Tales of the Black Swan: The Pulse (Part 2)

"Consumed by lust." I can feel myself being drawn into Rothbart. He surrounds me constantly. He wants to seduce me. He has vexed me. I've tried to stay away from him. I can't. "I want you Odile", He would say when we're alone. "I want to feel you. I want to feel you from the inside. " I am tempted by his lust. I want to feel him too. But I fear him. I fear he will possess me. Every time I see him, I sense his pulse. I look at his eyes and see fire. A passionate gaze. My eyes trace down to his neck, where I see his pulsing veins. His hot blood. I look at him and I feel a burning in my body. A raging fire. I stare at him. I find peace in his gaze. "You want me right? I know you do. I can feel it. Embrace it. The burning in your body, your chest, your loins... The fire in your heart. Release it. I will release you, Odile."

Tales of the Black Swan: The Pulse (Part 1)

"The pulse is what drives us. The forbidden desires of the flesh." There was a time when I, Odile, enjoyed my solitude, untainted by wills of man. A time when I had not known man; had not known Siegfried. "They control us you know." Yes. Men control the weak minded, those lacking will. But my Prince is not controlling. He is one to be controlled. Has my unrequited love for Siegfried changed me? I am indeed a coward. I made no confession to him. I am so unwilling. I don't know why. I do want him. Strange things started happening to me about a week ago. Rothbart, a fine young protege of Sir Vladimir, has emerged as a character in my realm. He has taken an interest in me. He wants to control me. I can feel it. I can feel him. I sense he has as much power, mentally, as I do. His will is strong. He is a manipulative genius, but with no apparent purpose in life. I interestingly find Rothbart to be beautiful, but surrounded by darkness. I feel drawn to him. Every time I see him I get a strange feeling, a rapid pulse in my veins.

The Confession: Journal of Abigail Williams (Part 6)

October 4^th, 1692

I, in my last attempt to save any dignity in myself; have decided to leave Salem for good. I cannot bear to watch John hang so I did offer him passage with me, and he did refuse. I must leave forever and never return to this dreadful place. I have condemned so many people to hang and so I too shall be condemned to hell. I try not to have regret for this event because I know those who kept to honesty, and hung for it, shall rise with grace into heaven. Their ends shall be peaceful, but mine shall be filled with godly wrath. May John have the most peaceful going into the glory of God, and with him those of true righteousness.

The Confession: Journal of Abigail Williams (Part 5)

September 30^th, 1692

Mary Warren is a traitor. She seeks redemption to be reckoned with. I could not allow her to make a fool out of me and the other girls. Even though she spoke the truth, our reputations have higher values. It was her foolishness that led to John claiming harlotry on me. He gave up his good name for the sake of his wife, and to put an end to me. My body shuttered when Mr. Danforth called Elizabeth in. For a moment, I did think I would have my damnation on Earth, as well as in hell. But luckily, Elizabeth, in her ignorance for honor of her husband, claimed no lechery. I was free to bring my reckoning out of hell for Mary. We all put her on the spot and saw her as a demon, a former demon that betrayed us. We would yet see her condemned!!! But, without thought of her connection to John, I led on. I did not suspect first hand that she would claim to sign the devil’s book at the insisting of John. I should have known pushing her would come to this. My beloved John is now convicted of using the devils power to control Mary and him in jail. It is Mary’s fault, not mine, that John has such a fate. She has given a false accusation against him, not I, so she will pay on Judgment Day as well. May God have mercy on her soul…

The Confession: Journal of Abigail Williams (Part 4)

September 12, 1692

It is indeed unfortunate that Martha Corey and Rebecca Nurse are some of the accused. I had nothing to do with the accusation, only my peers. I had no choice but follow the lead of Ruth Putnam this time, and of course her family. I knew it was wrong, but no one can save them now, except God. They must confess or be hanged. That is the fate of all accused and convicted witches. I do know this though, that Elizabeth Proctor, out of spite, has sent her spirit out against me. It was fate that handled my case against hers, and it is fate that I am the champion. If Mary Warren hath known I were watching her sow that poppet for Elizabeth, I would not have a stable case against her. In the Judges eyes, Elizabeth used the poppet against me. The needle within it was a reflection if a needle within me. I finally have my revenge on that woman.

The Confession: Journal of Abigail Williams (Part 3)

September 21^st, 1692

Oh how lucky I am to have such a wonderful mind for manipulation and deception. It is not my fault that I have it, but Satan’s. He gave me this mind in my darkest moments of solitude. I do know now that I shall burn eternally, due to my forgoing of redemption, which I purposely avoided. I had many a times to tell the truth and to spare others, but in vanity and the lack of attention, I had to condemn others and spurn salvation. I deny that the devil had complete control over me though. I was Salem that led me to this. Salem, in any other circumstance would have rejected me in all things. The only reason I am alive is because my uncle is the reverend of Salem’s church. In any other circumstance, without a father or husband to take care of me at my age, I would have likely ended up as Goody Osburn or Bridget Bishop.

