Rambles of the Rather Odd

The writing blog of the strange and rare (it'll probably just end up being a place where I dump my random story blurbs and poems)

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

Do you ever ache at the idea of wanting something? Not even a specific person or event, There's just the constant gnawing inside of you Saying 'hey, there's so much you're missing out on' 'Hey, get started and live your life already' Because for me, the ache is always there

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

My life is a conglomeration of many lives

Colors, all so vibrant on their own

Mixed together to create a muddy brown

[substvncia-blog]

I remember when I was younger and I wanted to be beautiful; now I’m older and I want to be intelligent. I want to burn hearts with brilliance and engulf souls with compassion. I want to be loved for my thoughts and nothing else.

(via substvncia)

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

I want someone who will love me when I get out of my shower

And the mascara I was wearing is melted across my cheeks

And who will laugh with me at how silly I look

I want someone who will love me at three in the morning when I can't sleep

And when I can't keep my mouth shut because of it

And he'll talk with my tired mind

I want someone who loves the way I look when I don't care

When my hair is greasy and my eyes are tired

And when I haven't done laundry in a month

I want someone who loves me when there isn't anything to say

And all I can do is try to hold the shards inside of me together

And he'll hold me tighter to help me try

I want someone to love me because of who I am

Not in spite of it

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

As I picked up the shattered pieces of my sister's mirror

I saw all of my reflections, each one a different view of my face

It made me wonder who or what I would have been

Had I never met you

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

Random Drabble

Thursday morning, I had opened up my eyes and decided it was my last day to live. I put on clothes, ate breakfast, went to work, and smiled, all the while, knowing that I wouldn't be there the next day. 

Knowing that I would finally be away from everything. 

After work, I walked to the bridge over the river of my town, and pulled myself over the rails, feeling numb, but peaceful somehow. 

I breathed deeply, feeling the cool, soft breeze from the water, and took a step forward.

Off of the edge and into the water. 

Only, I didn't fall into the water. I should have, but something was holding me back. I looked up angrily, starting to try and break loose from the hand that had grabbed my arm and kept me from falling. 

"Please don't . . . " A soft voice said, and my eyes finally came back into focus. I saw brown eyes pleadingly looking back into mine.

I was furious. I didn't want this person to stop me. I was ready to let myself die.

"Please," He said again. "Don't." 

Something happened inside my head when I processed his words. It was like everything inside my head cleared, even if just for a second, and I could see without any hindrance how awful what I was trying to do was. 

My heart started pounding, and I reached up to hold his arm as tight as I could. 

"Pull me up!" I heard myself say, "Please pull me up!" 

I don't remember much from that point to when I got to the mental hospital. I remember him checking me in, smiling at me as they took me back into another room to ask me questions. 

They kept me there for several weeks, and once a week, I'd receive a note from someone telling me all the reasons I had to stay alive. And then, on my last day, I got a bouquet from a very familiar smile. 

His eyes are as brown as I remember them being, his smile just as warm. "I brought you flowers," He said timidly. "I thought you might like something to remember this day by." 

I took them and inhaled their scent, enjoying the sweet perfume. After that we stood quiet for a little while.

"Were those notes from you?" I finally asked, looking down at the flowers. 

He was quiet, then finally said, "Yeah," He shuffled his feet. "Look, I know what it's like. And I want to help you, As much as I can." 

I smiled, "Okay." 

"Can I walk you home?" 

"Okay." 

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

I once had a dream

That others cared what I thought

That I would be important

That I would make a difference

But then I woke up

And realized 

Silly me

It was only a dream

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

My body is covered in marks, small lines where the skin was stretched,

Still, I am beautiful. 

My body is covered in scars, on my face, my arms, my legs, 

Still, I am beautiful. 

Many of these scars I have given myself. 

Still, I tell myself, I am beautiful. 

My chin doubles when I look down, my fingers thicken and thin, 

Still, I tell myself, I am beautiful. 

I tire of hiding my flaws, I tire of feeling ashamed.

So I will always try to say,

Still, I am beautiful. 

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

Shift, Chapter One

    Our world is not our own. 

    It is borrowed from those who came before us, and those who will come after we have turned to dust. 

    Yet, we wage war against each other to gain ownership of something we can never truly possess.

    Prologue

    He’s smiling; the man that’s going to kill me. 

    I see genuine glee in his eyes while he takes in my state of being. I hold tightly to the book in my hands as he looks at it, realizing that I’ve found what he wants.

