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Aspen Ch. 3Chapter 3
Heath spent a long while testing Aspen in the library on mathematics, sciences, literature, history, and according to him, common sense. From what he could gather she was extremely brilliant in levels of science and mathematics to his own level and beyond. She knew much of worldwide history and her grammar was to the mark. Aside from the language issue, she needed little help at all. But from what he could gather, all her answers came from books. She knew very little of the real world outside of her text books.
"Aspen, all the answers in the world can't be found in the contents of a book. So far all I can get from you is that you've taught yourself to see there's only one answer to everything." Heath sighed. "I want you to re-learn. The world can be seen and understood with different eyes. There are answers that don't have to be found in a book where someone has already found them. You can discover answers in life that no one has yet to find."
An hour or so had gone by and he
Aspen Ch. 2Chapter 2
Aspen's eyes were blurry when she finally opened them around noon. She was in her bed, her braid taken out and her pillows billowing from behind her propped head.
"You're awake." Said a voice, one she didn't recognize.
Her head hurt but she turned it slowly, eyes darting around her room. They settled on a blonde young man sitting in her wheelchair, rolling it back and forth with his heel, his legs crossed and his hands on his knees.
"Who-?" she began, then realized, "Heath."
"Oh, you remembered!" he stood and grinned.
"What . . . why are you in my room?" she whispered incredulously.
"Your maid, dear Pamela, asked me to keep you company while she readied a mug of cider for you, and something to calm your head." He smiled politely and sat back down.
Mouth open agape, Aspen stared at him. How could her parents allow a stranger into her room, regardless of if he was to be her future tutor? He wasn't her tutor yet, he had not right.
She pulled her blankets over her body, though sh
Aspen Ch. 1 Chapter One
It was three in the morning on a Sunday. The sky was a dull purple filled with grey-black heavy clouds, carrying the coming weeks worth of rain. From the tall windows of a leery, old mansion on Eldirburry Lane, Yorkshire, England, a girl of sixteen sat in her nightgown, gazing up at the dreadful sky. Her pale forlornly lit face was blank with boredness and purple circles the color of the sky outside, framed her large mismatched eyes. One blue, the other green stared out the front of the massive house at the bare neglected yard. Leafless black oaks stood near the muddy driveway; three of them. The grounds were littered with the fallen leaves of October, still yet to be raked up by the workers.
She couldn't sleep, of course- being ill as she was someho
Angel in DisguiseA mother shouts. tears streaming in her eyes.
A son stomps off, ignorant to her cries.
A car door slams, thunder echoes in the skies,
And she kneels on the front step, whispering goodbye.
So much heart ache, so many lies.
Money, sex, drugs: to love and despise.
She couldn't turn him back, as hard as she tried,
He knew she didn't understand his screwed up life.
She was never there when he thought back in his mind.
Too many boyfriends, staying the night.
So cold and forgetful, most of the time,
She didn't love him, not how he'd like.
He longed for acceptance in others, in gangs he could try.
Theft, murder, all part of the crimes.
The car tore down the road, people jumping aside.
He lept from the car into the chill of the outside.
His boys greeted him, he nodded, said "Hi".
Was he up for a run in with the gas station guy?
He yeah he was, ready for the thrill of the ride.
They swaggared down the street, hand gripping a knife.
But a car out of control, screeched its breaks with a cry,
20 Ways of CryingLiquid anger running down my cheeks
Sorrow burning my eyes
Joy reflecting in drops on my face
Hope brimming on my lids
Laughter spilling down the sides of my face
Pain slipping and spilling off my nose
Heartache pricking wet my skin one at a time
Hot confusion breaking through from behind your eyes
Hiccupping on my chokes of streams from my eyes
The thunderstorm of the tears after a fight
My cheeks being baptized in guilt
Agony flooding these aqua globules
Embarrassment steaming in tears
I cant see as bliss melts down to my smile
Sweet kisses wiping away the fluid relief
Loneliness gluing my eye lashes down
Black smears down my cheeks in disbelief
Water stains my jeans dark as I press my face to my knees
Hair sticks to my soaked scared face
The sun dries the love I had for you on my cheeks.
Red Queen of Broken HeartsHe was her best friend from her childhood. Since as long as she could remember that cooks boy hung around her, sneaking away just to come see her. Of course her sister never paid attention to her. That child was just too good. All the time! Nothing ever went wrong for Mirana. She was the perfect child. She did all her studies and lessons without complaint. But those were too boring. Iracebeth much rathered to play cards and chess with Jeraby. Whenever he snuck off they would meet under the thickle-berry bush tree and play. It was almost a tent, that hidden place. The sharp heart shaped leaves concealed the red scarves, ebony table, and cushions that made the spot magical. Jeraby would bring the carved chess pieces he made, and Iracebeth would bring the cards.
Emerging through the back near the palace wall, Iracebeth - long flame hair braided into a bun to keep it from flouncing and fluffing all over her head - would plop down on the beaded cushions and wait. A few times a we
Guardian AngelShe sits there.
The knife skakes in her hand.
Fright pumps cold in her blood.
But no one cares anymore.
The steel it bitingly chill agains her wrist.
I stand here, bitting my lip. I can't talk to her,
But she is stubborn.
I've known that since she was a baby.
If only she knew she has never been alone.
She dosen't know how many times I've helped her.
She doesn't see me.
How many times have I cried when she did horrible things?
How many times did I stand there in the bars and weep?
I can't let ther do this.
A chill runs up her spine,
and she tunrs her head.
Something tells her she should open her hand,
something says she should go call her mom.
She hadn't spoken to her since she ran away from home.
I sigh as my hand on hers makes her release the knife,
I shudder and shy away from it as it is set on the counter.
I was in time. I always am.
I walk with her to the phone and whisper in her ear the number she's forgotten.
She wasn't sure she'd remember her mom's number,
but it came from the b
The Quiet Windy HillI stand on the hill,
and feel the air flounce through my short hair.
the wind ripples in the grass,
and the trees' leaves whirl and dance.
The sky above me beams down in azure bliss.
The sun smiles in firey grins over the earth.
It is silent.
It is peacful.
At this moment do i care where i need be,
where society commands me to go? No.
Right here there are no cars rushing,
or the incesive noise of people talking-
so many many people always TALKING.
On this hill there is nothing but the rustle of nature,
the wind in my lungs.
I must remember to breathe it's clarity in.
I must close my eyes and dream.
I have to feel the prickle of the grass blades in my palm,
and the heat of sun's breath on my face,
and the wind.
The glorious wind.
I am like the wind.
I will never be where you tell me.
I go where I myself lead,
with my own hopes and quiet dreams.
The BeginningHe told them, of course. He told those idiots everything, the whole damn story, including the blunder he'd made, and its consequences. Looking back on it later, he realized he had probably been in shock the whole time. It made sense, anyone would have been.
Soph was about twenty years old, and he'd been that way for a couple of years already, ever since the Hoarde had started attacking humanity from the past. Every day that passed, they ate at another day in the past. It sickened him. Those creatures had absolutely no regard for proper time and causality protocols.
It didn't seem to affect anyone else that way, though.
The Hoarde was the result of a human creation, of course, like everything bad in the world, though no one else knew about them. Then again, no one else had undiluted access to the power of creation. Even he didn't know much about the Hoarde, only that they appeared through some tear in The Fabric of The World and started killing people off. They appeared at some point in
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