Flame: Chapter 3

The strange boys that crashed into her hideout were the most obnoxious creatures that she had ever seen. She had always disliked young men, because of their rowdy, repulsive manner and their crude sense of decency. These two vagabonds fit the bill perfectly: messy, sweaty, and ignorantly loud. Fortunately for Kyra, they had not yet noticed that their new hiding place had another member, and this allowed her to slip back into the darkness unnoticed, deciding to wait until they left to take any sort of action.

Once again, time was not in her favour, and after several minutes of waiting, Kyra began to get just the slightest bit ticked off. The invidious hyenas had been laughing their heads off for no reason and admiring the rather long case in front of them for far too long, and it was slowly driving her insane. It was time to get out.

Crouched down on all fours, she cautiously crawled towards the exit, eying the boys after every miniscule movement. Still as oblivious as when they’d arrived, the boys never once looked her direction, and as she neared the opening of the cave, she began to move faster. This sudden speed-up caused a chain of chaos to ensue.

A sharp rock extruding from the dirt scraped along her already tender shins, and she let out a short yelp of pain. The noise was just enough to attract the boys’ attention, and the slimmer of the two approached her, muttering something about hoping she was okay. In that moment of panic, her foot flew through the air and hit his stomach with a dull thud. “Auron!” the other boy yelled and looked straight at her, “why you…” Thwack.

Kyra pulled her fist back to her, standing ready for the blows that were sure to come, but instead the two boys simply rolled around in the dirt, groaning in pain. She let herself relax, certain they would not attack her when they knew she could fight back.

“What was that for?!” the second whined, coddling his bruised cheek in a fetal position. Kyra stood grimly, leaving the question unanswered. He gritted his teeth, and turned to help his friend, apparently named Auron, whose breath had just barely returned.

“Solomon,” he whispered quietly, “did we just get beaten by a girl?”

Solomon flashed a grin and rubbed his cheek again, “Yeah, I’d say we did.”

The two sat up, whispering amongst themselves and trying Kyra’s patience once more. She began to wonder if they would notice if she left, but something about these two morons intrigued her. Against her better judgment, she stayed, pacing back and forth on the little space left of the cave that was not intended to house three people.

“Hey, you! What are you doing here?” The sudden volume of Solomon’s voice startled her. She turned to face them.

“Well I’m so sorry for ruining your little party,” she muttered sarcastically, “but I was here first! So I think the question is what are you doing here?”

“We were seeking shelter from the rain!” Auron piped in.

“Oh yes, because you two grimy boys look completely horrified at the thought of a little rain. I bet the concept of a bath every once in a while was just lost on the two of you” Kyra said, as she saw the water droplets still clinging to their hair and clothes.

“Alright everyone calm down,” Solomon interjected. “Look lady, my friend and I have had a rough morning, could you just leave us alone?”

Shocked at his treatment of her, Kyra began to mouth a royal order, but realized that this wasn’t Luminae, and she wasn’t a princess–not anymore. She closed her mouth and continued pacing, until the strange case caught her eye again. “You’re hiding.”

“What did you say? We’re what?” Auron growled.

“Hiding. That’s why you’re in this cave, in the middle of nowhere. You’re hiding, probably because you stole whatever’s in that case.”

“Well how would you know it’s stolen?”

“Why are you defending yourself if it’s not?”

“Okay, okay” Solomon shrugged, “Let’s pretend for five minutes that perhaps the sword is stolen, and perhaps my friend and I are hiding from Luminean Guard, what could you do about that?” Kyra opened her mouth once again to present her royal roots, but shut it just as quickly.

“Exactly.” Auron stretched out his legs and slouched back, making himself comfortable.

“I could still report you.”

“We’re far from the Guard now,” he said cockily, “and nobody is gonna catch us.”



Flame: Chapter 2

Nausea overwhelmed her as the vertigo set in. The wind whipped through Kyra’s hair, and pushed her across the stone walls, making her descent seem much more precarious than she had originally anticipated. Underneath her, the remainder of the rope twisted and thrashed. Her decision to escape the confines of the castle became less and less appealing as she went, because although the ground had gotten closer, time seemed to drag on indefinitely.

