Hello! This is my World...Here is where I will post my thoughts and stuff like that!!! If anything is labled a "Rant" thats what it is me going on and on about somthing I love or hate!!!!
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Hi,
We have a confession to make… Although we quite ashamed for not telling you before…
Aurora is tsubasachro and Borealis is wallpaperotaku
Aurora Borealis began as an account for our combined work but it has evolved into something much greater. We love all our friends very much, and we hope that you forgive us and that you do not misperceive our intensions.
*hugs*
Aurora&Borealis
(aka tsubasachro and wallpaperotaku)
This is a real life moment told as a story. Please comment and enjoy!!! (I wish I could include a picture of the box but I can't find the wire to my camera...)
My Music Box
I was very young when my music box found me.
I was an odd kid; I loved garage sales. All sorts, both big and small. They have always seemed to have a magical feeling about them to me. I once found a metal box with money hidden in the cloth lining… to me a treasure. Anyways I was at such a sale when I saw the small plain wooden box the painting of men herding animals while laughing and talking on the lid. I was enchanted by the box and opened it.
It was the perfect size to fit little secretes inside.
The old lady who was selling her old memories that had long lost their glamour caught me gazing at the box. She picked it up smiled and told me it used to be a music box. Then she proceeded to tell me that it no longer worked and hadn’t for some time.
She looked so very sad as she held the broken music and as she said she couldn’t even remember what song it played… She had never been able to work up the courage to break open the wooden block that protected the mechanics to fix it. She just couldn’t bare the thought of seeing it in pieces… She obviously loved that box.
She smiled, handed it to me and told me I could have it for free.
I looked up at her with awe, and despite the fact I was only seven years old I understood how hard it was for her and my responsibility to take very very good care of that box.
And I did. For years it kept my little trinkets and doohickeys. I would stare at the wooden shield preventing the song from playing… “What song would it play if it could?” I would ask myself, “Would it be happy or sad?” The box held a mystery, a magic. What was inside the box? It held something inside I had no way of grasping, sensing or imagining. The gift of music was promised to me if I could repair it’s broken heart.
Thus I hunted avidly for someone, anyone, who could fix my music box.
I tried watch shops, music shops, music box shops, but when asked if they would fix it they all replied in a stiff manor “We don’t do that here!”
“But then where?” asked I.
There was never a reply.
More years passed and I continued to ask “Oh my music box what secretes do you hide?” Sometimes I would consider tearing the protective wooden piece out and thus expose the inner working and innards of box, but I would always think of the old women’s tired face and lose conviction. It felt as if I would rip apart her heart if I did and I would quickly put the box away.
So there it sat on my shelf. A sad and lonely object in my closet.
One day I couldn’t stand it anymore. I had to know. It was years later and I was now a young woman.
I took the box in my arms and braced myself.
I tore off the wooden divider.
What had plagued me, dared me, taunted me, made me dream, what I had hated loved and wondered about for years and years of my life was gone in a flash. The wood piece was barely glued in, made by a loving hand in Switzerland.
I awed at the array of shiny metal mechanics that would work the music. It had been stopped forever mid song like a watch stopped in time. I could just imagine the woman’s face when she opened it that tragic time, and found that the music had died.
I sat there on my bed staring at it for a long while.
It smelt like old wood.
New energy filled me along with a new purpose. I was determined! I would fix it! Not only for me but for the old women long gone and to show all the people who said they couldn’t that I could.
I went to work.
I fiddled, I prodded, and there were no clues on how to fix it to be found. I searched for a screwdriver. I was ready to pull out all the pieces and completely decimate it, when I noticed something.
A tiny wooden button.
It was as small as a pin head and I had never noticed it before. It seemed painfully obvious now. It was the trigger that in better years would have started the machine to run and play the song. I looked at it. I wondered how many times it had played before it stopped. Ten times? Ten thousand? Million? Once again I was lost in my imaginings of when it worked, the people that made it, the person that bought it, and finally me who’s cared for it all these years even though it was crippled and old. I began to play with the trigger turning it back and forth…
Then a miracle.
