the girl who knew

She could fly (But was too scared to try) this is my writing blog. my main URL is cold-fission-and-confusion

[my-random-stories]

Adaeze-kings daughter akachi- hand of god chicuike-god is strength folami-respect & honor me thema-queen --- amadi- freeman/destined to die at birth andile-they have extended chikere-god created emeka-great deeds enitan-person of story itri-star tamrat-miracle

im thinking Chicuike and Tamrat for parents. not sure about son, but daughter is Diana, son may be damon.

[my-random-stories]

the other day

my mother asked

if i wanted her 

to buy me something

that would take

my scars away

i told her no

because i want her

to always see

what she did to me

i want the world

to know the stories

that only my scars can

show

[my-random-stories]

we were all of the peculiar age of youth when we each realized our fundamental differences. However, at the point of our realizations we were significantly distanced by time and place, circumstances of our lives over which we had minimal control. I only knew of the other after the fact, once my scenario had stumbled upon its completion and i had within my grasp the ability to search for similar happenings. Our group of no more than four had changed significantly since our young age when our defining moment occurred. I will not delve into this moment, for the sake of brevity. Needless to say that we were reckless in our few years, and mistakes, many of which on my part, were made. However, only as we advanced in years and distance, we discovered these strange differences. I had such a disposition as to which the fear of thunderstorms and other meteorological events was common place, but upon the completion of my 16th summer, i discovered my strange difference. Upon a surging of anger, joy or sadness upon my individual psyche, the disposition of the sky mirrored such. When i was in a joyous state, so then was the sun, displaying this in blinding rays and such a clear blue surface. When i was of a falling mood, so then the rain poured down upon all. Fits of rage were upon my most common trait, which unfortunately summoned terrible storms upon my vicinity, which once so started could not easily be calmed. It goes without definition my fears. One of out companions was of such a paranoid nature, always convinced of a greater power hearing or watching; they were of the differences as to listen into the deepest realms of the minds of others. This only tended to fuel their paranoia, fearing that others then had the instances of hearing. Our third companion had a terrible depression about them constantly. They never realized their difference upon the arrival of their 18th spring. Upon the dawning of the greenery and new life, they attempted the utmost atrocity known to man. When they realized the futility of their acts, they came upon the realization that they in fact could not die or be harmed meaningfully by any instruments devised by man. Our fourth and final childhood companion had such a revulsion of creatures such as arachnids and insects, only later to discover that they could not only summon and communicate with such lives, but could also change their form in such a way to resemble the most grotesque of arachnids. This is as far as i  am henceforth inclined to speak of such matters. perhaps later i shall disclose more. however i have my duties to attend to, and dwelling upon such matters extensively is difficult.

[my-random-stories]

when i talk my word are like concrete.

when i talk my words are like slush.

when i talk my words are like weeds.

when i talk my words are like spiderwebs.

i'd much rather listen

when others talk, its like dragonflies and bonfires;

handshakes and high fives;

lightning and cattails

i wish my words were so feathery 

light and white and

free

[my-random-stories]

ask me stuff because i am worthless and lonely

[my-random-stories]

she just always thought that there were people you never acknowledged; you walked through hem, you dont respond to them, you dont look at them or talk to them. so thats how she grew up, never talking to them. ignoring them. until her mother?) became one of them. and once she acknowledged one of them, she started talking to all of them. and thats how diana a)realized she could see and interact with ghosts and b)met her best friend (and future worst enemy) 

[my-random-stories]

what the fuck rochester

i really fucking hate this weather

what the fuck rochester 

its not getting any fucking better

what the fuck rochester

we're all gonna die in a horrible car crash

what the fuck rochester

its so not fucking worth it i just want to get to class

we're all gonna fucking die

why do i even fucking try

what the fuck rochester 

i should have fucking stayed at home

what the fuck rochester 

i dont want to fucking deal with this storm 

im gonna drive of the fucking road

i should have fucking stayed at home

i cant fucking see the road

what the fuck 

[my-random-stories]

day three: restless

The red blobs turn into numbers after a few bleary blinks, finally resolving into 3:04. Head lolling to the side, he sees a shadow sitting by the window. Diana is facing out towards the night, even though he knows she can't see any of it. She has headphones in. Probably listening to one of her books. Wearily, he glides through the sheets and over to his friend. He hadn't actually been asleep; ghosts can't actually rest. At all.

"Can't sleep?" 

He knows she can hear him, and she nods, not looking to his voice. 

"Want to talk about it?"