Her hands burned from the rough twine as golden strands cut through her palms; Kyra closed her eyes to avoid any more of the dizzying sensation, feeling her way down. One hand after another, boots firmly gripping the rope to take some of the strain off of her arms. She whispered to herself as she went, attempting to calm herself, counting every inch down.

Without sight to help her judge the distance from the ground, Kyra’s inevitable fall came all too surprisingly when the rope ended a few meters short of the destination. Her impact with the ground left her gasping for air. The world was swimming, and after brushing her messy hair from her brow, her hand came away bloody. The sweet and salty stench became suddenly apparent in the air, hanging thickly about her. She stood up slowly and weakly, ignoring the black, thick mud covering her legs. Kyra glanced up at the castle and sighed; without any means of returning, her only option was to move forward.

Her energy came in spurts, the obliviousness to her surroundings pushing her farther into the woods, into the darkness. She hardly noticed a change as the trees grew thick and the light thin. It wasn’t until she collapsed from fatigue and sat upon a wicked lattice of roots spreading across the ground that she understood the danger she’d walked into.

The Black Forest, or so it had been called for many decades now, was aptly named. There was no light there. Shadows upon shadows danced around every corner, like savages in the night. Even the plants were dark, and the very souls of the animals seemed tainted–not to mention the rumors that depicted trolls hiding there, as well as witches, tree fairies and a myriad of other nasty creatures. Children throughout all of Luminae were taught to never roam the forests lest they be gobbled up.

Kyra didn’t want to think of her lost childhood though. Her mind was set on survival, and if that meant braving the Black Forest, then so be it. She slowed her breathing and pushed herself back onto her feet, concentrating on her small, quiet footsteps. Every snapped branch and crushed leaf made her jump in fear, leaving her so unsettled that it became impossible to control her appendages with any amount of confidence. Her hands were crusted with layers of blood, wiped from her forehead and welled up from the rope burns.

Many hours passed, creeping by with a silent ominousness that she couldn’t shake. Her limbs felt like anvils, weighing her down into the soil. She was sure her ragged breathing and clumsy movements would be the end of her. She became so paranoid that the light beginning to seep through the trees and the new shadows cast on the dark green flora only personified her fears. She tripped over her feet in a futile effort to flee the blackness, stumbling through the edge of the woods.

A rustling sound in the ferns next to her brought Kyra back to reality, and she backed herself up against the stoic trunk of a wide tree, facing the noise with a small flame in her hand. A strange chittering erupted from the foliage at the appearance of the flame, and a small yellow fox with three striped tails dashed out of it’s cover and darted for higher ground, performing a four meter vertical jump as it leaped to the bottom branch of an adjacent tree. Its tail tips disappeared into the branches, and for the first time since leaving the castle, Kyra began to cry.

The tears flowed freely and mingled with the dirt and blood on Kyra’s face. She couldn’t sustain the trek any longer, but couldn’t remain in the open. Out of the corner of her eye she noticed a cave in the womb of one of the great trees marking the edge of the forest and dove inside, taking refuge in the damp stone walls. She laid on her back attempting to catch her breath, her head spinning from the lack of air. The exhaustion overwhelming her injured body, she longed to feel the relieving embrace of sleep – but sleep would not seize her as readily, and the cave floor was unforgiving. The hard, uneven surface twisted her back in uncomfortable ways and the protruding rocks jabbed at her sore muscles. She sighed in defeat, and with the last of her energy went to scavenge for dry sticks to build a fire to warm the stone walls of her refuge. She built them into a tiny pyramid, and with a flick of her finger the pile was alight. With new warmth to seep into her skin, she felt more comfortable with the idea of rest. The flames danced on her face as her eyes closed for the night.

It had not been long before a barely audible noise in the trees awoke her from her uneasy slumber. Kyra covered the smoldering coals of her fire with dirt and lunged to the back of the cave.

Only seconds had passed when two dirty, rambunctious boys clamored into her safe haven, gurgling with laughter. The cave walls shuddered with the echoes of their howling cackles, and as they collapsed on the dirt floor in a heap of filthy clothes and scrawny limbs, Kyra shrunk into the shadows. It seemed that they were oblivious to her presence.

