Some thanks for a great year, with a better one ahead.

Well it's new years, everyone. So to any of my dear readers reading this on New Years, Happy New Year!

I'll admit, 2012 has been a year of big change for me. I grew a lot this year. A lot has changed in my life. I drifted from some friends, some friends left me completely, but I did grow closer to a lot of people and made a lot of new friends. I even reconnected with some old friends.

Most of you may know, it's been a rough year for me. I went and am still going through a lot. I've been through some very, very dark times and more are yet to come I think. But I'm thankful for all the friend's I've made that have been there for me, the guardian angels I've been blessed with in real life.

I'm so thankful for the Drama people. If any of you guys read this, I love you guys. I joined drama more or less by accident, but it was an accident I'd repeat again and again if I needed to. You guys are the people I look forward to seeing every week and the people I feel most at home with. I can't imagine school without you guys and I'm so thankful I came to help you guys with your scripts that one fine day.

I'm thankful for some of the people I've met and connected with on Twitter. I've made great friends over Twitter. I've never even met these people but I wish so badly I knew them in real life. Lobna, Noufey, Choi and Saf, I don't know if you read my blog or not but I really am thankful I got to know you and really wish I knew you in real life. Who knows, maybe someday I'll meet you in real life or something, but right now I'm just thankful I met you.

My bros. I know you guys don't read my blog, but all the same, thank you. Through thick and thin, I know I have you guys to watch my back. I know I've been so busy lately that I rarely get to see you all, but I want you guys to know that every time I say I can't meet you guys, I'm left sitting there wishing I could be with you all. I'd take a bullet for each of my bros and if the time ever called for it, I'd back you guys up right up to the end. To the Gates of Hell and back again.

To my dear friend that I've had a rough year with. We've had a lot of ups and downs, but on the whole, I'm so glad you were picked as my partner for that workshop. I know we've really drifted apart and at times you're cold to me as I am quite often a total prick to you. But I don't want that, I want to be close like before and hopefully you want that too. I genuinely am thankful I met you this year and can't imagine going back to the way life was before meeting you. You are still really important to me, and I hope you know I do still care. I'll be there for you, whether you want me to or not :)

To my best friend and neighbour. I have so many things to thank you for. Thank you for buying ice cream and hanging out with me at midnight when I was down and sad, thank you for keeping me company when I was all alone in school and had no one to hang out with. Thank you for teaching me so much about girls and how to deal with them and just being the best friend I could never have in secondary school coming from an all boy's school. I don't say this nearly enough, but you mean a lot to me and I'm so glad you're my best friend. Who would have thought that that fateful day where you were down because you had a falling out with your friends and somehow by chance met me on the bus would lead to such a great friendship? Regardless, I'm glad we're friends. So, so glad. I hope someday when I have kids-- IF I have kids, that you can be their godmother. I can't imagine someone I'd trust more as their awesome godmother. Try not to spoil my unborn kid(s) rotten please?

I have so many people I want to thank, I don't want to mention names here though. But if you have done something for me, you've listened to me at some point, you've befriended me or just asked what was wrong, even just once, I thank you. I am grateful to have you in my life, and I hope at some point in time, I get to express my gratitude in some way. Maybe it is returning the favour, maybe it's in some other form.

And ofcourse, I thank you, dear reader. I know few, if any people, read this blog. But if you do and actually enjoy listening to this grizzled old storyteller that sometimes sounds much older beyond his years gripe on in personal post after personal post and actually put up with it enough to enjoy my stories, then that is enough motivation for this old tale-spinner to carry on doing what he does best: Telling stories. It would be great if someone were to leave a comment or two, it does make a difference to know someone reads this blog and what they actually thought of the stories. Because as long as someone enjoys what I write, I will keep writing for you all.

And to the one loyal reader I have that I actually know of that reads this blog rather regularly, the Girl That Doesn't Belong, thank you too. I mention you specifically because you've been around literally since the beginning and have made me feel that this blog is reaching at least someone in this world. It may be a small thing to just post a comment on a story, but it is a big deal to me knowing I'm not talking to a wall.

I think it's about time I get to bed now, I've a lot to do soon. School is starting and that means deadlines and projects. I'm in for a busy year. Once again, thank you to you all for making my 2012 a great and memorable one, all things accounted for. Here's to a brighter future, and a better tomorrow. Have a great 2013, dear reader :)

Lanterns everywhere.

