Okay, So You're Playing With Me, Right?

Okay, so now the universe wants to mess with my head. WHY?! What did I do this time? Ugh. And you know what else sucks? I just got my credit score back from TransUnion...My credit sucks bad, and I don't know how it did! I had good credit, and in the last two to three months I've done nothing strenuous on my accounts: I haven't opened a new account, I haven't used my credit card and when I did, I paid it all back promptly. I've paid majority of my bills back on time. What the fuck!!!!

EDIT: Okay, so apparently, it doesn't suck and that damned website was only trying to freak me out so that I could pay them money just to do my credit score. Spoek to my own credit agency; I'm still doing good. The putamadres!!!

Because Sometimes I Get A Little Claustrophobic....

Okay, so....

Maybe I'm a mean friend. Maybe I just don't give a crap about my friends as much as I claim too, but really...this is ridiculous. I think I'm a nice person. Insanely so, in fact. So why is it that Shari thinks it's PERFECTLY fine to just drop by my house at a random, without sending a smoke signal to let me know that she's coming? She's been doing it for the past week and a half. Alright, I get it, your phone is off and you can't really make any outside calls, but dammit! I am a freaking paranoid person and I REALLY like my own space and I don't like hanging around people all that much because of the fact that it is draining too me. As soon as I'm done hanging with my friends, I go home and I crash. And I mean as soon as.

And I get it, your boyfriend's acting like a bit of an ass, but you've heard my opinion on the situation countless many times to know exactly what I am going to say the minute you come bitching and moaning about the latest thing he's done. He's cheated on you once, if you think he's doing it again, then let the fucker go! Simple as pie, or at least not so simple, but I've definitely turned over a new leaf myself so it's going to become as simple as pie. I know you don't really want to be alone, but some days I do, and it doesn't help that you just pop the fuck over and not even give me even the slightest warning that you may stop by.

Take Saturday for instance. I'm attempting to clean up my house so my little brother can come over and chill with me because I don't get to see him as much as I'd like to and all of a sudden I hear the scrapping of someone's shoes across the concrete of my patio. Okay, let's get one thing out in the open...the picture on my blog that says 'sometimes I worry about zombies' is not so half-assed pic to show how uber-kewl and different I can be or am. No, I really, truely fucking worry about zombies and shit, like no fucking joke! So she's comes walking like this and my mind is automatically in 'OHSHITOHSHITI'VEGOTTOGETTHEFUCKOUTOFDODGE!!!!!' mode, and I whip around scared to death, but it's just her. So instead of chewing her head off, I tell her quite calmly, 'You do know I am going to be getting my little brother, right?'

'I was just coming to see how you were doing,' she replies a little defensively, and then steps into my home as if that were an invitation and settles on my couch as if she owns it. GET THE FUCK OUT!!! I'm about to leave! This isn't fucking visiting hours! SHOO! But she stays and starts asking me questions about like how long am I going to be out? When am I going to be dropping my little brother off? How long is he staying here? What are you going to be doing later? Um...none of your freaking business!

And this is what I was telling her about before, when I said: you're just like those people at AiA, you don't like being alone. She got defensive with me then and told me that she LIKES being alone, that she LIKES her own solitude. And I'm like...NO THE FUCK YOU DON'T. See, me? I LOVE MY OWN SOLITUDE! I can go weeks without human interaction and be fine. You know that old black-and-white twilight zone episode where the guy just goes into the bank vault with his book, the world ends and then he comes back out and is relieved that he finally has some quiet time? Yeah, that's me. I'd be relieved if the world ended and I could get some quiet time. Being a hermit at the end of my life sounds like 'glory', and if I had hundreds of books, all the better.

But back to the whole let's stop by Erica's house unannounced. I don't like that, and the last time she did it--come to think of it was actually, yesterday--I told her: Jeez, call much? And she's like: my phone's off. And I tell her, You can find other ways of contacting me. Pay phone? Someone else's phone? Generally, if you stop by my home unannounced it's for emergencies only, and that's how I'm going to take it: an emergency. I mean, I've spent so much time with her that I've neglected most of my other friends.

Like, she's stayed at my home so many times that none of my other friends have even stayed here for one night, much less than the multiple times she's crashed at my place, and I am a giving person. if you need me I am there, but enough is enough. I need to be around my other peoples. I need to see my other crew. I need to hang out with them and chill with them and ask them: Hey, how the fuck you doin? every once and a while. I've spent more money on her than I have EVER spent on my other friends in the last ten years of knowing them and I have known these four people for ten damn years. I mean, fuck! I need a break!

Look at me. I'm getting tired and drained from writing about her...GAH!!!

James Dobson Is An Idiot...Among Other Things...

Obama comes under fire...again. Only it's a really stupid reason, and it makes me--once again--ashamed to call myself a believer of the Christian faith, and even I'm not so much as a believer as I just take into consideration that some of the things people hold so damned true may not be. But the one thing I can't stand are Bible-thumping Christians who are probably accusing someone of something so ridiculous just for political gain.

Okay, so we got this Evangelist (and first off can I just say: EVANGELIST?!!! EVANGELIST??!!! I hold the evangelical church with as much regard as the Jehovah's Witness...that is...with none at all) named James Dobson (and I just say that he looks like a white supremist bigot anti-christ wannabe...kind of like the pope), apparently he's a leader of some sort (and I NEVER trust leaders of gigantic churches...ever) and he's accusing Obama of "dragging biblical understanding through the gutter" and "[making] a fruitcake interpretation of the Constitution." I mean, LOOK at this guy's picture -------------------->

He scares the freaking hell out of me!! Now that I have that out of the way. He's a fucking dipshit, asshole, conservative, working for the right-wing Republicans to destroy Obama's image for other conservatives so that Obama can't be president because CLEARLY Obama actually has a shot. Huh. Okay, let's get down on what he was talking about in the article from CNN. "[Dragging] biblical understanding into the gutter" is referring to the points that Obama made in his speech in June 2006 to the Christian group called 'Call to Renewal': "In the speech, Obama suggested that it would be impractical to govern based solely on the word of the Bible, noting that some passages suggest slavery is permissible and eating shellfish is disgraceful.
"Which passages of scripture should guide our public policy?" Obama asked in the speech. "Should we go with Leviticus, which suggests slavery is OK and that eating shellfish is an abomination? Or we could go with Deuteronomy, which suggests stoning your child if he strays from the faith? Or should we just stick to the Sermon on the Mount?
"So before we get carried away, let's read our Bible now," Obama said, to cheers. "Folks haven't been reading their Bible."
He also called Jesus' Sermon on the Mount "a passage that is so radical that it's doubtful that our Defense Department would survive its application""(CNN.com).



And so Dobson's response is of course this: "In the comments to be aired Tuesday, Dobson said Obama should not be referencing antiquated dietary codes and passages from the Old Testament that are no longer relevant to the teachings of the New Testament" (CNN.com).



Okay, so, let me get this straight: there are some passages in the Bible we can TOTALLY overlook, but then there are others we HAVE to adhere to? I don't get it. If we can pick and choose what we have to adhere to and what we don't have to adhere to then we really shouldn't be listening or reading the Bible at all. If we go by this reasoning, of course. You're NOT allowed to eat pork or shellfish. Gays are NOT allowed to marry Gays (well, it doesn't ACTUALLY say that, so maybe they should. . .you're really just accused of having sex with the same sex, sleeping in the bed...well...that's ambiguous...and really, who's going to go into everyone's house to make sure? Like a comedian said: why don't all gay couples wanting to get married claim that one or the other is of the opposite sex? It's not like somebody's going to make you drop your pants in the middle of the congragation), but if we go by this Dobson guy's logic and reasoning we can totally disregard THOSE rules altogether because clearly the Old Testament is no longer relevant. WHY HAVE AN OLD TESTAMENT AT ALL? Let's just get rid of it. Nobody likes those old guys with the huge ass fucktard beards anyway.



And now let's move onto the fruitcakeness. FRUITCAKE...??!!! OF THE CONSTITUTION?!!! Omg, I was thinking the guy was going to break out say something insandely racist like ... slavery wasn't legal in the Bible , but it was legal in the States or something (I know that made no sense, but jeez..this guy irks me SOOOO much). Let's do a quote: "Democracy demands that the religiously motivated translate their concerns into universal rather than religion-specific values," Obama said. "It requires their proposals be subject to argument and amenable to reason."
Dobson said the suggestion is an attempt to lead by the "lowest common denominator of morality."
"Am I required in a democracy to conform my efforts in the political arena to his bloody notion of what is right with regard to the lives of tiny babies?" he asked. "What he's trying to say here is, unless everybody agrees, we have no right to fight for what we believe.
"What the senator is saying there, in essence, is that 'I can't seek to pass legislation, for example, that bans partial-birth abortion, because there are people in the culture who don't see that as a moral issue,' " Dobson said. "And if I can't get everyone to agree with me, than it is undemocratic to try to pass legislation that I find offensive to the Scripture. Now, that is a fruitcake interpretation of the Constitution."



Okay, who the FUCK said anything about dead babies? HUH?! Seriously! I mean, personally, I think that these religious nutcases need to leave the abortion issue alone. Seriously. It's a woman's body and nowhere in there did God spake and commandeth the peoples of the earth: 'Thou shalt not commit abortions for this is an unlawful act and if thee so shall commit this act then thine soul is forfeit under heaven blah blah blah..." They classify it as murder. Bullshit. The damn embryo, batch of cells, whatever doesn't even have a BRAIN much less the ability to know that it's fucking DYING. And once again, who said anything about DEAD BABIES?! Honestly, what if Barack were going to pass a new law concerning homosexual marriage in the ENTIRE country and not just in California? What if he were going to do something about immigration or the fucking war?!! Who said anything about DEAD BABIES?! What if he were going to figure out ways about the 'death with dignity'? Apparently, many in the country are up in arms about that.



