Just Keep Swimming (Sienna Part 2)

I happen to have easy access to a pool. I know, doesn't it just make you writhe with envy?

Well it should.
Sadly, it's been raining all weekend and hasn't been warm at all. So the pool isn't all that great. Despite that, I've gone swimming at LEAST four or five times in the last couple of days. Hurray for me.

I'm in a rut guys. I hate ruts. They are awful for the soul and a pain to get out of.

Deep sigh....

Sienna part 2, Enjoy

PS. Did anyone like my cliff hanger? I found it thoroughly annoying. HA! I love playing God.

To be honest it was more of a squeal that an scream, pitiful really, my throat was so tight I couldn’t get a real scream out. I felt like a pig... at a butchers.

It moved faster than I had ever expected. As soon as the shriek had left my mouth I was flying. The Golden-Eyed monster had backhanded me, sending me crashing into the underbrush. The wind left me in a woosh as I hit a tree a few feet away, everything was spinning and sharp, bright lights exploded behind my eyes. I couldn’t see, everything floated just beyond the dark fuzzy cloud that obstructed my view. Gasping for air and crying in pain, I slumped over grasping my shoulder where the monster had struck me. I couldn’t breathe. I couldn’t move my arm. I looked down to see my elbow sticking out in the direction I was facing, the bone was stark white in the moonlight. For a moment I couldn’t believe it was my arm, until white hot pain shot up to register to my brain.

I screamed again this time in pain and slumped over gasping and crying, biting my lip until it bled. I reached out with my good arm to cling on a tree near me, anything to keep me steady against the spinning. My arm burned! It was like someone had taken it and was trying to twist it completely out of it’s socket, the ligaments and muscles squeezing tighter and tighter against the nerves. But instead of coming off it just kept twisting, like a green branch would when you are trying to snap it. Gritting my teeth against the increasing shoots of pain that exploded up my arm, I rocked back and forth. Oh, dear gods, stop the pain. My vision was getting worse, I could barely see the colossal monster in front of me.

It was huge, just over seven feet tall. The moonlight illuminated it’s bald head and face. It had gray-- in the dark it looked almost purple-- pasty skin with veins criss-crossing every which way. Deep set eyes, that glowed in the darkness. They didn’t reflect light, they created their own. It’s lips were thin, the same sickly color of his skin but his teeth were a dark yellow, razor pointed and small. It was grinning, wide eyed, as if it could feel my pain and fear. He-- yes, he. I realized that if it could feel pleased about my death, it had to have some feeling. It must be intelligent.-- had broad shoulders and a large chest, bulging with disproportionate muscles. His legs were the same, thighs almost as thick as a tree trunk. His arms seemed to be elongated, reaching just past his knees. Huge hands that ended in razor sharp nails, reached for me. Time seemed to slow.

In that moment, heart pounding a hole in my chest, I realized I was dead. It was inevitable, but he wasn’t going to let me leave this earth peacefully. I could feel his cold hate, his desire to slowly rip me to shreds, piece by piece, to indulge himself on my innards. The feeling of warm, soft intestines in my hands...

I shrieked and struggled to stand, jerking away from him. I could see it! I could feel it... exactly how I was going to die. I was in his head!

It was more than I could take.

I screamed and screamed and screamed, piercing the silent woods with a blood curdling cry of terror.

The last thing I remember was the roaring in my ears.

A white flare.

Ouch. That hurt.

Pain shot up my arm and into the base of my skull. My head started to pound. The dull, fogged and half formed thoughts started to clear.

Ow... ow.

“Aaagghhhh!” I screamed, my throat dry and voice hoarse. I opened my eyes. Blurs and dark shapes. I couldn’t see or think quite right. I knew it but I didn’t know how to fix it or what was going on. I could just feel the increasing pounding and shooting pains in my arms, head, and chest. The screaming had helped a little, it had taken my mind off of it. There was nothing else I could do, moving at all made it hurt worse and it made me aware of how sore and achy my entire body was. But if I couldn’t move then I would just have to sit here and bear it.... I didn’t think I could manage that. It felt like huge slivers were being shoved deeper and deeper under my skin. I was in pain, blistering and tormenting pain and everyone should know about it.

Somehow my already raw throat endured.

The next time I was fully conscious, I realized I was in my cot and somehow--alive. Everything about me was heavy and took immense effort. It was like someone had emptied my body and filled it with rocks and sand. I’d never been so exhausted that I couldn’t move before. Slowly, and very cautiously, I turned my head to look around our small one-room cottage. I winced as my neck reached it limit. I relaxed the muscles I had just tensed, trying to control the messages my body was sending. I was okay, just relax.

My mother wasn’t there, but the room was warm and a fire was lit.

Whatever she had given me was effecting me and my head felt light, like it was detached completely from my body. I looked down at myself, trying desperately to take stock of my situation. My left arm was in a splint my mother lovingly wrapped for me, I shivered, glad I hadn’t been awake when she’d set that. Both of my arms were so covered in bandages, it looked like I was being held together with cloth. From the waist down, I had a heavy quilt blocking my view from the rest of the damage. I did feel mostly numb but the dull throb and sharp pain when I moved couldn’t be ignored, basically I just felt... ugghhh.

It took me a long time to recall why I was were I was and what had happened. I remembered being terrified but I couldn’t remember details. Just gold glowing eyes.

