Things

** Note: This post is unnecessarily long. I was just bored and kept thinking of things. I won’t be offended if you don’t read it all in one shot.

I don’t like choosing favorites. I think this is because I like to have options. To have all my bases covered.

For example, say I was a superhero. I would need to have a superhero power. Now, it would be really, really cool to be able to fly. I would love to fly. But what if your opponent could fly too? Well, you’re both at square one. You would need something else.

Or maybe you could turn invisible. But that doesn’t do a lot of good if your nemesis has sonar.

If you don’t get it, go read something else. I wrote a post about danceable tunes once. Maybe that would be more interesting.

Anyway, there are a few things that I am able to pick favorites from, either out of the lack of option, or because the favorite itself allows variability. Well, also because some of them aren’t a matter of as much importance as saving the world from your arch-nemesis.

Color is a good one. Your favorite color isn’t going to be a matter of life and death. It might be different if you were picking a color that you would have to wear for the rest of your life. But we’re not.

Even so, I do like almost all colors. In fact, the only ones I don’t really like are maroons, and the like. I don’t know why. They’re just ugly. And I’m not a purple person, though I like to say the word. I like the way it is in your mouth. But I don’t hate purple. I just don’t use it as often.

I would have to say that, even though my favorite color depends on the day, most days it’s blue.

Not this blue.

THIS blue. Powder blue just doesn’t cut it. I wonder sometimes what makes a person like a certain color. I think it’s something to do with the way the wavelength hits your eyes.

If I had to choose a super power, I do know what I would pick. I would want something sort of like the animorphs. That way there’s something for every occasion. Charging giant beast, flying away quickly, swimming, jumping, small and hiding, eavesdropping, frolicking, sneaking, copying someone’s thumb-print... everything you ever need to fight the bad guys can be had by changing into different kinds of animals.

Speaking of animorphs, I’m sad the library got rid of them. I wanted to read some again, just for old times sake. But they only had one left, and it wasn’t actually supposed to be there. I think they just missed it when they took them out.

And speaking of favorites, my favorite animorph was always Tobias. I don't really know why. I mean, he's cool, but they all are. I just always liked him most.

=> I remember particularly liking this one. I liked them all (except the ending. Wasn't happy with that.) But I this one was a more intense one, I think.

If I had to choose one sentimental thing to bring with me somewhere, like if we were refugees or something and only had room for one thing that wasn’t survival related, I would definitely take efalump. I don’t like going even normal places without him. A dramatic fleeing for our lives would be much worse without him.

But sometimes that’s not an option either. If I were to bring something sentimental, but it had to be really small, it would be sharky. He’s tiny enough to slip into a pocket, a shoe, or a waistband, but he’s still a little piece of home that would comfort me in a hard time.

Now, what if a robber were sneaking into my house in the night? If I needed to grab something protective that would be useful, but also easy to access, it would be this:

My giant wooden dowel. I have two, actually, but this one’s a little longer and heavier. I had them for a project that didn’t actually work out. So now I just keep them by my bedroom door.

Obviously, if I had a baseball bat that’s what I would use. But I don’t. Not to worry, though. I could crack a skull with that thing if it became necessary.

If I had a little more time, I’d go for this, of course:

The only deal with it is that I’d have to have time to quietly string it, grab an arrow from my shelf, and still have enough distance between me and the robber to use the ranged weapon advantage. Our hallway isn’t very long, and the kitchen doesn’t have much in it that a robber would want. He wouldn’t stay there long. The dowel trades the long range for quickness.

Well, add to that the fact that if I actually had to smash someone, it would be a lot easier to not accidentally do permanent damage. I can aim a batter’s swing a lot better than I can aim an arrow. Safer for both me and the robber.

On the other hand, though, I would very much like to be proficient in archery. While I would make sure to be versed in any weapon well enough to defend myself, I really think that my place on a battlefield would be with the archers. Assuming, of course, that magic is out. I would totally be a wizard in a fantasy battle. I enjoy exploding things WAY too much.