    And as the shot rings through the air, my world goes dark

    Chapter I

   My job is a simple one - I’m a receptionist at a power company - but it keeps me happy. I love the way paper feels in my hands; the slight rustling sound it makes when you move it. I even love the way the it stacks, all the edges jutting out at random places, and the way that it flies when someone knocks the stack over. Most offices don’t use paper to keep records anymore, it’s reckless and inefficient - or so I’m told. I still prefer being able to write on something physical. Call me old fashioned if you will. 

   I know I don’t technically need to keep a job, the money from my family’s bookstore brings in enough money to keep all of the bills paid. But I also know that if I didn’t, it would bother me immensely to simply sit at home and amuse myself for days on end. It’s better that I have a job. It gives me a purpose, it helps me keep my mind off of things. 

    It’s not as though anything particularly bad has happened to me in my lifetime. In fact, I’d like to think that I’ve had a nice life. 

    But there are some small things, certain instances, places and things that I recognize, that make me wonder if I’m really where I belong. 

    The sound of the tv in the small waiting room reaches my thoughts, and I listen to the newscast as I absentmindedly sort through files. 

    While I listen to the reporters talk, I learn that there’s been a bombing. I glance up at the screen, taking in the sight of a ruined building, emergency workers rushing to save lives, and police officers trying to find out what happened. 

    This scene is all too familiar to me; there have been several bombings in the last year. As usual, the Science Council, the government of my home Lucadia, is promising to catch the people behind the threat and administer justice. I merely return to my work, discarding the event. 

    One of my coworkers changes the channel, probably wary of hearing a death count. I don’t blame them. Knowing the number of people who have died isn’t exactly good for a lighthearted work environment. 

    “Hello miss?” I look up to see two startlingly green eyes watching me. 

    “Can I help you?” I ask, smiling involuntarily. It’s a habit that I’ve developed over the year I’ve worked as a receptionist. You smile, they smile back, and, hopefully, things run smoothly. 

    “I think so, miss . . .” He looks at the name tag pinned on my blouse, “Miri.”He finishes as he casually leans against the counter, crosses his arms and grins slightly. 

   “So what is it you need?” I ask, still smiling. I subconsciously take notice of his scruff and spiky black hair, and I smooth the wrinkles in my skirt. 

    “I’d like to have lunch with you, if you don’t mind.” His smile grows, and he shows his straight white teeth. 

    I’m taken aback; the smile that was on my face is replaced by a slight frown. “I’m flattered, sir, but no.” I look at the computer screen and absentmindedly open a program. 

    A fake pout overtakes his face. “Well that’s a bummer, I’d already picked out the restaurant.” I raise my eyebrows, surprised. Unsure of what to say, I keep my mouth firmly shut. I’ve made a fool out of myself enough times to know that when I can’t think of anything to say, it’s best to not talk at all. 

    “I guess you haven’t noticed me sitting in the waiting room for the past two hours.” He says, matter-of-factly. I simply look at him to answer his statement. 

    “Well it seems I took all that time plucking up the courage to ask you out for nothing.” He looks back at the waiting room somewhat suddenly, apparently referencing the corner he had sat in for all that time.

    “Are you sure you don’t want to have lunch with me?” He asks again, his very dark brows knitting together.

    I turn to some paperwork that I’ve neglected to sort for a very long three minutes, and shake my head. “I’m sorry to have wasted your time.” I look back up at him and catch a strange expression on his face. He looks as though he’s trying very hard to pay attention to something; his eyes focused on my face. 

    “Now, if you ever have any actual questions or concerns about The Harris Electron Company’s policies or would like to schedule an appointment to see whether we would be right for you, I’m the one to call.” I put on my best smile.

    “As a matter of fact, I do have some concerns, and maybe a few questions, but none of them involve ‘the Harris Electron Company,’” He says the last four words with a fake bravado in his voice, making my coworkers look over to see what was going on. I feel my cheeks start to burn.

    “What would you like to know?” I say this in the most obviously fake nice tone I can muster, the fake smile I’ve been wearing starting to become less of a smile and more of a grimace.

    “How are your Aunt and Uncle?” He asks, genuine curiosity in his eyes. “You’ve been living with them for the past fifteen or so years, right? Ever since your mother died and your father was too busy to take care of you?” 