The Confession: Journal of Abigail Williams (Part 2)

August 21^th, 1692

It was in the woods where these matters were spawning. Parris discovered us dancing, dancing like heathens around an open fire. It was dances for lust and love. We girls never get what we want out of life. We, only is silence, can speak our minds. Even the boys of Salem village dare not speak to us for fear that the devil shall grow impropriety in their hearts. The fear of being seen as licentious in the eyes of their fathers and mother’s eyes are what control them to avoid us. We only danced for them. We wanted the boys to notice us. But, I of course had my own private reasons for dancing as well. And, I will admit that I did smear the chicken’s blood over my face, for the reckoning of Goody Proctor. Now, this is what our charms have led to, an all out witch-hunt. In nervousness and shame, the girls, Betty and Ruth, upon being found in the woods, went into a false sleep. They slept to spare themselves from punishment for their uncivilized behaviors. I was absolutely shocked when I heard that their plan actually worked! Almost immediately after, the other girls started pointing their fingers at me. They claimed I was the won who led them to dance in the woods. I had no choice but to blame Tituba for this. In turn, she saved herself by accusing Sarah Good and Goody Osburn with the devil. I, in my enlightenment, did too confess to seeing Sarah Good, Goody Osburn, and Bridget Bishop with the devil. In a feverish chant Betty named several women, their names in memory, making a compact with the devil. In this all, we have begun the hunt for the witches…

The Confession: Journal of Abigail Williams (Part 1)

August 10^th, 1692

In secrecy I have written, and in secrecy I shall write. My name is Abigail Williams. I am 17 years of age and I am a kin to Rev. Parris. I have no other family except thy Rev. Parris and his daughter. I have had no comfort of real love from him, except that I should work to pay my keep of him. I have few people that I can truly say are my friends and I have no connections to the boys. No man has ever shown and interest in me, except John, John Proctor. When his bitter wife became ill, he did have eyes for me. I well know it is a sin, it was a sin, and I shall burn for my lusting, but I did love. I did love John and I still do now. It is his wife’s bitterness that holds him against me; it holds him back from me. That is why I was cast out of their home, like Satan was cast out of Heaven. But I shall yet have my revenge against the wench who threw me out. I shall bring upon her chaos, which not even God can stop…

The Confession Series: Journal of Abigail Williams (Introduction)

A part of my "Confession" series on my main blog "The Short Lived Legacy", this journal style writing piece is based off of the fictional accounts of Abigail Williams, as she witnessed the Salem Witch trails (to which she was a part of in the famous story "The Crucible"). This story was once a part of a bigger project I was working on back when I was reading the book for a school assignment. I was intrigued by the story, so I wanted to add a unique take on her perspective.I now bring you the "Confession Series" revamped for storytelling. Enjoy.

24 Hours (Part 1)

1:43 am

Dream State

It’s cold outside. The sky is filled with grey darkness. The icy winds that blow through the window feel like hurls of fire breath that burn at my skin. I don’t want to go outside, but they are coming for me…

My dress is brown, long, and torn. My hair is wrapped up in soft white cotton cloth. My feet are bare; cut up, muddied, and bleeding, but I feel no pain. They are already at the door.

That mob of white faces.

 White faces filled with fire and covered in blood. They made the wind so strong. They made it violent and cold so it would obstruct my escape.  I fear my brown skin will melt in the icy winds... There is a woman here. White faced, but has blood as black as coals. This is her home; warm and healing. She took me in, knowing what I was to them.

My friend... She will die with me, here in this house.

No! don’t open the front door! Please! She doesn’t listen to me, but continues to walk towards the door. She tells me that the only way to escape in out the back, where the winds are hurling. Go! She screams, for she knows they will take their time on her first, before they chase me down. I cry for her, but it’s what she wants... So, for her I run. I don’t wait for her to open the door.  I run like the wind is catching my feet. I run towards the woods, where there is no light shining. I run towards the darkness, where I know they will have trouble seeing me.  I keep running until I start to hear the deep and frightening resonation of dogs barking. I can see their shape; their paws mushing into the ground and their fur swaying in the wind. I feel they are running behind me faster than I am running forward.

I fear. I panic. I can’t think. I can’t see. I get slower, until, I can’t move…

The sun starts to shine and the dark forest ahead of me quickly disappears. Nothing but green grass is all around me now. The wind is dying as the sun begins to shine. The barking stops. I turn around to see, not a crowd of people behind me, but one man. I maintain my fear. He looks at me; analyzing me in my static state. He is tall, unusually so. His pale white skin makes a deep contrast to his luminous black hair that flows freely behind his back. He wears dark, modern clothing, highly unlike the 18^th century style of the mob that pursued me. I still remain in my raggedy dress. He begins to slowly walk towards me. My fear escalates, but I can’t make a sound. He gets so close that I see his dark shadow covering over mine. My heart races faster than it ever did before. I can’t face him; I can’t look into his eyes... I close my eyes.