The box began to play the long lost song…
I was surprised. It was beautiful. The pieces whirred and clicked to life. A discordant sweet sound came floating out of it and into my soul.
I was so happy. And a little sad.
After all this time my goal was over. It worked now. I must admit I was very emotional and teared up a bit. And as the mist pasted over my eyes I remembered all that I’d been through and the women before me and the creator before her.
My music box played on.
THIS SHORT STORY IS NOT BASED ON A REAL INTERVIEW!!!
Just a short (and hopefully humorous) story... Please tell me what you think!
12/9/2010
Sorry!!!
This story has been temprarily removed!
I am fixing it up and using it for a project!
But fear not!
As soon as my project is over and I have recieved feedback I shall repost the original story!
Thank you for your paitence and understanding!
*bows*
~Tsu
UPDATE 9/12/2012
Yes I may have lied a little about putting it back up right away...
(In my defense the teacher never did give me feedback)
But sadly you shall have to wait even longer to see this one agian...
Because I am fixing it up and using it in another project... ^^;;
(this time as a screenplay!)
~Tsu
My 2 year TheO surprise!(Unless you read MyO...)
BACKROUND OF STORY:
This one of two short vampire stories I wrote under the prompt "Your first night as a vampire." Thoguh I like the other story I wrote better (a comedy from a guy's point of view) it's hand written, needs to be fixed and Iam too slow a typer to write it up agian. (Maybe I'll post that one later...) Back to the point now. This is written in a very similar style to "Miss Ratched's Love Story" and is hopefully a good description of the first day night of a vampire.
Please comment!
I hope you enjoy and thank you for reading!!! *bows*
The end. Or at least that’s the way it began. My death, that’s how my life came into being. I remember how it felt when my body failed and how the world I had known drifted away from me. There was pain at first but it soon faded. All that was left was me. Then I also began to feel the “me” floating away. Then nothing. Just an endless expanse of nothing. I was quite surprised when feeling came flowing back again. No pain, not anymore, just warmth. It felt wonderful, warm like being wrapped in a blanket. I was so at peace with myself, the world, everything.
I opened my eyes.
Night enveloped me. Oh, how beautiful the world appeared to my new eyes born of darkness. I saw the hidden light that eyes blinded by sun can never be able to see. I understood right away that sunlight would never be enough for me again. It would never make me as happy or as warm as this dark bliss. It felt exhilarating. It was as if the elements themselves were giving me strength. More then I ever could have even dreamed of attaining had in my previous life. I stood up and took a deep breath so I could fully enjoy the sensation of this power. Suddenly I realized that the rhythm of my heart and breathing I had grown so used to was over and everything was still and quite. When it sunk in that I no longer needed to breath and that that life was done, I stopped. No need to pretend I was still alive in the way I used to be. I had a second chance at life within my death. I was beyound description.
Then an odd, but not surprising, feeling took me over. Hunger. Even this feeling was pleasant even though at the same time it was tearing me apart. It was all consuming. The pain itself was beautiful bliss. It was ecstasy. My very being seemed to be crying out, every cell craved blood.
Maybe a cat jumped over my grave? I mused remebering the old stories from my first life, or maybe it was my red birthmark, or was I born with hair? I wonder. I wonder. What made me this way?
Putting those pointless thoughts aside, I then went in search of subsidence. I walked slowly, I was in no hurry. I could feel my goal near; unsuspecting and weak. Their heartbeat sounded delicious. I crept closer. They could not hear me. After all with out troublesome breath and heart to worry about, I was completely silent. Soon I was right behind my prey. I watched them they were vulnerable and would be easy to take. I slid silently behind the human, and before they could even begin to think, a quick twist to the neck and they were dead, gone to my cause. As to feed before the blood turned cold, I quickly I clamped on to their neck and broke the skin with my long teeth. I then proceeded to drain them of their blood. It was sweet and warm. I could feel it sliding down my throat into my stomach, and feel it being absorbed into my being. I was feeling stronger then ever, it was the best thing I had ever tasted.