    My mouth opens slightly as I stare at the man who had just said so much about my life. Yes, I have been living with my Aunt and Uncle, ever since my mother died and my father was too busy working for the government to even look after his own daughter. 

    It was probably for the best that he had stopped trying to look after me. I’m told I’m as stubborn as he was.  I can imagine that we wouldn’t get along, but I’ll never know. 

    Four years after he left me to live with his brother and his wife, my uncle and aunt, he disappeared. The government searched tirelessly to bring back their prized scientist, but he was never found. There were no clues as to where he might’ve gone, what might’ve happened to him. There was no trace of his existence after that day. 

    In my mind, on that day, eleven years ago, he died. He will never be found. And nothing has proven me wrong.  

    “Who are you?” I ask the man in front of me, unconsciously biting my lip. His smile drops for a moment, he looks over at the corner of the room yet again, and then looks back at me, an edge of panic in his expression. “I’m a friend. And I want to keep you alive.” 

    I’m about to ask what he’s talking about when an explosion tears the room apart.  

            “Miri!” 

    I try to open my eyes, but can’t. My eyelids are heavy; everything inside my head is a blur. My mind keeps replaying what happened, trying to make sense of it. 

    I see the face of the man, panicked and desperate. I remember the shockwave of an explosion ripping through me, seeing the wall ahead of me turn into rubble in a split second, and then fire engulfing everything. But I can’t think of anything beyond that. 

    Thinking hurts. 

    Everything hurts. My head especially. My ears are ringing and the throbbing in my skull grows steadily worse as I feel my heart rate climb. 

    “Miri!” I hear my name being called through the ringing. It’s muffled, but I think it’s the sound of a man’s voice. I try to open my eyes again, to find the person that’s calling me. 

    But everything is too much to take in; the fire, the heaps of rubble smoldering and throwing up smoke, and the burning corpses that used to belong to my coworkers. I close my eyes again. I start to slip into unconsciousness when my name is called once more. 

    “Miri!”

    I feel a weight lift off of my legs and realize I had been buried under the remains of the front counter. 

    “Come on Miri, wake up!” 

    Strong hands lift me up from the floor, and I open my eyes to see green eyes staring back at me. A tiny smile forms on his lips, and he says, very quietly, or at least, it seems to be quiet because of the ringing in my head, “I’ve got you.” 

    He stands up, and while putting my arms around his neck, I see that the back of the suit he had been wearing is smoking; bits of burnt skin are exposed where the material is completely burned through. Somewhere in my mind I realize that he probably saved my life by standing in front of me and taking the full force of the explosion. 

    I try to open my mouth and ask him if he’s alright, but nothing happens when the air hits my throat. He notices that. 

    “Don’t worry about me. Right now, we need to get out of here.” He starts maneuvering through the flames and crumbling walls. “We need to leave before they’re here.”   

    I look around, trying to figure out what he means, when he tightens his grip on me and starts running to the entrance. ‘They?’ Who is he talking about?

    As he moves steadily towards the entrance, I look back for a split second, and see who he’s referring to.  

    From the smoke and flames, I see the figures of five men emerge. Their faces are obscured in the smoke, but I catch a glimpse of their hands as they push burning rubble aside. 

    The man carrying me looks back and see them as well. He cusses under his breath, and then says to me, “Don’t worry. We’re almost there.” 

    I still don’t know why we’re running from the men. In my mind I admit that something seems off, but I don’t know what it is that makes me feel uneasy about them. Then, one looks distinctly at me, shouts something, and points at me. 

    As we break through a window, the glass shattering, tiny glimmering pieces landing in my hair and cutting into my skin, I realize that something is very wrong. The man who’s staring at me, something about his skin looks strange; it seems to reflect the light of the flames in odd ways. 

    The others move through the burning rubble as though its not burning at all. He takes a step forward, and his face becomes visible, and I can finally pinpoint what’s wrong. 

    His skin looks like it is made of diamond. 

    His brow creases, the diamond shimmering in the sun now. He says something to the others, but I can’t hear his voice. I catch a glimpse of the others skin, which looks like metal; some shine bronze, others seem to glisten as though actually on fire themselves.

    Then the one made of diamond smiles. His face construes the light from the flames and makes it look like his face is burning. 

    The man carrying me curses again, and sprints away from them. 

    While my frazzled mind is still trying to make sense of what I just saw, I am thrown into the front seat of a car. 