He also knows the answer to that; she never wants to talk about it. She shakes her head, then pats the space next to her. Mort takes up his spot at her side as usual. 

"Want me to describe it?"

She nods.

"The first moon was huge earlier, but now it's just a speck, no bigger than a coin. The red light from the second moon is reflecting off the lake, making it look like it's glowing. The sand is sparkling, and you can see the dunes from years away. Both of the moons are at their peak, so it's almost your birthday again......"

He continues on until the blinking numbers resemble something closer to where normal people wake up. The moons are still as bright as they were before, and Diana's head had come to rest against his shoulder at one point, when she had finally fallen asleep. 

[my-random-stories]

Mortimer's character development stuff

[my-random-stories]

Diana's character development stuff

[my-random-stories]

day two, accusation

"You're dead, aren't you?"

Diana had tried, she really had. However her curiosity had triumphed over her manners once again. As soon as Mortimer had entered the room, the question had rolled right out of her mouth. She tried to mask her interest with a look of remorse, but she left the question hanging in the air.

"Why would you ask that? You trying to find some moral reason we shouldn't be together? 

She fumed at his rebuttal. They had spent so much time together that he knew that she knew that his flirting was merely a pretense, and easy way to change the conversation. She had stopped playing into that a long time ago.

"Don't ignore me! I knew there was something off about you the first time we met!" 

She almost hadn't seen him; if he hadn't started talking, Diana would have walked right past him. She relied solely on her heat sensors in her face and hands to see; and Mortimer had barely registered. And he knew exactly what she was talking about.

"I told you, I have a low body heat! It's not my fault if you don't believe me" he spit through gritted teeth. 

She took a deep breath, and another when the first didn't seem to help. She had to do something or she was going to explode. Pushing Mort aside, she busied herself with the coffee maker while she spoke.

"But that's not the only thing. I feel cold when I'm with you. I've never heard you eat, really. And in all the years I've known you. we've never even been to your house. Hell, I don't even know where you live!" 

She rested her clenched fists on the counter, lips peeled back to expose her locked teeth. Diana knew Mort knew she had a short fuse, and she couldn't handle being lied to. 

Mort didn't even make a sound as he came up behind her. She felt his cold (dead) hand on her shoulder. 

"Dee, can we not talk about this?" His voice sounded strained. "I promised I would tell you everything, when I could."

"Yeah, you did say that" she whispered, "But I need to know. If I'm gonna really trust you, Mort, I need to know." 

[my-random-stories]

day one, beginning

She did her best to avoid the greenhouse. That was where she discovered her first 'talent'. In fact, she made a point of trying to avoid plants all together. It's not that she didn't like flora; she loved the feeling of moss under her fingers, and the smell of fresh cut vegetation. It was because she loved these things that she had to stay away. It was one of the first lessons she learned about herself. When she had been a little girl she had spent most of her time with her mother, working on her plants. Seeing that much green in one place was a miracle found only in the rare oasis. However, where her mother had a green thumb, she seemed to have a brown one. She managed to kill any sort of plant she touched, even the most stubborn of weeds. It was the beginning of a very depressing trend for the young girl. First it was plants, then bugs and small animals. It seemed her proximity just invited death to visit. This wasn't simply a curse though; their house was free of insects and mold, and she never seemed to get sick. Even bacteria died upon her skin. So because of her love for nature, she made a point of staying as far away from it as possible. The fake plants lining her room, put there in hopes of inspiration, only seemed to remind her of what she couldn't have. No one outside of her family noticed however. Living in the desert, there weren't many plants around, and not one person would object to the insect population dropping. And luckily her gift seemed only to affect the plants and small animals. Secretly, she was terrified of accidentally killing someone just by being near them.

[my-random-stories]