Flame: Chapter 1

Kyra pulled at the frilly satin that clung to her small frame in discomfort, forcing a smile as her father delivered another speech to appease the masses. Moren smiled as he spoke, with a joyful tone that she never heard within the walls of the castle. A few yards behind her, a line of ten fire users shot colored frames toward the stars that exploded in flowers of flame to signify the end of the speech. She only barely heard the roar of the crowd as her father pulled her back into the palace.

Moren’s face looked weathered and sullen in the candlelight, but his grip on Kyra’s arm was firm. He tugged her down hall after hall, until he reached her bedroom and shut her inside. She scarcely breathed until the last echoes of his footsteps faded into the stone walls. Kyra sighed and collapsed onto her bed, wondering why he’d shut her in the dismal room for so much of her life. Her home in the heart of Luminae had become a prison.

A quiet knock on the door and the click of keys caught her attention.

“Excuse me, miss, it’s time to get ready for bed.” The maid remained in the corner of the room until Kyra rose and sat on the stool in front of an ornate mirror that covered a large portion of the wall. Gwyneth began pulling out the pins in her hair, letting the dark curls hang loosely over the young royal’s shoulder. Kyra stared into the mirror, scrutinizing the dress that the maid had begun to unlace.

“Gwyneth,” she muttered, “why does father insist I wear gaudy messes of fabric like this?”

“He just wanted you to look respectable, dearie. It’s best you don’t fight about it,” Gwyneth replied as she pulled a brush through Kyra’s hair.

“But these clothes are for children! I’m nineteen; I shouldn’t dress like an adolescent anymore!” Kyra’s cheeks flushed every shade of pink in her anger, her slender hands clenching into fists in her lap.

“Well, dearie, maybe he just hasn’t noticed what a fine young woman you’ve become,” Gwyneth laughed quietly. “You know how hectic his life is, with the war. He calls in more troops every week, I swear! And it’s time you gave him credit for everything he’s accomplished here.”

Kyra quieted, and the two remained silent whilst the aging maid finished her duty and bid her good night. Despite the soft comfort of her bed and the blackness of the sky, she couldn’t sleep. Something about the war didn’t sit well with her. Blood was spilt every day, and for what purpose? And how many lives had been lost to it, thousands? Tens of thousands? She shuddered to think that all this death came from something as simple as a skirmish between the Byrne’s and the Leiyren’s. To her, the history of Luminae and Garrahand seemed stained with each other’s blood.

“I just want to run away from all this,” she whispered to the ceiling. “I could run and run, and leave to bloodshed behind me.”

But deep in her heart, she knew she couldn’t run from her responsibilities as a Byrne. She was expected to claim the throne and lead her country to victory, just as her ancestors had done before her. She would soon be held accountable for what happened in Luminae, but she knew she wasn’t yet ready to run a country.

She sighed heavily, and propped herself up against the surplus of pillows on her bed. Carelessly, she flicked her fingers and created small, flitting flames to distract her from her thoughts. The light danced on the walls, mesmerizing and hypnotic, and soon she dozed off for the night.

A dim ray of sunshine across her eyes slowly awoke her. She could hear the distant steps of soldiers pacing on the gravel below, the soft murmurs of servants through the walls. The castle might have appeared to be bustling with life, but she knew that reality was much grimmer.

“It’s time for your lessons, miss,” Gwyneth voiced behind her. Kyra jumped in surprise at the greeting that pulled her from her own dismal thoughts.

“I didn’t hear you come in!” Kyra exclaimed breathlessly, still dazed.

“I’m’ terribly sorry miss, but it’s time for your lessons, now,” Gwyneth replied, wide-eyed and alarmed by Kyra’s reaction. “Are you ready?”

Kyra sighed, and stood contemplating for a moment. “I suppose that even if I’m not ready for them quite yet, I’ll have to partake in them anyway.” Gwyneth looked down meekly, and nodded. “Alright then, let’s finish today’s work.”

She glided toward the window again, sitting at the small settee and staring out on the courtyard, absentmindedly answering Gwyneth’s questions.

“What year was Luminae founded?”

“Luminae was founded in 476, by my ancestors.”

“Good, good. Now, what year was Garrahand founded?”

Kyra glanced up. “Why is that important?”