Let’s see... Oh, here’s a good one. PC or Mac? Definitely PC. You may think that a strange choice, since very few people would agree.

Here are my reasons: 1) I know pc’s. I’d have to learn a bunch of new things for mac usage, which I am too lazy to bother with. Not interested. 2) Macs are more expensive. 3)Macs are becoming so much more popular that I really feel like the fewer viruses thing won’t be a long lasting advantage. Sooner or later someone’s gonna tap that resource. 4) My pc has a 15 inch screen. Which I like. For that much screenage on a mac, you’d have to fork over the serious $$. 5) Compatibility. Yeah, yeah, I know people are coming up with more mac programs, like word and powerpoint and stuff. But they’re still not the same thing. They aren’t even compatible with each other. Forget working the same way. And even if they were the same, I don’t care about word. I don’t use it. None of the things I use my computer for would work on a mac except for making slideshows and checking the internet. This includes games.

Well, you get the idea.

Lion or a tiger? Definitely Tiger. Did you know that their skeletons are almost indistinguishable from each other? True. With that much similarity, it can be about what’s on the outside. And the outside of a tiger is a lot cooler than a lion. Lion’s just aren’t even pretty. And the male ones are just lazy. So lazy. Tigers are prettier, bigger, and they live in the jungle, which is really appealing to me. There are snow tigers too. More endangered than lions? Yeah, they are. But it’s because they’re prettier. People like their fur.

Favorite real animal? In case you can’t tell just by being in my room, it’s an Elephant. So many reasons. One, because I relate to them. I really imagine my patronus to be an elephant. Not just because they’re huge and could stampede dementors like they were toothpicks. That’s helpful though. I just wouldn’t feel safe with a kitten patronus, or an otter, or whatever. Lame, and not confidence inspiring.

But elephants are cool. They’re really chill. They play, they take mudbaths, they look at lions like they were scum. They’re the epitome of gentle giant mellow.

UNLESS you mess with their babies. I’m willing to bet that an angry mamma elephant charging at you is on the top ten list of scariest things ever.

I’m kinda like that, I think. Mellow to the max. Things just don’t bother me. I don’t get stressed out about much in life. Especially not about school, which might be a bad thing. But it got me through college a lot more enjoyably than most people can claim. On the other hand, though, you mess with someone like my sister, or my really close friends, you better believe that when I whack you with that dowel, you ain’t getting back up.

Favorite not so real animal? Dragons, no question. Some of them are similar reasons as liking elephants. But mostly I love dragons because they’re just awesome. Most of my favorite animals have huge teeth, horns, scales, claws, or something. Dragons are the epitome of all of that.

Plus I like fire.

Ooh, here’s a good one. Something from the past that’s been romanticized so much that it seems awesome, but wasn’t really? Like what would I love to experience? There’s a lot that would be cool. Jousting, widespread archery and swordfighting, living in a castle, etc. But I really have a thing for sailing ships. They just seem sooooo cool. I know it wouldn’t be exactly nice. But the idea of it is still cool, and ships are just pretty to look at especially. All the masts, and lines, and sails and stuff. They’re way awesome.

Favorite ninja turtle? For completely shallow reasons, it was always Leonardo. I liked the name better, I liked blue better, I liked swords better, and all that combined in Leonardo. Apparently he wasn’t a nice one, but my little kid brain didn’t remember that part. Rafael was probably second, for all the same reasons.

Donatello was the most boring to me because he was purple, his name was the least interesting, and all he had was a quarterstaff. Honestly, if you’ve got to kill bad guys, I just can’t imagine doing it with a thick stick. What do you do, just hit them until they’re a pulp? I understand from friends that he was actually the nicest one, though.