In brightest day,
In blackest night,
No evil shall escape my sight,
Let those who worship evil's might,
Beware my power, Green Lantern's light!

Those words sound familiar to you? That's the Green Lantern creed. Every Green Lantern recites it when they recharge their power rings daily. I memorized several Lantern creeds cuz, as I've said several time before, I'm a major Lantern fan.

But ever since I got into the whole Lantern thing, I began seeing things in the seven colours of the rainbow. I'm not seeing things or going crazy, hell no. At least I hope not. No I've started placing people into different Lantern Corps subconsciously. Where would they belong if the War Of Light came to Earth and everyone was forced into a Corps?

Red - The colour of anger, hate and rage. This corps is filled with people just boiling with hate. I've always seen myself in this corps because I... well I wouldn't call myself an angry person, but I'm no stranger to it. I am angry at a lot of things. A lot of it to do with myself. Yes, I'm very often upset with myself.

Orange - Greed. This corps is filled with the greediest and most selfish bastards on the face of the planet. They think about themselves and only themselves. Money, power, women, all to serve their personal needs and theirs alone.

Yellow - Fear. This corps is comprised of the manipulative and fear-inspiring bullies. They are dominating, aggressive and generally unpleasant to be around.

Green - The colour of willpower. These individuals are the people I've seen with a strong sense of will. They are not easily swayed. They are capable, independent and they NEVER give up.

Blue - Hope. These individuals are the kind that have faith in anything, whether it's faith in God, or faith in friends, they have a very strong sense of belief. They are positive, quite often these are the happy and cheerful people in my life.

Indigo - Compassion. These are the caring people around me. They are selfless, helpful, charitable and just want the best for the people around them. Some of these people are by no means the sweet and kind types either, I've met the most grittiest and toughest people that belong here. Why? Because sometimes it's for the other party's own good. They care, just in a tougher way.

Violet - Love. Yes, this is pretty self explanatory. Whether it be madly in love with a significant other, or with someone they simply can't let go of in a form of unrequited love like Carol Ferris had for Hal Jordan, these people belong here.

Nowadays, I often see people as if they belonged in a Lantern Corps. I personally categorized people into different corps according to what I know about them. But I'm always curious to know what they think they are in, like which Corps they belong to and why.

I know I'm just rambling again, so I'll stop now. But before I leave, I'd like to know what Corps YOU are in. So comment on which corps you belong in and why!

What if I died...

If I wasn't here tomorrow 
Would anybody care
If my time was up I'd wanna know
You were happy I was there
If I wasn't here tomorrow 
Would anyone lose sleep
If I wasn't hard and hollow
Then maybe you would miss me

I know I'm a mess and I wanna be someone
Someone that I like better
I can never forget 
So don't remind me of it forever (forever)

This song spoke to me in ways I can't even explain.

I had the most bizarre but the most eye opening dream last night.

I always talk about how I think about how it would be if I died. Who would miss me, who would mourn, who would worry, all that. Last night's dream seemed to give me a good idea.

In the dream, I apparently disappear without a trace. I somehow figured that, cuz my family was freaking out and calling anyone and everyone they could. I stood in the middle of my living room as if I was a ghost, watching my family fall apart. I felt my phone vibrating in my hand, I looked down and saw the multitudes of calls. Not all were from my family. Tweets and texts saying things like:

"Where are you?"

"Come back, this isn't funny."

"Please be ok."

"I'm gonna kill you if you don't make it back in one piece."

"Please don't do anything stupid, just come back."

"We miss you."

"What happened to you? Please come back, we're all worried."

If you know me in real life, I'm sure you'll know who is who. Or at least you'll know if it's you I'm talking about. I omitted names and rephrased it all, naturally. But I remember tearing up. I wanted to respond so bad. That I was ok. That I wasn't dead. I wanted to answer the calls that kept showing up. But my phone refused to let me. I remember walking out of my house and over to my neighbour's place. She's my best friend, and I remember watching her freaking out and worrying as much as my mother and sister and grandmother...