    I look to my left to see the man with black hair close his door forcefully and start the engine, the sudden speed of the car pushing my head back into the headrest. 

    He looks over at me, his forehead trickling with blood, his eyes red, and sweat glistening on his brow, “You’re gonna be fine.” He smiles, and turns his attention back to the road. 

    The last thing I register is the sound of sirens whizzing past us, and then I fall unconscious. 

         When I wake up, I’m still in the car; the landscape is flying past my window; green and brown tinted trees blur as the car moves past them. 

    “Yes, I have her.” A voice says to my left. I jump and turn to see him, eyes focused on the road, a fearfully intense expression on his face. The blood on his face has dried, and a dark bruise is forming on his forehead. He holds a finger to his ear, and speaks again. “What’s the status of her family?” My breathing speeds up. 

    What did he mean, ‘the status of her family?’ What was going on? 

    After a short pause he glances over at me, a flicker of surprise changing his expression. He looks back at the road, his face unreadable. “I see.” His tone is completely different as his features seem to be set in stone. “We did what we could.” 

    My heart stops. 

    “What we need to focus on now is taking care of her. I’ll call you when I reach headquarters.” He removes his hand from his ear, and looks over at me. My heart starts beating again, slowly at first, and then speeds up to the point where I can feel my heartbeat in every single cell of my body. 

    “What happened to them?” My voice sounds harsh. Angry. “Who are you?” The question comes out of my mouth without my mind ever having thought it. More questions follow. I demand to know what happened; where I’m being taken; what he wants with me. The flood of questions finally slows to a breaking point when I start to feel tears forming in my eyes; I stubbornly blink them away. 

    “Are you done?” The man asks, glancing at me to see my reaction. I cross my arms, still fighting the tears, and nod. 

    He smiles, an odd, sideways, wry smile, and answers my first question. As he says the words, his smile disappears and his face turns into stone once again. “Miri, your aunt and uncle are dead.” 

    My whole body goes numb. “What?” 

    “I’m sorry.” 

    I blink, still numb; unable to make a sound. 

    “I know they were important to you.” He says. I look over at him. His gaze drops away quickly, and he starts answering my other questions, exactly in the order I asked him. 

    His name is Jone. The office was bombed. I’m being taken to a safe place. The only thing he wants from me is that I stay alive long enough to be told what’s really happening. 

    The last statement confuses me, stirring me slightly from my numbness. ‘What’s really happening.’ 

    Nothing more is said in the duration of the drive. 

    I sit silently, looking out the window but not really seeing anything. 

    He continues to drive, occasionally pressing his finger against his ear as if listening to someone speak, and says nothing. 

    The thoughts keep repeating in my head. 

    They’re gone. 

    I will never see them again. 

    I am alone. 

    Something tries to break through the numbness in my chest, probably the pain of accepting their deaths, but I force it away. I am not a weak person. Life has not allowed me to have that luxury. 

   But the sudden loss of the only two people I have known to be family is almost too much for me to deal with. 

   And then the men earlier. Who were they? I breathe in sharply, remembering the way their skin glittered in the fire. Jone glances over at me for a moment, and, after seeing that I’m fine, moves his eyes back to the road. 

    I move my fingers over my forehead, feeling the bruise that had formed there. It stings as I press my fingertips against it, the pain making me feel more alert. I move my eyes to look out the windshield, and see the sun starting to rise. 

     Jone turns onto an old, gravel road, and I start to feel a dull twinge of dread. 

     Nothing will be the same again for me. 

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

Once you get used to it, love isn't so bad. You take precautions, you keep your guard up, and very rarely allow yourself to hope. 

Of course, some people would say that's the exact opposite of what love is supposed to be; those people would hold my idea of love up to their ideal, and find me lacking. 

But the world we live in is not  ideal. Every day we are assaulted with images, ideas, and thoughts that are far from what we would like. So my sad, twisted version of love is at least better than giving up on the idea altogether. 

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

I looked up at him. He was tall, his hair slightly curly, with a set jaw and a nose slightly too large for his face. But his eyes were light, and full of emotion. He looked back at me, catching me in the act of staring. I looked away immediately, blinking to hide my embarrasment.

When I dared to look back, I saw him staring at me now, a slightly confused expression on his eyes. His brows were scrunched together, their ends almost meeting. I stopped myself from laughing, but a small squeak escaped my lips.