My breathing started to pick up and I started to tremble. The sun was shining through our makeshift window. I was in a place of warmth, clear air, and comfort, but I couldn’t stop shaking. I shut my eyes tightly and tears leaked through them. Why was I so scared? I laughed at myself softly. I knew what I was afraid of and no matter how many times I told myself that I was fine, nothing could get me here, I didn’t believe it.

I ended up drifting to sleep in that pitiful state, to tired to lie to myself anymore.

Sienna (Revised) Part 1

Dear, wonderful and gorgeous followers. I HAVE FOUND TIME TO WRITE!!! Praise me in all my glory!

Yeah... joke.

I have gone through this part of the story at least five times. It's still very rough... because I still don't know what's going to happen. I know. Sad. But I decided I should just post it and let you guys read it. I need help with plot and making the dialogue funny. My characters are painfully dramatic and it bugs the heck out of me. I feel like they should be a little happier. Anyway besides the point. Read. Enjoy... I know I fail at action writing, forgive me.

Sienna Part 1

The forest no matter how long I have lived in it, next to it or far from it holds a place of mystery. It doesn’t matter the years that I have wandered it I still feel its peace unsettling and unnerving and addicting. It was no different back then when I wandered it to escape the tidy village with its narrow roads and houses that were so tightly packed together that mothers wiped the noses of their neighbors children as often as their own, whether from an innate housewife instinct to keep their house clean or a case of mistaken identity I have still not reached a conclusion. In contrast, the forest was peaceful.

Not quiet, it teams with life. But unlike the orderly village you need to sit still long enough. Its noise seeps instead of bombards: bugs, birds, wind in the leaves, sometimes the thrump of deer galloping through the brush. It was much like my life was then peaceful full of unobtrusive noise.

Until something started to poke me in the face.

“Sienna… oh, Sienna…”

I jerked away from the offending finger and tried to sit up. Grass stuck to the left side of my face. I rubbed the strands off, feeling the rugged imprint they had left. I glared-- eyes narrowed against the sun-- at my best friend Hilari.

“I should’ve known you would be out here. Why don’t you come and play in the village every once in a while?” She was pouting, as usual.

Once I could stand the sun, I relaxed my eyes opening them slightly trying to get them moving and focused. I was buying time, thinking of how to explain without angering her. “Because the village is boring.” I stated simply, almost sighing, unable to convey all my thoughts and feelings.

Hilari grinned. “True.” She poked me with her foot. “Come on, sun’s going down. We need to head back.”

I didn’t move for a moment, partially because I didn’t trust my legs. They felt tingly from my thoughtlessly chosen sleeping position. I had the sinking feeling that if I tried to stand they would give out from under me. So instead I sat trying to remember what I had dreamed about.

“Sienna! Come on!” Hilari shouted impatiently. “Your mom will have my head if you aren’t right behind me!”

I sighed. I’m told I do it often.

As I trailed Hilari, I noticed my mother in the midst of the preparations for the night. Wordlessly Hiliari and I moved to help, we carried wood from the storage pile near the edge of our village and started to help build the bonfires that circled our area. The men closed up the wooden gates, sparse things. There were some nights, when the wind blew hard enough that I expected the entire fence to fall. But sure enough every morning they were still there, clinging to the logs that crossed over them. I always remembered to thank the gods on those mornings.

Abruptly my mother stood before me. “Sienna, pass that to Hilari,” she motioned to my load of wood. “I need your help with something else.” I obediently did as she asked and followed her deeper into the village, passing the bellows that still glowed slightly. We stopped outside of Old Agnus’ house. My mother turned on her heel and faced me, lips pursed and eyes solemn. I waited.

After a moment my mother spoke, softly and urgently, “Angus is dying, I need your help to make the passing easy. Do you think you can do that?” her eyes bored into mine. From the worry in her eyes and face, I knew that she wasn’t sure if I could handle it.

My mother often asked for my help, I knew her herbs and how she liked to keep her satchel but never had she asked me to help with a dying patient. She’d always gotten someone older. I bit my lip. I knew and loved Agnus, maybe she felt that a friendly face would help. I nodded once, steeling myself for the scene inside.

My mother let out a deep breath, her expression dark for a moment before opening the door.

The room smelled old but nice, full of my mother’s herbs. We moved to the cot and my mother directed with motions instead of words. She had trained me from the time I could walk and carry, so it was easy to interpret her meaning. I helped Agnus sit up and when I felt how light she was, I picked her up. My mother moved expertly to strip the cot of it’s mattress, it was soiled and needed changing, I was certainly relieved when she did that particular chore.

From what my mother had told me Agnus as been very brave and enduring. It made me smile in pride. Mother often said how hard it was to treat older people; they were angry and tired, sick of life, but Agnus had been pleasant, calm, and endearing. I had to blink tears away and ignore the deep aching I felt in my chest. Agnus had taught me how to sew, how to scour and tease wool, churn cream, cook, make soap, all the skills I would need to be of help to my mother.

I glanced over to my mother, memories flickering through my mind. One summer afternoon in particular, Angus and I were scrubbing clothes against the stones of the river.

“Agnus, why doesn’t mother wash with us?”

Agnus smiled. “She doesn’t like washing. Silly girl never had a desire to learn.”

