Friday, December 20, 2013

Introduction to New Story that I've Been Working On

Before the story starts . . . there is a misunderstanding that needs to be cleared up.

Different people have different theories of how hell came to be the devil's quarters, and one thing that everyone should know right now is that not a single one of them has ever figured out the full story.

Heaven hasn't always been called heaven, God was not always a god, and Lucifer was not always the devil.

In the very beginning, hell was just home and neither man had been perfect nor tragically flawed. God had just been Elo, and the devil had just been his twin, Luce.

They'd been a simple people, living solely for the sake of living. Things like desire, jealousy, greed, hatred – things that people like you and I know only too well – didn't exist. They'd needed nothing to sustain life – not water, food, oxygen, sleep – nothing but a few heartbeats.

They just . . . were.

One day, though, as Elo listened to the beating of his many hearts, he thought of something bigger. Something greater. Something beautiful.

A life of purpose. Of fulfillment. Of curiosity. Of . . . beauty.

This simple thought overcame him though, and he began to look at those like him with pity. 'A life is not a life if it is without purpose,' he'd thought, while gazing at those sitting around him. 'A life is not a life if it is without a possibility of success,' he'd thought, looking at the emptiness that was their land. 'A life is not a life if it does not hold wonder,' he'd thought, noticing the others' empty stares. 'And a life is most certainly not a life without a means to an end,' he'd thought, reflecting on his seemingly endless existence.

He'd stood at his fullest height, gathering the attention of only his twin. Gathering only a slight spark of wonder, of curiosity. Curiosity that was lost only a moment later as Luce's head drooped once again.

He wasn't sure where to start to make this new life he'd thought of, but he knew that it could not be made on such a simple land. And so he started to build stairs. He stacked them one on top of the other, until a different scenery entirely came to his eyes. And then he went on to build a ground and from that ground, new life sprouted. Beautiful life that sparked Elo's curiosity, and left him eager for more.

As a consequence of his construction, craters were left in the simple land he'd left behind, and these craters filled with liquid heat. A heat that caused discomfort to most. And so those who were no longer indifferent to their land took the long journey up the steps.

A smaller majority though, including Luce, remained indifferent to the land, and uninterested in his twin's creation. As a result their bodies began to change. The softness of their skin turned hard, their hair darkened just as their eyes did, and they grew.

The heat made them stronger. The heat made them beautiful.

On Elo's last trip to this wasteland where they resided he was unable to ignore the changes in their physiques'. Their once simple beauty had become brilliant. The land that was once unbearably simple to him was no longer. It was bright. It was unique. It was . . . stunning, really. But it also caused Elo to feel something that no one, at that time, had ever felt before.

A fear of the unknown.

And so he vowed to never return to this land, and scaled his stairs for the last time. And when he reached the top, he struck his fist into the top step, and they all went crumbling down to the land below.

It landed in a heap in front of Luce.

This, and only this, caught his attention. 'Where could this have come from?' he'd wondered, looking above him. 'There is nothing up there,' he'd thought, completely unaware of all that had transpired before his interests' awakening. But then he looked around him.

The land was unrecognizable.

Liquid heat filled every crater, and burning chemicals burst through cracks in the ground forcefully, causing a tint of grey that you and I would recognize as smoke. This made the air dry and lit it to the fullest. There was nothing he couldn't see.

And he stood to his fullest height, something he hadn't done in . . . he didn't know how long. His shadow cast over the few remaining.

The darkness stirred them, and they looked up to see a sight so foreign that they weren't sure how to react.

Luce had grown immensely. His once blonde hair was now a fiery auburn, so wild that it gave the impression that he had horns atop his forehead. His once artless blue eyes were now a piercing green, reflecting easily the burning heat that surrounded him. His once pale skin had darkened to a shining bronze, and his once mediocre frame had transformed into one with such power that it was impossible to ignore.

He was magnificent.

And so they stood as well, only to realize that they, too, had changed, though perhaps not as incredibly as Luce.

'The land,' they'd thought in unison, 'The land has changed us all.' And because of Luce's obvious greatness, they looked at him as a leader.

At this very time, Luce realized that perhaps it was unwise to send the stairs crumbling down to his once beloved brothers, and looked over the edge of his new home, hoping that the falling heap had not harmed any of them. And when he did, he saw that curiosity had reached them, as well.