“Well, your father insists that you know at least the basic history of all the surrounding countries of Luminae, even if we’re at war. When the war ends, you need to be respectful of them, and be able to communicate. Knowing their history will help.”

“What makes you think this war will ever end, Gwyneth?”

The old servant sighed, and closed the book she was pulling lessons from. “I think that’s enough school work for today, don’t you? It’s boring anyway, how about we go for a walk in the gardens instead?” A hopeful and somehow sad smile pulled at her lips as she remembered days past, and Kyra’s childhood before her duties forced her to become the same cold and distant shell her father was. But Kyra didn’t have the privilege to dwell on her past, and turned to face the window again, worrying about her broken kingdom once more.

The people were angry with the entirety of the Byrne family, and rightfully so. So many people had left and never come home, families had been torn apart, children had been orphaned, and all over some petty disagreement between Moren and Alyxandar. Every day new troops were sent out, and most of them died in the crossfire and confusion of the battlefield. Surely, the blood of millions would saturate the ground by the end of this.

“I can’t take this anymore,” she whispered to herself, “I’m leaving this wretched place.”



I’ve Returned from my Journey to the Netherworld

It’s been a while since I was serious about blogging, and for that I am sorry (mostly for myself, because this was a good release of tension and I really could’ve used that over the past few months).

So anyway, I have returned!

Let’s see, my hair is lavender, my favorite color is lavender (haha), I’ll be 16 in about a month and a half, I’ve become addicted to my X-Box (which I got for Christmas), I’ve been listening to Ghost Town lately (meaning they’ve been on repeat for three weeks), and…… pfft, I’m sure there’s more but I’ll remember it later. OH! My boyfriend and I were commissioned by our Language teacher to write a novel this semester. Not going so great, that.

As I sit here listening to, you guessed it, Ghost Town, at one a.m. on a school night, all I can think about is how much I most sincerely do NOT want to go to school tomorrow. Not only because they screwed up my online French class so I’m stuck in Journalism AGAIN, but because I am so far ahead in so many of my classes that holding up to wait on everyone else is just becoming tedious. Like in Geometry, I’m on lesson 8.3 despite the fact we haven’t eve taken the chapter 7 test yet.

And my teachers, oh god they are all on my last nerve, with the single exception of my ceramics teacher. Last semester half of them promised that if we kept our grades up we could be exempt from finals, well THEY LIED. I only managed to get out of two of the promised four finals. Though I did pass with all A’s, so that’s good I guess.

By the way I encourage everyone to listen to Ghost Town. Cue: Tentacles

It feels like my entire experience with both 2013 and 2014 have been nothing but exasperating. Teachers are being idiots, adults are getting nosier, other teens are drinking and f*ucking and smoking more and more and MORE……… and I’m just sitting on my bed surfing the internet, always.

You know, I should be in dance right now. Ballet. Pointe. Twirling and prancing and feeling good about myself for once, but no. Even that was taken from me by a dumbass teacher that thought everyone could do hurdles without any prior experience with track. There were at least four other people on crutches as a result, and my knee never healed correctly so even if I can manage ballet again, I will never be able to go back on pointe. Of course, the doctors swear there’s nothing wrong. The X-Rays didn’t show anything, and our insurance wouldn’t cover an MRI so I couldn’t see anything there either. But I can feel it–my leg sliding in half. I have this deep-seeded fear that one day I’ll be walking down stairs or climbing up or hiking or running, and half my leg will come with me and the other half will snap off. It’s really very unsettling.

Did I mention I love Ghost Town? Cue: Monster

And my boyfriend, because it was his amazingness that fixed everything up again, and we’ve just passed the milestone of one year and eight months, a feat rarely reached by teens nowadays. He’s been so supportive this whole time, and I really don’t deserve it, but it’s because of him that I’ve really begun to enjoy life again, and that’s something I never thought I’d feel again.

Cue: Dreamer

Also my art has improved! Tons, actually. Check it out:





And so on.

Cue: Game Freak

So, despite my very frustrating run-ins with humans lately, my neutrality reigns high. I really couldn’t care less about anything at all right now.

Anyways, I just wanted to say hello, lovelies 🙂 so hello!

What is anxiety?