Once upon a time my favorite dinosaur was a Triceratops. I now know way too many to have just one favorite. Trikes are still my favorite Ornithischians though. I think it’s the horns. My favorite saurischians are the raptor family. Not velociraptors, necessarily. Too small. Deinonychus is cool though. And Utahraptor is pretty sweet, despite its unoriginal name. I also like supersaurus, but he’s only in the saurischian running because he’s freaking massive. He could probably knock a t-rex flat without having to even think about it.

<= This is the velociraptor from Jurassic park, and strictly speaking, the scale is all wrong. This fellow is more likely a deinonychus.

In the not strictly dinosaurian extinct stuff, megalodon is so awesome. Basically a great-white-esque shark so big that he could swallow a regular great white whole and not even realize it. Even whale sharks pale in comparison.

=> Artist interpretation, obviously, but the scale is accurate.

Legos, lincoln logs, tinker toys, blocks? Ooh... tough one. Each has their place and their uses. Depends on my mood, I think. But I’ll have to say legos, I think. They have the most versatility. Lincoln logs are good for buildings, and tinker toys are good for bridges and vehicles. I love blocks because the stuff you build with them has to actually be structurally sound to stay up. But You can do all of the above with legos, too.

Lightsaber color? Blue. And not because it’s my favorite color. Obi wan’s was blue, and so was one of luke’s. His other one was green. Qui gon’s was green too, and I really like him a lot. But I think I just have to stay with Obi Wan. I wouldn’t be opposed to a yellow one, though. Not because I like it better than green. I don’t really, as colors go. But because it’s yellow. Who else has a yellow one? The only person I can think of is just this one padawan girl that obi wan knew when he was younger. She died anyway.

If I could pick any instrument to be instantly awesome at? It’s really, really tempting to say guitar, because there’s a lot of call for that. You’re automatically cool if you can jam on the guitar. But I honestly would have to say that the Irish whistle, tin whistle, whatever the heck you want to call it, would be my choice. Multiple reasons. One, where the heck would you get lessons for that anyway? I might as well get guitar lessons, and be auto good at the tin whistle. But most of all, it’s incredible. Nothing in the world makes me feel more nostalgic, calm, at one with nature, and adventurous all at the same time, like a song with tin whistle in it.

This one is good. (I didn't make the video. I just really like the song, and happened to find this link to it.)

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ZETxDFMRIE

There are other ones too, but I don’t feel like making movies out of them to load on here. Sorry.

Do I have horcruxes? Well, about that...

It is a truth universally acknowledged that a man in period costume always look better once he sheds the jacket and cravat.

Just saying.

Exhibit A:

Anyway, what I was really wondering, is what's the deal with Mr. Darcy? I mean, besides the obvious point of his being a main character in a famous romance story. I guess sometimes that's all it takes. They don't have to have any other redeeming qualities.

Mr. Thornton is another example. ^

I only think he's cool because Richard Armitage is cool.

But really, I do often wonder why so many girls are obsessed with him. My idea of the perfect romantic suitor is not Mr. Darcy. Sure, he's supposed to be handsome. That's a plus.

Some random person made this of many of the Darcys.

My favorite Darcy happens to be this one:

I know it's a more modern one, but still...

Anyway, he's not terrible. He does a lot of things for her after he falls in love with her. I guess I just have an absurdly high standard for dashing, romantic leads. But I suppose his many flaws are what make him more real.

Although now that I think about it, it may be a high standard, but it's kind of a strange one. To me, someone like Peeta (from Hunger Games) counts a whole lot more than Darcy does. Which is more than just a little weird.

Um, I don't really know what the point of this was. Except maybe to discuss lovely British men.

*shrug*

I adore Peeta. Just FYI. I'm still wigging out about Mockingjay.

I don't know why I do it. Reading a book series, loving it, emotionally investing myself to the point of insanity, freaking out about it, and then dying inside when it ends. Even when the endings are happy, and exactly how I wanted them to be, I just don't like them to be over. It's like losing a friend. A trusted companion. Part of my soul.