I think James Dobson is a fruitcake himself, and anyone who takes his words into consideration are fruitcakes too. He's attacking Obama, first off, for a speech he made back in 2006, dredging up, or attempting to dredge up, criticism of the man because he probably doesn't think a nigger can run this country. He's probably in his home right now, cringing because a nigger is representing one of the most powerful political parties in this country, and even though Hilary was a woman at least she was white, and he could probably handle that better. Because really, you got to ask yourself: why the hell didn't he have these same concerns when Obama was running and hadn't had the nomination in the bag? Why didn't he put his two cents in back in 2006, when Obama running for president was barely even a well thought out idea? What did he do, spend all his time, doing his research on both candidates so that which ever one DID when he could bad mouth to the US citizens who are getting their hopes up for someone with SOME kind of decency?



I can't believe this.



Maybe Obama is making these comments because he believes, or is at least trying to get everyone else to believe that he believes, that we NEED a united front. The Euro dollar is making a mockery of the American economics in Europe. The American image in the international community is seen as elitist and comparable to George Orwell's Big Brother government agendas, or at least it's coming close. We bully the other nations to submit to our will and, if they don't, we subjugate them, punish them and incite political upheavals and then it can't be substantiated because America is so damned good at convering its tracks.

About M'Zombies..and yes, they are MY zombies...

On the subject of zombies, right? Because I am a totally weird person and to me discussing zombies in detail and for fictional purposes is the best way to get in my pants (> < ! I'm kidding!...or am I?). Anyway, I was watching Romero's newest zombie concoction called Diary of the Dead, and if you're an avid fan like me, you can suspend your belief in reality enough to really enjoy the movie and the scare factor of it. If you can't...well..you suck, and get off my blog.

Anyway, after watching this movie I once again renewed my research in the zombie-phenom (I do this every few years: get hooked on some natural, unnatural or manmade disaster of epic proportions that can, or will, destroy mankind), and as I'm doing the research I encounter answers to how people plan to survive the zombie outbreak that just make me absolutely livid, and I MEAN livid!!!

I'll explain later as I am much too tired for a lengthy explanation, but you best believe that tomorrow...HELL!

Can I Just Say This One Thing?

Okay, can I just say something and not be called a racist or a reverse-racist or whatever the phrase is nowadays? I just have to ask: why the hell are all the 'reputable' psychics on television always white. Like, I'm watching this show right now where their interviewing and meeting psychic kids who 'claim' they can 'see' and 'feel' things and not a one of these damn kids are Indian or Native American or Asian or anything like that. They are all the typical, middle-class white kid angsting over the same old-same same-old emo subjects. And it's irritating. What about the lower class black child or the middle or upper class black child or the upper, middle or lower class Asian or anyone else? WHY IS IT THAT IT'S ALWAYS WHITE PEOPLE? And, like
I said, I'm not trying to bash, but it's insanely irritating.

I mean, hell! I don't see myself on television and I've seen and heard and done loads of paranormal things. Hell, my mother is particularly gifted herself. Tell her any dream, no matter how weird it is and she can interpret it. She knows things before they happen and even the most intimate details about people before she even shakes their hand. I don't see her on television doing her thing. Why is it that the media always has to overblow white people's accomplishments over the accomplishments of other races?

I was reading this article years ago in Ebony magazine about how these two sisters, barely out of high school, had applied for and had been accepted into one the most competitive and well known colleges in the world; both were 14 and 15 respectively. They were young!!! But instead of their accomplishment being shown world wide or even nationally, they were ignored and some white kid was shown being accepted into college and all that bull, and I was like, but what about these two girls?

HELL, I didn't even know there was a black astrophysicist until a couple of years ago and that blew me away! Why hadn't I ever heard of this guy and his accomplishments? His intelligence rivals that of Stephen Hawkins, but you never see this guy on television except maybe a few times and or a few minutes each on some space documentary.

People of every race need heroes, even if it's of the strange kind and need to stop having to feel some kind of self-hatred because we are bombarded each day of our lives with images, however subtle they may be, of how GREAT and WONDERFUL white people are. Honestly, it's frustrating!

If I Could Just Get A Breather....

You know, I'm really annoyed. Can I just say that? I mean, maybe I'm just blowing something up that really doesn't need to be blown out of propoertion, but this is annoying. You know that bad thing about being a really nice and insanely giving person is? How easy everyone else can just walk all over you forgetting that you have a life and you have responsibilities and that you just can't drop them for whatever reason. There are a lot of things that my friends just can't seem to get. I am not a walking BANK. I am not a TAXI SERVICE. I am IRRITATED.

Okay, so the reason behind this rant: Ashley wants to come into town to see her friend Necie and celebrate Necie's birthday. My response: an emphatic "NO!" Not because I am attempting to be mean or cruel because at any other time, I would do it without question.

It just bugs me that she asks me on Thursday, not considering that when I usually bring her home I plan for it, first off. That when she comes, it's an imposition because I AM NOT and extrovert unless need be and I don't like sharing my space (not because I'm spoilt) but because shit gets dirty and misplaced and touched and I HATE it because it's like itchy bugs all over my skin, and then she complains about not being able to do things, asks me to spend MY MONEY on unnecessary food stuffs when I have food that I have bought specifically so I won't spend my cash except on bills and what not, wants me to take her around the city for fun, and when she does eat my food, I have to go out a buy more food because I'm paranoid and scared of my refridge being empty (okay, so I'm OCD about alot of things, but it's a valid mental disorder....I just like an order to my universe...I mean, I'm partially freaking out now because of the fact that I don't have enough money now to go get groceries because I have to pay the last of my bills).

Anyway, she doesn't understand that it takes MONEY to have her here, and since its Necie's birthday it's going to take MORE money because of the fact that I have to drive to Macon, Ga. THen I have to drive back to Atlanta, Ga. Then I have to drive her and Necie around if they want to go somewhere. Then I have to drive Necie back to her home and then back to mine because of course Ashley is going to stay with me because she can't stand being around her family. THEN when the time comes, I have to drive Ashley back to Macon, Ga and then drive back to Atlanta, Ga. Factor in food costs and whatever other monies I'll be spending on (because I ALWAYS do), that's a shitload of money that I don't have. Therefore, I cannot make the trip.

So then she texts me today to ask me: 'My mom wants to know how much money you need for gas?' I'd say a good two hundred bucks because I have an SUV-type car and while its 6 cylinder engine is good on gas, it still eats up my money to fill it up. About 30 - 40 bucks, and that's only if it's a quarter tank full. If I make a trip to Macon, the tank is about half to a third empty. That's still money. PLUS no one considers the wear and tear that will have on my vehicle. I left my father's house on bad terms because I couldn't stand living there anymore. They don't seem to get that if that car breaks down, I will NOT have the money to get it fixed.

I want my car to run as long as possible, and if that means that Ashley has to miss out on Necie's birthday then tough. I always think about other people; I need to think about me. Besides, if Necie wants her here so bad then she NEEDS to figure out a way to get her up here herself.

The rest is still unwritten...

I Know That It's Over......

Okay, so I'm watching some episodes of Roswell. You know, that teen-angsty show a couple of years back about alien teens and the confucked lives they lived with the humans that they dragged into their adventure, and I was thinking...even though Max Evans, one of the alien teens, had that whole dark, mysterious stalker vibe going, he's the type of guy...hate to say it....that I could probably go for. Or maybe Michael Guerin (another alien teen). It's just something about that whole bad ass, pushing you away, but loving so deep it hurts kind of guy that just makes me melt.

Anyway, this whole watching of the Roswell episodes, of course, follows on the heels of my cousin's wedding (wonderful affair by the way; both bride and groom looked absolutely fabulous in their garments and raiments <3!), and it all just gets me to thinking about that whole true love spiel and how I'll probably never find one. I mean, my cousin and my new cousin-in-law knew each other since they were nine-years-old and James (my cousin-in-law) knew from the moment that he saw my cousin Marcia walking down the street kicking her legs on her way home that he was going to marry her one day.

I love the fact that through the years they've remained together, beit through relationships or as friends, and that they have two beautiful baby girls, but dammit! Not to rain on their parade: WTF?!!!! Where's my happy ending? Where's my true love? I've always wanted one, I've always dreamed of having one and I....just don't have one at all. Maybe it's because I'm scared or stupid or I'm looking too hard, but this is just...GTSHTBSHYNSATGSHYSJDHBTGFAHNHSGXAS!!!! There are no words to describe it.

And then I asked my Dad why is it that I seem to be attracting fucktard Arieses all the time and he said where's your Venus? And I said Venus is in Scorpio in my Third House (Astrology tech talk, if you didn't guess). And he tells me: well, you've got a lot of planets in Scorpio, and especially your Venus. There you go.

WHAT?!!!! How the hell is that supposed to help me? It just tells me I'm too damn intense with how I love, and that I probably won't be suited for relatonships that are just geared towards light-heartedness and fun. I want too much of a deep connection, an all-or-nothing union. That's....rather depressing really.

To quote, Maria DeLuka: 'You're hopeless.'

Open Season...the gaity does not cease...

Once there was a magical elf 

Who lived in a rainbow tree   

He lived downstairs 

From a flatulent dwarf   

Who was constantly having to pee   

One day the elf could take no more   

So he went and banged 

On the rude dwarf's door   

And what do you know 

They suddenly both were married  

Because I Don't Think It Needs A Title

It's just not something I can do on good conscience, and usually I know people would probably say look out for yourself and your own interests and screw what someone or anyone else thinks, but I know it's too late already AND I just couldn't deprive or take someone else's happiness away from them. Not again because...I did it once and the universe taught me a very harsh (in my opinion) lesson of what happen when you do bad things. They come back to bite you insanely harshly on the ass. I'm not getting hurt again. I refuse.

So, I'll remain unhappy. Again. Because this world hates me so damn much.