I was a little taken aback by the comment. “Mother doesn’t know how to clean clothes?”

“Oh, she knows the theory, but the girl moves so slowly and complains that I ended up taking the chore for her.” I opened my mouth to ask more about my mother. She never spoke of her past if she could help it. Agnus splashed me gently. “No more of that today, darling, if you have questions ask your mother. It’s her responsibility to complete your education, not mine.”

I sighed and we moved on to more innocent matters.

“Sienna, I need you to move her.”

My mother’s gentle voice pulled me back to the present and I carried Agnus to a cushioned chair and gently set her in it. Arranging the precious feather cushions around her. When she was settled I went to help my mother. We stripped and cleaned, brought in a new mattress with fresh stuffing and readied the cot for Agnus again. It was simple work, nothing like the complex medicine my mother worked with daily.

I stopped and shuddered, a chill sweeping through the room. I turned to see the source.

Agnus was dying, her breaths were coming in shallow and quick. She seemed to sense it too, and croaked, “Mary, you must tell her.” The air she sucked in rattled in her lungs. “I-- have--” but whatever her last words were they were gone.

Agnus was dead.

As her spirit left, I realized how empty I felt, the aching had increased. I had loved Agnus, she had been like my grandmother. My mother came close and hugged me, trying to squeeze out the hurt. I buried my face into her, breathing in the spices and familiar wood scent that clung to her.

I should have asked her what Agnus meant. It was important and it was about me, I knew. I could see the fear in my mother’s expression but I didn’t care at the moment. I missed Agnus, the way her eyes had crinkled whenever I came to see her or when she called me ‘darling.’ I would never speak with her again, never see her, never laugh with her. Suddenly I was suffocating, pressed from all sides by the memories. I needed to get out of this room.

I ran out the door. If my mother called, I didn’t hear. My breaths were coming out in sobs and I was doing my best to hold them in, chest burning from the effort. I just needed to be alone.

“Sienna! Sienna, wait!” It was Hilari, but I couldn’t wait.

I slowed my pace, unconsciously picking my way through the trees. Just go away, Hilari! I was fuming, why was I so mad? I’m not an angry person. I’ve never had many reasons to raise my voice to anyone. There have been times when I was frustrated or hurt but this was rage. Pure fury at... at everything, everyone. The gods for letting her die, me for being helpless, Agnus for dying, Mom for being just as helpless as me when she should be able to do more, and at both of the old women for keeping things from me.

I’m not stupid. I had seen the hints, the looks that had passed between the two women. The cryptic and sometimes cutting words that they spat at each other. I sighed wearily, I didn’t even really want to know what the big secret was. Whatever it was, it was probably a stupid thing to keep from me. Why didn’t they trust me? Why did they try to hide things? Did they really have so little faith in me? Rage boiled inside of me. You can’t treat me like an adult one moment and then like a child the next. I thought angrily.

In a huff I sat and looked around me for the first time. From where I was I couldn’t see the village and there was only the light of the nearly full moon. The trees whispered and crackled around me. It filled me with apprehension. I’d never been in the forest at night. I closed my eyes and listened. These were different noises, the hoot of an owl and the snap of a twig.

My eyes snapped opened, I stretched them as wide as I could, trying to take in as much light as I could while I searched in the direction the noise had come. It had been a clean snap, not a groan or crackle of a tree. Someone or something...

I stood trembling remembering all of the stories my elders had told me from when I was young. A ghost? no... ghosts didn’t have feet, it could be a witch or a goblin, maybe an ogre... My mind was in jumbles, hurrying over each thought and unable to focus on one thing.

A second clear snap brought my attention to the trees.

A sinister atmosphere seemed to creep in around me, stifling me.

My breath quickened and I froze. I didn’t know what to do. Was there anything I could do? Should I hide? Furiously I searched for a suitable place and found a fallen trunk that looked like it might shelter me. Several more noises galvanized me into action and I dove down behind the trunk, ignoring the scrapes and hard jabs I received. I quieted my breath as best as I could and huddled as close to the wood as possible without making too much noise... I hoped.

Whatever it was came closer, making small noises here and there. It was too quiet. Whatever it was knew how to move and stalk, a new wave of fear and dread washed through me and I huddled closer, praying and hoping he wouldn’t see me.

A pair of shining golden eyes with pupils angular, like a cat’s, looked over the fallen trunk at me and I screamed.

Sisters

I happen to be blessed with four marvelous sisters. All of whom are skilled in various areas and it makes it hard to compete. Those with siblings like me understand.

One of the said sisters happens to be working on a novel at the moment. I'd like to give you a snippet of her work. Do comment, I think it's marvelous but she wants real feedback and I feel like I'm too close to the piece.

Here, enjoy!

A person is born to be a prince. It is not by chance but rather, as the priest repeatedly told Charles, a position that was ordained for him by God. Every man was born to the life he was meant to have. The priest had told him since before he could speak that in lieu of this confidence he must never do anything to disappoint the expectations of God, his father the king, or his now deceased angel mother.