As he heard it an eyebrow lifted, his curls reached the top of it. I was unsure if I had offended him, or made him more curious, but I forced my eyes away from his, turning them back to the matter at hand.

I knew that I was supposed to be paying attention to what was said, but honestly? Jone's drawling left something to be desired. He was always so nervous at these things, especially with me there to listen. Living up to family members and all.

And I already knew about the basics of self defense, I didn't understand why Professor Llana wanted me to attend this class. But, as she was my guide for this year, I was to attend this, and excel in it.

I was far more interested in the young man who seemed to be very interested in me. I glanced back over, saw that he was still staring, and sighed, shaking out my white hair to hide the side of my face.

I later learned that name of the boy was Ben. And I had no idea how strange he truly was. But that's a story for another day, and today is almost over.

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

Love comes slowly

It is a theif in the night

It steals what you cannot see

It takes everything right

For when you fall in love

It isn't sudden

It isn't fun

And then one day

You say you've had enough

My love for you was not expected

My love for you was not wanted

You took my heart slowly

Bit by bit

And now

Now I want it back

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

You and I

We were not meant to be

And yet

I try, try so hard to see

A way that we could work

I think of it when I see

A face that looks like yours

I think of it when I hear

A song that sounds like yours

I think of you and how you opened

So so many doors

And now I think of how I acted

What a fool I was

I remember how all that I did

Gave away my thoughts

I am not the one for you

Nor are you for me

But still I wish

Oh how I wish!

I wish that we could be

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

I am not skilled at this

My fingers blunder clumsily

Over strings and notes

But on I play

Each note tells a story

And says things I could never say

They show the love

That I hide away

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

Winter and Summer

Winter comes, Color shall fade, Rain will come, And wash the past away, Cold takes hold, Warmth cherished, Young and old, Not all perish, Not all live. Summer brings, With slow reluctance, Life to things, And sweet repentance, White gives way, To bold and bright, And if it may, The sun gives light, Such a gift.

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

I am still yours

The sun will rise A dawning new day But it is not mine The morning dew will set Little diamonds on the grass But I cannot touch it yet The wind moves the trees They dance in its arms But I am not so free The sun will set in the sky Bright colors shine before the black But I have been made blind Back and forth The tides will come But I am still yours

[randomramblingsoftheratherodd]

Daughter of Darkness (just a little idea)

   I realized long ago that falling in love was not an option. So why, when he was standing directly in front of me, pleading for me to say a single word, did I feel something tugging at the inside of my chest, a longing, a need? 

   He stood there, waiting. And I needed to give an answer. But I couldn’t. I opened my mouth, but couldn’t say anything. My mind was made up already. I had decided so many years ago that falling in love was not something I could do. So I looked down, blinked twice, and then looked back up at his face. 

   His perfect, wonderful face. 

   It didn’t take him long to realize my decision, even though I hadn’t said a word. He just knew me that well. His lower lip trembled, he bit it to keep himself composed. Then, he nodded his head, and looking up at me with an expression that almost broke my heart, he turned and walked away from me. 

   As I watched him leave, everything inside of me was screaming at me to chase him, to stop him. To tell him I was sorry and I was wrong. That I did love him. 

   But I didn’t. I stood there, and watched the only man who truly knew me, all of my struggles, all of the things I loved, everything, walk out of my life. 

   That, for me, was the beginning of my end. 

   Nothing was right after that moment. 

   I know now that I made a mistake that night. 

   And now I have a chance to redeem myself. 

   I look over at the face of the person who’d come to take me away, the man who offered me this second chance. His eyes burn into mine, reminding me that he is not, in truth, a man. I avert my eyes, afraid of what might happen if I don’t. 

   “We won’t forget this arrangement.” He says, a deep tone, resonating with the voices of thousands, pierces my ears. “I know.” I respond, ignoring the sick feeling in my gut. 

    “Once you have achieved what you desire, we will come for you. And your end of the bargain must be fulfilled.” I stop myself from cringing at the emphasis placed at the end of the sentence. “I know.” I say once again. I feel him looking at me. I meet his gaze, avoiding looking at his eyes. 

    His lips twitch, something I recognize as his smile. “I will see you then.” I say, forcing a bright smile. “Yes.” Is all he says. He moves to put his hands on my face. I involuntarily step back. His lips twitch again, and places his hands against my cheeks. 

    I feel darkness move into my mind and start to overtake my vision. “Goodbye, father,” I manage to say. 

   And then the darkness takes over.