I had a title . . . . I think
Lightning flashed and crackled outside, illuminating the dark room where the girl slep. Her short dark brown covered her thin face, and her sheets covered her petit frame. She slept peacefull, the storm not bothering her. She liked thunderstorms and rain anyways. Her boyfriend had just brought her upstairs and tucked her in, as she had been too tired to bring herself upstairs. Right now he was getting in his car, reading to drive home, despite the threatening lightning and fierce winds.

The girl continued dreaming as thunder boomed loudly, her thoughts still on the passion and heat she had shared with him less than fifteen minutes ago. A loud crash disturbed her peace. A huge piece of metal came flying through the window, plunging itself into her midsection. The girl screamed in agony as the metal sank deeper and deeper into her body, destroying nerves and crushing her spine. The sanguine color she had admired, even lusted over, oozed out of her and onto her sheets and skin. Her mother, alerted by the cries of pain, rushed into the room and let out a gasp of horror at her daughter.

The girl screamed yet again in pain, her nerves sending pulses like sledgehammers to her brain. Again and again she shrieked in agony as her mother stood wide-eyed in terror, watching the metal drive itself deeper and deeper into her body.

Lightning struck again, this time using the metal chunk as a lightning rod. The girl wailed in agony as the white-hot current pulsed through her body. Flames burst from her stomach, quickly spreading to the rest of her. She howled again and again in pain as flames licked hungrily at her flesh. She struggled and shrieked more and more until she expired. Her once beautiful, supply body little more than charred ash.

The next morning, her boyfriend's car was found crashed on the side of the road. He had been heavily intoxicated and crashed into an eighteen wheeler. The collision threw his bumper off of the car and into the strong winds, which carried it back to the woman he loved, as if to say goodbye to her and possibly bade her to join him.

A few miles away, a boy woke with a start. Sweat had drenched his brow, and he was panting heavily. Reaching behind his bed, he unearthed the "picture" his ex girlfriend had given him before their breakup. He silently cursed her name and went back to sleep.

Perseverance
There once was a man who travelled long and far to find a place to live in. After many misjudgements, errors, wrong turns, and unforseen calamities; he finally found a beautiful, perfect place where he could live. He set up a small hut and planted seeds and grains to harvest. He marveled at the beauty and tranquillity of the area and was inwardly beaming at his own great judgement. Soon after, he had plentiful crops which to harvest and lived a very comfortable life.

However, during a rainy season, a freak storm kicked up. It destroyed his hut and a good amount of his crops. When the storm cleared, he looked at the wreckage and said "I love this place too much, I storm once and again will not deter me from staying. I will not leave." so saying, he rebuilt his home. This time, he prepared in case such a rainy season occurred again.

Every few years a storm would rise up again and wreak havok, yet because of the man's love for his land, his gentle patience with his surroundings, and his perseverance, he always survived which much of his home and food intact and lived comfortably.

Many years passed, he became very prosperous and well respected. He found himself a wife and had many children. He instructed all of them on how to prepare for the violent storms that would pass through and, because of his diligence and forsight, the vast majority of his crops and home would remain intact. They lived happily and peacefully for many years to come. The man lived to be well over a hundred years old, yet remained vigorous and happy.

One rainy season, however, a particularly violent storm raged through the area and destroyed almost everything. The family was able to retreat to a safe place, but the man was sleeping, unaware of his current predicament. As they watched helplessly from another shelter, the house collapsed in on itself, the old man undoubtedly buried underneath.

When the storm cleared, they removed the wreckage and found the old man's body completely intact, not a scratch on him. He was smiling serenely. In his hand was a note, it read:

"Thank you for supporting me and my family, thank you for making my life enjoyable and prosperous. I am old enough and I wish to rest. Take me and envelope me in your loving embrace."

Heart Shaped Box
He kept it in there, that vile, putrid thing that ate away at his very soul and pulled at his heart strings, he kept it in a heart shaped box. A bridg red one, with pink ribbon and tied it tightly so it looked like a Valentines Day gift. Then, he set it aside and tried to ignore it. But it called to him, and he continued to fear it, that heart shaped box. He saw it in his mind, and he knew it was leadking out, bit by bit. He could see black ooze dripping from the box, and the bright red stained a shade of crimson. The box took over his life. He couldn't bear to think about it. When he saw it, he cried uncontrollably, when he thought about it, he would ache. Finally, the thin inside the box took over, when he was too close, it burst out of the heart shaped box and leaped into his chest. He couldn't stop it. It took control of his very being and absorbed his essence, it became him and destroyed him. He killed himself, thinking to nobly contain it. It worked, but he left behind the heart shaped box. . .