The scene warped to a scene of my friends from secondary school. They were debating over going out to search for me. They were phoning up every Tom, Dick and Harry I'd ever known trying to find out who had last seen me.

The scenes flashed past me in a blur, I saw tear-stricken faces, furrowed brows, I heard voices as each scene played through.

"Where did you go..." a short girl stared out the window, another dear friend of mine. I could not see if she was crying or not.

"Dude, where are you? Let us know. Something. Anything." my childhood friend paced his room thinking.

There are so many that I saw that I can't possibly note all of them down. But what I saw truly touched me. I don't know how these people would actually react if this really happened, but what I saw brought an ache to my heart everytime I saw a dear friend worry.

The dream shifted to show my family, with my mother on the phone with someone. She burst out in tears and soon the rest of my family followed. I think we all know what was the news she received on the phone. My body must have been found or something.

So I watched as my best friend and the same friends I saw worry now begin to cry as they heard the news. I love my best friend like family, so watching her suddenly break into tears, it just broke my heart.

Next, I saw my friends gathered around the same table, each had a whiskey in each hand. They held their hands up in a toast. A toast in my name. I saw an empty seat and a whiskey glass, poured with Coke. Just the way I liked it.

The scenes warped, one by one, to each of my friends reacting to the news. Some broke down crying, some thought it was some kind of sick joke (from the school I come from, it isn't much of a stretch, although I was never one to pull a prank like this), some just... went numb. Staring blankly into space as if unable to process the information. Some, mostly the guys, just looked somber and troubled. Like they had trouble accepting this fact.

I was always convinced that my existence in this world made little to no impact on the people I met. I never figured I'd see someone cry because I was gone. I never thought someone could even miss me that much. But there I saw it all, clear as day. It was in a dream, yeah. But I couldn't help feeling touched and very, very heartbroken watching as my friends and family reacted to the news.

One by one, I stood before each of them to say my last words to them. Telling them that I loved them, both friends and family. The family that was always there for me since I was brought into this world, and the family of friends that for some reason chose to stick with me through all my awkwardness, my weird and embarrassing moments, through my tough moments, through my best and my worst and for some reason still stick around me. I honestly don't know what you guys see in me that was worth being around me for all that, but thank you. Cuz I'm pretty sure I'd have done a lot of stupid things without you guys being there for me. Not the good kind either.

I know it was only a dream and I'm probably just imagining all that. If I actually disappeared or kicked the bucket, their reactions wouldn't be so severe and I doubt too many people would cry over me. But it just made me feel... wanted. Missed. Important to someone. Like I mattered. Like I'm not a ghost just passing through everyone's lives and I'm forgotten the second I leave. I'm not a nobody. I don't like the idea of anyone I care about losing sleep over me, but knowing someone would be as worried if I wasn't there one day as I would be if the roles were reversed, it just made me feel... I just didn't feel invisible. I didn't feel like I was irrelevant and I actually mattered to someone.

If I wasn't here tomorrow 

Would anybody care

If my time was up I'd wanna know

You were happy I was there

If I wasn't here tomorrow 

Would anyone lose sleep

If I wasn't hard and hollow

Then maybe you would miss me

I wonder if I'd be missed in reality...

Dreams...

Recently, I've been having some odd dreams. A few good, one really good. But many were bad. Here's one that was... really weird. Be warned, it is heavily based on the Star Wars universe and I do not explain a lot of things because if I do, I probably will never stop. So, here is a forewarning. If you do not like Star Wars or hearing me groan on about a Star Wars-based dream, just stop reading and dont waste your time. If you truly want to find out what happens still, here is what happened...

I was in the Jedi Enclave on Dantooine. For those of you that don't know, Star Wars: Knights of the Old Republic is and always will be one of my favourite games. My favourite place in this game was Dantooine. On Dantooine, there was a Jedi Enclave where young Force Adepts came to be trained by the Masters. It was a safe haven for the Jedi, who were being hunted by the Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Malak.

Darth Malak

Dantooine was beautiful and if I could pick a place anywhere in the game to make a home, that would be it. It had massive rolling plains, the soundtrack was so peaceful and I loved just running around in the game and doing missions on that planet. The place felt... safe. Yes, I know it's just a game, but I sometimes get really into my games and attached to my characters. I got really attached to mine and particularly to this planet.

