Battle of Souls

In spirit of Halloween I'm writing a short ghost story. Enjoy the creepiness!


He had finally caught her. Months of investigating and gathering information showed enough evidence to conivct her of the murder, no murders, she had orchestrated. She had been the puppet meister the entire time, and he had never seen a woman so heartless and cruel as her.
She had almost gotten away, almost.
He was just about to confront, and arrest her; lock her away to rot in jail. He marched up the steps of her grand manor, his knuckles hovering over the door. A whoosh of air and a thud of something large hitting the earth sounded behind him. He turned around slowly and what he saw made his gray eyes widen in horror.
There on the ground lay the bloody and twisted body of Lady Scarlet, the woman of his investigation. Her limbs were twisted, jutting out at angles not possible on the scale of human motion. Her neck was twisted at an unnatural angle and her evergreen eyes stared lifelessly at the overcast sky above.
His body froze, his lungs froze mid-breath. He could only stare at the bleeding corpse a few feet away, a scarlet pool slowly spreading over the dusty ground. It wasn't until several moments later when a shrill and terrified scream pierced the air that he was able to free himself from the shock.
His lungs wheezed as new air circulated into them. He clutched the cloth over his rapid beating heart, as if he could calm it. His eyes darted around the empty courtyard trying to locate the source of the scream. To his confusion he saw nothing.
The door beside him burst open and several servants of Lady Scarlet ran out of the house. The maids screamed at the sight of their mistress and the butlers had to pull them back inside. Horror was clear in all their eyes. How had this happened? They all wondered. Their mistress was fine until a few moments ago. She had glance out the window then ran and hurled herself off the balcony of her sleeping chambers.
A low rumble of thunder sounded in the distance just before the rain started to pour down. The detective, Mr. Hanzel couldn't speak, only watch as the rain washed the corpse's blood into the soil.

The funeral was two days after the tragic suicide. Mr. Hanzel attended, dressed in his best black slacks and suit. It was raining that day too and it fit the somber air. Dozens of nobles attended, all cluttered together under black parasols. They all left after the the oak casket was lowered into the ground, but Mr. Hanzel stayed. He was to shaken to leave quite yet. How had he allowed his to happen? He clenched his fists, no it wasn't his fault. Lady Scarlet didn't want to be caught so she chose death over jail.

Hours had passed before he knew it and the sky was darkening as the sun began to set. A full-bodied shiver ran through him, finally snapping him out of his circulatory thoughts. He sneezed and realized he was soaked to the bone. He was freezing, his fingers turning shades of blue and purple. 

He turned and took a step towards the cemetery exit. A low whisper then brushed past his neck, making the hairs stand on end. He snapped his head back around and stumbled back. A pale, whispy Lady Scarlet floated up from the earth. Dark blood stains were heavily visible compared to her white complexion. He took several more shaky steps back and the spirit turned it's gaze to him. 

It floated above the ground in an almost stupor. It's eyes unfocused and gray. Another step back and a twig snapped beneath his feet. The spirits head snapped up and it's eyes flared a bloody red. It's face contorted as it's mouth opened impossibly wide and her fingers became claws. It lunged at Mr. Hanzel and he fell to his back side, arms raised to protect himself. 

Just before the spirit reached him a blinding flash of light appeared above his head and a blinding white spirit lunged at Lady Scarlets spirit. Mr. Hanzel squinted through the light and a astonished gasp sounded from his cold lips. The other spirit bore a striking resemblance to Duchess William, Lady Scarlets older sister whom she had murdered.

Duchess William had a heavenly glow surrounded her body draped in a white billowing dress, if he had to guess she was a angel. 

The two spirits shrieked and growled as they fought each other. They shot all sround though the air, leaving light and dark trails in their wake. Mr. Hanzel's eyes couldn't follow the battle until they soared high above him. With one final cry they both plummeted toward Lady Scarlet's fresh grave. They plunged into the earth as if it was liquid. An unnatural and unsettling silence settled over the cemetery. 

The fright and shock from encountering spirits of another realm caused Mr. Hanzel consciousness to fade. His body slumped to the ground, where it stayed until the morrow when a young mother found him and he was rushed to the hospital. 

He feared no one would believe his story so he told no soul, and took it to his grave. 

Favorite thing about fall.

The wonderfully crunchy leaves. 

Yellow (10/10)

The color of her hair matched the shinning sun as she walked in front of him. A glance to the side showed a field of sun-flowers, the same colored yellow. He was seeing it everywhere and thinking of her when he did. 