 I wake up…

6:34 am

It’s so cold…

Dumb boy… He turned the air conditioning on, not realizing the fan that was blowing in my face…. I look at the clock. 6:40 am. Agh!  Less than four hours until the exam.  I look behind me and see my man sleeping in peaceful bliss.

Ha, this jerk got me sick the night before I have my midterm exam. Does he think I won’t get him back?

I get up real quiet like, making sure not to wake him. If I got to stay up this early, I’m going to make it count. I head for the kitchen as images of fattening breakfast foods flood my mind. Buttery pancakes with powdered sugar and blueberry syrup. Stuffed cheesy omelet with sausage bits. Salty,  greasy bacon… The list goes on as I walk in the darkness. I’ve been dieting all week; attempting to clean my body and mind in preparation for this exam. Now that its close, I’m going all out.

7:25 am

Breakfast has been served and eaten.

I settled for some homemade biscuits and scrambled eggs.  The boyfriend came into the kitchen just as I was finishing up. Smells good in here… But where’s the food at?  He asked in confusion. Ah… Biscuits are in the freezer. Make your own eggs. Cold yes… But he made me even colder…

My phone started buzzing. 7:45 am. It’s time to start getting ready. 

7:46 am

In the shower.  Hot water falls on my back. The smell of dove soap lathered on my body fills the air. Shower interrupted… The boyfriend barges in to take a piss. He doesn’t leave right after but lingers around to ask what I am going to make for his lunch today. Shower bliss is now ruined…

8:30 am

Before I put my clothes on, I weigh myself on the scale. 200.6 Lbs. Congratulations Tashi, you lost .4 pounds since last weigh in. Not so bad I guess.  But after today, I’m going on a mega grind diet…

24 Hours (Introduction)

“24 Hours” is a short/experimental story. It is something that is, for the meantime, a standalone and is not a part of any series that I am working on now. That may change in the future.

This very short story covers the time span of 24 hours in the life of a young woman named Tashi. Tashi narrates how she perceives the world (mental journal style), and how others perceive it, whether while dreaming, day dreaming, or living in real time.   Events (whether perceived or fantasized) are clocked in at random times (but in numerical order) within a 24 hour time period. Enjoy.

Farewell To Zanarkand (An ABC Compostion)

               All this time I have been hiding in the heart of the city, hoping the soldiers of Bevelle would not detect me. Before the war started, the Great Father warned us that this day of destruction would come. Controlling my fear, I mustered the courage to seek out survivors of the last attack within the city. Darkness quickly enveloped Zanarkand before I had time to search the rutted buildings and desolated streets. Exercising caution, I slowly followed a faint noise coming from the nearest building. Focusing on that sound, the noise turned out to be a cry for help from a young man. Grasping for breath, the young man reached out his hand toward me, gesturing me to come closer. “Help me please,” cried the young man, “I need you to help me lift this rubble off my legs…”

Inspecting the young man’s injured leg, I noticed a tattoo which resembled the Insignia of the Zanarkand high command. “J-Join me”, the man softly stammered, “Join me on my quest to reunite with the Zanarkand army…” Keeping my voice down, I wrapped up the man’s leg and inquired more of his quest. “Listen to me girl, Zanarkand is devastated, which means we have nothing left to stay for! Mapping out the remains of the city, I discovered more Bevellian soldiers coming into the city through the south gate…”

 Navigating our way out of the rubble, the young man told me his name was Tidus, and the reason he had a high command tattoo was because his father was a Kindral in the Zanarkand military. Observing Tidus’ demeanor, I realized how spirited and brave he was. Pain must have emerged throughout his entire body, yet he kept walking talking to me… Quickening our pace, it took us less than 5 hours to reach the north gate of the city.

Reinforcements came safely into the city through the north gate to make a final stand against the Bevellian soldiers. Suddenly, I felt an intense pain coming from my right shoulder. Turning around, I saw Tidus looking in horror as I collapsed backward with blood gushing from my arm. Unaware that Bevellian soldiers had been following us, three other soldiers and I were shot at by a distant sniper. Vitalizing myself to stay alive, I put my left hand over my right shoulder to stop the throbbing bleeding.  While the daring Zanarkand soldiers charged the Bevellians, Tidus stayed behind and held me in his arms.

“eXpecting to die, you saved me when I called for help,” Tidus distressingly whispered, “and I am going to repay the favor!” “Y-you are s-so kind and brave, but I wa-want you to save yourself” I stammered, exceeding my breath.  “Zanarkand, my beloved city, farewell…”

An ABC Composition (Introduction)

For a project, I wrote a short story that had every sentence start with a different letter of the alphabet in order. This is called an ABC composition and was quite challenging. My story is set in the Final Fantasy 10 Universe, themed with the famed destruction of Zanarkand. Enjoy :)