These actually aren't killer... but they taste so delicious that you could probably distract a psycho serial killer by offering them one of these scones. (Actually, maybe don't test that at home!).

This is the magic ratio for making creamy, fluffy, warming (even though its currently swelteringly summery here) scones...

1 cup of flour : 30g butter : 1/3 cup milk (but only add it as needed)

Ingredients/utensils (for a single batch):

• 1 cup of self-raising flour
• 30g of butter
• 1/3 cup of milk (full fat, skimmed, low fat, they all work the same)
• 1 mixing bowl
• 1 butter knife
• 1 measuring cup
• 1 baking tray (and baking paper for the tray if you like)
• 1 oven
• 1 glass/round biscuit cutter
• 1 rolling pin (optional)

Method:

1. Chop the butter into cubes (if its cooking butter) or break it into small lumps (if its margarine/butter substitute/easy spread butter) and put them into a mixing bowl with the flour. Make sure you rub the butter (at room temp - not cold)  into the flour with your fingertips only!
2. Once the butter is evenly distributed, the mixture should have a bread-crumby consistency. This is when you add the milk - but make sure you don't add all the milk at once and that you stir it into the butter/flour crumble mixture (as you pour) using only a knife.
3. Remember to preheat your oven (like I always forget to do) to 180 degrees!
4. Now you need to roll out your dough (using a rolling pin or a cylindrical glass if you are at your auntie's house and her kitchen is a disaster) until its about 1.5cm thick.
5. Then, cut out round shapes using a glass (you turn it upside down and use it like a biscuit cutter). The diameter should be around 5-6cm.
6. When you have put all of your  cut-out scones on a tray, make sure they are butted up right next to each other so they are all touching. Then you can brush a bit of milk over the top using a cooking brush or be lazy like me and drizzle a bit on each scone. This just makes the tops get nice and golden in the oven.
7. Scones normally take aroud 15 minutes to cook in the shower, but I'd check them after 10 minutes because all ovens are different. Mine is a psycho gas one, I know.
8. Once they are done (you can tell by sticking a skewer in one to see if it comes out clean, if you are pedantic - but a golden brown colour should be enough indication), take them off the tray and wrap them in a clean tea-towel (or if its just relatives or someone you don't particularly like you can use a dirty tea-towel!) and let them sit just long enough to get the jam and cream (or butter for us regular folk) out of the fridge and call your family members to the table...
9. (although they will taste so good you'll probably wish you didn't have to share them)

Here are two short stories that I have written.

THE SPIDER (STORY N°1)

“Mrs. Phillips.” Mara screeched.

Mara was helping her neighbor Mrs. Phillips in her garden when she had been sent to fetch a spade from the shed. She had just opened the shed door, as Mrs. Phillips had directed her, and there staring at her was the largest spider Mara had ever seen. Her face turned pale,  goose bumbs rose on her arms, and she felt cold. She looked terriefied and more of a ghost than a young girl.

Mrs. Phillips was busy a little way away pulling weeds. She sighed when she heard Mara screech, and sat up, stretching her tired back.

“Mara,” Mrs. Phillips answered, “I’m sure there is nothing to screech about. What is it child? We have a lot to do, and we have no time for fun and games.”

“But Mrs. Phillips, it’s huge. I can’t fetch the spade or anything else from this shed. There is a spider her… the biggest spider I have ever seen… in the corner next to the door. I don’t dare to duck beaneath and fetch the spade in case it jumps onto my head and runs down my back. Oh, Mrs. Phillips!” Mara said, squealing again.

“Don’t be silly, child. Bring me that spade. What do you think the spider would want with you or anything in that shed. You are far to big for a spider to make a meal of you. Hurry up, and get me what I asked you to get.” Mrs. Phillips answered as calmy as she could.

“I know Mrs. Phillips but I just can’t do it. I can’t make myself do it. Oh what should I do? The spider won’t move. I bet it’s doing it on purpose.” Mara said.

“Child, just duck and I am sure you will have no problem avoiding the spider.” Mrs. Phillips said.

“But it’s looking at me Mrs. Phillips with it’s eyes. If looks could kill, I’m sure the look this spider is giving me would send me straight to my grave, Mrs. Phillips.” Mara said.