Delight filled his being, and so he called those who resided on the new land with him to help build another set of stairs so that their peers could join them. But by the time the stairs were built, and they'd taken the long journey down them, their old home was a very changed land.

The heat had only intensified since its beginning, engulfing nearly the whole land, and as a result the ground was burnt to black marble. And off into the distance stood a remarkable castle, complete with towers and bridges and glass and marble and beauty that they'd never seen before.

However the heat was much too powerful for them. The air stung their eyes. Their skin felt as though it was melting off. Their hair caught fire.

"Luce,” Elo had called in the direction in the castle, "Help us!"

Upon hearing his twin's distressed voice a smirk twitched on his lips, and he made his way out of the tower, headed in their direction.

You see, Elo had never thought of the consequences of leaving his homeland – the betrayal that it might have felt. He never thought of this land as life, and so it was determined to take his own in such a brilliant fashion that Elo would have no choice but to admire its complex nature.

Luce had sided with the land.

It was not Elo who gave him his power, it was his home. And Elo was undeserving of such a place and its forgiveness.

"Oh, Luce!" Elo had been relieved when he first saw Luce, "You must help us!"

Luce's smirk only became more pronounced. "Help you?" he'd spoken deeply, his voice nearly shaking the ground, "Why would I do such a thing, brother?" Elo's obvious confusion prompted Luce to continue, "Don't you realize? You have betrayed your home; why would you think that you would be welcome here?"

Elo couldn't understand why his twin would speak this way. "We have come to invite you to a better land," he tried to explain. 'Surely,' he'd thought, 'Luce has simply misread my intentions.'

"And why would I wish to leave such precious land – my home?" he inquired.

"To save yourself from the pain of this heat," Elo had answered, gesturing to their surroundings.

"It injures only those who are deserving."

"How could you say such a thing?" Elo had gasped. "What's happened to you, brother?"

"You're not understanding," Luce chuckled with a shake of his head, "This land has given me power; power that you could only dream of. I have no reason to leave; I wish to stay here. You, on the other hand," he says threateningly, glaring into the innocent eyes of his twin, "Will leave, now, or face the wrath that you so deserve. And that goes for all of you." And with that, he'd marched back to his castle and resumed his seat on his throne.

Upon returning to his new home, his injured peers following behind him, Elo began to wonder what power his twin had spoken of. Was it his physical power? Was it his command over the land? Was it the authority that he held over his peers?

He eventually concluded that it was the combination of the three.

It was then that he felt thirst. A thirst for power. A thirst for authority. A thirst for fame.

A thirst for more.

This thirst overcame him just as his curiosity had a time ago. It became all he could think about.

And so he looked around at his surroundings. There was nothing left for him to perfect on his new land.

It was time for him to create another. This land was to be even greater, though. It was to be as magnificently flawed as his brother's, as well as those who he would create to inhabit it.

He started with a sphere, going layer by layer to shape it, painting the soft surface an earthy brown. Then he shed light with a sun, illuminating the land through a sky that matched the color of his eyes.

He went on, after a pause, to carve a winding abyss throughout the surface and then filled it with glistening blue water. Then he decided to put water above the sky as well.

Now it was time to give life to the land. He designed various figures, made up of vibrant colors, and placed them on the surface. This turned the land green.

As he gazed upon his creation, he decided to also give life to the water. He made a moon to allow the waters to move as freely as the air, and the stars to decorate the moon. As he gazed upon his creation once again, he realized that the lives of the plants were quickly fading, and added nutrient to the sunlight so that they would thrive.

Since he'd given life to the water, he decided also to put life in it, and so he made fish. And since there was life in the water, and the plants could live with company on the surface, he decided to put various types of life on the land.

He still was not satisfied with his creation, though. It did not yet hold the intelligence to honor him. Plants were simple, fish were less so, and the land was home to mammals whose intelligence was limited. And so he set out to create creatures with unlimited brilliance, brilliance that could be accessed with something as simple as desire.

Questions stirred though Luce's mind as he watched from a tower in his castle as Elo worked with haste. He had to admit that he was fascinated. What exactly was he doing with this creature that he's created? Was he going to send it down to try to change his twin's mind? Would it reside in Elo's home as something of a guard? Would he place it on this new land he'd created?