That's exactly it. My soul splits every time a great series finishes. I have horcruxes all over the place. Like I said, I don't know why I keep torturing myself this way. It's just such a great ride. It's like drugs. I can't get away.

Hahahaha. I just remembered one of my most favorite lines from the newest Pride and Prejudice. "It's most inconvenient, since I've sworn to loathe him for all eternity".

K. My movie's done. I should really go to sleep now. Well, I should have about 2 hours ago. But what's done is done, as they say.

11 hours of my life

Mockingjay. The finale to the Hunger Games. The awesome, agonizing, hilarious, terrifying, horrid, super-cool trip through the dystopian future of North America.

It's hard to explain, and impossible to effectively describe. But I would recommend it to anyone.

Without going into a long explanation of why it's good while not telling anything about it, I proceed on with the photo-essay.

I apologize ahead of time for the, um, heinousness of some of these pictures.

Not all are flattering, but all are accurate. (Unlike that clock in the background).

I can't go on any long rants about crazy-go-nuts stuff that happened in it. I want to. But for the sake of my sister and her roommate (as well as any others so far deprived of the book), I won't.

*heavy sigh*

However, I did document my reading. These pictures were actually taken during the reading adventure. Apparently my face isn't as expressive as what was crazy-spiraling through my head. But you get the idea.

Also, the very most intense parts warranted no pictures. Not because my faces weren't undeniably priceless. But just because there was no way on the planet I was going to bother with the camera at a time like that. Seriously.

So, here we go. The ups, downs, and in betweens of Mockingjay.

In these two, someone just got pwnd.

That is to say, burned. In the non-literal sense. It was GOOD.

I think we can call this the "as close as you can get to the fetal position without actually putting the book down" picture.

The progression from bad to worse during serious parts.

Yes, I really do this while reading certain things.

Laugh if you must.

This one is the most very real pic I have.

Literally, I read the page, slapped the book down onto the bed, and just sat there for like 7 minutes.

There were only 2 pics during the last third.

That's just all I could manage. Nuff said.

This is a combination of the book intensity, and the severe distress I was faced with in having had to go to work today. For four hours. WHILE copies of Mockingjay stood ready on a shelf, on hold for others. Mocking me, as it were. It didn't help that I walked to work with the book, and had it in my locker. For emergencies.

This person needs help! Please send money!

I just thought I'd let you be as amused as me at this.

Jerusha Renstrom is a 60-something year old lady that runs the Lindon theatre. Sometimes I get emails from her about stuff that's going to play there, or if there's any auditions. I don't go to any of them, but I like to see if anything interesting is going to play. Anyway, recently her email was hacked into, and some random person sent this email out to most of the people on her mailing list:

Hello!

I'm sorry I didn't inform you about my traveling... am presently in London, on short vacation and as i write to you now.. its unbelievable am stuck here,got mugged at gun point on my way to the hotel and my money,credit cards,phone and other valuable things were taken off me at gun point, thanking Almighty God for save keeping my passport., i really need your urgent assistance quickly ? I JUST NEED SOME MONEY TO SORT OUT MY HOTEL BILLS AND i promise to refund it back to you once i get home cause i still have some cash in my account but i cant access any here right now ,already canceled all my cards immediately after the muggers took my things off me!!! still at the public internet library where am making use of the free internet access, i will forever be grateful if you can help me,Waiting to hear from you quickly cos my flight leaves in few hrs but need to sort the hotel bills and please me from been embarrassed.

Thanks,

Jerusha

I'm sure I don't even need to point out to you how many reasons there are for this being so ridiculous. It's just... bad. If run-on sentences were money, this person would have enough to tour Europe. I feel like I should be out of breath after reading it, because it just keeps going.

Note to self: When posing as an old lady, don't use 'cause', 'cos', or 'hrs'.

Please me from been embarrassed.

Thanks,

Me.

Me: A Photo-essay

I decided to use my blog for something that it's actually meant to be used for. I shall now expound to you a few things about myself. I have chosen to do this in the form of a photo-essay. As they say, a picture is worth a thousand words. And so you'll be getting five or six thousand words describing me.