Mrs. Phillips rolled her eyes and said nothing. She knew Mara very well and knew she could talk the hind leg off a donkey.

“Mrs. Phillips, this spider is staring at me. I doubt I would be able to speak for a week if this spider doesn’t stop staring at me the way it is. Just imagine every time I try to speak and no words being able to come out. How terriable would that be? My voice would freeze by the spider looking at me, just like Medusa turns men into stone. It must be simpily horrid to be turned into stone. Don’t you think Mrs. Phillips.” Mara smiled to herself.

“Mara, the spider does not seem to have sileneced you one bit. Enough chatting, now child, and get me that spade.” Mrs. Phillips said.

“Mara, child, you are a wonder.You excite yourself to much with these stories, and yet you are too afraid to duck under a spider and fetch me a simple spade from the shed. I think I might as well get the spade, and the rake for that matter, as you have just been standing around telling stories for the past five, or so,  minutes. If you are not brave enough to do it, then I will.” Mrs. Phillips said, standing up and stretching her worn and tired back.

“I am brave enough to fetch anything from under a spider but this spider is not an ordianary spider. It is huge.It is much larger then any spider I have seen before. Oh, if it fell on me I think I might just fall down and die just from the shock of it.” Mara said.

“I’m here now. Let me fetch the spade and the rake. Oh my Mara, that spider is not huge at all. It is just a normal sized spider. You and your stories.”Mrs. Phillips said, shaking her head.

Mrs. Phillips grabbed the spade, and then the rake and then left the shed, closing the door behind her.

“Mrs. Phillips that was incredible. I would never be able to do that. That spider was eneormous but you had courage. You are so brave. You will be an example to me from now on. I will try and be more braver now I’ve seen you do that.” Mara said, taking Mrs. Phillips’s hand.

“Now Mara, let’s get back to work. We have wasted enough time as it is. Oh, would you look at the time. Would you carry on with the weeding while I make some sandwiches for our lunch.” Mrs. Phillips said, with a smile.

“Yes, Mrs. Phillips. I would gladly do the weeding for you. You truly were amazing . The way you reached your hand underneath that huge, enormous, big spider to get the spade and rake. I shall rember  what you did just now for the rest of my life.”

                                                                        THE END 

 

 

The Baby (Story N°2)

“What is wrong with my wife?” asked James Daniels, jumping up from his chair and going up to the doctor. The doctor closed the door, of the room where he had been talking to Jane, and smiled at James.  “ It doesn’t look like you and Jane will be alone in that house of yours for much longer.” the doctor smiled. “You mean... no...I have to sit down.” James stuttered. He sat down in a nearby chair, and smiled at the doctor.   "Where is Jane?" James asked. "She'll be out in a minute, she's just talking to the nurse." The doctor shook James's hand and walked off, to check on his next patient. Jane soon appeared from the room, followed by the nurse.  "Did the doctor tell you?" Jane asked.  “Yes.We are going to have a baby.I can't believe it.” James said, smiling at his wife.


8 MONTHS LATER….
 
“The baby... it’s coming.” yelled Jane, one Saturday morning.
“It’s coming now... oh my... now... I’ll ring the doctor and your parents... oh gosh... the babies coming.” James shouted, running down the stairs in panic.
 “James, don’t panic. I’ve done this loads of times.” Jane said, trying to keep a brave face.

“No you haven’t” James said, coming back into the bedroom. His face was pale and his eyes were full of fear. He was glad that Jane's parents and sister lived nearby, and that he would soon have help. “Ok, I haven’t... but I did work on a farm for two to three years before we married and I helped the sheep and cows give birth. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.” Jane said, her eyes filling up with pain.


  There was a knock on the front door and James ran down  the stairs to open it. It was Jane’s mum and older sister, Grace. But where was the doctor?

James led them into the house, and suddenly there was a loud shout from upstairs.
James ran up the stairs, followed by Jane's mum and Grace.

James smiled weakly  and plonked himself down in a chair. He wanted to help but had no idea how and he was worried, and stressed. He watched helplessly while Jane's mum and sister, helped her.