When I started middle school, I had no idea what kinds of things would happen. I didn’t know that so many food kids would end up so lost, or bitter, or violent. As time passed, I saw kids I thought I knew adapt horrible behaviors. That’s what middle school is for, right? A time to adapt behaviors that, most likely, will stick with you through high school, and maybe longer. Supposedly, these new behaviors are good–turn work in on time, commit to your extra-curricular activities, be part of the community. Unfortunately that’s not what we’re taught. We’re taught that drugs are cool (from older kids), that drinking is fun, that sex isn’t as big a deal as adults say it is, that doing well in school doesn’t mean anything. WE’re taught all the wrong things, in an environment chock full of frustrated, confused kids.

Personally, this is the time that I became very submissive. I was willing to try anything as long as my friends said it was okay. Then at the end of eighth grade (when all that stuff started happening–cutting, isolation, etc), I realized that the behaviors I’d learned in middle school were those that I felt were the hardest to control. As a result, I didn’t control them. I trapped myself in quiet misery, and no one ever noticed or cared. I’d begun feeling uneasy in large crowds, shaking almost uncontrollably when I had to speak to  an audience by myself, withdrawing from everything. Basically, I spent all of my life in my room wishing I wasn’t such a dumbass. I didn’t quite yet realize that anxiety had taken over my life.

I’d always liked to think of myself as fairly smart and friendly. Prior to the eight months of isolation, I’d gotten straight A’s nearly every semester, and considered myself friends with everyone that didn’t give me a reason to not like them (a rule I still stand by). By the end of my middle school Hell, I realized that no matter how smart I was, I was obviously not very intelligent. I’d allowed myself to get sucked into the same mistakes my peers were making. I still acted outgoing and confident, for the most part. But internally, I was a mess of fears and hatred. But no matter how bad things were for me, I had friends that had it worse.

My friend Jenna, a product of one of my very few outreaches into society, was terrified at the very thought of saying something to the class. She was the most outgoing person I think I’ve ever met, in less than a year she’d become friends with more people than I even knew went to our school. She could make a crowd silent just to say something silly, and make everyone happy. But as soon as the teacher asked her a question, her voice dropped to negative decibels. I’d only ever been shaky, and would usually talk way too fast, but I’d never had trouble saying at least something

So then, does that make me any less a victim of anxiety than she is? Well, I know one thing–at least I’m not the guy faking an over-the-top stutter. Somehow, I feel as if my less noticeable anxiety is closer to what anxiety really is. My passive and submissive behavior, and immense fear of creating problems for people, or becoming a problem. Jenna had a reputation for her inability to speak in class, but no one ever noticed that I was scared, too. My problems with anxiety had gotten to the point where I limited the amount of friends I allowed myself, just to avoid social things like parties or meetings, or anything really. Even just sitting with a small group of people at lunch, I feel like I’m never heard. I’m invisible, and nothing would disrupt their environment if I just left.

Somewhere in the midst of all these revelations, I found a post about the symptoms of anxiety, and shuddered at the thought of how close they hit to home. Here’s a list that match me a little too well:

    • Constantly worried, tense, or on edge
    • Have irrational fears you know aren’t real, but can’t shake
    • Avoids everyday situations
    • Clumsiness
    • Chronic fatigue
    • Feeling dizzy
    • Feeling cold
    • Nausea
    • Pounding heart, as if it’s constantly over-working itself
    • Feeling of tightness in the ribs or around the rib area
    • Fears of making mistakes, losing control,  or irrational fears
    • Difficulty concentrating
    • Short term memory loss
    • Feeling overwhelmed
    • Incessant “mind chatter”
    • Emotional “flipping”– dramatic mood swings
    • Emotionally numb
    • Difficulty falling and staying asleep
    • Frequent bizarre dreams
    • Eye tricks
  • Depth perception feels wrong 

AS well as some slight separation anxiety, to the point where I make things bad in a relationship when I haven’t spent time with them in too long,

Some kids in school get treated in a particular way because “their anxiety is so obvious”. Yet, there I am, panicking internally at even the thought of going to school again, or speeding through a test so I had time after it to calm down. I began to ake a very clear image of what anxiety is and is not.

And it most certainly is not an excuse.