What a treat you're in for!

Click on each picture to view the larger, more detailed versions.

Let's begin with the basics, shall we?

This is me.

This was taken only last week. I mention this only to point out that it is extremely accurate in its portrayal.

As you can see by the subtle coloring and shading, I am holding a sword, a book, and am standing next to a sign with the letters N-E-R-D printed on it. These things are very commonplace in my life. That is why I picked this photograph to introduce myself. As they say, first impressions are very important, and so I thought it necessary to give you an accurate first impression of me.

From here we move on to a few key aspects of my life. School was a great time for me. Here I am showing my school spirit.

Ravenclaw was instrumental in helping me to develop my talents, and to find myself. Here I discovered a little bit about who I truly am.

In school I majored in Narnia, Fablehaven, wand-making, and quill-manship. While I excelled in the former three, I continue to struggle with the later to this day. And though I hope to use the quill and parchment in my future career as a professional scribe, it will take quite a bit more hard work on my part.

I would also like to mention that I have many different hobbies outside of school. In fact, I have a super-mega-foxy-awesome-hot alter-ego that goes about solving world hunger and fighting crime in the evenings.

My crime-fighting, hunger-solving, wicked-awesome alter ego, lowering her bow as she realizes that what she heard was only a photographer, and not the evil super-villain that she was on the trail of.

There is so much to talk about, and so little time in which to do it. I wish, now, to delve a bit deeper into myself. Quite literally. This is a photograph of the outside of my brain.

Note the filing cabinet. This is evidence of my very serious attempt to organize my life, and become a responsible, hard-working, mature adult.

Such a photo is quite self explanatory. You can see by it the large, efficient, intellectual machine that is my frontal lobe. The thoroughly effective connection provided by the brain-stem. And even the marvelous specimen of a medulla oblongata which I am fortunate to possess. I say this not to brag, but merely to put forth the facts.

In a natural train of thought, we'll proceed next to the inside of my brain.

The hi-def coloring is somewhat lacking in this example, as the blog is such a basic, and frankly lacking, form of expression when it comes to the visual. In translating brain signals into media, it always loses some of its richness.

As you are quite aware, I'm sure, that the inside of a brain changes extremely often, I find it necessary to add a few more unplanned photos to this essay. They should give you a better idea of the true nature of the inside of my brain.

I hope you have enjoyed this sneak peek into the workings of my brain. It's not often that I expose so much of my true self at once.

Now that we have delved so deeply, let us again return to the outer layers of my person. Here I include a picture of my pet, Rolf. He can be somewhat intimidating at first, but let me assure you that he is quite tame. The photograph was taken quite safely.

Here I am riding Rolf over a peaceful pastoral setting. Rolf never attacks the sheep. He's a gentle fellow. The sheep rather enjoy his company.

Now there are a few questions that you may still have. When I am not engaged in serious intellectual thought, quillmanship practice, crime fighting, or the training of Rolf, what is it that I do with my time? How do I make my living?

Up until quite recently, this is how I employed my time. I say 'until', however, because after a minor incident at work, I discovered the consequences of any tiny mistake, and began to realize the true danger of my work. If I ever hope to make it through scribe school, I need to be much more careful with myself. My hands, especially.

A photo of me employed as a professional zombie slayer. It gave me no practical experience in furthering my ambitions toward scribery, but the pay was sufficient to get me through most of my schooling. There are things about it that I shall certainly miss.

I am about to conclude this photo-essay. But before I do, I realize that you may yet have one question. What was it that happened, which caused me to so suddenly seek new employment? What, in the field of zombie-slaying, could have possibly gone so wrong? Well, I feel that this final picture will be quite self-explanatory.

This is me in the throws of a violent, but fortunately temporary accident, while employed with Zombies-R-Us Inc. This is what happens to a failed Zombie Slayer. It opened my eyes to many potential dangers and disadvantages to this line of work, and so I steadfastly continue to pursue scribery as my life's profession.