Because I Heard It On 'Open Season'...

If you go out in the woods today

You're sure of a big surprise.

If you go out in the woods today

You'd better go in disguise.

For every bear that ever there was

Will gather there for a certain, because

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

Picnic time for teddy bears,

The little teddy bears are having a lovely time today.

Watch them , catch them unawares,

And see them picnic on their holiday.

See them gaily gather 'bout.

They love to play and shout.

They never have any cares.

At six o'clock their mommies and daddies

Will take them home to bed

Because they're tired little bears.

If you go out in the woods today.

You'd better not go alone.

It's lovely out in the woods today,

But safer to stay at home.

For every bear that ever there was

Will gather there for certain, because

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

Every teddy bear, that's been good

Is sure of a treat today

There's lots of wonderful things to eat

And wonderful games to play

Beneath the tree, where nobody sees

They'll hide and seek as long as they please

Today's the day the teddy bears have their picnic.

John W. Bratton and James B. Kennedy

music by Bing Crosby

Keep Telling Yourself That....

If that helps you sleep at night, keep lying to yourself.

Believe what you want.

Believe it all and keep lying to yourself about everything you believe in.

Make excuses and never do...anything...that will ever matter.

So, if that helps you sleep at night, keep telling yourself that what you did was the right thing. The good thing, instead of the thing that would've made you happy. Even for a little while.

Maury Sets Us Back Four Hundred Years..

Watching Maury, I'm starting to get why African-Americans, or Black-Americans of African descent, as a whole seem to suffer from a negative stereotyping and stigma in the media and on the international scale. And we do it to ourselves. We allow ourselves to present to the world an uneducated, loud, obnoxious and rude picture of ourselves, instead of showing people that we ARE in fact intelligent. And the virus seems to be spreading. And, yes, I called it a virus because I speak, talk, write and act professional however a LOT of my people don't seem to want to. I don't wear clothes that clearly mark me as some video-vixen-wanna-be nor do I keep up with the latest fads that sweep through my people every time one of their favorite rappers or singers deem it the 'hot, new thing'.

MAny times as a child I've been of accused of acting white, talking white, and essentially just not being Black at all. I'm light-skinned to a degree and while I've never had too much negativity surrounding that fact, I have been told by my own family members that the older generations would like me more because of the fact that I am lighter than my own mother. My father has been accused of being half-white (and while that's not too much of a stretch from the truth--my father is of mixed descent--it still irks me to no end).

I see how the media portrays us, and it irritates me that there is no other stereotype to balance that out. With white people, you've got two stereotypes: the red neck, uneducated, racist hick and then you've got the beautiful, model, stock broker, businessman. You see either one portrayed on the media. Black people: you usually only get the obnoxious negro.

Now, that's not to say that there aren't positive role models for blacks, but then they come under fire for not being black enough. And it's a never ending, vicious cycle.

From Here To Eternity - Imhotep/Nefertiri - PG-13

Title: From Here To Eternity

Author: Dragonfly Queen

Disclaimer: If I owned The Mummy or The Mummy Returns, Imhotep would not have shown up in the movie at all. He'd have been at my house. Giving me a private...um...magic lesson?

Rating: PG-13

Characters: Nefertiri, Imhotep, Seti and others will pop up along the way

Warnings: I've probably done a grave disservice to Anuck-Su-Namun...if so, please forgive my muse...she can be a right bastard sometimes

Summary: In the last moments of life, Imhotep casts a spell...and Evie remembers...

Author's Note: This is just a little something that I wrote years ago after I'd watched the Mummy and the Mummy Returns, and fell-in-love with Imho- erhm...Nefertiri/Imhotep in a relationship. And well, I couldn't pass it up. I had never gotten around to finishing the story, but after looking it over I decided to start on it again.

I.

The rocks were crashing around them as the ancient, golden pyramid of Ahm Shere was, for lack of a better word, dying, and drawing all the magic of Anubis back in to hell where it belonged.
Evie was satisfied with two thoughts: her husband and son were safe. Then the happiness of the thoughts were crushed as she realized, if they didn't get out of this doomed place before long, then they'd all die. She pulled her husband, Rick, from the reaches of the hellish demons and they fell onto a wall, Rick's strong arms wrapped around her. She met Imohtep's eyes for the briefest second in remorse for his love's betrayal. A brief second that she would never forget for the rest of her life.

Evie suddenly felt Imhotep's intrusion upon her mind as his thoughts and her thoughts became one. She nearly bit her lip. Were seconds really passing? Was this all happening as the world ended around them? His thoughts suddenly came to her, with the hungry, gentle flavor of his entire being, his whole personality forced into that one dying projection, "Nefertiri, my Pharoah's daughter."

”That's not fair, Ankhnut!" she cried using a name she hadn't called him in nearly three thousand years. His mouth twitched, but his mind's voice shouted with anger,"And this is!"

"You chose her, not me!" she informed him dispassionately. There was a slight smirk on his face.

"Yes, I chose her, but it was you who I was promised to," he told her gently." I knew you those years ago when you brought me back from Hamunaptra. Even when my mind was bent, I knew you."

"You called me Ancksunamun," she informed him ruefully."Get out of my head and go."

"Are you forgetting, you are mine, Nefertiri?" he asked her gently.

"No, you can't," she apprised him, almost as a slight plea. She knew what he was saying, knew that he was right. The memories of her past self confirmed it, but she would not admit it. "I'm married now, and I have son."

"In this life only," he informed her, with a touch of emotion to his voice. "But you will remember a time, when we were children and the Nile waters brushed our feet. When I was a boy striving to be a priest and you were Pharoah's black-eyed daughter, who could see the stars, and Ancksunamun was just a child among us. Remember, Pharoah's Daughter. Remember, Nefertiri, of that time, our time...”

Evie listened to his voice as it carried her back to an ancient time, back to when the sands had reigned the desert, when things had been simplier and yet, harder. When she was a princess and Daughter to the Pharoah of all Egypt, and the world was ruled by myth. Where she was just a girl and Imhotep, just a boy...

II.

Place: Thebes, outlying towns of Ancient Egypt's capital
Time: Reign of Pharaoh, King Seti III

"You will be the pupil of a priest and greatest in Pharaoh’s entire kingdom," these words, uttered by Ankhnut's father, heralded his son's future. When Sebeket, a mere carpenter and farmer, had heard that his son had great potential and the spirit of Anubis inside of him, he rejoiced until he felt that the very desert winds and rushing waters of the Nile sang with his voice's echo. His son was blessed among the gods, he held the very spirit of Anubis inside of him, and if his potential was as great as the magistrate's soothsayer had thought, then he could even take the place of Pharaoh’s own priest, Anukaten. Ankhnut thought his father's dreams were well enough, but he had his own dreams for this power, his own ambitions.

Ankhnut stood in front of the small pond just outside of his father's farmland, the stalks of father's harvest hiding him from the intrusion of others. He stared down at the reflection of himself, the self he was to present to the Pharaoh in two days. He was a tall boy, almost as tall as his father, with skin the color of the sands and features that mirrored neither his mother nor his father.

He was a striking youth, with deep-set eyes and strong nose and mouth and a soft jaw. His eyes held the look of conquest, had always held the look of conquest. He was broad shouldered from his work on the farm, but had seemed to retain a soft bodied appearance. His father had told him that he would never have the hard-toned body of his brother, Ammit, of which Ankhnut was glad for. Ammit never seemed to think for himself, and if becoming like Ammit meant loosing his mind, then he'd just forget it. Ankhnut took a handful of dirt and threw it into the pond. A gentle breeze blew by, stirring the waters, and Ankhnut watched as small, flowing currents formed and began to take shape. He watched in fascination as the picture became more distinct. It was the head and hair of a woman, he was sure, but couldn't quite make out her features. And just before he could get a clear view of what she looked like, the picture vanished with the splashing of his brother's feet in the water.

Ankhnut looked up in anger at Ammit as the ox of a man, splashed over to him and grinned.

"What is it that you want, Ammit?" Ankhnut asked using the cool tone he knew unnerved his brother. This time Ammit didn't show it, he just grinned wider.

"Seems you're not so blessed after all," his brother replied cryptically. Ankhnut frowned and asked," What do you mean? Ammit? What are you saying?"

"The soothsayer has many dark things to say about your future," he replied. Ankhnut’s frown got deeper as he ran around the lake, through the fields and toward the home of his father. Just outside of the house stood the magistrate's guards and his mounts, waiting in silence. Ankhnut went into the house and toward the back room, where his father normally waited on guests, where he heard the voices coming from.

There was a loud and forceful one, his father's. An old voice, the magistrate's, and one that was as soft as the desert winds, that had to be the soothsayer he was sure. He went into the room, his mother at a far corner watching, regarding all with a ferocious, defiant glare. Ankhnut knew she was very protective of her children, and the room had her distinct and rebellious flavor to it. He saw the soothsayer, a man clothed in the traditional garments of a seer. Ankhnut studied him before speaking up. He was a small, shriveled man, weather beaten and old. The years had not been kind to him. Ankhnut could see the ravages of a long past disease all over him in the form of scars. He grinned. This man was weak compared to him. Weak. The soothsayer suddenly turned to him and the fear that was inside of him racked him with a fit of shivers and a convulsion of coughs. Ankhnut bore down on him with his power until a voice, surprisingly, exploded in his mind and cried, “My lord! Please release me!"

But Ankhnut would not.

He almost laughed from this new found power. Instead he replied, “What have you told my father? What have you said of me?"

"That you are a child of darkness," the man cried inside of his head and outside, so that all could hear." Anubis has covered you in his evil and that is what you are destined for!"

"I am destined for greatness!" Ankhnut shouted with conviction. “Even you have preached thus, soothsayer!"

"Yes," the old man lamented. “Yes! You will have your greatness. But at the cost of all of Egypt!"