Jane's mum was massaging Jane's face, to try and relax her, a little. Jane gave a piercing shout. James went pale, his eyes were round and scared. He looked over at the bed and slowly tried to get up, he suddenly felt dizzy, and  he fainted.

James woke up on the sofa, in the corner of the bedroom. He looked over at the bed. He couldn't see Jane as Grace and her mum were in the way. He suddenly heard a crying noise. The baby had come. Grace washed the baby, and wrapped it in a sheet, then she handed it to Jane.

"Is Jane alright?" James asked, getting to his feet.
"She's fine, and she has given birth to a lovely little girl." Grace smiled.

James smiled at Jane, and looked down at the little baby in her arms.

"She's beautiful." James said.

"What are you going to call her?" Grace asked.

James looked at Jane, with shinning eyes.

 “Her name is Sofia Grace Daniels.” Jane said.

James smiled and tookSofia Grace in his arms, and he rocked her gently in his arms.

"That's a lovely name." Grace said, smiling at her little sister and her husband, who sat beside her.

"It defiantly is a lovely name." Jane's mum said.

James  kissed Jane on the forehead. He was sure Jane and him were the happiest couple ever, because of their little baby girl.
      

                                                        THE END

Here is a link to my teen girl collab blog: 
http://average-teengirl.blogspot.ch/

If you are a teen girl, and want to help out with it, then message me.

So I'm not sure whether its that great a poem, but I quite like it so yeah. I thought it was a nice way of putting it, really. Its just my personal feelings talking here so if you don't like it, please just leave it be - it took ages to make it rhyme!

The way I like to look at her

Feels different to a friend

The way my tummy flips

Confuses me no end

I love her freckled nose

And I'd like to kiss

Her smile

But when she gets close I want to run a mile

Some say it's not normal

For a girl to feel this way

But now I decided

They can deal with it today

I cannot live these lies!

But I see your judging eyes

Why should it matter that

I like girls and I like guys?

Ladies and gentlemen,

Boys and girls,

What's the big deal

If there's love in this world?

Too long we have judged,

Hated,

Despised,

But today I'm proud to say

I'm me (and I'm bi)

Hi everyone! I've been thinking of making Wattpad for a while now, and I have finally done it! Here's the link to my profile page: http://www.wattpad.com/user/Jadefireeyes . I do a mixture of books, short stories, and poetry. I have also created a book called "25 Flaws in the Harry Potter  books," as well as a guide to help with making Warrior cat names.

 

And here's some end of summer photography1 Peace out!

I can't believe that I've neglected to post for so long.... So here's the first part of my prologue, of a book that I'm writing called Dawn's End. Here's the cover that took forever for me to create, until I was finally satisfied.

  PROLOGUE

The room swirled with so much color that she supposed the world would never stop spinning.

            A thousand faces whirled around the intricate pattern of tables set with roses, and her cheek was cast under the shadow of an orange marigold, its petals beginning to wilt. The ceiling flourished with images sketched with grandeur, and it was adorned by a silver forest seething with lithe creatures, all enchanted to move on their own. A deer paused to observe the ceremony before prancing into the painted dawn. Shimmering gowns skimmed the floor as women shifted in their seats, completely absorbed in tonight’s atmosphere, half-moons of pleasure etched on their lips.

            She sat alone, her once proudly loose hair swept into fiery locks, fingers nervously pressing the folds of her dress. Her furtive eyes grazed the entrance every so often, but she was disappointed by the guard leaning on the pillar. His cool gaze met hers and she anxiously looked away. She cast her face downward, struggling to contain her worries and to disguise a disturbing trait that had haunted her since birth: her eyes changed color depending on her mood. She stifled a sigh as her mismatched irises – one sapphire, one violet – were already fading into gray.

The girl of sixteen was as contradictory as a raindrop seated within a flame; her angular face contrasted with the soft ribbons of her gown, while the fringed lashes of her eyes conflicted with the rogue nature of her chin. She glanced away from the sea of tables and peered down at her plate. A face surveyed her, possessing a pale completion and a prominent sharp nose, and swift darting eyes calmed with azure eyeliner. Her usually hollow cheeks were blushed with amber, and her harsh eyebrows had been carved into gentler curves, but nothing could ever mask her bitter stare.