It was maddening. 

Yet he didn't hate it. 

He saw yellow. 

He saw her. Her eyes, her smile. He heard her laugh. Her anger as she scolded him, that was the most familiar. 

He saw it every time he saw the color yellow. The sun. The flowers. 

The train station loomed into view. Panic seized his pounding heart. He was running out of time. 

The train arrived, a foot on the train. He had to do it. 

He breathed in, and turned around.

He had to tell her.

He had to tell her that she was his lovely yellow. The calm yellow he would always return to. The yellow he loved. 

Grey (9/10)

Watching the old vessel his soul used to reside in a sense of peace overcame him. The  cold, gray suit of armor his soul had called home for four years was dissolving into dust before him. It had deprived him of feeling anything, breathing, smelling, and sleeping. Not needing rest he spent every night those four years just waiting for the sun to rise so he could move again. 

Many would call it a prison, himself included, but it had allowed his soul to continue to exist, so it was hard for him to harbor any I'll thoughts towards the armor. It had saved him so many times a body of flesh and bone would fail. 

Now, back in his proper body, he had to wait. He had to wait for his brother to get him and take him home. So they could both have their happy ending. 

Red (8/10)

Rage. Powerful, all-consuming rage filled him. He had finally found the man, the thing, that had killed his best friend. He snapped his fingers again and again, creating flames hot enough to melt flesh right off the bone. But the thing, the monster didn't die. 

He snapped again, and again, and again. 

He couldn't stop himself. He was lost to his sense of finally getting revenge. 

He only saw red. As the flames exploded again, and again, and again, and again. 

The monster finally withered, falling on its last legs. 

He went to snap again, when a hand grabbed his arms. 

The red faded. 

Orange (7/10)

His lit the cigaret and took a long drag. The end turned a bright orange. This orange he was accustom to. Day after day that orange glow hung out of his lips. It was a comfort more than addiction. That's what he told himself at least. 

The glow was mesmerizing, when he was lost in thought. Or lack of, as the situation at hand was. Staring at the flickering orange glow of the burning cigaret he allowed his mind to become blank. 

It allowed him to forget how useless he was. How he had let his friends down. How he was stuck here in this hospital bed, unable to use his legs anymore. How that one fight had changed his life forever. 

That glowing cigaret allowed him to forget. 

Blue (6/10)

The day she doned the blue uniform her life changed. She became a pawn for the government. Her skills with guns, especially as a sniper caught the attention of some higher officials. She was sent to war. 

She can never forget all the people she shot down, all in name of a pointless war. A rebellion that should have never started. A rebellion that killed so many innocent people. She shot many of those innocent people, by commanding orders. 

She also met him at the war. Another more powerful pawn. 

She became his lieutenant. The one to watch over and protect him, all the while knowing if he was going to become a traitor she would be the one to pull the trigger. 

He made her strong, in return she made him strong. The blue uniform she has to wear, the uniform that has doomed her fate to service.

It gave her the thing she now wishes to protect for the rest of her life. 

Pink (5/10)

Maes Hughes was a doting father and loving husband. Everyone knew that, unfortunately. He had an overwhelming tendency to show anyone, that did mean anyone with in arms reach, pictures of his daughter and wife. He had a smile that sucked everyone in and once you got past the annoyance you noticed that he made you feel comfortable. Warm and content. A pink haze if you will. That was the perfect color to describe his personality: pink. 

Of course if you ever said it aloud it might set him off on another tangent on how adorable his daughter looks in pink. 

But that's all in the past. His smile, his fatherly-ness, his surprisingly cunning attitude was all in the past. All six feet under after that day. That day he discovered something she should not have. Something at got him killed. 

All that's left are those fuzzy, pink memories. 

Hughes' pink personality. 

Forever lingering. 

Black (4/10)

How could one single moment destroy an entire life? How could I lose everything I cared for in a blink of an eye? How could God do this to me? Why...why did I have to suffer so? Why did that man, that man who enjoyed to kill so much, kill my family? My brother. My mother. My father. Friends, neighbors. All dead. Because of him.

Why? How is it in a sudden flash of white my entire world turned black? 

That's all that's left now. A bit of black where my heart once was. Those who cause this much pain to me, to my people must pay. That is all that's left in this black heart of mine.

Revenge. 

Green (3/10)

He hated them. He hated them so much. Why did humans bother him so much? Probably because he envied them. He didn't want to, so he manupliated them. He made them turn on each other, made their hearts turn black. He made then kill each other so they wouldn't have what he envied so much. 