Concept art of Dantooine. This is how it looked to me, just a lot more real. Home...

The dream starts, at least as far as I can remember, in the middle of the Enclave, where a small grove stood. A tree grew in the center of the grove. I was in black Jedi Robes, the kind Dark Jedis usually wore, I always preferred things in black. I remember holding a gunmetal-grey cylinder, it was smooth and rather unadorned save for three symbols on the back. I recognised these symbols as my initials in Mandalorian. A small sapphire rested on the flip side of the cylinder. When I pressed it, a rich sapphire blue blade sprang to life. "This must be my lightsaber." I thought to myself eagerly. Come on I've always wanted one, can you blame me?

This is as close to the lightsaber I had as I could find. The saber was gunmetal-grey instead of steel, the black leather grip was where my initials were. The flip side that is obscured was where the sapphire activation button was.

I saw so many Jedi throughout the Enclave, many of them are people I know in real life. I strode through the Enclave, greeting people as I passed and finally reached the doors to the courtyard. As it opened, I felt more at peace than I ever did in real life. The air smelt... sweet. Like it did in Perth when I visited my relatives there on a holiday. The breeze was cool and the sun was high in the sky, must have been around noon. I made my way out of the Enclave compounds and wandered around to see the sights. I visited the Star Map ruins, which pulsed with dark energies. Oh, and I forgot to mention, in the dream I actually felt the Force. What I imagined the Force would feel, I felt it. I could sense people and their intentions, I could feel the alignments of Force energy, it felt like an extension to my senses. I actually woke up feeling rather... deaf. Like one of my senses was suddenly deadened to me. I got so used to it in that short dream, I actually feel rather incomplete without it, even now. But I felt EVERYTHING. And I could actually use it in the dream. I could lift rocks with the Force, I could lift massive boulders with it! I could jump at least fifteen meters into the air, I could throw my lightsaber and it would return to me like a boomerang. Well, better than a boomerang, those never EVER returned to me. But it was an amazing feeling. I visited Juhani's Grove and felt the dark taint still present from Juhani's fall to the dark side. I admit, I finally fully understood why the dark side was so addictive.

The Crystal Cave

There was a place I loved to go to and that was the Crystal Cave. The Crystal Cave was a cave that was filled with hundreds of multicoloured crystals. They came in different shapes and sizes and each had different properties. These crystals were used to focus lightsabers and create different colours, shades and blade properties. I remember picking up an assortment and stowing them away in the folds of my robes before slinking on out.

But what I saw next shattered my perfect world as the cave shook and crumbled, nearly burying me along with it.

In the game, Darth Malak razes Dantooine by destroying the Jedi Enclave from orbit and ransacking the place. He captures Jedi and uses their Force Energy as his own personal Force batteries by keeping them in stasis aboard the Star Forge. They never actually show footage of Dantooine being destroyed, but that is exactly what I saw.

The skies were ablaze as massive torrents of turbolaser fire pelted the Enclave. People were disintegrated or reduced to burning corpses with the skin melted off their faces. The Enclave, my precious safe haven, was incinerated and the turbolasers reduced the structure to nothing but ash and rubble. But it was not enough. I took shelter in the temple where the Star Map was, and soon enough the turbolaser fire ceased. I opened the door and surveyed the destruction inflicted on my home. It was heartbreaking, I couldn't do anything to stop it either. But it got worse. Fighters descended on the Enclave, firing on it and anyone else out in the open. I brought one down by deflecting it's own cannon fire back at it and another by grabbing it with the Force and thrusting it straight into the ground. I was angry. I was beyond angry, I could feel the blood boiling in my veins. I grabbed one starfighter with the Force and crumpled it like a tin can. I even hurled lightning at one of the fighters and probably cooked the pilot in his flightsuit.

Dropships began to descend and unload Sith Troops commanded by Malak's Dark Jedi. I ignited my saber and made sure they regretted destroying my home. Deflecting blaster bolts, duelling Dark Jedi, it was like a daydream come true. I beheaded Sith soldiers by the dozens and crushed them with the Force. I smashed them into walls and fried them in their armour with Force Lightning. I knew I was falling to the dark side after watching my friends, friends I knew in real life, die and my home reduced ruins. But I didn't care. I killed any Sith forces I saw and even had a chance to duel with Dark Jedis. I even duelled two at the same time. I cut one in half and beheaded the other with his pal's lightsaber Dooku-execution style.