            Dancing lights encircled by glossy berries cast an inviting glimmer across the tabletop. A luminescent pond created artfully with a few flowers, apples, and floating candles added movement to the coming night. The soft glow on smiling faces resonated with the layered, textured accents, while the sound of a hundred voices speaking in unison clashed with the music of a fountain. Fine floral wires swung erratically from ivory columns and draped over vacant seats, curling themselves into a clinging web where songbirds resided.

            Her mind drifted away from the subtle splendor to the memory of turquoise waters and golden sands, and to a small face frozen in time. “You can’t fail,” she had whispered. “Not when the world is about to turn. I’ll wait for you… wait until the third child returns.”

            But he wasn’t a child. He never was. And the world was already turning, beyond anyone’s control.

            She sent her hair cascading over her shoulder before regarding the stars beyond the pale horizon. Just like her, they were forlorn and utterly alone, hovering in an unyielding night. If one fell no one would ever notice, for it was only one shard of light among thousands – or millions – of others. She thought about how far they had come, and wondered when everything unraveled if it would be the silent death of the trivial flower, or the cosmic destruction of the tenacious flame. Her promise to Rigel meant nothing if their strength dwindled in the final stand, or if others suffered because of their feeble victory. They lost before they ever won.

            The foreign chatter of the evening’s guests suddenly dissolved into applause, and she lifted her head as a painfully familiar figure entered into their midst. Her steady breathing was punctured by a gasp. He had finally returned.

He was almost unrecognizable, with a charismatic demeanor and a suit that echoed his pristine smile. As he greeted the crowd she had to remind herself that his secret sinister personality had never changed, nor had the darkness in his eyes ever been quenched. Yet never before did he look so sure of himself; his confidence was out of place, and almost unnerving, for someone who was a stranger here just as she was.

            As he sent a blinding grin out to the left section he suddenly noticed her, sitting under a curtain of dappling green. Their eyes locked for an instant. His smile slipped away and she stared back, unafraid, until he resumed addressing the multitude of guests. While he approached she pretended to be transfixed by a blossom, touching its frail foliage as she peeked up again. His back was now turned to her. He was speaking to an elderly man in Kutorian, a language that she only half-understood.

            “It’s a pleasure, Leo….Do tell….Plans and….So surprised you came,” the other man remarked.

            “If time permits…soon,” Leo responded.

            She was about to turn when he spun around and sat down at her table. Girls waved from across the room, inviting him to speak with them instead, but he declined with a shake of the head. Several people were staring at her with interest, and even hostility, but they gradually looked away.

            “Enjoying yourself, Zoe?”

            She was caught off guard by his sudden question. She searched for an appropriate response but only seized the truth. “No,” she spat out defiantly.

            He was amused. “Why not?”

            She feigned interest in the marigold once more, and then examined the russet tapestry above her. The forest scene was morphing into a chaos of beauty.

            “Yes, they put in a lot of effort, didn’t they?” he mused. “But I’m not interested in the ceiling, Zoemeria.”

            She winced when he pronounced her full name, for no one, not even her closest friends had ever dared call her that. Her irises flared into a seething scarlet. “What’s with this new popularity? From what I remember, you always have been cynical, too afraid to trust anyone, even yourself. But now… Leo the crowd pleaser, Leo the gentleman? When you have always been an outcast?” she mocked. It was making him angry but she didn’t care.

            He smiled, a forced grin enfolding on his lips. “That’s none of your business,” he whispered.

            “Yes, it is, because it involves all of us. When was the last time that you tried acting human, Leo? Trust me, it doesn’t hurt.”

          “Human?” he laughed. “You too, have changed I see. I don’t recall you ever being so hysterical.”

            Zoe clenched her fist, letting her nails bite into her palm. “We once trusted you. What happened to the three of us, fighting for our lives together? Why won’t you listen now?”

            As an answer, he flashed his famous smile. His pupils darkened, becoming blacker than an abyss, and Zoe vaguely felt her fingertips cooling. If her eyes were merely an annoyance, then his were fatal. “Look at me, Zoe,” he hissed, “and tell me where you were hiding all this time.”

