets and plush pillows, was becoming more inviting. The half-open window, letting the cool air in, made him even more tired.

He spotted a phone on the nightstand beside the bed and was reminded of the call he was supposed to make. He groaned and yawned, fatigue slowly over taking him. As much as he wanted to sleep, he had a task to complete. He would just make the call, afterwards he would get to sleep.

                                                           

 “Done!” Kuan Eim exclaimed as she set down the pen on the desk. She had finished writing the letter to her sister describing her sightseeing in Rome as well as her encounter with Mary. She looked it over one last time, before sealing it within an envelope. Now she just needed to place it in the mailbox and let the mail carrier ship it to Thailand. She remembered see a small mailbox outside of the hotel; she would be downstairs and back in five minutes. She stood from her chair and started to walk towards the door.

That was when she heard a voice. It was faint, but audible and sounded as though it was coming from the room next to hers. She stepped toward the far wall and the voice behind the wall became louder and clearer. She continued to step closer, and closer, and closer still. Before she knew it, her ear was pushed against the wall. The walls of the hotel must have been as thin as paper because she could hear just about everything from the other room.

The voice in the other room sounded deep and masculine, but it was also smooth like silk and as elegant and refined as diamonds. It was the kind of exotic, romantic voice she only heard on the radio. Almost instantly the voice took her. She felt her heart beat louder as a wide, giddy smile formed on her face. The voice was so romantic and so alluring; it made her feel as though she had nothing to worry about. She listened to the enchanting voice as it talked about something she was only faintly paying attention to.

The sound of a phone hitting a receiver snapped her out of her daydream. She quickly stepped away from the wall, blushing. Remembering what she was going to do, she hurriedly raced to the door, letter in hand.

                                                           

“All right. Goodbye.” With that, Knight placed the phone on the receiver and yawned. The call was done, and now he could rest. He began to unbutton his suit when a thought strike him. He groaned in annoyance, realizing that, in his haste, he had forgotten his wallet at the front desk. He would have to walk downstairs and receive it. With a heavy sigh and drowsy eyelids, he marched out of his room.

As soon as he stepped out of his room, he collided with something soft and smooth. It took a while for him to realize that a beautiful young girl with long, curly black hair and emerald eyes was standing in front of him. She was in the daze and confused, one hand rubbing at her forehead. After shaking the sudden shock from his mind, he quickly apologized. “Oh, I’m so sorry, miss.”

“No, no. It’s ok.” The girl said, after shaking the shock from her own head. “I wasn’t watching where I was going.”

“No,” Replied Knight. “I should have been paying attention to my surrounds.”

“Please, no apologizes are needed.”

“Still, I am deeply sorry, miss.”

“It’s no trouble, so don’t worry about it.”

The two looked at one another until Knight awkwardly cleared his throat. “Now, if you excuse me, miss.” He stepped back a bit before turning his back to the lovely young woman he just met, fighting the urge to look back.

Kuan Eim, still staring at the back of the handsome gentleman she just met, remembered her letter and that she needed to head in the same direction of the gentleman. She considered heading that way too, but ultimately decided to just mail the letter in the morning.