The Draining of the Lethe
A girl and a boy walked alongside the river Lethe in times long past. They would spend countless hours there talking and enjoying each other's company. However, as they got older, the girl found her interest in the boy waning. She began noticing other, more attractive boys. Despite this, she didn't know how to get rid of the boy. One day, while walking with him, she remained silent, realizing what she had to do.

Pointing at something on the far end of the riverbed, she acted as if she had seen something. The boy looked, and as his head turned, the girl pushed him into the river. The boy toppled into the Lethe, flailing about in fruitless desperation. The girl's first reaction was to instictively grab for the boy's hands. She saw the look of gratitude on his eyes and smiled back to him before remembering why he was in the river in the first place. Her eyes became hard, her smile cold. She reached for a rock, and with her free hand swung with all her might at his skull.

In the brief moment before impact, she could see the look of gratitude and love change to one of horror on the boy's face as the rock came crashing down between his eyes. A sickening crack was heard. The boy's skull caved in where the rock had struck. Blood ran everywhere, even onto the girl's arms and shirt. She let go and watched as the body floated down-river. Trying to wash her hands of the blood, she realized it would not come off. Shrugging, she went home.

***

A day later, she came walking by the River Lethe alone. Looking at the opposite side of the river, she saw a boy hunched over facing towards the side she was on. His head was in his knees, his shoulders were shaking. He looked up and saw the girl, who was wearing a look of surprise at the boy's survival. His eyes turned hard, he turned his back to her, and continued sobbing.

A few days later, the she returned to the River Lethe with another boy. Once again, she saw the boy, hunched over, him again facing the side of the river she was on. His shoulders were no longer shaking, and the wound on his forhead was gone, as if it never happened. He seemed part of the landscape itself. His eyes were cold, and it seemed as if he was staring at her. To try and shake off the intense feeling of hate she felt eminating from him, she talked louder and more engagingly to the boy she was walking with. However, the feeling only became stronger. They left the river.

A month later, she had to return to gather roots that only grew near the river Lethe. She was gathering roots when she looked up and nearly screamed in fright. The boy was still sitting in the exact same position, giving her the exact same glare of hatred she had last seen on him. This time, she ran.

A month later, a great draught and famine struck the town she lived in. The boy that she had married died. She was forced to return to the River Lethe for water. As she neared the river, she looked around nervously to see if somehow the boy remained there. Seeing no sign of him, she began gathering water. While her gourd was filling, however, the river's water levels began decreasing. Soon, the river was empty. At the bottom was a corpse, facedown in the riverbed. She scrambled down to inspect the body. Rolling it over with a stick, she barely recognized the body of the boy she had pushed into the river, the dent in his skull very identifiable. Too afraid to scream, she ran.

Days later, as the draught dragged on, she found herself at the brink of death. As she lay dying on her bed, someone entered. She looked up through blurred vision and saw a man. He cradled her head in his hand and fed her a gourd of water with his other hand. As her vision cleared, she recognized the same boy that she had pushed into the river, the wound very visible and bleeding and dripping profusely. Despite this, she realized that blood didn't stain her clothes or the bed she lay on. Giving him a scared look, she cowered underneath him. He lay her head back down, then, after closing her eyes, placed his hand on her forhead. With a gentle pulling motion, he brought his hand away from her forhead, pulling an identical form of her out of the body.

She blinked and looked around. Looking down, she saw her body, looking in a mirror, she realized she could not see her reflection. She looked at the boy and saw that his blood had been running everywhere. There were huge stains on the bedsheets and her clothes, there were huge puddles on the floor. Looking into one, she could visibly see both of them. Turning back to the boy, she began to question him. He bowed simply and left the small home.

Untitled
I always hate being awake at two in the morning. So little's happening. Those few times I do get to see something interesting though kinda make up for it.

I was walking down the road near my house, listening to a custom CD blasting of all things Tears For Fears. It was snowing pretty heavily, giving almost a solid sheet of flakes coming down. Interestingly, there was lightning and thunder lighting up the sky every now and then, illuminating the skies and giving for a split second the illusion of daylight snow.