I let go of the body and it dropped with a thud to the ground. I licked my lips. And took time to enjoy the moment. Instinct more then anything else told me what to do next. The sun was coming, and my sensitive night eyes would be burned from the brightness of its light. I turned and went back to my new home. I stared at the hole in the ground where I had been thoughtlessly buried by my killer. I climbed into the pit and pulled the earth so it covered me once more. I fell asleep.
I had sad dreams of a life past. In the dream there was sun and a family I will never see again. I know the dream well now, it’s the same one I have every day. And I know when I wake again tomorrow night I’ll have the tears running down my face like I always do. Someday will I finally die? I wonder. I wonder.
Hey everybody! Its been awhile since I posted on TheO!!! Below is a story I wrote for my English class last year. Its a prequel to One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, but you don't need to have read that to understand this! Please comment and tell me what you think!!!
I remember long ago. It seems so very long ago. He's still alive in my memory and I love him even more then I ever did back then. I remember it all so well even now. When he told me he loved me for the first time. When he finally decided to propose to me and I said yes. When he was drafted and told me he was leaving. Our wedding was called off. He was shipped so very far away. I wanted so bad to help. I became an army nurse in hopes to help the cause and to bring him home sooner. I saw so much blood and pain. So many went insane from what they had seen, it made me even more frightened for him.
Every time a soldier came into the hospital I thought it would be him. Every man wheeled out to the morgue had his face. Every pained wife, sister, and mother mourning for the one gone away ripped at my heart. Their tears seemed to whisper, “This could be you next. It could be you.” I cried myself to sleep each night, trying to gain control over my life. The fear just about killed me. Every day was hell; I struggled to keep a hold and to do my job, and to help my patients. Every night I died of fear and every mourning hope brought me back again. I missed him.
I wrote him every day about my work, and day to day life. He wrote back with his feelings for me, and we discussed our future wedding plans and how everything would be better when we saw each other again. Our love grew stronger by the day; the fear pushed us so close. “To my dear fiancée and love,” was always how he began his letters to me. They were filled with his love and I treasure every single one. I would day dream of our perfect wedding. All my friends and family were there in my vision. Oh, how sweet our honeymoon was going to be; taking dips in the ocean next to the wide sandy beach. The sky would stretch on forever. Together we would laugh at how silly it had been to think that we would never see each other again.
Then the dream took an unpleasant turn. I had finished up at work and was walking home alone, so lonely. When I could see my home from the end of the street, I saw them too. The army officers waiting, staring, killing me with their guilty eyes. “They can’t be for me!” I remember thinking, wishing, knowing. They stopped me at the door and handed me an envelope. “I won’t open it,” I thought, “I refuse! This isn’t real.” My eyes and hands cruelly disobeyed my brain. It was opened. It was read. It all ended there.
How could he be gone? I cried for what seemed like forever. As the tears fell down my face, so too did my emotions fall away. All that was left was an empty shell. I felt I had lost all control. I was drowning, being swept along a fast current. It felt like it would never stop.
The war ended, along with my job. The money stopped coming, so did my hope. That’s when I found the ward. An old friend of mine knew of my plight; no money and no husband to be. She was high up at the ward and offered me the job. I had no money so I accepted her offer.
At first I didn’t like it, taking care of all the crazy people. It reminded me too much of my old job and life. All the army veterans made me think of him, my love. But day after day I felt like this job was giving me back a little bit of what I had lost. Control. I may have lost control over my life outside, but inside the ward I have control over them all. It makes me feel good to be able to help the hurt people from after the war. To help the left overs, like myself, heal and become whole again. I still work there today, working to help the psychologically impaired collect themselves and go on with their lives. Something I myself want one day to accomplish.