Ankhnut glared at him in puzzlement, bored with his cryptic messages. Was he destined for greatness or not? And if he understood the man's message correctly, would he destroy all of Egypt to get it? No. He would never go down as Egypt's shame. This man was wrong, gods curse him. He was wrong. Ankhnut fled the house and ran out into the dying light of the sun, as Ra set over the horizon. He watched the sky turn strange colors, and stayed outside even as Nut covered Egypt in her starlit blackness. He would not be the destroyer of Egypt. Ankhnut shuddered at the thought. Such a thing was blasphemous, unheard of. He could not possibly possess that much power to annihilate an entire empire. Ankhnut looked at his hands in the dark. Not these hands. Not the hands of a child. No. He could not destroy Egypt.

The land was his home.

His only home.

Ankhnut looked up at the pinpoints in the darkness of the sky, believing that they were just balls of star fire. His life was not preached in the sky. He stood up suddenly and shouted, “I AM ANKHNUT! DO YOU HEAR ME? CAN YOU UNDERSTAND? I AM DESTINED FOR GREATNESS! I AM POWERFUL AMONG MY PEOPLE! I AM ANKHNUT, DAMN YOU!"

There was a faint shuffling behind him as Ankhnut turned and saw the solemn face of his father, Sebeket. He stared at the old man's open arms strangely before running into them and being drawn into a warm embrace. It was the first time his father had shown him love or affection. He was normally cool and collected, feelings were shown to his wife and only in the night, when children and daylight was gone. Ankhnut burrowed into his father's chest, enjoying the warmth.

Sebeket spoke softly," You are my son, Ankhnut. My second child. I knew you were destined for something better than this-"he waved his hand about to encompass the entire farmland-"and I have waited for so long to see you meet that destiny and become part of it."

"So, then I shall become a priest?" Ankhnut asked quietly. His look was hopeful. Sebeket gave a weak laugh.

"Only the journey is written, Ani," he informed him wisely. “Not the destination. When we go to see the Pharaoh’s priest, you must outshine the other boys. You must prove your right to be there and make known your skills. Life outside is harder. You will have no family to lean on, just your wits. Which, thank Ra, you have. I send you out, Ankhnut, not only as my son, but as the Priest of all Egypt."

Ankhnut grinned as he and his father walked into the house, together, the silence about them comfortable and serene.

III.

Ankhnut woke to the sound of sandals clicking gently on the mortar floor of his bedroom. He woke and turned over on his side, seeing a hulking shape block out the light of the moon through his window.

"Who-" he was abruptly cut off by a smack across his jaw. Ankhnut nearly gave a cry of pain, but was silenced by another blow to his temple and being thrown roughly to the floor, the wind knocked out of him. He was gasping for air when he was roughly hoisted into the air, and out of the darkness came the face of his brother, grotesquely twisted in anger and hate. Ankhnut, by some strange perception, knew his brother was jealous of his younger sibling's sudden fame and that Ankhnut was in for the worst beating of his life. When his brother's hard, but uncoordinated, punches rained down on him, it was all he could do, but cover himself up and hope nothing would be broken when Ammit was done.

"You are a menace to Egypt," Ammit whispered fiercely. “A menace that cannot be allowed to live. Gods damn you! Osiris take your soul to the Underworld and may you rot in hell's darkest reaches."

"You may harm this body!" Ankhnut cried in pain," but you can never harm this soul!"

There were shouts coming from all over the house at Ankhnut's sudden cry. Servants rushing here and there to make sure others were fine, and Sebeket's angry voice coming down the halls toward his room. It was all the distraction Ankhnut needed. With the spirit of the god, Anubis, inside of him, he used the power to throw his brother away from him and send him crashing violently into the opposite wall. Tortures that he could not fathom rang true in his mind as his father stumbled in and voiced a hoarse shout of astonishment.

"Ankhnut!" he yelled running to his youngest son and taking the boy firmly by the shoulders. Torchlight flooded into the room. "Release him! By Amun-Ra and the god, Horus, release your brother!"

Ankhnut complied and let Ammit fall to the floor, a mewling, crying heap. His mother ran to her eldest son, yelling," You are not a son of mine! You are a demon, Ankhnut. A child of hell!"

He met his mother's fearful eyes and nearly winced. His own mother...betraying him. She more than anyone knew that he possessed the power of Anubis inside of him, the very powers of Osiris were within his grasp. His own mother rebuked him, when he could make her the wealthiest woman in all of Thebes. Her wealth could rival that of Pharaoh. He bit his lip and turned to his father. Sebeket was staring blankly at the wall where Ammit had been. He gave a slight sigh and looked down at Ankhnut's anxious face. Then he turned on Ammit.

"What did you think you were doing, you son of an ass!" he shouted angrily." If your brother is damaged in anyway, you will get beaten for this."

"I was doing Egypt a favor," Ammit replied quietly.

"By killing your family's pride!" Sebeket exploded. "You will be thrashed for this! Murder you wish to commit! Murder!"

"You will lay no hands on him," his mother replied angrily.

"Quiet, woman," he retorted. He turned back to Ammit. "Your brother is my pride. He will be priest to the Pharaoh of all of Egypt. Go. I wish to see your face no more."

The servants, Ammit and Ankhnut's mother left, returning to their bedrooms. The torchlight faded with the exception of Sebeket's. He stood beside his son in the darkness, their cave of warm torchlight creating a hole in the shadow. The silence about them was interrupted by Sebeket's sigh.

He seemed to do that a lot nowadays.

"Good night, Priest," his father said distractedly. “We’ll fix you up tomorrow."

The older man left Ankhnut in the darkness frowning. The boy limped back to bed and slept a very fitful, dream-filled sleep.

A day later, with very little incident between (Ankhnut, thank Osiris and Anubis, had been left unharmed), they arrived at the shining palace of King Seti III as Ra's bright rays descended upon the sands of Egypt, and set the city a fire. The statues of the various gods, gleamed as if in battle-studded armor, their animalistic faces bared in such intense ferocity that Ankhnut wanted to shy away from their greatness. Towers rose up around the market place, laid out at the palace's feet, and domes the color of Ra's holy sun, his vehicle to travel across the skies, sparkled with bright, blinding gleam. The first of bazaar shopkeepers and peddlers emerged, calling out their goods for the day. Ankhnut looked over the side of his father's cart as it rumbled across the cobbled stones. He watched as governesses strolled in with their many servants, picking out the fresh fruits before the desert heat settled over all of Egypt, driving everyone inside.

His stomach shifted queasily, but he smoldered the feelings of nervousness and anxiety.

Those were uncharacteristic of a priest, much less one in the spirit of Anubis. He looked past the faces of his family members, Ammit fuming at being forced to come and his mother scared that he might use his power in the center of all the people assembling for goods and for the acceptance of boys in training for priesthood, and instead towards the direction of the Nile. It was said that if you went to the highest point of the Pharaoh’s palace you could see where the Nile fed into an even larger body of water. He hoped he could see that one day. Maybe when he became Egypt's High Priest he could go there as much as he wanted. Ankhnut settled back into the cart and watched as dawn light covered the sky in a brilliant display of colors. He grinned. A beautiful dawn, heralded a beautiful day.

IV.

The selecting began at midday, when the desert's heat poured over Egypt. When people were few in the bazaars except for the hundreds or so servants that ran errands for their masters or walked the dogs and put food out for the cats, there was a endlessly long line of whole families, fathers and mothers and sons, sisters and brothers, all coming to show off the male children, all supposedly born with the spirit of Anubis inside of them. There were noblemen, even slaves, assembled and waiting for their turn. Ankhnut watched in fascination as some families and their male children were carried off and beaten by the Pharaoh’s Med-jai and the Temple guards. To his assumption, for falsehood. His assumptions were correct when even a nobleman was made fool of in front of everyone. The people laughed as he rode swiftly away with his crying boy. Ankhnut grinned. Today, all were being treated equally and given a fair chance.

He laid down in the cart. He felt as the cart moved forward, every so often, but that was all. The heat of Ra became even more oppressive as the afternoon wore on. Kesmet, his father mule, bawled loudly in protest, and Ankhnut felt himself getting sleepier and sleepier as boredom set in.

"You will be gone from us, demon-child," he heard Ammit say. "And then the High-Priest will rightly see to your evil."

Ankhnut fixed his brother with a cold, condemning eye that told him if he didn't keep quiet, there was more at stake for him, then his younger brother getting angry. That shut Ammit up. Ankhnut went back to his drowsiness, floating in and out of sleep and wakefulness. He dreamed he was floating in a lake of spilled blood. It covered him and turned him red all over. It was gurgling and swirling, churning and rising to cover his head. He snapped awake quickly and sat up.

It was the end of the afternoon and the start of evening. He heard some relieved sighs around him as palace servants lined the walkway of the people with brightly lit torch-lamps. They blazed warmly as the chill air began to set in. Finally, it was their turn. Pharaoh Seti III sat high upon his throne, a proud and imposing figure, with features only a regal member of the gods mortal bloodline should have. He looked, if he stood, to be a tall man, taller than most in Egypt. And why not? He was after all, the morning and the evening star, with his dark, course beard cut into the traditionality of the Pharaohs and the crown of the Upper and Lower Nile resting atop his head. The Pharaoh’s High Priest, Anukaten, was another matter. He was nothing like his king, who held the very air around him captive with his superiority, the High Priest was a gnarled man, with gaunt eyes and hollowed features. He looked pathetic and frail. Ankhnut studied his eyes. His appearance was only an illusion, though. Behind the grizzly look, was a man of quick intelligence and judgment. No the gods had not been kind to him in body, but great Thoth!

They'd been kind to him in mind and spirit!

Ankhnut and his father stepped forward, anxiety coming back to the boy with a vengeance. He refused to bite his lip or shudder. He stood before both powerful men, who could end his life in a blink of an eye, and showed no fear.