Their strong love and friendships. No matter how hard he tried to deny it is what he wanted most. He hated them, he hated himself for how weak he was. It wasn't fair that they got what he desired so much. What he yearned for with his entire corrupted soul. 

He couldn't help it. He was envious. 

He was Envy. 

Purple (flash fiction 2/10)

He had done it. He had escaped from his flask; but, why did he still feel so trapped? He had so much power. So much power that a mere human would collapse under the pressure. He wouldn't collapse, he was above those pitiable beings, those ants. 

Envy burned in his chest, soon greed followed. He frowned, if he was above those ants he should be above their pathetic feelings. 

He started working. He started ridding his feelings by creating physical representations of them. Pride was the first to go. His first child. He instructed the being, his child, to call him Father. The being obeyed. 

Envy came after, then Greed, Sloth, Lust, and Gluttony. Wrath was last. They all stared at him with expectant purple eyes. Purple eyes that contained the emotions, the urges he longed to be rid of. They were his pawns now, his children. He would do with them as he pleased. 

He was their Father after all. The Father of the purple eyes beings. 

White (Flash Fiction 1/10)

He was everything. He made up everything. He was in control of everything. He was the Truth.
He was tired. He was bored. Always existing while watching the world turn slowly beneath him was absolutely boring. Nothing ever excited him. The pitiful humans were boring. They were his play things, but he was so bored that he couldn't think of anyway to torture them. He looked around his realm. His white realm. Nothing except him existed here. It was boring, all so damn borning. He lay there staring at nothing, too bored to even watch the world. He wished he knew how to die, so someone else could take over his exsistence. Then they could be bored, instead of him. They could hold the power and knowledge of the universe, instead of him. They could be bored to death in his stead.
Suddenly there was a knock at the gate of the universe. He, Truth, had a visitor. He smiled, maybe things would finally become interesting.

In the galaxy

If we are on a planet that is literally dust in the winds of the galaxy, how can our lives mean much of anything? 

It's the bonds, friendships, relationships and memories we forge with others is what makes our lives worth living. I love making others laugh, smile, and feel like they are one in a million. The only thing I wish for is for someone to do the same for me. So in a galaxy, an existence such as ours, we should live it to the best of our abilities so we are remembered. So we aren't just dust in the wind. 

Detached

It was early August and the weather was mildly warm. To him it was ice cold. He could feel the sun on his back, but its warmth didn't reach him. His bright neighorborhood painted in its usual cheerful hues didn't affect him. Everything felt chilled, and absent of any warmth. He sat there on the bench at the bus stop where he had collasped, feeling seperated from the world around him. Across the road there was a wide, grassy park. In the park another father played with his young son. Both smiled brightly. He chenched his fists and jaw, biting back hot tears. He wanted to scream and yell at the injustice of it all. How could the world remain so bright and happy when he was trapped in a gray sorrow? He felt numb. His legs had no strength. He couldn't move if he wanted to. His closed eyes scrunched together as he fought circulating waves of anguish and anger that were quickly consuming him.

Flash Fiction

Cool green grass, then a warm snout. It's mother. Her head picks me up and sets me on my wobbily legs. I fall, she picks me up; and I fall again. She's patient and soon I am stumbling along, then walking, then running, then frolicking.
Others join me; my friends all born on the same cool grass. We race through the field and forest, calling and laughing with each other. For years we run, laugh, and race. Our antlers begin to grown in and soon we are fighting, heat-butting, and playing. We still race, but today we stop our run. There is a strange black river that cuts through the forest in front of us. Strong head goes first and shows us that we can walk across the black river. Big hoof follows, so does Rough Fur. I am last and they call to me from the other side, "Small spot!" Listening to their egging calls I leap into the black river. Landing in the middle I hear a roar and freeze. There are two bright, angry eyes charging at me. I can't move and the beast behind the eyes strike me. A thud sounds through me. The sideways green forest fades to black.