The Masters. Master Vrook, Master Zhar, Master Dorak, Master Vandar. I hoped they were alive, they'd know what to do. I fought my way to the Council Chambers, but did not make it very far. Because who stood in front of me, none other than the Dark Lord himself.

"A powerful young Jedi, aren't you? Yes, that raw Force potential... And so much darkness. You would make a powerful Sith Lord. Yes, join me and I will show you the great power the dark side has to offer. Earn your place at my side and watch the galaxy bow down to you!"

I roared and charged the Dark Lord. Probably a big mistake, because with one swift movement he drew his saber and knocked me away. He was A LOT stronger. Sending a wave of Force energy his way just left him chuckling in his mechanical voice as he raised a wall of Force energy of his own to block it. Then it was his turn, sending a wall of Force energy that left me crumpled against a wall that was now cracked from getting slammed against it. I'm pretty sure that broke a rib or two as well. And the pain I felt, was real. Very, very real. My lightsaber was lost somewhere in the rubble of the Enclave, I couldn't summon it to me even if I could muster up the concentration to pull it to me.

"Such potential, what a waste. No matter..." He raised his saber for the killing blow, but it was a blow that never came. I put as much Force energy as I could behind one bone-crushing wave of Force energy, and it blew the Dark Lord backwards, smashing into the tree in the middle of the Enclave and leaving him a crumpled mess and without his lightsaber as well. It would now be a battle of wills. How I could beat the powerful Dark Lord of the Sith with only the Force as my ally, I knew not. But I would try. Picking up two massive slabs of the Enclave, I hurled them at Malak. He stopped both and threw them to the side, but that was not what I intended to hurt him. What followed has a withering torrent of Force Lightning that burned him in his armour and made his voice box sputter and smoke. But it was not enough, not by a long shot. Seeing something sparkle in the rubble, I closed my eyes and felt for my lightsaber. And there it was, the crystal attuned to me and linked to me in a way. I called to it and it slid reassuringly into the palm of my hand. I ignited the blade and rushed the Dark Lord. I slashed and stabbed in the style of Form VII, Juyo, very erratic and chaotic. The Dark Lord dodged and evaded my every attack and even managed to recover his lightsaber in the exchange. So we dueled. His aggressive one-handed style managed to stave off my blows but not without effort. But it wasn't long before I faltered. I was knicked in the side, his saber burning through my robes and into my left side. I felt the searing pain as if it was real.

"You would have made a powerful apprentice. And in time, an exceptional Sith Lord. But you chose to oppose me. And now, you shall be buried in your precious Enclave."

With a raise of his hand, the ground beneath me cracked and fell, sending me to the depths of the Enclave's sublevels. But he was thorough, dropping three massive chunks of the Enclave on top of me. I barely had enough time to put up a Force Barrier. So there I lay, dying in the depths of the Enclave. As the last of my life ebbed from my body, I could only remember that I was dying within a place I called home. I took comfort that though I had failed, someone else would succeed. A powerful Jedi, named Revan. He will see Malak dethroned and the Star Forge destroyed. The Order will someday be rebuilt and my home... My home would be as well. I lay in the midst of the rubble, clutching the cool, smooth cylinder of my lightsaber. I stared at the sapphire in the hilt of my lightsaber, feeling once again... at peace. My wounds finally took their toll on me...

I awoke with a searing pain in my left side, as if I had... as if I had a lightsaber wound there. I felt sore all around, especially in my ribs. I felt exhausted. My right hand felt cold, the same hand that held the cold, metallic shaft of my lightsaber only moments ago. It was probably from a lack of blood flow, but it was still odd. What was the most significant thing was that I felt... deafened. Deafened to the Force. I know I had only felt the extension of the Force for a little while, but it felt so... amazing. So completing. I was whole with it. But now I felt cut off from it, as if I had known the feeling of the Force all my life. I still miss that feeling, sensing the life around me, the pulse and flow of life, feeling it thrumming in my body and allowing me to do the impossible, like throw boulders and leap five stories in the air or move faster and hit harder than any normal human ever could. I imagine this is what it feels like to lose the ability to see, or hear, or touch. It actually feels like losing all three. I long to feel it once again, even if it is within my dreams. Is that what being omniscient feels like? I suppose I will never know. But what I felt, the feats I accomplished, the peace I felt on Dantooine, in the Enclave before it was decimated... I felt at home. With the planet. With the Enclave. With the people there. With the Force.