"Your name?” asked the scribe with practiced patience, but Ankhnut could see-no, feel-the man's annoyance and boredom. Sebeket told them all the things required, then waited a few feet away as Ankhnut was brought before the Pharaoh and High Priest.

"Arrogant," the Pharaoh said dismissively. He was about to wave his hand to send the boy away. Ankhnut's heart sank. How was he to be a priest now? At the fleck of a wrist the Pharaoh had decided his fate. He had the right to be arrogant, if that was the way the Pharaoh wanted it. He'd had the spirit of Anubis inside of him since he was born and had worked the wonders of Osiris's magick since he learned to walk and breath. He wanted to scream, to protest, to-

"Wait! O' great and wise Pharaoh, ruler over all of Egypt, blessed among mortals and great Morning and Evening Star. Please. Wait," Anukaten said suddenly.

The Pharaoh paused and waited in annoyance. Anukaten beckoned Ankhnut forward. He looked over the boy's body quizzically. He lifted the boy's wrists in his frail hands, moving them from side to side, and up and down. He bent low and checked Ankhnut's legs and ankles. Grunting, he stood upright. Ankhnut grinded his molars into one another. This inspection was pointless. He was perfectly healthy. What was this man after? A mark of disease of some sort?

"Weak ankles and wrists," he speculated loudly. Then, suddenly, his hands moved with a speed Ankhnut never knew a man could possess, pushing the boy. His feet stayed planted firmly in the ground as if he were a tree that grew there, never loosing his balance. Anukaten grinned, a grotesque twisting of lips unaccustomed to such a feat. He nodded and turned to the Pharaoh.

Seti nodded and said," Take the boy to the rooms with the others."

Ankhnut turned to his family and to his father. Sebeket looked solemn, but his eyes betrayed him. He said, “Go on, Ankhnut. Go and live your destiny."

The boy nodded, took one last, long look at his father, noting the tired features, the laugh lines around his face and eyes, and the fire of hopes and dreams full-filled in them. How was it possible that he relived the events of his short life in those few seconds? His subsequent birth and acceptance into the world, all wrapped up in a precious few moments, trapped in a suspended time. And the only thing that stood out the most were those eyes. The eyes of a man who had seen much sorrow and waited so very long to see all his dreams come true. Was his second son his dream? Was Ankhnut his hope?

'I will be your hope, Father. I will not give up,'' Ankhnut thought to himself. Then turned and was led a way by the Pharaoh’s Med-jai.

V.

Princess Nefertiri watched, curiously, from her bedroom window, as boys of all ages and walks of life assembled in the courtyard below. The silence about them was uncanny, as Anukaten matched through their ranks and inspected them. She never really liked the old Priest, nor the looks he gave her when she passed him in the halls as she spoke with Chefren on the ways of the 'old arts.'

"Merenre," she asked the High Priestess of the Temple of Isis in Memphis, and her lady-in-waiting, “What is the point of all those boys? Why does Anukaten need so many?"

She turned to the older woman as Merenre cleaned the room of her princess. The High Priestess was a plump woman and plain, almost as if some farm woman were plucked from their position and placed into that befitting a governess. But behind that disarming, grandmotherly expression at times, was the quick decisive intelligence attributed to all women of her esteem and power. She was cunning as a jackal and as bittersweet as a mandrake root. The Queen, Aalu-Ptahm II, was at her deathbed when she requested that her childhood keeper, the High Priestess, immediately come from Memphis and oversee her daughter's upbringing.

She was all Nefertiri knew as a mother-figure, her father was too busy being Pharaoh over Egypt to worry about trivial things, such as what his daughter would eat and when she would perform the duties bestowed her as princess.

"You ask too many questions, Lotus-Blossom," Merenre replied idly, her work finally done. She went to stand beside Nefertiri, as the young girl looked out and studied the groups of boys once more. They were all the same.

The farm boys were stocky and rugged, hands already rough with work. The nobility, an elegant bunch, with upturned noses and prim features, those of whom she was sure her father would have her dine with once and awhile to see who her suitor could be. There was no one that caught her eye in particular, until she looked down the third row, and at the very last boy. He was tall, perhaps a bit taller than her. He was broad about the shoulders, and yet soft. He seemed like a boy who carried the weight of the whole world upon him and yet cared little for it. His arrogance seemed to seep through his skin, and the loin cloth he was required to wear seemed unbefitting of him. It was black and silver, and sewn along its sash were the symbols of Osiris and Anubis, and the other gods of embalming, death and mummification.

As if voicing her princess's thoughts, Merenre said, “Look at that one. He seems made for the priesthood, don't you think?"

"Perhaps," she replied warily. She felt the High Priestess's eyes drilling holes in her back. She should be used to Merenre's scrutiny by now. But, more-often-than-not she found it more annoying than anything. Kamilla told her that she was getting to that age where boys would start to matter, and that Merenre was just being over- protective. Nefertiri grinded her teeth into each other and refused to fidget. As if sensing her anxiety, the old Priest looked up towards her window. He fixed her with his cold look, but his eyes-always those damn eyes! He wanted something from her, something she just could not place with the immaturity of her years, but something she knew she'd dread. He turned away as Merenre returned to the window.

Perhaps, it was plain caution, that Anukaten stayed away from her when Merenre was about, wouldn't dare look at the princess. Or, perhaps, it was because the female Priestesshoods of Egyptian society were so secret that men feared the unknown, and that even the old Priest feared it as well. She wasn't sure. Merenre kept her silence, though. She knew of the looks Anukaten gave her lady. Whether for sheer protectiveness or that Seti trusted his Priest, but would have him beaten and burned for staring at Nefertiri the way he did, Merenre kept her silence.

"Come, Star-gazer," Merenre said suddenly, breaking into Nefertiri's thoughts. "Come, you keep Chefren and Anck-su-namun waiting with your dawdling."

The older woman hurried the princess out of her bedroom door and out towards the training grounds where, Chefren, her teacher taught her the old arts. Anck-su-namun was another girl who lived within the palace walls and was often called the Promised One by the other priestesses that accompanied Merenre in her duties over the princess. Nefertiri did not yet understand the terms of marriage, nor knew that someone could belong to some one else, even at such a young age; save her mother, Aalu Ptahm II had mutually belonged to her father, and him to her, in love and spirit.

Nefertiri brushed the thoughts away as she, Merenre, and joined by the other Priestesses moved down an open hallway, near to where the boys stood in ranks. They all fell to their knees as she passed, and she turned to look at them. Their heads were shaven bald, as required by the Priesthood. It was almost a funny sight. A dozen-dozen shaven heads all aglow in the warm torchlight of the palace, but she kept her countenance, until she was captured by two of the most incredible droplets of liquid water.

They were the strange boy's eyes, the one she'd been thinking of earlier. Her mouth opened slightly as she watched him follow her moving procession. She felt drawn into those eyes, as if cast into a night on top of a night on top of a night. She wanted to get lost in that darkness. Realizing in some way, that this boy indeed carried the weight of the world upon his shoulders. Suddenly a wave of defiance rose in her stomach, but not for herself. She felt it for him, it was her own defiance for him that made he believe his burden should not be so heavy. After all, he was no Pharaoh, no noble.

She wanted to reach out and say to him," Dear One, I will protect you. Don't worry."

And then, suddenly, the dizzying blackness was gone. Gone too soon.

Nefertiri was a bit disappointed. She let it show on her face, the other Priestesses, younger, some around her age, but infinitely older by their knowledge, giggled openly at her face. She masked it immediately when she got to the training grounds. There practiced Anck-su-namun. She was beating the sand out of a manikin warrior Chefren made to teach them attacks and defenses against enemies. Nefertiri had never liked Anck-su-namun, and it was not about the girl being a better fighter than she. It was something deeper, something she could not place.

Anck-su-namun bowed low, which Nefertiri refrained from kicking the girl on her face. Partly because she knew that would only start a fight and she would lose, and also because it was unseemly for a princess.

"Nefertiri," said the other girl.

"Anck-su-namun," Nefertiri replied warily.

It was definitely something deeper than dislike. But she could not explore her feelings any deeper, for at that moment, Chefren stalked out of his hiding place and had under the crooks of his arms, two golden masks. One was long and narrowed, with almond shaped slits at the eye sockets. The other was a bit smaller and not so narrow, the eye sockets a bit wider and larger. That was the one Chefren gave her, and to Anck-su-namun, the narrow one. Nefertiri gave a slight groan, which was met by Chefren's sharp look. Today was a sparring day. She'd totally forgotten, and last night she'd meant to practice some of the steps her teacher had taught her a few days ago. Instead, she'd stayed up listening to Kamilla, one of the Priestesses, tell her about the lives of heroes in Nubia.

Nefertiri watched as Chefren, a tall, burlish man with thick, muscled features and a hard, defiant, no-nonsense air about him, gave Anck-su-namun some pointers on defense. That was what the girl was lacking in, and where Nefertiri excelled. Chefren always gave pointers, always pointed out weaknesses and strong points, so that both opponents could be even. He came to her and informed her of Anck-su-namun's weaknesses, and advice on her attacking. But she was only half-listening, instead her eyes were focused on the darkly hooded eyes of her opponent. Anck-su-namun gave her a coy, secretive smile that made the princess wonder exactly what Chefren had told her. Nefertiri went over the list of her weaknesses, but could find none that were too harmless or dangerous. She looked over toward Merenre and the other priestesses. There was a look of sheer dislike in the older woman's eyes as she looked upon Anck-su-namun. Nefertiri was given an ounce of satisfaction at what she and her lady-in-waiting shared in common, as she caught onto the last of Chefren's conversation,"...Anukaten and the boys will be along. He wants them to get a generality of the palace's layout. I've invited them to see the match."

"What!" Nefertiri exploded in surprise. "They'll...b-be...WATCHING!"