            She couldn’t look at him. She knew better not to, and continued staring at a candle flame until blots engulfed her vision. “Well, I –”

            “Zoe?” he said dangerously.

            She glanced up, propelled by the venom in his voice, and as soon as she gazed into the inferno of his pupils reality shattered. The room slid into oblivion as icy winds consumed her mind, and yet she could not look away. With a flash of panic, she realized that he had been practicing. How often… every day? Every hour? But it was already too late for her.

            Even as the warm smell of cider lingered just beyond the darkness, tantalizingly sweet, the world was melting. Zoe was drawn deeper into a landscape of stony frost, colder than a glacial sea but more insubstantial than smoke. Black flames were disintegrating her and spinning faster than the billowing wick from before. The chill was scraping inside her lungs and with each breath her mind was shutting down. Fire…

            Swimming spots still obscured her eyes, clouds of fainter gray on a tapestry of night. As they drifted upwards, little specks of light surfaced around them until a patch of darkness shattered. Seizing this chance, she labored to tilt them ever so slightly until they blotted out the illusion. The vicious gales faded when she confronted the radiance from the hall.

            Zoe snapped out of the vision, continuing to drift through freezing air even as cheery candlelight flickered on her face. Other than the distant chatter, everything was still and silent. She cautiously opened her eyes and they took in Leo’s empty chair. When did he leave? Suspicion gripped her and she spun around, anticipating another attack. No. He was gone. She scanned the tables, finding him in the front alongside a girl who seemed vaguely familiar. She had straight black hair that spilled down to her waist, and a long, regal face that was marred by a cold smile. Zoe frowned, sifting through her memories and coming up with nothing.

            She wore a golden gown that flowed over her with the ease of a gauzy willow, which was covered with gems. She was tall and beautiful, and her eyes were brutally calculating. She looked away from Leo to reach at her bracelet that had gone astray.

The girl suddenly turned around and caught the girl staring. The intensity of her hatred sent Zoe a shiver that she could not suppress, and while she doubted that the girl could do her any harm like Leo did, she decided to look safely away. Out of the corner of her eye, Zoe caught her smirking.

Too Late

What once was silver and gold

Is now just plain old rust

I look to the sky

But all I see are clouds all grey and heavy 

Ready to burst 

I look at the papers I once kept

But now they are nothing but scraps and dust

I look to you and see you are no longer 

Who you once were

I realize now that I was too late

I’m too late 

Just too late!

Freedom 

Freedom is flying

And daring to fall.

Freedom is being able to go

Wherever you may want

Freedom is souring

Being able to search

Being able to run and jump

And being able to look, soar and search

Freedom is being able to be who you are 

And allows you to follow your true deep down dreams 

That are in your heart

A floorboard creaks noisily as I make my way along the dark hallway. Startled, I pause, hoping and praying that the sound won't wake Madam. If she were to discover me out of bed, I'd get the cane again for sure. Madam, is our Matron, but she makes us call her Madam, out of respect.
There is no sound of stirring coming from her bedroom so I continue my tiptoeing down the hall... The floor changes from wooden to cold marble floor as I enter the store-room where the back door is. I'm running away... and I'm never coming back. I slump my back pack on my shoulder and head out the back door of the orphanage where i have been living for the last one and a half years.
Goodbye prison... hello freedom....
The crisp night air smells of smoke, probably from one of the gypsies' camp fires in the nearby woods. I inhale this air slowly, and it feels as if I am taking my first sip of freedom. I grin despite myself. This is the start of a new life.
A sudden noise makes me jump. I crouch down low on the dew-covered grass of the orphanage's garden and peer over the small rose bush. A familiar silhouette is walking slowly up the path that leads to the orphanage. Madam.
I hold my breath. What is Madam doing outside at this late hour? I watch her toddle up the path. She stops, at the fountain where the paths separates into two. One goes to the back door where I escaped earlier and the other to the main door.
Madam takes the back door one. I feel a pang of surprise and my curiosity grows bigger as she enters the gardener's shed. She goes in and I hear a man's voice, a jolly one ringing out clearly in the silent night. I also hear laughter. I smile again. Madam's got a beau.
I decide to leave my hiding place. The thorns of the rose bush are pricking me and my knees ache from crouching down. I stand up and quietly walk down the garden to the gate. I reach the gate and open it carefully so that it won't squeak.
On our visits to town, me and the other orphan girls would dare each other to make it creak the loudest, just to provoke Madam's annoyance. I was always the one who was the best in this game. I had courage the others admired, the courage to continue my miserable life when my parents died, the courage to endure Madam's painful canings... I stare at the gate again and I manage to open it silently. I step outside of the garden, heart pounding. This is it. I've done it. i've left the orphanage forever. I turn back and gaze at the grey-brick orphanage. I'll never see it again. As I stand there, gazing at it, a hand falls on my shoulder. I turn around and gasp. It is the headmistress of the orphanage. 