As I passed by a local all-nite cafe, I saw one of the strangest things. Two birds were flying together and another attacked the male. While he cringed from the assault, the female flew hesitantly before also attacking the male. After he had been grounded, the two birds flew off. Walking over, I found the male bleeding from the neck, he was obviously ready to die. His eyes were screwed shut, as if ready for his fate. I set him on the ground, and stamped. Lightning flashed, showing the grey and red remains.

After cleaning up my boot and the sidewalk, I continued walking. A couple walking together, looking quite content. I smiled for them, when I saw a man in all black approach them. He pulled out a gun, demanding their money. The woman dove into her lover's chest for protection. At the same time, he pulled out a handgun and fired. The thug, hit in the chest, stumbled backwards and pulled the trigger before collapsing. By the time all of this had occured, I had just ran up to the scene. The woman and her lover were sprawled on the ground, the man shot in the arm. He lifted his bleeding arm up to check on his girlfriend, only to find her with blood pouring from her head. Not knowing what else to do, I reached for my cell phone and called the ambulance. Lightning flashed, illuminating the crimson snow.

After the ambulance had driven away, and promising the man I would be there to testify on his behalf, I continued walking down the street while listening to Pink Floyd. I was getting slightly tired of the cold and went into the first restaurant I could find. The dark and somewhat musty atmosphere lit up momentarily and revealed a group of tired and probably drunk patrons. The waitress who greeted me looked tired, but was rather pretty. I asked her how much longer her shift was. She cut me off, saying she has a boyfriend. I smiled and apologized. After sitting down and ordering a drink, I noticed she was being hit on by a big muscular guy. She kept trying to resist, but he wouldn't let up and eventually she shouted for him to stop. I got out of my chair as I saw him raise his hand to strike.

I grabbed his hand before he could strike. Turning on me, he yelled that it was none of my damn business and punched me full in the face. the force of the blow threw me back into a table and broke my nose, and I felt the cartilage and blood run down my face. As he turned back around, I grabbed a plate and swung downward. The plate shattered and a visible cut could be seen on his head. Turning around, he swung. Ready this time, I ducked and thrust knife-handed at his throat. Feeling it give away slightly, I realized I had swung too hard and saw him claw at his throat for a minute. He passed out. The waitress was definitely shaken, but she got down to inspect him. Getting back up, she immediately slapped me and ran off to call an ambulance. The manager arrived and said "Congratulations, you've hospitalized her boyfriend."

After the ambulance left, I apologized to the manager for the troubles and paid for the damages with the last of my money. With a few cloth napkins with ice wrapped around my nose *the medics neglected to see if I was ok*, I continued down my path.

As I walked home, a bird flew on my shoulder, startling me. I noticed it had many scars, as if it had survived a nasty fight, its head also bore a large, grid-type of mark on it, kinda like the bottom of my boot. I noticed it had something on its leg. Unwrapping the paper, I unrolled a few $20 bills. Thanking the bird, I reached into my pocket for a piece of bread I had taken from the diner. Taking some crumbs, I held it out for the bird, who devoured it. Afterwords, it flew away. I walked passed the place where I buried the male who had died. There was a hole in the ground where it had been buried. I smiled to myself before continuing on my way home.

A few days later, I got court summons as a witness for the double homocide and because the waitress was suing me for her boyfriend's injuries. However, I couldn't attend both at the same time and was arrested and fined for skipping both days. They sorted it out, though, and the man whose girlfriend had died was cleared of all charges and I was ruled as self defense/protection.

. . .Damn
You know, I was SO gonna write something, I swear I was . . . But I kinda forgot what it was. I'll write something later. . . or something.

A Very Merry Christmas
He got considerably bored of staring at the ceiling of his bedroom, so, picking up a CD, CD player, and his keys, he left the house. It was raining outside, a real wonderful grey Christmas. Looking up into the clouds, he sighed. Opening the door to his battered, hand-me-down '91 Ranger, he set off for some unkown destination. Putting the CD in his car stereo, he turned the volume all the way up. The sooting sounds of Pink Floyd soon filled the truck and warmed his heart. Driving randomly through the streets, he passed his ex girlfriend's house. A slight flash of pain crossed his eyes, but it was deadened by both a seething emotion and the music that bombarded his ears at volumes much too high.

He drove until late, around 11:30. Stopping in a parking lot in front of the mall, he parked. The harsher sounds of Soilwork now coming from speakers, pounding heavily on the frame of the car, as if a caged beast trying to free itself. Reaching into the back of the truck, he fished around before he found what he was looking for: The Christmas manga of Love Hina. Putting on the emergency break, he propped up his feet and read.