"Yes," Chefren replied warily. He turned away from her as the princess fumed. Out of sheer curiosity, Nefertiri looked over to the group of priestesses. Merenre was silent, of course. Only when Chefren was around would she keep her two cents out of everything. Merenre had a thing for Chefren and perhaps, vise versa, or at least that was what the other priestesses said. At that moment, Merenre was placid and still, no protest escaping her throat.

"Are you ready, princess?” came Ank-su-namun's voice, breaking into Nefertiri's thoughts. The princess turned to the other girl and noticed that she had put on her training wear-a simple two-piece: a loin cloth and a loose buxom covering.

Nefertiri went to change. When she came back, wearing the same suit as Anck-su-namun, the boys and Anukaten were just arriving. She and Anck-su-namun both bowed deeply to the old Priest, exchanging looks. She may not have liked her, but Nefertiri and Anck-su-namun agreed on their dislike of Anukaten. The princess was not the only one who received the old Priest's unwelcome attention.

The boys assembled around the training ground, lounging on the palace pillars and columns, watching. Nefertiri tried to ignore them, but the fact that she was wearing next to nothing at all made her nervous. That, coupled with the fact that she was receiving a few more of those dreadful looks from Anukaten. They were hungry looks, as if he were a starved jackal. The princess shuddered on the inside. She checked the weapons Chefren had supplied: two kursari-gamas.

It was a strange looking thing: a long, strong chain and at the end of it, a triton-like blade. She touched the tip of the light weight and, yet, deadly weapon, hearing the distinct, slick metallic ring. She looked up as a gentle desert wind stirred her dark, black locks of hair, and met the dark eyes of the strange boy. He stood directly in front of her, his arms crossed and proud. His eyes swept over her appraisingly. Nefertiri blushed and bowed her head. She risked a glance and saw that he was still staring.

'Oh, this is ridiculous,' she thought indignantly in her head.

She grinned mischievously and stalked right up to the boy. He was taken aback. She liked that.
"You! What's your name?" she asked in her best princess voice. The boys around him shifted uncomfortably.

"I am a priest, and I have no name, but that of Anubis's and Osiris's servant," he replied, regaining his composure.

She turned to one end of the training grounds and pointed. "You will stand over there. If my weapon drops you will retrieve it for me and give it back. Understood?"
"I am a servant of Anubis," he replied quietly.

"You have not reached the status of priest, boy," she spat indignantly. Was he trying to unnerve her? He fixed her with a blank stare. "Until you do, you are the servant of the morning and the evening star, the Pharaoh, and in turn serve me." She pronounced the next words slowly." Now, do as I say."

"Yes, Daughter of the morning and the evening star," he replied passively.

Nefertiri grinned and walked back onto the fighting area as Anck-su-namun stretched. She followed the girl's example and did likewise. Now, if only she could look that good getting beaten up by Anck-su-namun.

VI.

Ankhnut watched curiously as the Princess stretched on the training ground, wondering exactly what they were preparing for. The entire old Priest told them was that they'd be walking about the palace and would get to see the Princess. He continued to watch as the two girls stood and gathered their weapons, a strange blade on a chain. He sighed and cocked his head to the side. Why would the Princess pick him out of all the boys standing there? Was it that she wanted to make fun of him? Ankhnut pushed that thought aside. No. She didn't want to make fun of him, he could almost feel that. But, then, what was her agenda?

The girls' teacher, a burly, thick-muscled man, stood between the two as they glared menacingly at each other and struck a fighting stance. There was an underlying hatred between those two, he knew, not just by their looks, but...something else. His blood raced faster in his veins as the man clapped once and the girls turned to face the crowd. Ankhnut met the Princess's eyes under her mask. They were the strangest liquid amber he'd ever seen, almost shifting like the sands or the pond just outside of his father's land. He suddenly began to wonder if her's was the face that he would have seen in the pond's swirling waters.

The man said something and immediately the girls sprang at each other wielding their strange weapons. They moved with the grace of cats and in the rhythm of a dance. Back and forth, springing, swinging their weapons to either attack or defend. Ankhnut licking his lips, watched as the Princess lost her weapon. It clanked to the ground as she did three back flips and held out her hand.

Ankhnut went for it before he could think. He grabbed the blade and put it in her hand. For a brief moment their hands met and he could feel the excitement rushing through her body almost as if her's and his were one. He met her curious eyes, then she was gone, back to dealing with the other girl. Ankhnut went back to his place and watched. Twice was the Princess's weapon thrown and twice he retrieved it for her. At the end of the match, the two girls were sweating and angry. He could almost picture them hissing at each other, like two opposing cats of Bast.

As Anukaten was summoning them away, he was stopped by the Princess's voice. She took off her mask and said, "Thank you, servant of Osiris and Anubis."

"I thought I was the servant of the morning and the evening star," he replied wryly.
"Perhaps, perhaps," the girl replied.

Ankhnut bowed deeply and then turned to leave. He risked a glance back and saw that she was still staring.

VII.

"So, the poor farm boy woos the lovely princess Nefertiri," came the mocking voice of Sechmet, as the noble's son moved about the room he shared with about twelve other boys. His group of friends, all nobles and the few privileged to be acknowledged, laughed. Ankhnut ignored them and continued to put his things away in the drawers beneath his bed.

"But the poor ox will not get the princess," declared the voice of the older boy, “For, at this very moment, my father is writing a letter to the Pharaoh, requesting that I wed her."

Ankhnut turned and gave him an incredulous look. Then he began to laugh, he couldn't help it. Hearing that Sechmet would even consider himself worthy of marrying a woman, much less the Princess, was hysterical. The sixteen year-old boy, besting Ankhnut by four years, fumed.

"You think you're worthy of her," Ankhnut replied. “And that she would even consider marrying the likes of you. Ha!"

"You pompous ox!" Sechmet cried and launched himself at the younger boy.

Ankhnut knew he was, by far, stronger than the other boy, and could dispose of him in the blink of an eye, but before he could even move a muscle, Ausar, another boy, wrestled Sechmet to the ground. The noble gave a surprised cry as Ausar hissed," Your nobility does you no good here, understand? You're just like the rest of us! So, put your pettiness aside, or else your father will receive you home snapped in two."

Sechmet nodded weakly as Ausar let him up. The other boy, barely coming up to Sechmet's shoulder, and barely even his size, went back to his own bed. Ankhnut grinned slightly and went to see the boy. As he passed Sechmet, the noble whispered," This isn't over. By Horus, this isn't over."

Ankhnut ignored him and stood beside Ausar. The boy glanced up at him, but that was all he did to acknowledge his presence.

"Thank you, Ausar," Ankhnut told him. Then hardened his voice saying, “But next time, stay out of my way."

Ausar looked up at him in surprise. Ankhnut felt the spirit of Anubis arise in him at that moment and he used the power to enforce his words. He could take care of himself. He didn't need anyone. His father sent him from home to become a priest worthy of Pharaoh’s honor, and that was what he was going to do. He didn't want help, didn't need it and refused to have it. Ankhnut stalked away and went to his own bed. He could feel Ausar's eyes on him and chose to ignore it. At that moment, Anukaten entered the room. The old Priest stared at each boy appraisingly and when his eyes landed on Ankhnut, they lingered there.

"You shall present yourselves before Pharaoh and the nobility of Egypt," he informed them, his voice hoarse and rasping like old, dry parchment. "Bathe and be ready, for you shall be a show to them and when they tell you to do something, then you shall do so. For some of you it is the last time you shall see your families, for a long, long time. Go, now, quickly."

The boys were off, lead down to the hallways from their rooms by the priests of Anukaten. They were just outside of the palace grounds when, finally, they reached the bathe houses. It was steamy and hot and the water was warm, like a desert breeze. The boys removed their loin cloths and got into the water. Ankhnut waded towards a far corner, to be away from the splashing frenzy of the other playful boys. He wasn't in the mood. He was around water, and while he had great control over the sands while in the spirit of Anubis, using the power of the water gods was something else.

Ankhnut concentrated on creating a small bubble. It was simple enough; he'd done it many times at home. As always the bubble rose out of the water and kept its form floating in front of him until he took his concentration off of it. He wasn't aware he had an audience until every boy was silent watching the young boy as he formed other shapes with the water. Then all of a sudden, Ausar joined in. He created vague animal sharps from the water and curled them around Ankhnut's creations. There was a hushed awe from the gathered as both boys weaved magick.

The very construction of the pyramids was re-created for them, and the building of the Sphinx. A statue of Anubis then Horus floated in and out of existence as Ausar and Ankhnut wove their own power around each other's. For a moment, Ankhnut felt whole, with Ausar's own spirit intertwining with his. He could almost taste the flavor of the boy's style and could feel how much of the spirit of Anubis and Osiris he possessed.

He was strong, but no where near as powerful as Ankhnut.

'You protect me, I'll protect you?' came Ausar's question. 'You be my friend, I'll be your's?'

The boy was a loner, almost as alone as Ankhnut. He was brought to the palace, not by his real family, but by a couple that thought they could get money for him. His real family had abandoned him when he was young, at that time, the control of his power was weak and hell would break loose whenever he got upset. Even now, he didn't have a full control over them. Ankhnut considered his offer. The boy could most certainly fight, that would be a good asset against Sechmet and his goonies. Ankhnut, though not a priest, had made plans to have a protégé at some point. He could have one now. And, Ausar's powers almost begged to be controlled.
'Indeed,' Ankhnut answered. ‘Yes.'

Ausar grinned as Anukaten came into the bathe house, his priests setting down stools and on those, white raiment of the palace servants.

VIII.

Nefertiti sat patiently at her father's table surrounded by the sons of the nobility of Egypt. She was thoroughly disgusted. Anything would've been better than sitting through this torture. The conversations with these boys were of the worst sort, mostly politics and war. If she wanted to hear that, she'd turn to her father. Most of the nobility’s children were just like adults; and that was the last thing she needed.