The headmistress looks down at me with angry eyes and drags be back towards the building by the ear. It hurt! Seriously, adults are so mean. They are meaner than the bullies. I don't understand why they always are around to catch me when  try and run away. This is my 3rd attempt and i've failed yet again. The adults in this prison hate me anyway, so why do they always drag me back. I'd think they would be glad to see me go. I'll never understand grown ups. 

We were in the orphanage again now and the headmistress finally spoke. 

"Now young lady, you'll go back to bed and tomorrow come down to my office before breakfast and you'll get a good talking to. Now march!"

I ran off to my room still with my bag over my shoulder. I may have got caught this time but next time i won't. I'll make sure of that. Maybe i'll also take Maggie, my best friend with me. I don't know why i didn't before. Maggie is my age and she is more like a sister than a friend, she's my closest and loyal friend. Next time i try run away i'm taking my dear Maggie with me. 

And next time i won't get caught!

Today's Monday. I just got up and remembered i had to go down to the headmistress's office. I sighed and got out of bed. I quickly washed and got dressed. Then I brushed my teeth and headed downstairs. My heart was thumping and it felt it would burst any minute but i pretended that i wasn't scared. These adults in this orphanange like it when we get scared they get even meaner and tougher. They are not nice at all. I think that if the others weren't so scared of the adults that every single child in the orphanage would try and run away. Now that would be a sight! I was now at the headmistresses's office. I sighed and knocked. 

"Come in!" said a sharp pierce voice. I took a deep breath and went into the large room. The headmistress was sitting at her desk holding some papers. She looked up when i came over to her desk and layer the papers on the desk, upside down so i wouldn't be able to see what was on them. She smiled her awful grin. We orphans call this grin the witch's snarl. Our headmistress is actually just like a witch. The worst witch ever!

"Sit down child!" said the orphanage witch.

I sat down and looked up at the adult sitting opposite me. 

"Why were you outside so late?" the witch asked.

"I was getting some air." i replied, calmly.

"With your bag?" the witch asked, sharply.

" What bag?" i replied. I was feeling daring. I knew i was going to get told off. 

"I know you had a bag. Now your punishment?" the headmistress witch said, opening one of her desk draws. 

She took out a think book. Her punishment book. There was a list of punishments for everything. A punishment for not saying thank you, a punishment for laughing in class, a punishment for dropping clean sheets, a punishment for trying to run away and getting caught, a punishment for being awake late at night. There was a punishment for almost everything. 

I gulped when she layed the book in front of her on the desk. But i did not show fear on my face. I got a lot of punishments… we all did. 

The witch of the school ran a finger down a list of punishments on a page and then looked up and grinned. 

"You will have three punishments, my dear." she said, with her witch-grin all over her face. 

I smiled back and nodded. Inside i felt sick and jumbled up. I felt like i was on a roller coaster. 

"Your first punishment is to clean the corridor from outside your dorm and down the stairs to the back door. Your second punishment is to not go into town wight the other girls for the next four weeks and the last punishment is to do extra homework after class for the next seven weeks. I hope you are glad with those punishments. Now you may go!"

I nodded at the evil orphanage witch and headed out the door and down the hall to the breakfast room where everyone had started to eat.

"Why are you late?" asked Madam, sternly. 

I was about to explain when she pulled out her own mini book of punishments. All teachers and Matrons and every other adult had a punishment book. I stared at her as she flipped through the pages. 