I hope you enjoyed learning all about me. And I do hope that you shall come back for more. After all, sneak peeks into people this awesome are not to be taken or discarded lightly. In conclusion, I should like to say thank you for so much interest. Donations are accepted. In fact, they are encouraged.

With every donation of more than $100, you will receive a collectors edition ballpoint pen, absolutely free. Each pen is decorated with miniaturized copies of the photos you have seen here. Don't miss out on this offer!

Turtles??

Sometimes I read blogs that are witty and funny. Creative. Awesome. My sister's often is. This one is too: http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/04/alot-is-better-than-you-at-everything.html

It makes me chuckle inside and outside.

Mine is not like that. I apologize. I wish it was. If there was one thing in the entire would that I could change about my personality, it would be to make myself witty, humorous, and quick thinking.

I'm not quick thinking.

That's me on the left -->

I suppose the adage is kind of right. Slow and steady wins the race. Unless, of course, the fast ones aren't stupid enough to stop off for a long nap.

When it comes to memorizing stuff, I'm the rabbit. When it comes to science facts, or history dates, or movie quotes, I'm the rabbit too. Not in terms of the instant recall sort, but in terms of the 'if you give me a couple of seconds to orient myself, I can recall a lot more facts than you' kind of thing.

Socially, I am not the tortoise. No, I am a three legged tortoise with a crack in my shell, that got put at the starting line facing the wrong way. In terms of wit, cleverness, and social norms everyone else is 200 meters down the track before I've even got myself facing the right direction so I can start.

Sometimes I get a brief spurt of inspiration. Especially after reading someone else's hilarious posts. This inspiration gets me about two paragraphs. On a good day, that is. As you can see, this is the 9th paragraph. Well, if you count those single lines. And as you can also see, my clever inspiration ran out about 12 paragraphs ago.

Some day, though. Some day you will read one of my posts and think to yourself, "Wow. That was awesome. I want to read more!"

I'm sure that hasn't happened yet for most of you. And by most, I mean the five people who actually follow the blog. Six or seven if I have some non-public followers. Which is probably wishful thinking.

If it has happened, you may have been having an awful day. Anything was good.

Or maybe you just finished watching Twilight. If my blog was in the running for a nobel prize against the Twilight movie, I'm pretty sure I'd win. Which would be a sad, sad commentary on the state of the world. (Did you know that they now have the Twilight graphic novel? Yup.)

Or perhaps you don't read other blogs. Lack of competition might be enough to raise the level of my posts from 'hopeless' to 'adequate'.

Coated Chicken.

You have just witnessed the limit of my cleverness.

Perhaps I'll someday understand why I have been deprived of verbal coolness AND other coolness at the same time.

Today is not that day.

If you were reading this post hoping for a point, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. There isn't one. Unless it is realizing that a chicken wearing a down coat is sort of morbid. That could count as something. Or maybe that's more wishful thinking.

Brains

My brain fails. I had an idea for a blog I wanted to do, but I forgot it. Soooo... Imma do something else instead.

Me and my friend are playing this game where we get a random story prompt from this website and then just write a short story to it real quick. Then we compare what we ended up with. This is the first one, and it's from last night. At like 1 am. The idea of the game is to just spit out whatever comes. No editing, except for like fixing a small typo or whatever. And no extensive thinking and brainstorming. Just start writing, and that's it.

I thought it was fun and kind of cool. But by no means is this like Newberry award winning or anything. Don't judge me.

This is the story idea from the generator:

8-24-2010 The theme of this story: noir horror. The main characters: pious smuggler and courageous martial artist. The start of the story: delusion. The end of the story: conspiracy.

And this is the story:

The mist wafted through the yard, causing the temperature to drop. It was a full moon. He hated that. His job was bad enough without fearing the supernatural. Not for the first time, he questioned his occupation. Tomorrow he would sit in the box wondering what to confess to the priest, just as he did every time he had a job. But he knew that, in the end, he wouldn’t mention this. He never did.