She longed to be outside, feeling the rough harshness of the desert winds rake across her face and tousle her hair. Or up in her room listening to a tale of magic and intrigue from Kamilla. Nefertiri grinded her molars into one another and accepted another round of wine from the servants.

She sighed.

"Enjoying yourself, daughter of the morning and the evening star?" a voice whispered from behind.

Nefertiri jumped and whirled in her seat, her eyes meeting two very deep pools of blackness.

The princess smiled.

"Not really," she whispered back to her friend. The boy nodded.

"When I give you the signal," he informed her conspiratorially," Follow me."

Princess Nefertiri frowned but nodded. The boy went off to serve other nobles and their families. She watched his body as it moved across the stone floors, adorned in the white smocks of the servants, graceful and proud like a feline, watching for any strange sign he might give. Slowly, anxiety crept into her stomach. Was that boy actually suggesting that she skip out on this whole affair? How exactly was he going to pull it off? She looked for him again, all over the room for him frowning, her stomach doing circus performances. He'd disappeared.

And then, very suddenly, the tiniest whisper upon a wind that swept in from the desert.

Nefertiri turned to the direction of the wind and saw a ghostly figure beckoning to her from the open door way. Her eyes widened considerably in amazement. Was that- was that the priest boy!

Nefertiri turned to her father, but he seemed not to notice the sudden cool draft that blew in from the door's open arches. He didn't seem to notice her at all. Nefertiri bit her lip and looked to the strange boy. He was farther away now, beckoning. The princess gritted her teeth, stood slowly cautiously and turned to leave. No one seemed to notice, no one seemed to care. She almost gave a cry of joy, but instead kept it at bay and continued to walk slowly outside of the room, passed the chairs of unsuspecting nobles, out of the door's arches and into the open air. Finally, Nefertiri gave a jubilant shout and ran to catch up with the mysterious priest boy.

****

They stood on the highest reach of the pharaoh’s palace, the stars of Nut's belly twinkling above them in cold distant glory. A strange moon hung in the sky, tinged just so with a misty blue. Desert winds swept across the sand below and rushed up suddenly, at the flick of Ankhnut's hand, tussling the princess's hair. She took along deep breath before fully turning to her companion and studying him. His shaven head glossed in the dim torchlight and the corners of his mouth were upturned in a vague, distant smile. She frowned. She didn't even know his name. And, then, suddenly all coherent thought was driven from her as his very dark eyes turned to her and gazed at her just as curious.

"How did you..." Nefertiri let her voice trail off as she wondered if it were appropriate to ask a priest about his spells and magical workings. Then she brushed the feeling off. Because of her upbringing, and the blood from her mother that ran in her veins, she had more of a right than anyone. "How did you do that? How is it possible that no one has come for me yet?"

He shrugged and turned back to the stars. Finally, he answered, “I made an illusion."

"An illusion!" she gasped. "How powerful are you?"

He laughed, a sweet sound that carried in the air. “Are you always so...tactless?"

"Tactless!” she exclaimed. “TACTLESS! How dare you speak in such a way to royalty! You are bold!"

"And you are careless,” he replied in such an easy tone. He glanced at her and she stood there fuming at him. "Look, I didn't take you from that celebration to speak to you in all "Yes your highness" and "If it pleases you your highness." You looked bored.” He shrugged and turned away from her. “But I suppose I made an error in judgment."

"No," she struggled to contain her anger, finding that she really didn't want to stay angry at this particular boy. His bluntness surprised her. How could he be so bold as if to talk to her as any regular citizen of Egypt. She was daughter of a mortal god. But, in a way, it was also refreshing. Someone else, aside from Merenre and Kamilla was daring to treat her...normal. "I'm glad you wasted your gift on me. I suppose I should be grateful. Thank you."

His grin seemed to melt away all her anger. His dark eyes twinkled and he boldly took her hand, leading her to a better view of the sky. He pointed.

"Look."

And she did, and what she saw was breathtaking. It was true then, what they said, at the highest point of the palace you COULD see the Nile flowing into a larger body of water. It was so faraway, and it glimmered in the moon light like a mass of stars flung to earth. The sands glowed pale blue and purple, and a desert wind stirred the still dunes.

"Amazing, priest," Nefertiri breathed.

He smiled at her for a moment, then said, “My name is Ankhnut."

She blushed, wondered fleetingly if that was the right thing for a princess to do, then said, “Yes, of course. I should've asked."

"And you?" he asked quietly and the princess frowned.

"Why ask for my name? All of Egypt knows it."

His grin spread slowly across his face. "I know, but I'd like to hear you say it. Tell me, princess, what is you name?"

She blushed again. "I-I am Nefertiri Ptahm III."

He smiled slightly. "Nefertiri...Nefertiri."

A wash of strange feelings brushed over her in waves and the princess felt a strange emotion bubble up from her stomach. Him saying her name made shivers run up and down her spine. It wasn't the name itself, just how he said it, without reverence, but instead as if it were some strange and powerful word, as if each syllable could invoke such great forces of nature. He grinned at her again as a desert wind stirred.

"Ankhnut," she said quietly, and his dark gaze drifted over to her. It roved over her face for a moment before meeting her gaze. He nodded expectant. "Can you...Can you get me a piece of the sky?"

He looked taken aback by her strange request. She added quickly, “It’s just that Merenre always boasts of the power of the sisterhoods, indeed of my mother's own, unique, bloodline and well...I've always wanted a piece of the sky."

He smiled at her and took her hand in his. She met his dark gaze as it twinkled in the night.

He nodded and said, "My princess, I will give you whatever is in my power to give you." He sighed. "Yes, I will get you a piece of the sky."

She grinned like a satisfied cat and threw her arms around him. Ankhnut was caught off guard by the sudden embrace, curling his arms around her slender form. They were crushed together for what seemed like eternity, before the princess pulled blushingly away. He frowned and mentally wondered what repercussions that act would have on his future, indeed his survival if pharaoh ever found out. Then he met her dark eyes, and those thoughts were driven swiftly away. He suddenly wanted that lithe, pulsing body in his arms again.

He reached out to touch her, but the sudden blast of faraway horns stopped him and he realized, that very soon , he would have to return the real princess to her father's side and get rid of the illusion. Personally, he couldn't fathom how he'd done it anyway. One minute he panicked on how he was going to pull off getting her out of the room with all those guards, and in the next the world around him tinged with magick and he'd wielded it. He'd knew that he was starting to play with fire, and that he'd better tone down a bit before he got burned...and badly. He turned to her now, her face awash with moonlight. She was beautiful, a voice in his mind said, he continued to stare not fully understanding what the word meant. Indeed, his intelligence far surpassed many adults, but he was still young.

Still naive.

"We should go now, Ankhnut," she whispered, and he shivered as strange emotions rose up from the depths of his soul. He wondered at those strange feelings, but nodded at her words.

And together, they descended the steps to return to the celebration, but not before the princess intertwined her hand with his.

And It All Falls Down...

You know, some of the book ideas that I have in my head might not be readily or welcomingly well recieved. Atleast, not in America...or the United States, because I can't account for Canada and the tastes of the Canadians (although, I wouldn't mind marrying one o.0) Anyway, what I mean to say is that there's an idea that's been knocking around in my head for a while, but I don't think people would take a shining to it because of its questionable nature.

Point of fact, I would be calling the Bible a liar.

Okay...not so much as a liar, just that what's in there wouldn't be the actual truth of things. Take for instance the first line that hit me while I was in the shower some time ago: 'In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth and all that was in it. Six days it took him, six days, and then on the seventh, he rested. And never woke up.' Now, it's a good clincher, but I could see the proverbial Christian audience immediately taking offense and saying: 'ZOMG!!! Wut r u teeching our childz?' And then there'll be some Spanish Inquisition the likes of which JK Rowling never dreamed of.

Hypothetically, the book could sell, right? It would just be a twist and turn on the whole Bible and all of its...*gaspeth*...stories. I mean, certain things that happened in the Bible would still--for all intents and purposes--still have happened in my book's universe, they just wouldn't have been by God's hand because well...God would have still been sleeping and all the angels would hae just been following this MASTER PLAN that God, had laid out for existence.

Either way, it's just an idea.

*goes back to writing serious projects*

I've Been Crawling Through The Dark Looking For The Answers

I think I'm too nice for my own good. I've probably said this somewhere in a different post, but it kind of bears repeating because a thought had occurred to me and it often stems from my friend Ashley, and sometimes it stems from my friend Katie and even my friend Shari, in which it seems to be perfectly fine to impose their lives on mine and me being too gracious to just say: 'No, I'm sorry. I can't deal with that or you right now, I've got my own shit.' Take for instance my apartment. It's MY apartment with my name on the lease and ME paying all the bills and anything else that suddenly pops up to surprise me or bite me on the ass. Not anyone else and I'm not asking for anyone else to do anything for this place either. I took on the responsibility and am dealing with it. Reveling in it, really. But it just burns me a little bit (okay, not a little bit...alot) that whenever Ashley comes over to my apartment to stay for a bit that if MY couch/bed has been tampered with she automatically gets 'critical' (*cough* hostile *cough*) and asks: 'Aye yo, shawty, who's been sleeping on my bed?'

It doesn't occur to me of course until later that she seems to get that way a lot about the furniture I purchase and the apartment that I am paying for. Such as when I first got this place she says: 'So, what does our apartment look like?' Not OUR apartment, you numb nut, MY apartment. It burned me then, but I didn't say anything because I was too happy to have a place of my own to care (and I'm still kind of like: Whoa, muthfuckahs! I got an apartment!!!).