But today, a day that should have been a day where destiny an predestination should be taking a hand Charles wondered why things were wrong? The whole situation started with the wrong person who was in the wrong place and who was forcing the whole party and events of the day to go all wrong. Lord Avin was only a year older yet nearly a head and a half taller than the prince. He playfully grabbed Charles by the shoulder calling him by his nickname, "Cherub? What's wrong? You must be thinking something awfully hard. Look at your forehead-- all wrinkled." He laughed as he stuck his finger to the princes forehead and forcefully smoothed them away. Charles pushed his hand away immediately.

"Stop."

He just laughed as though Charles stop was merely said in jest and returned his finger to his forehead to continue, "Oh look you forehead went all wrinkly again."

"I said," stressing the I as in watch it buster I may be shorter younger and have curly blond hair and a baby face but I happen to carry the ability to issue a royal decree, "stop." His efforts were in vain as Avin didn't stopped but raised his voice and waved the others to join the fun.

Cherub had been a nickname his late mother had given him when he was a small baby due to his curly blond hair and rosy cheeks and it had stuck. His friends and father in the rare moments when his father wasn't being so stuffy called him fondly by that name. But it did not sound affectionate out of the young Lord Avin's mouth. Charles wouldn't have even brought Avin on the trip if it had been at all appropriate. When he had jokingly suggested to his fathers secretary he had received the usual stoned face (the man didn't know how to joke), "Can't I just go on the hunting with just Lady Yanet?"

"It is not wise to place your name with that of a young ladies. This is the list of people that have been invited on your excursion."

"Then is there any way you would consider not coming?"

"Adult supervision by those that have been invited as well as myself was a condition that you agreed to with the king."

"I suppose he's coming too."

"If your referring to your father then no if to Lord Avin then yes he has been invited."

His only hope had been that Avin wouldn't accept the invitation but it was a slim hope and was quickly dashed. And so for the last few days he had been playing seconds to him. Who knew that Lord Avin even excelled at the usually feminine hunting sport of falconing.

"Your doing it again, Cherub, that thinking thing, look at you poor forehead. I think it must be tired from concentrating so much and now your nose is joining in the fun. But It does make it look even more adorable.What do you think Lady Yanet what should we do with the angel of our court and his troubled forehead and adorable nose?" Lady Yanet was walking near the pavilion that had been set up in a meadow with another lady from court. She smiled at the cajoling Avin but didn't reply. She was two years older than Charles. Her father hadn't been an active part of court until his recent success at monopolizing the brocade trade that came from the south state of Ailati. The brocade had become popular no just in Alemania but in their neighbors and other far off countries. Lady Yanet had been presented during her father's rise to power and had it seemed over night even at a such a young age become a leader of fashion. Not to mention that it had only taken days for the prince to be completely smitten with her.

Lady Yanet's non-commital reply didn't slow Lord Avin's teasing in the slitest rather he continued in stride to see if he could eek out some comedic material from Lady Yanet's walking parter Lady Janice, "Lady Janice your known as," he paused searching for a polite way to say know it all," a thinker," he stepped it it up a notch in the flattery department, "a logician." She was horse faced Charles was sure not even she could deny it and tried to make up with in brains a general annoyance of all.

"Must we do something with him?"

"Are you suggesting we leave him in this horrific state?"

"Stop exaggerating." She said without the least bit of humor.

"How am I exag--," she didn't let him finish but having been raised primarily in her grandfathers presence she was used to being cut off when she spoke to her she wasn't being rude but merely holding others to the same standard. " So many people are angels these days Prince Charles, I distinctly heard you tell Lady Alicia, Maria and Hysent. Not to mention that not so long ago you described lady Yanet was like an angel that heaven allowed to grace the court? Am I in anyway exaggeration."

Lord Avin laughed without any signs of annoyance and raised his hand in surrender at being caught. "How could you be incorrect in describing Lady Yanet as an angel."

"That was you." as always a sticker for accuracy.

A few of the other young men who had joined the company to go hunting joined the small group, "Janice, stop being... well, you. How could you be annoyed with Avin for saying nice things?"

"And they're true." Lady Yanet modestly waved them to be quiet at such a pointedly flattering remark.

"Still," another added as he tossed the prince's hair, the prince was by far the shortest. It was more of a stretch down then up for the young lord next to him to muss his hair in an affectionate manner while adding, "Janice you have to cut Avin some slack. On top of being entirely correct by observing Lady Yanet's angelic nature he's not the only person to compare the prince to an angel."

He and Janice were the only one's not laughing and enjoying this conversation. And that was saying Janice rarely looked like she was enjoying any conversation. Janice was renounced sour puss who would literally play the devil advocate if possible the rest of the group was against it.

"Why?" she said loudly. She was also one of those people that never flowed with the rest of the group. When the world ignored a slightly antagonistic remark or tone she would take it head on to the embarrassment to the group. She was the thing that got stuck in the spoke of the bandwagon.

"What?" Nobody really likes to get jolted when falling the wake of the popular.

"Why should we allow people to exaggerate and lie just because they say nice things." And no one liked to be reminded they were following the crowd and doing wrong like lying. But mostly they were used to her always taking a situation where everyone was having fun and throwing cold water on it. No one would actually invite her to things if she hadn't been the granddaughter to an eccentric lord who nobody in their right mind would like to cross. Charles had never been laughing, but Lady Yanet's polite smile was fading and the other two young boys who had joined their groups laughter died.

Lord Avin's smile only grew brighter he turned to Prince Charles. "What do you think Charles? Am I exaggerating by calling lady Yanet an angel?"