The shovel hit something, and he realized that he had been digging for much longer than he had thought. He cleared the dirt away from the pine boards, and fastened the ropes. The next bit was always the hardest. If he had an assistant everything would be so much faster, and he could get out of there. But he didn’t dare tell anyone how he made his money.

Not that it was wrong. He was working for the good of many people. At least, that’s what he kept telling himself. He felt that his conscience was clear, but there was always a nagging sense of guilt. Just the tiniest uncertainty, hanging in the back of his mind like a cobweb.

No, he thought. He needed the money. And they needed the parts. The students couldn’t learn as well without them. And this one would be especially useful. It was very fresh. The dirt hadn’t even settled yet.

Sweating and covered in grime, he climbed from the hole and heaved on the ropes. Heavy. Heavier than usual. This one must have been big. All the better. He could charge more.

An owl hooted and startled him. He nearly let go of the ropes, but caught them just in time. Just an owl. Nothing scary. Nothing unusual. He kept at it until the box was clear of the hole. Then he tied the ropes off, and reached out to pull the thing over to the solid ground. It really was much heavier than usual.

He turned away quickly. He didn’t like to look at those things too long. It started to give him ideas. She shook off a shudder, and started for the cart. A sudden loud crack rang through the empty grounds. He froze, pulse racing so fast that it pounded in his ears.

It was a full minute before he dared to move. After such a long silence, he wasn’t quite sure he had actually heard anything. His mind was probably playing tricks with him. It often did at the full moon. Summoning his courage, he took another step for the cart. The horse whinnied nervously, and stamped a foot.

He backed the cart toward the hole. He didn’t want to handle the thing any more than he had to. He suppressed another shudder and patted the horse on the neck to calm him. He took a deep breath before walking around to the back of the cart.

His stomach lurched, and felt as though he had just swallowed a bucketful of lead. The box was right where he had left it, but there was a wide crack running the entire length of the lid. His knees started to shake. It was only his imagination. Only imagination. The full moon was making him see things that weren’t there.

Slowly he stepped toward it, intending the raise it to the back of the cart with the ropes. He took tiny steps, all the while avoiding the sight of the cracked lid. As much as he was terrified of it, he couldn’t keep his eyes from sliding back.

He bent down to untie the ropes, preparing himself to lift the weight once again. He gave a mighty heave, and the box flew into the air. The lightness shocked him and he let go, causing the pine planking to slam into the ground. The lid was on the ground nearby. The box was completely empty.

He backed into the tree, hyperventilating and muttering at the same time. More mist swirled around him, chilling him to the bone. He closed his eyes and opened them again, hoping to wake up. But the box was still empty.

He couldn’t get any air. His lungs wouldn’t let him breathe. A shadow flew past in the mist. He screamed and dropped to his knees. He grabbed his crucifix and held it tight. Leave me alone. Leave me alone.

A form appeared in front of him, looking like an acrobat. It flipped and leaped past the headstones, coming right for him. He couldn’t look. He bent double, crying harder than he ever had. Never again. He would never come here again. He would spend days in the chapel. He would tell the priest everything.

“Don’t hurt me!” He whimpered in a high pitched voice, while covering his head with his hands.

Cold metal closed around his wrists. He knew he was done for. This was the end. He would never get a chance to live past thirty.

“I won’t.” Said a voice, made ethereal by the cold, wet night. “If you confess.”

“Anything.” He squeaked.

Lights flooded the area as torches flared to life. Lanterns were uncovered, and pistols were cocked. Glancing up, he saw a ring of policemen advancing on him. He found his wrists to be handcuffed. Somewhere in his mind, he knew that he was under arrest. He knew that this had been an elaborate trap, set just for him. But he was too terrified to care.

The dark, shadowy figure slipped away into the night, unnoticed by anyone but him.