All of these questions only angered him more. 'Not only was his homeland not enough for him, but Elo is also unpleased with the first ground he built?' he'd thought with disgust. His thoughts were derailed, though, when Elo stepped back from this new creation and it stood.

Luce's brows had furrowed as he looked upon this creation. It was like him . . . but not.

It was something Luce couldn't have imagined in his wildest thoughts.

His stare turned to Elo and Luce watched as he murmured the word 'woman'.

'Woman,' Luce had thought. And then he spoke the word out loud, unsure of how he felt about the way it had felt passing his lips.

Elo was unaware of this invasion of his privacy though, as he gazed upon his beloved creation. She was perfection. Her hair was the surface of his Earth, her eyes the water and her skin the clouds. Her mind was as flawless as her features.

And she instantly showed gratitude to her creator, and as her thanks turned to devotion, her devotion turned to love. She truly did love him.

And so he called her, "Es."

Luce was sure to keep a close eye on Elo's next actions, and he was astounded to find that Eloe had not been planning to do anything at all with his creation. She simply roamed Elo's land with the sole purpose of being his companion. And with her by his side, Elo proceeded to create more of this creature, and the next he'd called 'man'.

He placed one 'woman' and one 'man' on the new land, and he and Es, and Luce of course, watched over them.

Elo's love for his 'men' and 'women' angered Luce, and he set out to harm his brother. Not physically, as Luce had no desire to visit Elo's 'heaven' as his creations called it, but to harm him emotionally.

By harming his humans - as Elo had decided to call them - because as they were all similar . . . they were not quite the same.

And so he disguised himself as one of Elo's 'snakes', and got the attention of the 'woman', Eve. She fell easily into his trap, and Elo was devastated. Luce continued to trick his precious humans for a time, as Elo created more and more and more, growing more powerful with each and every devoted being.

One day, though, when Luce had returned to his 'hell', as Luce's humans had called it, he began to think. If Elo could create such creatures as his Es . . . why wouldn't Luce be capable of such actions?

Luce quickly left his tower, scouring hell for materials that he could use for his creation. He gathered liquid and gas heat, several humans from the dungeons, and chunks of the marble ground before he realized that there was one material of his land that he hadn't yet added to his mixture.

The place where Luce had sat so long ago had never been overcome by the heat, and remained soft in texture, brown in color, and so he pinched some between his fingers and added it to his concoction.

Then he mixed it all together.

A creature lay before him, one so astonishingly beautiful that he had to blink several times to be sure that she was real. Her hair had taken on the dark color of his once simple land, though her brows and lashes had taken the color of the new marble ground. Her lips were softer than any humans, and the very striking color of the liquid heat that covered his land. Her body was firm but soft.

She was perfect.

As he thought of her purpose, he called her "Isa."

But she was not yet alive.

Luce reached into himself and pulled out one of his many beating hearts to place it in her chest.

Her eyes opened.


And so the story begins . . .

Friday, December 6, 2013

Rhetorical Questions

It was a Friday. My mother driving me to meet with my father so that I could spend the weekend with him, as I did every other weekend. We were only about five minutes into the half an hour ride when a question popped into my head. I don't know why I thought of it - we hadn't been talking about anything related to it. I'd thought about it before but had never asked it. At that moment, though, I almost couldn't stop myself. I just had to know. So I turned to her with a straight face and said, "Mom, if (your boyfriend) told you that I wasn't allowed to live with you anymore, what would you say?" Shehadn't understood the question, so I continued, "if he were to tell you that, either you had to send me away to live with someone else, or we both had to leave, like he would break up with you, what would you choose? Me, or him?" 

"Why would you ask me a question like that, Madison?"

"Can you please just answer it?" I'd pleaded.

She pulled up to a red light and turned to look at me. "It depends."

My jaw dropped. "On what?"

"On what you were doing that made him say that. I mean, if you were being unreasonable. . ."

It was then that I learned that its not smart to ask questions that you don't want to hear the answers to.

Friday, November 8, 2013

The Internet

It was getting close to the end of sixth grade, and summer break was near. I couldn't wait to spend everyday outside, whether I was sitting by the pool, playing games with friends, or walking on the boardwalk. Nothing ever went wrong during summer. Naturally, the closer I got to my freedom from school, the more I wanted to spend time with my friends, so one day I decided to walk to her house after I got off of the bus.