How I break my own heart without a word

The first time you see her, she's walking into the classroom. Your mind highlights all her beauty, magnifying and pin-pointing. But then your eyes shift to the next person who pushes open the door. She sits across the room, you notice. You're sitting in the right hand back corner of the room, where you always try to sit in all of your classes. And you're watching everyone. That's what you do. You watch people and notice people and study people. But you do't talk to people or interact with them. You just watch. And in each class you pick a few to focus on. The interesting ones. And she just so happens to be one of them. Through the roll call you learn her name. It's very pretty. By this time tomorrow you won't remember it though. That's just how these things work. Today you devote the class time you don't spend paying attention to the girl on the other side of the class, the boy two seats in front of you and the girl sitting in front of the door. You don't know why you do this; probably just to torture yourself. Show yourself the kind of beauty you will never have, the kinds of people you can never meet. And usually, no one notices your watching. You're good at that; having perfected the blank stare and the slow sweep. You watch and you listen. Listening is the hardest, and sometimes the worst part. That's why you wear headphones a lot. But the girl notices. She see's your stare. So you stop (obviously) watching her. And you know it's kinda creepy. But it would be even worse if you acted somehow. Watching can't be harmful to anyone (but yourself). When class is over you hold the door open for her, Her lips and eyes and face say thank you, but you can't hear it over your music. You nod, a little, then make your way to the next class, where you do the same. It's a process that lasts about 5 months, one semester. Then you never have to see these people again. It's nice. It feels like you know them. You want to know these are the people you wish you could talk to. You see her later, sitting by the campus coffee shop, tasting something you can't imagine, hearing listening to something you'll never know. You walk by without a second glance (the first one was enough). You have 2 hours to kill until your next class, and with a campus as large as this, you have to be lucky to find a seat anywhere. 

And everything about her is just so interesting and perfect and right and beautiful and you can't help but remember what you look like, what you thought was a good idea  to put on this morning, and you go back to your notes. And you heard her name again today, and she heard yours. You raised your hand, not trusting your voice, which was worse because the professor didn't notice at first. But when you get to school at 8 am and don't talk to anyone until you're back home around 4 pm (and even then its barely) your voice tends to sound like gravel and grass and squeaky wheels. So you put up with hearing your name said a few more times. And she's sitting in a different seat (unlike you who can't break from pattern even though it's only been one day) and looking around like everyone else trying to find the person who's name is being called. Oh god, you think, don't look at me. With her perfect hair and eyes, and you know what you look like. You don't want anyone to notice you (at the same time you just want to be able to say here, confidently and sit at the front of the class and laugh and smile and). She hold the door open for you as you leave, and you nod again, ignoring the fact that you were trying to get to the door the same time as her. Because that's what you do and its not creepy at all.

The only empty table is a large round one with three other chairs in a long hallway full of other people. You dodge through the people and set up shop for the next hour and forty five minutes. You are still listening to music. Listening is the hardest part. (you can hear their voices and not their words and they could be talking about you oh god they could be talking about you and) So you see her walk up, acutely aware of everyone who's walked pass. And you can't hear her, which is good, but you know what she asks. The questioning lift of her lips, the furrow of her brow, the tilt of her head and slight gesture of her hand. You've seen it (not every time) when you sit at a big table all alone. It's the, 'can I sit here?' face. So you nod, for the third time, and look back at your screen, trying not to turn any shade of color (you can't seem to decide between red, green or white). And you notice she has coffee, and her tablet, while you have an empty thermos and your large laptop (you could be thinking about what these blatant opposing images could mean but that would be insisting that literary devices have a hold on how reality works and you aren't that crazy). And she's smiling, not at you obviously, but its still pretty and you can see her over your screen as you surf the web. You leave before she does, and it's awkward because you are not graceful or quiet or pretty (or good or useful or worth something or nice or) and you trip when you try to hasten your escape. Not onto your face. More like a stumble. But your face turns red and you leave without a second thought. (the first was enough) 

She moved seats again. You are always one of the first kids in class. So you always get to sit where you want. You like to think it's because of your devotion to learning but you know it's because loitering in the hallways is awkward (and you don't have any friends or reasons to loiter or be late). Its strange why she keeps moving seats and you don't like it. You remember her name today. She's sitting closer to you. You wonder what her hair feels like (it looks soft). You purposefully make sure she leaves the classroom way before you. There are no empty tables today, so you end up sitting on a bench near your next class. She walks by a few times with her friends. You pretend not to notice. You're good at that.

You stop watching her. You purposefully don't look in her direction.You ignore her and try to forget. This always happens too, the regret. You shouldn't have done that. Don't watch people. Because then you get attached and they don't even know you exist. That's why listening is hard too. You already learn so much just by watching. Listening might kill you. 

She sits with you again.You pause your music while she's there. That's another reason why its bad; you start to hope. Hope her fresh coffee and her tablet are a sign from the universe. Hope. Hope could kill you. 

You pull into the parking lot at the same time. You walk in at the same time. You use the same door. You pretend. You nod. You hope. You notice her now, when she's around. But you aren't actively looking. You can just tell. And you know you're a creep. But you can look, look but don't touch. Never ever even get close enough to touch. When she does sit with you, when she isn't with her friends, you pause your music. Just in case. Once, she asks you a question, and you croak out an answer. Your face feels like you were just outside on a sunny day in july, and you look back at your laptop, unsure of what to do with your hands. You hit play again.