A little while later, his alarm started blaring, barely audible over the now industrial might of Skinny Puppy. He looked down at his watch, 12:00, midnight. Smiling to himself, he put the book back where he found it and released the emergency break. A little while later, he found an all-night cafe. Parking the truck, he replaced the CD in his CD player and entered. Ordering a frozen frappacino (however the hell you spell it), he drak silently while observing some of the other night crawlers. A small, middle-aged woman drinking a cup of coffee, she looked stressed and unwilling to leave. In the corner, a couple, more accurately the male, were making out. His girlfriend seemed to be resisting, and he could make out that she didn't want to do anything in public. White Zombie now bashing wildly at his temples, he noticed an old man come through with a mop. Moving his feet for the janitor, he continued watching some of the others. The lady at the counter looked to be at the end of a long day: tired, cranky, and impatient for her break. He noticed another person. A girl who looked to be there simply because she could be. She noticed him, he smiled at her, she smiled back. He rose and walked over to her table. Taking his earphones off and wrapping them around her neck, from which Slayer now eminated very loudly, he asked "may I?" She nodded.

Sitting down, he took another drink from his plastic cup. Unlike him, she was drinking a steaming cup of coffee, while he was sipping from a straw on a plastic cup. "Why are you out here?" He asked her, she replied "I didn't feel like being home." He decided to delve deeper, "Why not?" "Personal reasons," she was obviously trying to cut off any farther inquiry. He switched subjects "You come here often?" "Not really." She answered. Realizing that he was sinking, he rose again, "Well, it was nice meeting you. . . " and extended his hand ". . . And Merry Christmas." She shook it, he plunked down five dollars, and left.

Getting back in his truck, he replaced the CD in the stereo. The whimsical and sometimes silly sounds of Splashdown greeted him. Driving home, he smiled to himself, "Merry Christmas," he said to himself.

The next day, one of the local newspapers read "Young woman killed in tragic car accident." He smiled as he saw the paper and wondered if it was the woman he met in the fledgling hours of that day.

An introduction to hell
Hooray, I'm finally going to get around to posting this stupid thing, though I think it's not that great an idea I'm still going to do it. Now stop complaining.

NOTE: This is NOT meant to be my outlook on religion, it's just an idea that popped into my head. It does not reflect my views on Christianity, it is not supposed to be how a religion's afterlife works. Just wanted to clear that up.

There are three stages of the Underworld: Hell, Topia, and Purgatory. King Yama (as taken from Chinese myth, not Dragon Ball Z) controls the records of the births and deaths of humans, animals, plants, kingdoms, etc. Even having more power than Satan, thus keeping Satan in check.

Hell is the stage meant for the most horrible sins and sinners. Satan resides in this realm. The torture there is by no means physical, but spiritual, it is a torture and torment that the body or mind cannot grow accustomed to, as some hardships are. Satan takes certain pleasure in making sure every single person here suffers a special kind of torment. Souls sent here can only be pardoned on special occasions, as detailed later, but they are more rare than stereotypes being 100% correct.

Topia is the second realm of the Underworld. It is a place meant for "accidental deaths." God does not control the Underworld, and King Yama is not God, he is not omnipotent, so he makes mistakes with the ledger recording the deaths of certain people. King Yama feels that it would be unfair to the people who died based on his error to be sent to Hell, and feels that those who were sinners shouldn't be sent to Purgatory or Heaven, so he created a realm for these people only. Calling it Topia, it is an exact copy of the world, with the exception of limitless resources. It is even split into various cultural sections, depending on the person's past residence. People sent here work off whatever sins they attained in the mundane world through manual labor, charity, and other things. But they inadvertently and inevitably end up creating more sins, so their tenure is much longer than originally expected. People are also assigned a card with their name on it, representing their soul. Should they feel the urge to simply give up they may destroy the card by ripping it in half through the name. However, it does not send them to Hell, it sends them to a much worse plane, one of nonexistence. The only other way one can exit Topia is through love. Should one find a lover, and should they keep that love true and pure for 20 earth years, they ascend to Heaven. To symbolize their trust and love for each other, they exchange cards.

Purgatory is similar to the Christian belief. It is a place where minor sinners repent and spend a certain amount of time, then ascend to Heaven. However, there are also those who did not sin but did not follow God's teaching, which is split into two broad categories: Respect thy neighbor and respect thy own soul.