I started to explain but she looked up at me and told me to SHUT UP!

I looked around at the the other girls at this particular table. I sighed and sat down. 

"Your punishment is not to have desert for the rest of the week… in fact nothing sweet for the rest of the month!" Madam said.

I felt like crying. I had four punishments in one day. I hate being an orphan.

"But i already have three other punishments." i told Madam.

She scowled at me and opened her book again. I sighed. 

"Do you want another punishment?" she asked.

"No." i mumbled.

"Ok. Then you have four punishments. If you say anything more about it then you will get another." Madam snarled. 

She was the second witch of this orphanage.

That breakfast was terrible. I was not allowed jam or anything else sweet. And it had to be like this for the rest of the month. 

I'm going to run away again now for sure. I can't live another day with punishments like this. I have to come up with a plan. And i'm taking my friends with me, this time. And we can't get caught!

So, I figured that it has been a long time since I've last posted...which was about my poetry obsession. Well, this one, in contrast, will be short and sweet. May I introduce you to my new, personal blog? No.

MAIDENSTAR'S BLOG

Please note that this is my personal blog in which I express myself. If you don't agree with me in what I say there, that's fine. It really is. But please, let's keep this polite civility, m'kay? xP


And again, MaidenStar, signing out--until next time! ^^

          The wind spiraled as he scaled the apartment building. His jacket swept through the air as he struggled to stay balanced, his feet suddenly landing on the fifth floor ledge. "Twelve!" he screamed. "I can't reach you!"


          She turned, surprised. Her eyes were wide. "What are you -?”


          A flash of feathers and bronze launched at her head.


          Twelve braced herself as the eagle threw another attack. Above them the sky boiled with the incoming snow and the wind climaxed into a gale, slamming into his face with freezing brutality. He managed to glimpse her lunging silhouette before the blizzard drifted in. Charlie was plunged into swirling white blindness, desperately clinging to the brick wall and straining to see Twelve. The night deepened as the battle around him intensified. Traumatized shrieks came to his right, and he considered running before he remembered the sheer fall beneath his shoe tips. He shivered. Senseless fear had just almost killed him. "Twelve!" he called again.


          "She can't hear you."


          Charlie's head spun around, hardly believing his luck. A cadet had broken through the Blockade. In his eagerness he never wondered how the boy could possible stand so calmly above him. Almost as if he was floating.  "Of course she can't! You've got to help me." He glanced down.


          The boy above him didn't reply. Even though the snow concealed his form, his voice was easily recognizable. He had joined his side many times before.


          Charlie frowned. He didn't understand the holdup. "Hey! Twelve's losing! You have to save her - " He looked intently down the chasm, where she had been fighting for her life just a moment ago. Precious seconds were going by, and here he was, stranded on the side of a building.


          "You're acting as if I'm your friend," the newcomer said slowly. "But I'm not. I never was."


          Charlie looked up from the void. He had to be joking. But there was no time for this.


          The snow drifted away momentarily, and Charlie realized there was a knife pointing at his face. Twelve's knife.


          "You know I can't let you live, Charlie." His face was strangely set.


          "What?" This wasn't happening. It just wasn't. "Listen, I don't know what you're doing. But snap out of it! Someone betrayed us, that's why the City's on us - "


          "Oh, I think I know that." He laughed. It sounded so cruel, so unnatural. It couldn't be him. It had to be a mistake.


          He brandished the golden dagger in front of Charlie's eyes, the point intentionally coming close. "I'm the one who betrayed you." He smiled smugly. "Never saw it coming, did you?"


          Charlie stared back. It all came into place. The signs, the disappearances. The marks by the door. It was him all along. And they were all going to die because of this stupid traitor.


          "We're going to fight you," Charlie stammered. "This isn't the end." He reached for his sword, but then remembered that Baila had taken it.


          "It already is," he whispered softly in his ear. He threw Twelve's knife away. It fell into the darkness, its golden light fading away. Charlie already knew what was next.


"So long, loser." The boy pushed him over the edge and Charlie hurtled down the building, disappearing into the snowy streets -

And then... there was silence.

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