Invisible (Short story)

I alway knew that I was pratically invisible to everyone around me. I just never thought that I actually become invisible.
I never saw it coming, there was no forewarning. Well, it didn't happen instantly, it fazed in. It took around a month for the process to be complete is what I'm guessing, I don't actually know. I only noticed when it was in the final stages.
People have never really talked to me, family included. I was the youngest of three prodigies, but somehow I lucked out on anything special. My parents were so absorbed in the success of my siblings that past the age of eight they just stopped noticing they had a fourt child. I didn't particularily mind, I got to do whatever I wanted so it wasn't too bad.
At school I didn't ever have a friend. As hard as it is to believe I've never had one single friend, not even in kindergarden. I'm not sure why; okay I have a clue, it was most likely due to my extreme shyness which led to me not saying a word. I was fogotten, and I've just gotten used to it.
Getting back to the present.
If I think about it I did wake up from a usual nightmare a few weeks before my 'fading' occured. I can't remeber what is was about for the life of me, but I know it was terifying enough to wake me up in the middle of the night. Anyway, after that nightmare it seemed that eveyone started ignoring me more than before. Not even any passing glances in the hallway. Teachers kept forgetting to call me in the rollcall.
The finaly week of the process I noticed that I was actually fading away. My skin slowly became transparent until it was completely see though. The 'invisibleness' transferes to anything I touch, so it's not like there are floating clothes or anything. If possible my voice even became invisible because no matter how loud I shout, no one even takes note of it, they don't even look my way.
Sure I'm use to being ignored, but not at this level. I'm slowly forgetting what I look like and it feels like I'll just be blown away into dust by the wind. This is all I can do to try to retain some sort of sanity, but I don't even know id anyone will be able to read this. I hope so. I NEED to talk to someone. Anyone.
All I can hope for is that someone will notice me, or this 'invisbility' thing reverses, but somehow I doubt that will happen.
This will be the only evidence that I actually existed. That I was actually alive, and not some...some ghost.
Please read this and remeber me. Remember that I was alive. It's all I have left. Please dont' forget me. I don't want to be alone. I don't want to be ignored anymore.

Life update

Hey internet people!
So lately I've just been posting my creative writing class work, pretty cool huh?
Anyway, so I passed both of my martial arts tests and moved up a rank! Yes!
Exciting!
Schools going great, I'm having a blast during my Senior year!
Yet there are some down points.
Homecoming was last week and I didn't get asked.
Guess I'm not as adorable as I thought. Oh well, when they see me at the class runions their jaws will hit the floor. Hehe! That'll be something to look forward to.
So that's it for now, I'd love to hear feedback from anyone reading my blog because I know you're there, my pageview count tells me so! So seriously say something...well if its not nice never mind.
Either way look forward to my future updates! Love you all! Peace!

On paper (Autobiography in 300 words)

On paper I can become whoever I want to be: a princess, a rock-star, a Warrior, a leader, or even a villian. I can become a bird and fly weightless through the clouds, or I can become a dragon fighting a nobel knight. I can be brave, courageous, smart, strong, or even invincible.

But that's on a good day. On bad days I can become: a rainstorm, powerful lightning, a raging tornado, or just a gloomy afternoon. I can create characters and make them as sad or as angry as I am. I can make them suffer until I begin to cry for them, because they are me.

Every person, every character I create is part of me, it might not be a major trait but it is there. I know that because when I write what they see, I see it. What they feel, I feel it too. What they smell, what they touch, what they think, what they dream; I experience it right along with them.

But in the real worl, I'm not like that: not too brave, and not living in the lime-light. I'm goofy, and silly, and just a dork. That is me. I love fun! But I can be sad too, and shy. I can be lonely, but no one ever notices. No one sees past my constant smile, and that's fine with me because I smile for a reason. I smile for others. Too see them smile back, to see them happy even when I am not.

I write for myself, that's my time to be free.

I can smile for others, but on paper I am me.

Text poems

Clouds drift across the wide expanse of sky.
I look away,
and they turn gray.
But I wait.
I wait a day.
For when the cheerful clouds drift above me again.
Stealing my smile.


Water hits my cheeks.
My heart is carved out of me,
as I watch,
as you are taken away.
Torn from my arms,
stolen away.
Your tears mingle with mine,
and you are gone.
My heart taken along with you.


Red roses fill my vision.
He appears.
He dances with the blood red flowers.
Smiling.
My heart is stolen,
by the blonde haired wonder.
As he offers me,
a bright red flower.


YOUR HEART
I'm decided.
I found my goal in life.
It is your heart,
I will steal it away.
I will steal it away,
so you are mine.
Mine alone.
And I will not stop,
until I have it.
Because you have mine.


Flames.
Bright,
powerful flames.
They dance in my vision,
surrounding me with warmth.
They remind me of him.
His strength.
His power.
It makes me wonder.
Why I wish to protect him.