But she makes comments like that and then gets a little hostile if she finds out Shari stays at my place (and since when did my home become some kind of commune for everyone else?) and asks me: 'She doesn't sleep on my couch does she?' It's MY couch and why I haven't just gone on ahead and said,'Hey, Ashley, fuck off. It's MY couch, therefore if I WANT some else to sleep on it, I CAN and you're not PAYING for it so you can't DECIDE who stays WHERE.' But if I said it exactly like that I might get the cold shoulder and everyone knows how us 'Libras' hate being hated.

And then onto Shari: why is it that you HAVE to stay at my place all the godawful time? It's not like I don't like friends or even having them, but when nearly every other night of the week you are staying at my place, that's a problem. I like my solitude and space and I don't need to have to conversate with people (unless I'm fucking you, but that's a different story) all the time. I'm not THAT sociable, and it burns me when I tell her this she gets hostile with me (granted, I compared her to the cats that got to her school, but really she IS just like them: she can't be by herself and claims to like her solitude, but keeps txting me asking me 'what r u doin?' Um....'working'....'oh...k' D'oh!!!!!!) It's not like I mind it (okay, I do) because I'm just not used to the whole friends-wanting-to-hang-with-you bit. I didn't have many friends growing up and those that I did have unstood my NEED for solitude because thay had a NEED as much as I do.

It's just that it irks me that it's so easy for these people to impose on me, but I try not to impose on them, and I figure I should say something or else I'll end up exploding on them and damamging my friendship, but even if I do say something, they'll (and I) will eventually go back to the same old habits as if I hadn't said anything at all.

*sigh*

That's why I just disappear for days on end.

Sometimes, I just can't handle all the pressure to be the chameleon everyone else wants me to be.

Johnny/Surfer slash, PG-13

Title: Don't Look Down (1/1?)
Author: Dragonfly Queen
Disclaimer: If I owned Fantastic Four, it might go a little something like this...But alas....
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Johnny Storm/Silver Surfer
Warnings: Slash
Summary: He's falling and he doesn't know if he can stop.

Touched.

Sensation.

Feeling.

Hand clasped around his neck. Squeeze, but not so much. Not enough for him to not be able to drag in desperate gasps of air. Flames burning around him. Warmth from the inside, burning him without.

Silver skin. Silver eyes.

Boring into him. Boring into his soul.

Flying higher and higher into the atmosphere. He doesn't dare look down.

"Can we talk?"

No answer. No response. Just air whooshing passed him, faster than life or light. Sun cresting the earth's rim. Stars shining in the darkness of space.

Cold radiating from liquid, metal skin. Quenching his fire.

Defeat.

"okay..." He goes limp. That silver hand spasms around his throat, squeezes minutely. He feels a whisper of power rush through him. Small, not enough to change the fact that his fires have gone out, that the vast chill of Earth's upper atmosphere has seeped through his uniform down to his very bones. "You win."

He's falling and he doesn't know if he can stop.

************

Norrin Radd watches, gaze betraying none of the emotions roiling underneath, as the inhabitant of this tiny green-blue world falls back to the welcoming embrace of his mother planet.

The air is colder up here.

He can see the sun of this world as it crests the rim of the planet. He can see the stars.

He breathes.

Feels a longing in his blood, in his bones, down to his very core.

It has been a long time since he has felt this. A stirring in the pit of his stomach. Emotions whirring to the fore front of his mind, clamboring to heard above the other.

It only took a split second. Mere seconds to grab the firestarter, to disrupt his powers.

To make a connection with the power cosmic that existed within the firestarter's body, sang within his blood. He saw...inside. Deep inside, to the heart of the impetuous flame, where it danced and laughed with joy for the burning.

It warmed the chill of space within him, the cold of stars that had been a constant companion since he left behind his world. Since he left behind Shalla-Bal. Since he left behind Norrin Radd and wearily travelled the deep.

And it gave him pause. Mere seconds. Mere moments and the weariness gathered within him, threatened to overtake. Threatened to undue him.

Norrin Radd breathed. In and out. In and out.

He doesn't dare look down, doesn't look to see if the firestarter has lived or died. He doesn't dare. He turns his board towards the blackness of space. Kneels.

"My lord, your Herald summons you."

It's Times Like These You Give And Give Again...

Okay, so I'm re-watching episodes of Roswell. You know the old television series back in 1999, with Brenden Behr, Kathrine Heigl and Colin Hanks, and those others like William Sadler (can I just say that for some reason I find him oddly appealing) and Nick Weschler (he's cute too in that boyish, cocky kind of Sports' model kind of way). I was just checking it out and taking notes because I realized that I can't write a book series (or want to or attempt to) without having an idea of what to do with each book. You know, there's an overall story arc: evil power rises from age old sleep, threatens humanity (oh noes!!!) and teenage heroines must save the day while dealing with life's not-so-extraordinary circumstances. But each individual story has to have a plot underneath it and there is just so much that I want to that I know I'm going to have to kick some things out. SOMEthings.

GAH!!!

Also, I think I have a tendency to do things before I actually think about them. Take for instance this Board that I came up with for RPing in a semi-fantasy world in which New York City and its surrounding bouroughs have become this huge megalopolis called Wicked, NY. It's got your typical fixings of vampires, succubi, incubi, Fae, witches and shifters (werewolves, etc) and I made a "plot" for it. Here goes:

You meet her in a hotel bar.
It’s a rundown sort of place, on the seedier side of town, one of those places where the hotel patrons smell of abandoned back alleys and underground sewage; one where the bartenders sell the cheapest booze and scantily clad waitresses make their from table to table, using their feminine wiles more so than good services to reel in big tips.
It’s the kind of place where every man has to watch their back, watch their wallet even more so, and on the rowdier nights, a place where a fight breaks out at the slightest provocation. You should’ve known better than to be sucked in by anyone who frequents this place, but then again…common sense has never been a trait that had been praised with hard regard in your family
Music plays in the background, some old rock mix that’s still hip enough with the kids today to still be on the charts. It’s almost peaceful tonight, not very many people, although there are still pockets of noise resistant to the silence that wants to permeate. This should have been your second clue, but…common sense, remember?
Honestly? Who could have known what lay ahead? You’d only come in here to get a drink, after all. Life for you is a slow, unchanging march towards death; what’s a few drinks really? And as you guzzle down more, commiserating on how you’re probably going to be doing this every night, for the next couple of years of your sorry life until it becomes routine, she saddles up next to you at the bar with a face as pale as milk crystal, eyes as dark as onyx gemstones and lips that look like two ripe, plump cherries mashed together, surprising you out of your misery.
What the hell--?
She’s not a regular, and you can tell…just by the way she winks at the bartender, orders the same drink you’re having and pins you with her black-eyed stare until you feel like a rat on display. She’s like a predator as she leans forward, whispers a scandalous joke in your ear and throws her head back in laughter. You can only stare dumbly, captured as you are. This doesn’t usually happen, and you’re wondering if she’s a TV show host on one of those reality shows where they trick some dumb shmuck into thinking their the fucking king-of-the-castle. Strangers just don’t walk up to you in a bar. They don’t just engage you in a conversation. You don’t get mesmerized by them.
That’s just not the way things are done. Not anymore.
Couple of years ago. Maybe. Before the Cataclysm. Before the world’s superpowers got tired of silly, oil wars in the Middle East. Before the world’s leaders decided that they were sick of playing with soldiers’ lives and wanted to play with the world on a massive scale. Before everything went ‘boom’ and bombs exploded in the sky and people lost their lives and life had changed for everyone, irrevocably, forever.
Nine years later, and you just didn’t flirt with some random stranger in a bar.
But she did. She’s flirting with you, and you’re trying not let this bother you. Trying not to let this get you at all. But she does, and it is, especially when she whispers in your ear again, telling you to meet her in the alleyway behind the hotel bar.
You know this is a bad idea, everything is screaming at you: THIS IS A BAD IDEA. But you swallow that voice along with the last dregs of your drink, slap down a five dollar bill and leave, entering the cool night air, looking up at a sky of stars that suddenly seem very strange to your booze-clouded brain. Nine years ago, you probably would not have been out here, but the Cataclysm changed everyone—even you—and you kind of just learned to stop caring anymore. People claimed nowadays that strange things happened in the night, and even stranger people haunted the darkness. Or, maybe not people…
Things….
But those are only rumors. You’ve never seen anything. And, since the Cataclysm, you’ve been out at night a whole helluva lot. If there was anything, wouldn’t you have seen it?
You make your way behind the hotel, straight out to the alley that you’ve probably puked in a few times on your way home after a nice round of drinks. You peer into the darkness, trying not to gag on the smell of stale piss and cigarette smoke; the combination makes your eyes water. You blink, trying to find her, and step one foot at a time into the darkness. It’s then that your instinct kicks in, that inner knowing that human beings are born with, that helped their ancestors, the cavemen, survive: something’s not right…
The screech comes from above, startling you, and you whirl in both shock and fear, and duck in time as a giant, solid shadow swoops over your head. You can hear where claws raked the air. Wait…Claws?!
Your heart’s hammering now, and you breaths coming out shallow and strained. Where the hell’s the woman? What the hell was that?
You hear another screech. You turn to look. Whatever the hell it is is coming back at you, impossibly large and scary as hell. Holy shit! You’re frozen in place, not knowing what the hell to do and the big thing slams into, knocking the breath from your chest and slamming into the pavement and concrete. Your mind is in a whirl, you’re struggling to breath and all you can think is: what the hell did I get myself into?
It won’t occur to you until much, much later, when you’re half dead and this big, shadowy thing materializes into the pale woman in the bar and slits—literally—slits open your wrist vein with her [I]teeth[/I] that maybe, just maybe those crazy [b]things[/b] that people’d been telling you about, THOSE THINGS, maybe, actually exist….
Welcome to Wicked, New York…

(PS: Can I just say I REALLY wish blogspot would use formatting when copying and pasting stuff...JEEZ!!)

I'll write more later. Now...

Back to work!