And then the odd moment passed in the moment when Lady Yanet spoke light scolding tone and Lord Avin, "You shouldn't tease him." she pouted slightly.

"Your too right," Lord Avin said, "We should all remember little cherubs it talented to." somehow after this interchange between Lady Yanet and Lord Avin , Charles felt like a kid interrupting the conversation between adults.

"But enough talking. Wouldn't it be better if we all took an afternoon ride together. What does everyone think, wouldn't that be a pleasant way?"

Lady Yanet looked at him he could tell that she wanted to go, but the thing was she was slightly taller and Charles really wished he could be taller.

"It sounds like a good idea to me." one of the others said

"What do you think, Janice?" Yanet spoke to her pleading. Janice with her face stuck in a position of permanent disdain for life start listing of the with the reasons why it would not be a good idea.

Avin pulled Charles out of the group and to the side. "It won't be a problem will it? I sure everyone will enjoy it so much even if it is slightly different than what was originally planned. Should you go talk to the scouts about the change of plans.

The scout pulled him aside as the preparations were underway. "We will stick to the most open places this part of the woods. And well away from the main hunting party."

"There isn't any danger of crossing paths?"

The scout nodded no. He was older than the prince and they had grown up with each other and filled an almost older brother role. They had a comfortable relation due to their shared passion for hunting. He was comfortable enough to let out some of his exasperation.

"I had really wanted to go after the hart. How many years since the last sighting?"

"Since before your parents were married. And you knew it wouldn't be much of a hunting trip and didn't your father may the blow a little less by letting you bring the young woman of the court to go falconing."

"But wouldn't it be great if I could kill the white hart? Father couldn't last time."

"Well he did get a little distracted. But aren't you glad he was?" The scout looked at Lady Yanet and Lord Avin who were talking at that moment. Charles didn't miss the wordless commentary, "Your mother and father fell in love and were engaged after the last hunting excursion and accident."

"Who knows the white hart might lead to another royal wedding."

" Your parents they lived happily ever after but Charles," he paused, "Charles, your father didn't have a Lord Avin hanging around did he."

"Haven't you heard forordainination."

"I was forordained to be a prince so that must me my mother was destined to be my mother. Lord Avin or no Lord Avin my wife because I'm a prince is meant to be,"

"Forordained? How do you know it's her?"

"My heart says so."

To his embarrassment his friend burst out laughing. "Well just make sure to inform Lord Avin and Lady Yanet they don't seem to have heard about it yet." He walked away laughing heartily.

Losing Fictional Friends (Fumings)

For those who read, watch movies/tv series, or do anything that involves getting to know someone who isn't real (AKA fictional), you will understand the utter pain I'm going through right now.

Okay maybe not, maybe I'm just a freak who gets too emotionally attached to characters. (It's really funny actually, I get more worried about what's happening in the book I'm currently reading than the crisis occurring in my own life.)

My favorite character just died.

She was AWESOME!!! I mean, she wasn't naive. Her country is in political turmoil and she's able to play both sides while getting stuff done. She could fight and wasn't going to sit around and let the guys do all the work. AND She was caring and believed in redemption for people. (sniffle) Oh, and she was gorgeous. Just a side note.

AND SHE DIED!!! She was a main character. A main character meant to be with the male main character and the WRITER KILLED HER!!! yeah, she died saving her king and therefore the entire country BUT STILL. She died!!!

I hate stories like this. I just want a happy ending. She can't come back... they buried her.

Sigh... I guess I have to get on with life... sniffle... I'm so depressed right now.

PS. I can't tell you what TV series this is... Cause it will ruin it if you ever watch it and I can't do that to you. I was so shocked... But here's a picture of my awesome main lady, I found one of her laughing. Enjoy. This is my personal memorial.

Writing Party

Things learned from our party:

1. Jessica is being shunned. (Though I thank her for her feedback)
2. Castles look like castles. (For pronunciation and intonation guide fine Alex or Briteny)
3. Children must have really depressing lives to have interesting ones
4. We all hate bad guys... especially slime like Kerk.

There our meeting in a nutshell. I thought it went pretty well, BUT I can't see Briteny's blog. I need you to invite me so I can see.

Alright now that the business is taken care of and I FINALLY have time to write, let's get down to the nitty gritty.

Literally. (Tyra's face should give you the creeps after my story. That's my goal.)

So I've noticed that I love gore and guts. Disgusting? Yes, but it's so much fun to describe. Anyway, several of my stories tend to go into detail and for that I apologize but all the succulent words you can use are for things that decompose or are bleeding... Anyway... I've finally finished my short story (I call it that but it's actually 6 pages long) based on the scary dream I had. If any of you watch America's Next Top Model this will make perfect sense to you.

Now I have a rule about my stuff, when you read it you are brutally honest with me about whether you liked it or not and how I can fix it. What I did wrong and what I can do to improve. So if you read it PLEASE give me feedback.

The Decapitation of Tyra Banks

I fiddled with my mustard suit. It was hideous against my skin. I sighed inwardly, yellow was not my color. My costume was short skirted and tight against my hips and chest, accenting my curves. The doors opened as I was examining the insignia on my left side. It was tacky, the four initials ANTM surrounded by a ring but I was determined not to say anything. As a model I would act professionally and perform to please. This was my chance to shine, we had gotten this far and I wanted to make sure we stayed in the competition.