H.O.M.M.
Once there was a boy, he wasn't very big, or very smart, or very popular. He was a small, sickly little boy that no one noticed and many ignored. Every day in school he would sit in the corner to do his work, then he would go home and do his homework, and then he would go to sleep. All of his days were exactly the same.

He did, however, have a few friends. They cared for him, knowing his poor disposition, and tried to be the best friends a kid could have. Unfortunately, they bloomed and eventually found other, more popular friends, leaving the poor child alone again, though they did not forget about him, his conversations with them waned and waned.

The boy began writing in a little notebook his mother had bought him for school. He wrote about many things, different worlds, fantastical heroes who would slay fierce monsters with their gallant weapons, poetry, and many other ideas that popped into his head. He continued writing for many months, he felt that these were his friends, his friends that would never leave him like his real friends did, and so he wrote.

Eventually he began writing about a girl. Not a girl in his school, or on the television, or even on the radio. It was a girl from the deepest corners of his imagination. He described how she looked. Her slender, delicate figure, her large round brown eyes, her long flowing brown hair. He wrote about how she acted. How when she laughed, a tingle would go up one's spine. How when she smiled, she could put the most beautiful sunset to shame. How she would never leave him, and they would be together forever.

The boy continued writing, forgetting of everything else. He ate little, slept less, and completely ignored his schoolwork. He simply went on writing in his little notebook. His friends began to get worried about him, but they were not too worried, as he was still responding to questions they asked and held conversations with them. Though, after a while, he began responding in ways they couldn't understand. He would say something completely irrelevant to what they were talking about, or answer a question no one asked. They began to spend more and more time with their other friends, eventually forgetting about him.

One night, many years later, when he was in his teen years, he became so exhausted from the lack of sleep he had gotten and from writing that he collapsed. He dreamt that he was in a large field, and he was not alone. A girl was with him, a girl with a slender, delicate figure with large brown eyes and long flowing brown hair. Who had a laugh that caused a tingle to go up his spine and when she smiled, the most beautiful sunset looked pale and wan. They walked through the fields, talking endlessly, the boy becoming happier and happier as he talked with her. She was indeed the girl for him.

He awoke with a start, looking at his watch, he realized he needed to get ready for school. He regretfully got out of his bed, grabbed his notebook, and headed to school. While in one class, he decided to take a nap. When he closed his eyes, he was once again with the perfect girl, she was just as beautiful as he remembered her, and talking to her gave him the same sense of awe. She never seemed bored by him or his antics, she laughed at his humor and a great respect and amour shown in her eyes. Taking him gently by the cheek, the girl kissed him. The boy again awoke with a start, the bell had rung. The boy went into the hallways, where he spent his lunch writing, and fell back asleep.

The boy slept most of the time now, his notebook clenched firmly to his chest. He talked to no one, simply falling asleep whenever he had the chance. He began skipping school, simply falling asleep right outside of school grounds. He would come home and sleep as soon as he went upstairs. His life continued like this for a year. His parents, extremely worried but hesitant on how to react, finally went into his room. They found him curled up, clutching his notebook to his chest, he was not breathing, his skin was blue.

A few days later, the boy's parents received a phone call from the hospital, they told them to come immediately. The parents arrived and located the doctor, he said there were no wounds on the boy, there were no traces of any drug, and he had no previous health problems, but they did find a piece of paper in his writing hand. The doctor handed the parents a folded up piece of notebook paper, they opened it and read the four words written on it:

"I've gone to her"

Lethe
I found a song called Dark Tranquility - Lethe.

It's really pretty. The lyrics are really cool, too.

Lethe, Give me the drink of the fluid that disintegrates and lend me the sweet balm and blessing of forgetfulness, empty and strong. Hold me near, unravel the stars as I speed through the heavens, speed through the night for you are my blade and my rope, you are my Lethe.

In currents of cobalt you storm through my heart to sever to puncture the memories that burn. Let sweep through the arteries in sharp stabs of pain your talonlike fingers to kill me again. Steal me, invade me and charge me again for I burn and I shudder burn with each movement of.

So cleansed through a floodlight I appear reforged and renewed, caressed by the sweet balm and blessing of forgetfulness, empty and strong. Lethe hold me near, my one friend and guide as I drown through your fingers drown through your love for you are the life I hate, you are my Lethe.

Drag me down in passionate sighs with the ocean above me and flames in my eyes and grant me a life I can live without