Now,  I'd noticed something a bit weird in the past few weeks. Everyday when I was walking home from the bus a car would be right next to me. The windows were tinted, so I couldn't see who was inside, and it's paint was a sleek black color. If I'd been able to see the man inside, I would have recognized him as an avid follower on my social networking accounts (MySpace, Facebook, etc). But I couldn't see him, and I never really thought too much about it. A lot of strange people live in New Jersey.

I was walking along the sidewalk in our development, where my friend lived as well, when someone called my name. "Hey, Madison!" I turned to look who was calling me, and as soon as I saw him I looked away. He was easily 6'2", with a muscular build that only added to his intimidation. His black hair was shaped in an Afro, and a smirk was set on his lips. And he was as naked as the day he was born, standing right outside his door for anyone to see. "Why don't you come on in here?" His suggestive tone and words were met with the stomping of my feet as I ran away from him as quickly as I could.

Up until that point, I had thought nothing of the man who liked every one of my twelve year old pictures. I hadn't thought that there was anything wrong with the fact that he commented on nearly every status update and picture. Up until that point, I hadn't known just how dangerous the Internet was.

Thursday, October 24, 2013

Chapter Three

High Expectations and Shortcomings
            My mother and I moved in with her boyfriend, John, a couple of years ago, uprooting our lives from Pennsylvania to settle in his town-home in New Jersey. I'd never liked winter, but this one was proving itself to be the worst. A month and a half had passed - roughly forty days - since I'd spoken to my mother. Nearly two months without anything more than a monotone yes or no answer to a basic question, and she still hadn't noticed. She hadn't noticed that I had imprisoned myself to my room. She hadn't noticed that I no longer had any interest in speaking with her, or in my own social life. She hadn't noticed that I was beginning to hate him - her boyfriend. She hadn't noticed anything about me. She hadn't noticed me. And it filled me with an anger that nothing else ever had, but after yet another week passed, that burning anger settled out into deep disappointment.
Being that, unlike my father, my mother has been with me from the beginning of my life, my bond to her is sewn with things like loyalty, trust and protectiveness, as well as the usual love and appreciation that one has for their mother. Because of this, when she lost interest in me . . . I felt betrayed. Utterly, and completely betrayed, alone and unwanted. If my mother no longer wanted me . . . who did? If my own mother didn't care if I was happy . . . if she didn't care about me . . . who ever would? And one night, when I was asking myself related questions I realized something.
'Why is he more important than me? Why does she want him when he treats her so badly? He doesn't even care about her - he treats her like trash. I've always been here for her; I've always caught her when she's fallen. Every time he broke her heart . . . I've always helped her get back on her feet, never letting her hit rock bottom. How could she forget about that? How could she let me hit rock bottom?' these questions swirled through my mind on the second-month-mark of my silent protest to my mother's actions . . . or lack-there-of. But the longer I asked myself these things . . . the more it made sense. 
My mother had grown up in a home where her mother did everything for her alcoholic step-father, who was not very nice and who was rather abusive to both my mother and her brother, and her mother. Her mother allowed this to happen for over sixteen years, and because of this, taught my mother that this was acceptable behavior. Additionally, my mother was left out of several things while growing up. Her family would go on family vacations and leave her behind to stay with her father, who wanted little-to-nothing to do with her. She didn't have a voice in her own family, and she wasn't cared for in any obvious fashion. It is because of this that she didn't realize anything was wrong. It was also because of this that I learned a lesson that is taught only through having expectations that are two high.
It wouldn't make sense to give a toddler a novel, because he wouldn't know what to do with it. It wouldn't make sense to give a ninety-two year old an iPhone 5, because she wouldn't know how to operate it. It wouldn't make sense to give a dog a toothbrush, because it doesn't even know what teeth are. So how could someone put a child in my mother's arms, and expect her to know how to serve all of her needs? Why had I expected my mother to know that she should have asked me if something was wrong? Nobody had ever asked her that as a child growing up. Why had I expected my mother to put me over her relationship with her boyfriend? Her mother had never done that for her in the case of her step-father. It was in this that I learned that you cannot expect more from a person than what they are capable of, and that, if you do . . . it doesn't benefit anyone. I also learned that you have to forgive people for their shortcomings. My mother has always done her best, and because of that, our bond remain intact.