I looked out to the bridge and looked for the familiar mustard. My teammate had already been put to work, sitting in front of a green screen, headphones on, typing erratically. I turned my attention back to my situation. I had to focus if we were going to survive. Before me stood my captain, and I saluted, clicking my heels to emphasize the crispness. Years of experience and practice let me smooth my face into a cold and indifferent mask, but inside I was dying to crack a smile, an infectious grin that tweaked the corner of my mouth. I would enjoy this challenge, I could do a military shoot. My father and both my brothers had been in the army and had made it their “sub-mission” to make sure I knew everything there was to know about the Marines and Air Force division.

My captain smiled without teeth showing, long lashes lowered condescendingly.

I didn’t find it at all comforting. A hand crawled up my spine, squeezing my heart uncomfortably.

She’s in a similar suit, but it’s dark red. Her dark skin gives it an exotic feel.

“Ilea, I’m glad you made it.” Captain Tyra Banks murmurs quietly, her huge green eyes bore down into me, she’s at least a head taller with her four inch matching red heels.

I smile, not trusting my voice. This entire experience had been nothing like I’d imagined. First we were shoved together in a small warehouse and asked to form teams. That part had been easy, I’d come with a friend so we paired up and convinced a tall, dark skinned male model, Josh, to join us. He was good-natured, funny and spoke only after he thought it out, something I had not expected. Unfortunately the majority of the things said about models are true. Most male models are either gay, or complete idiots. Most of the time both.

The theme for our challenge had been Horror.

Not my favorite theme.

Apparently too many competitors had passed the application process and they needed to whittle us down. For our first challenge we were supposed to find a cottage in the middle of the a very dark and creepy forest. Fortunately,- and I am very proud to report- my determination overwhelmed all fear. Despite my all the military training I’d gotten, I will never ever like the dark and the things that come with it. My friend, Crysta, thinks she’s impervious to everything and anything, so she didn’t feel any fear and Josh had experience camping at night. So really I was the only one who had a problem with the forest.

We decided that splitting up was the best idea, Josh taught us how to find our direction using the stars and moon (full, of course) when we had found the cottage we could phone each other and tell the other which direction we had gone.

All I can say about the experience is that I’m glad it’s over.

Every time something jumped out at me or something slimy touched my neck, I would stiffen and tell myself over and over, They can’t hurt me, they can’t hurt me. And keep walking fists clenched and arms kept tight to my side. I was afraid that if I didn’t have absolute control over myself I might hit someone on accident. In contrast Crysta would laugh at everything. She has a morbid sense of humor, finds things like hitting babies funny. Usually I disapprove, but as I walked through the pines, I would hear her distinct cackle and couldn’t help but crack a grin wondering what had poor zombie or monster had jumped out at her this time.

We were unbeatable, until Josh fell and sprained his ankle.

So as the team who had won five out of six times, all but Josh was allowed on. For everyone else they chose the MVP.

For some reason, I found it very very wrong.

Call me crazy, call me paranoid, call my whatever you want but I just didn’t like it. I felt like everyone was sharing a secret that had to do with me and were thoroughly entertained by my ignorance.

I hated it.

I’d never been bullied. I was protected not only by brothers and the skills they taught me, but my own beauty and charisma. These self-same qualities put a huge target on my forehead. So while I wasn’t physically abused, it didn’t stop the rumors and slander that circulated around me.

I hate secrets, I hate rumors and I hate feeling ignorant. This challenge was making me itch in frustration and incomprehension. We were supposed to be modeling for Pete’s sake, so why the challenge of running through a forest to test our bravery? I wasn’t about to protest or anything but it just didn’t make any sense.

“Do you understand?” Captain Banks was assigning me

Crap! I’d been so lost in my thoughts I’d missed half of it. I forced myself to focus. “Yes, Captain.”

She nodded and handed me a packet. I looked over it, desperately trying to catch up on what I’d missed. I was a communications officer, “Where is my seat, Captain?”

I was directed to a small section of the bridge with several other women. I looked around the ship. Most of the team members that had made it on were female. I pursed my lips, what were the guys all ugly this year? I didn’t like it. Angrily I pushed away all the paranoid thoughts, it was making me twitchy and making me notice all the things I shouldn’t focus on.

I sat and took a deep breath. Horror, that’s right. Again, I examined the ship, trying to imagine the different situations that could happen. Alien invasion? Most likely. They’d better have some sick costumes. I thought irritably. It’ll be hard to scare us without the darkness to cover for them. I paused. What does this have to do with modeling, again? I was becoming increasingly confused about what these exercises were about. Maybe they have hidden cameras? I shrugged off all other concerns and started to focus on my job: communications.

I put on my headphones and started to read through the packet, quickly skimming through what I thought was important.

It seemed pretty basic. My job was to translate any incoming messages and give them to the captain and then reply with anything she gave my in return. There were certain procedures for certain species of aliens but other than that it was nothing special. My first transmission came in and I began to translate.

This was child’s play. In minutes I had it decoded and on to the captain.

She accepted it and read through it. “Tell them we would be glad to accommodate them.”