She's made friends in class. It's nice. She's a very interesting person. And beautiful. (and everything you aren't) You watch from your corner, head phones on until lecture starts and the professor says your name and you raise your hand and he nods and no one looks anymore which is (sad) good. You (need) don't like or want attention from anyone. You're (breaking) fine. No one notices. It's (not) fine. You try not to cry in class. You run to the bathroom once its done. You don't remember when she left the class. You feel better once there's red running down your arms and staining the porcelain bowl and the sleeves of your hoodie.  You actually don't know whether it's legal to have knives on campus.  You're shaking when you leave, and you have one hour and eleven minutes until your next class. You find the first place you can to sit down. You can hear. You put your head down. You are so (lonely) tired. She doesn't sit with you. You're ok with that. You really truly are.

She notices your arms one day. You pretend again. You tell her the same thing you tell everyone. Cats. You rolled up your sleeves on purpose. You want to see i anyone notices. No one usually does. That's the first word you think you've said directly, intentionally to her. 'cats', She nods and goes back to her friends. You go back to your music, You think that will probably be the last word you say as well. 

the semester ends with you having a creepily intimate knowledge of her habits. Her and the two other boys in the class. You watch. It's what you do. It happens in every class, to some degree. She's sitting on a bench, waiting for the final. You sit next to her. There is a shadow box digging into your spine. You pretend not to notice. You are nervous. Not  because of the test. watching her walk out of the testing room is the last time you will ever see her. Not Ever, but ever, There is a difference. Your heart breaks a little as you watch her leave. You turn in your test and head out to your car. You cry. You bleed. You go home. It happens every semester. It happens in every class. You are a creep.

[my-random-stories]

so im trying to come up with character names, so i drew out 2 of them just to see if i got any inspiration.... with the right coloring, one of them kinda looks like a dead fish. so he's now star-fish. and the other one is dead-SOMETHING. so like, dead fish = star fish i gotta find a two word phrase that starts with star so she'll be dead- whatever that phrase ends with.....

[my-random-stories]

i think

the next time

my family

goes on a 

vacation

with out me

i'll drive out 

to a nice lake

and kill myself

and 

i'll die

just how i lived;

alone

unnoticed

and

unwanted

[my-random-stories]

SO plot stuff

putting this here cause i dont wanna spam myh main blog

So girl char? she still dont have a name. need to fix that. lives on the desert part. so the last part i think. i cant remember but makes sense. evolution-> revolution goes to mutations basically i guess? ill have to look it up later. also with sub toc (needs a better name) i wanna cut some of those chars out cause i always add too man freaking phantasmal had 21 at one point like wow can we not. ANY WAY so she can see the dead and has to hide these powers. and her ghost friend is basically lying through his teeth. he know why she can see him. he had mental powers and was killed. little do they know but the powers are basically reincarnated. even the physical ones. and she can see all the people who had her powers before. those are the dead she can see. but thats not the extent of her power, thats simply how it manifests itself at first. she can manipulate time, which links her back to sub toc and the idea of space and time being connected and confused so basically she thinks she can move objects through space like telekineses  but shes shifting things through time an she has the ability to undo all the crap, the wars the segragetion the desolation along with some of the sub toc people maybe? i guess it would make sense that some ofthem are around still, since theyre robots and crap idk. i need to come with a plot for all 3 or four or five. cause i dont wanna ditch phant. completley but its gonan have  a p hard time fitting in unless its happening before sub toc which would make sense nbut then theres no evolutionary forest type but that coud symply be referenvced since i have no idea how to write or draw that idk i dont eve n have a plot for that but that one might just be most import since that s got the time shifing house thing but sPACE so yeah then have one that combines everything?? one overarching plot? though all 3/4/5? so one would be sub toc, phant and the other nameless one. sub toc- humans are gone, robots are fighting basically. TOO MANY FLIPPING ROBOTS U MORON ???-powers, manipulation etc. phant- what even is that anymorei have no idea it didnt even have a plot to begin with just some generic anime dude i drew when i was like 13 but i cant not love him so idk i need a muse or some sort of structure or sOMETHING idk i needed to get this out and i still neeed so many names i suck at this but idk what else to do so yeah

[my-random-stories]

my poems are always too long

i use too many words

despite all these words

i still cant describe

how heavy and broken

my heart

and my arms

and my head

feel