Thursday, October 10, 2013

Chapter Two

Guilt and Resentment
            It was Christmas morning, only the second that I’d ever spent with my father, and as I sat in front of the beautifully decorated tree I felt something other than anticipation. Christmas meant presents and food and singing and all of my favorite things, so why was I feeling so . . . strange? It was then that I realized that I was sitting alone in front of the tree. My brows furrowed, ‘Doesn’t he want to watch me?’ My mother always watched me open my presents, eagerly clicking away on her camera, intent to capture every moment, every expression. The last time I’d spent Christmas with my father and step-mother they did the same. ‘So what’s different now?’ I’d thought to myself. I went upstairs to see what was keeping them to find them in my sister, Lyndsie’s room. When I put two and two together I came to the conclusion that if Lyndsie had not been born, then I would not have had to sit alone in front of the Christmas tree for hours. So with a glare in the baby’s direction, I marched back down the stairs to rip the wrapping paper off of my presents. Alone.
I selfishly resented my sister for having my father from the beginning of her life, when I had not even had the option. In this I learned the vicious nature of resentment. However, I did not realize it right away, and when I did it hit me like a wrecking ball. 
I was walking on the boardwalk with my mother and her friend Beth when we came up to a sign that read: 'Palm Reading'. I had not been overly convinced but I figured that it would be interesting none-the-less. The woman began the session by telling me things that have happened in my past - things that she could not have guessed. She knew about my father's absence. She knew about my burning fear of being rejected by my family. She knew that I had a half-sister and she knew that I did not approve of my mother's long-term boyfriend. Because of this, I developed a trust in her ability and started asking her questions about my future. "Will my mother ever leave him?" I asked, and she shook her head in pity. "What will I do for a living?" I asked, to which she responded that, whatever field I worked in, I would be doing a lot of traveling. Then, as I sat and wondered what to ask next, something hit me. Something so shocking and true and heartbreaking that a sob ripped from my throat, and my hand instantly slapped over my face as I tried to hide from the woman before me. I wanted to run - run from how I was feeling, from the woman who pulled this question from my mind - but I had to ask. I had to know. "Will I ever get over the resentment I feel for my sister?"
I realized that I not only resented and envied, but held my little sister responsible for the fact that she had him from the beginning of her life and I did not. It took me a long time to overcome the guilt I felt for feeling that way. How could I hold an innocent child accountable for a man’s mistakes? How could I not love someone who loved me with everything in them? It was in my guilt that I learned the ugliness envy, and how it blinds you, and the stunning power of guilt.

Thursday, September 26, 2013

Chapter One

Forgiveness

On a windy afternoon of an October day a woman pulled up to a red light next to a man in a white pick-up truck. The woman is my mother. When she looked to her left she realized that she recognized the man, and rolled down her window. When he noticed her he rolled down his window as well. Their conversation was short, but ended in the decision to pull off of the road, into a parking lot down the street. “This is my friend, Joe,” my mother introduced him to me, opening the door of the car so that I could see the man from my place in my car seat. “Hi, Joe,” I’d greeted him, kicking my little feet in his general direction. Unknown to me at the time, the man is my father. A man that I have asked my mother about numerous times; questions like, “If all the other boys and girls have daddies, why don’t I?” to which my mother would always respond, “You have a Daddy and he loves you very much, like I do. He just isn’t ready to be a Daddy yet.” A man that I did not long for, as my mother gave me all of the love and affection that I needed, but that I did not understand why I did not know who he is. The very man who allowed two whole years to pass before he decided that he was ready to be my father.
           At six years old I decided to forgive my father for coming into my life late, but this particular act has haunted me several times throughout my life. Sometimes I feel as though it should not bother me. Since I was born my mother has always been capable of fulfilling both my father’s role and her own in my life. Other times, though, bitterness erodes my heart. How could someone abandon their child? With age, the idea that my mother presented to me, of a man who was not ready to be a father, changed into one of a man who blatantly did not want his child. I still struggle with this bitterness, at times convincing myself that I do not want him and that he does not even deserve to have me in his life. In this I have learned that forgiveness is not easily given, and that until it is permanent, it is not true.