Firmly I nodded and went back to my station. Only when I was sitting did I frown. Allowing my smooth “model face” to relax into everyday expressions. What was going on? The message I had decoded informed us of the inventory of a nearby way station, we had no need to accommodate them for anything. If anything we were the ones who would need accommodating by them. I looked back at my captain, but she had turned back to another report.

I shrugged and sent the her response. My job was to do what I was told, if I questioned the captain’s orders it was like mutiny. That’s how things had been in the English Navy way back when. That was how the military worked. You trusted your commanding officers and did as commanded, no questions asked. Were things like that here?

I was caught up in my own thoughts when a male voice came through my headphones. “Ilea Remmington?”

“Yes, sir?”

“We need you to report below the bridge, come immediately.”

I took off my headphones and obediently went to the elevator pushing the corresponding button.

As the doors closed I noticed that Tyra’s green eyes were no longer on her reports, but smiling at me. As if she knew something I didn’t.

I shuddered as the doors closed and clenched my teeth. Hastily I promised myself, I’m never dating a guy with green eyes. A thought stopped me and I smiled slightly smug. Even if they are just contacts, at least my eye color is real. There was no way Tyra’s real eye color was green.

The doors dinged open and I stepped into a vacant enclosed room. Built in desks and computers lined the walls and in the center was a table, gray and cold. I’d come to the conclusion that because space itself was cold, everything on the spaceship felt cold and therefore gave me the shivers.

A man stood by the table his back to me. His arm insignia showed that he was second to the captain.

I snapped to attention, clicking my heels together again.

He didn’t bother turning around. “At ease, officer.” He was bent over something at the table. I leaned slightly trying to get a better look. But he turned and forced my attention to his face before I could get a good look.

I had to school my expressions into smoothness when I saw his face. It, no, he was gorgeous. Tall, dark and handsome in a nutshell. He had wavy black hair, brushed to one side and a firm square jaw that boasted a full beard. His eyes were a startling blue, that twinkled with kindness and strength. I quickly looked the rest of him over.

Oh, tall, dark and built.

I could feel myself blushing and wanted to slap myself. Instead of examining him more closely I cut him off, trying to imagine one of my stern and obnoxious brothers standing in front of me instead. As soon as the illusion was in place I could handle the situation better. I could ignore his immense and overwhelming presence and focus. There was just so much of him.

As soon as I had myself in control, I met his eyes and lost it all over again. He was grinning as if amused by my reaction to him and his eyes weren’t judging but welcoming and piercing all in one.

I dropped my eyes, breathing started to pick up again. Dang it, girl. Get yourself together. Instead I looked just beyond him and fuzzed my vision by going slightly cross-eyed. There. If I can’t see him, I’ll be okay.

He spoke. “Communications Officer, Ilea. You do good work.”

Silky goodness. I was going to melt and I couldn’t very well plug my ears. I steeled myself and cleared my throat, gauging it’s stability before speaking. “Yes, sir. Thank you, sir.” At least the basic responses had been drilled into me.

I sensed rather than saw him smile. “Oh, come, there’s no need to be so formal with me. I’m simply here to answer any questions or concerns you have.” In two strides he was next to me and I made the horrible mistake of inhaling.

His aftershave was wonderful, clean, smelled of spring, the glorious scent of some kind of some kind of flower--

What was wrong with me!?

Everything about this man was drawing me in. He was only a few feet away and I wanted to close the distance. His uniform didn’t leave much to the imagination and I longed to run my hands across his chiseled chest and shoulders, to run my fingers through the softness of his hair, to coax a soft throaty chuckle in that silky voice. Or his lips--

I grasped the wall for support, completely and totally losing all control I thought I had.

His arms were around me, supporting me. “Are you alright?”

I about had a heart attack, his face was inches away from mine and the feel of his arms, very firm arms I might had, made my heart pound incriminatingly against my throbbing chest.

“I’m fine!” Completely embarrassed I pushed him away, bright red and eyes down. Adrenaline shocked me out of my daze. I kept my back to him and tried to compose myself. Why was I here again? I swallowed several times before I felt like my voice would come out normally. “Was there anything you needed, sir?” I cringed preparing myself for his enthralling voice.

“No, I was just concerned for you. I know that you had a hard time in the forest and lost a team-mate.”

Something stirred in my mind. That was the wrong answer. I mean, if I cut out all the mesmerizing qualities, his words made no sense. My face became hard, and the adrenaline pumping through my veins seemed to heighten my vision and thought process. Everyone else in the competition had lost both their team-mates, I had lost only one. If he was truly concerned about that why wasn’t he talking to one of them. Maybe he already talked to each of them? One side called out. I shoved the thought aside and turned to face him.

The heart attack resulting from this encounter had a similar source but for a different cause. He was hideous! Allow me to describe it in detail, because I certainly got quite a good look as we were only a few feet away. His eyes were now glazed and white, staring emptily-- hungrily at me. His hair was wispy and white, showing a bald and literally rotting surface. As my eyes reached the maggots squirming in his cheek and in his blackened teeth, the stench reached me. I will never forget it.

I gagged, unable to scream or run, my eyes still wide in terror.

His hunched body, stumbled closer with a hand outreached. One finger was missing and the rest were shreds of skin, muscle and bone. His mandible clacked up and down, dripping juices. “What’s wrong? Are you alright?” It was abnormally high pitched, gurgling and squeaking with retained blood.

Finally, finally, I was able to scream.

The next bit is still a blur. I don’t remember what happened and I have no desire to recall anything about it. All I know is that somehow I was able to get into the elevator (which took eternity to reach our floor) get in it and back up to the bridge without getting too much goo on my hands.

I was panting and holding my hands out away from my nice suit in the elevator. To get him away I’d had to push him or maybe I’d hit him. I refused to look at them, at the moment I was just trying to get the smell out of my mind.

The elevator dinged and I stepped out in a daze.

With how I was feeling I expected everyone to turn and stare at me, but no on did. They were all working hard, too focused to notice that I was covered in blood and segments of digestive tract.

One head did turn.

Somehow I was able to keep the scream from escaping again, I swallowed and examined my captain. She had less flesh on her than her second, for some reason it made her less real. And somehow she was able to keep her beauty even in that state of decay. I stood frozen, a deer in headlights as she stood and walked toward me. When she was directly in front of me a a muffled squeak escaped me.

Her jaws opened, it was like someone was moving her mouth up and down and saying, “Ilea?” Her voice changed into the solemn yet gentle one she preferred when kicking people off the show. “Ilea, before me I see a young woman with great potential--”

I screamed and hit her. I hated that voice, that false, patronizing-- I searched for the word-- speech! I spat it the word, trying to ignore the stench and throbbing from my right hand.

When I looked up I saw, Tyra... well, Trya neck down. Her head was now across the room, still looking at me but thankfully silent. I couldn’t believe it. I had knocked off, I looked down at my fist in disbelief.

Screams and people burst from the area the head had landed and among it all, laughter erupted from one side of the room and I looked over to see Crysta struggling to rise from her chair. She looked at me and pointed at Tyra’s head on the floor. “You just knocked Trya’s head off. Ilea-- Ilea, you just popped her head off.” she swung a fist to emphasize what she meant. Something of a snort left her lips and she collapsed in another fit of laughter. “Tyra’s (more laughing accompanied by small snorts) head (big breath) is on the floor.”

Everyone else was now staring in open shock and horror at us. I heard someone empty they’re stomach and several get up and try the elevator. It wasn’t responding.

A male model approached me fury flaring off him. He slapped me, hard. I fell to the floor and put a a cool and wet hand to my face. “How could you do something like that?!” He screamed, spittle flying. “What’s wrong with you? Security Officers! Security!”

What was wrong with me? What was wrong with him? I stood and slapped him just as hard back, my anger way past it’s boiling point. “She’s a monster! She was going to kill us, her and the second-in-command! I saw him down below the brid-” at that moment the elevator dinged and out stepped the hunched and decomposing mound of flesh I had just escaped moments before.

I could feel the blood leave my face. His eyes found mine and I felt faint. I gripped a nearby desk and looked around the room, wanting to see the reactions of my fellow shipmates. The girls were having a similar reaction to me, but instead of the blood leaving their faces it was rushing to their cheeks. The men looked at the rotting monster with admiration and as if in sync the girls closed the distance, squeals escaping some of them. I looked on in complete disbelief and horror. They liked him. Realization struck me like a brick and I sat in a now vacant chair, watching the scene unfold before me. They were seeing a gloriously attractive man while I saw the truth. They couldn’t see that the arms they fondled were soft and wet from blood and pus oozing out of boils. That the cheek one girl kissed was filled with maggots. I gagged and whirled away.

Across the room, Crysta had kept her space as well. She wasn’t watching with disgust though, just mild interest one eyebrow raised in skepticism. She wasn’t under his spell.

I stood and crossed the room to whisper to her. “Do you see him? What color are his eyes?”

She gave me a woah-chilax-girl look and then turned back to study him. She brought a hand to her chin, considering. “Well, it’s hard to tell. But I think at one point they were probably blue, he’s melting pretty fast though.”

“Melting?” I asked, I was relieved though. She saw what I was seeing, but melting was an odd term to use for it.

“Sure.” she said unconcerned. “I mean everyone is at different stages right? But his skin and muscle is falling off really fast from the last time I saw him.”

“You saw him before now? And he was like” I gestured in his direction. “this.”

She nodded, “Yup, but then again who isn’t?”

Okay, I was getting really confused. “Huh?”

She looked at me, confused too. Cautiously she asked, “You mean he’s the only one who looks like that to you?”

“Well, him and Trya.” I muddled over what she had just said, “Crysta,” I said softly, “are you saying that everyone looks like that to you?”

She nodded, she seemed relieved I wasn’t treating her like a freak. I swallowed, not sure how I did feel about my best friend seeing everyone as a decomposing pile of fat and gastric juices.

“Okay.” I said.

She watched me. Nervously.

“Um, so what stage am I in?” I wasn’t exactly sure I wanted to know, but the silence was stifling me.

She brightened immediately, “Oh that’s easy, you lost all your skin a long time ago. Now you are mostly bone, like Tyra, if you need to compare it to one of these two. I didn’t know you had what I did, Ilea. What pills are you taking? My doctor has me taking...”

My vision went gray and my ears started buzzing. I lost whatever Crysta was trying to tell me. My last coherent thoughts were, Oh, dear Lord, I’ve gone insane. I looked over at Tyra’s body. And I think I just killed Tyra Banks.