I know most people are gonna think I'm some geeky Star Wars fanboy weirdo after reading this. Judge if you must, but I refuse to be ashamed of a fandom I absolutely love. Even if it means I am labelled as a geek. I loved the game, I loved what I learned from the game, I love the movies, I love the books, I love the Star Wars universe. So say what you will. For a brief time, I was a Jedi. I felt the Force. I wielded a lightsaber. I duelled Dark Jedi, I destroyed starfighters, I even crossed sabers with the Dark Lord Darth Malak himself and I was so close to defeating him.

For a moment, I was strong. I had a purpose. I was important. I was different.

I.
Was.
Powerful.

Strength

Now, I don't want anyone getting the wrong idea. I'll say it now, I am by no means a very religious guy. I'm not proud of the fact that I only go to church once every month or so, I can't remember the last time I got on my knees and prayed and I can't even remember where my rosaries all went. But I just read this poem, and it honestly struck a chord in me, even the last line.

I'll be honest, my life lately has been getting harder and harder, I feel like I'm being forced to grow up a lot faster than is normal. Maybe I've been to accustomed too being a kid that when I'm suddenly forced into adulthood, I rebelled and couldn't cope at first. I don't know. But, all I know is it's been a rough few months. I won't lie, I've changed. A lot. Shaped by things happening around  and to me. Recently I've starting following accounts on Twitter that are very similar to how I have been feeling. Sad, dark, a little broken. I have a few friends on Twitter and in real life that are in a similar disposition, so I felt that sharing this poem I found in the hopes that maybe reading this might be beneficial to you as it was to me. At least in some small way.

I know a lot of you aren't into the preachy-Godly stuff, neither am I honestly. But I won't lie when I say that I do still believe in God and I know he has been guiding me in some way. I really don't think I give him enough credit sometimes. I've been a bit of a horned beast at times, especially when I was younger. I won't blame it on coming from a boy's school or the brashness and stupidity of youth. But I know there was a guiding hand that made sure I didn't get myself killed or something. So for this one post, I'm gonna get just a little religious. But for those of you that don't like that, just read the poem. It's called Strength by Connie Webb. Honestly, even for those that don't believe in God or something, well I hope that maybe just reading this helps you find the strength you couldn't before. It could be in someone, or a group of people, it could be in something you love to do, it could just be a source of strength within you that you never knew was there. But whatever it is, I hope you take away something positive, anything positive at all.

Strength

When the pain ended and the last tears fell,
And I got out of my living and bitter hell,
I found a strength as strong as steel,
This strength I found is surely real.

I found a strength to hold onto,
To help me out,
To make it through,
This strength I found deep inside,
From this strength I will not hide.

I will carry it with me night and day,
This strength sure does have a way,
Of cheering me and making me glad,
I found the strength I one time didn’t have.

So now when sadness comes about,
When my mind is filled with doubt,
On whether I can get through a troubling thing,
What is it that I will bring?

I will bring out my strength,
I will stand tall,
I will not stumble,
Will not fall,
My strength will keep my head held high,
And to weakness I say good-bye.

My strength is given to me by Someone who,
Always is here to help me through,
So to that Someone I will pray,
Help me see my strength today.

For with my strength words can’t offend,
Cruel acts will not harm me in the end,
Because with my strength even though tears may fall,
I will pull through after all.

Why is it that I will stay strong,
When someone does me so much harm,
Because with my strength from Someone above,
I make it through for I have love.

This love can never be taken away,
No matter what you do or say,
This love is deep inside my heart,
And this loves gives me strength that will never part.

You may think I am small and I am weak,
You may think I am dumb and I am meek,
You may put me down and call me names,
You may bad mouth me and play cruel games;
But with my strength I can let go,
Of all your mean stuff that you show,
My strength will be with me night and day,
Because I have Someone showing me the way.

I'm not the best Catholic in the world (Yes, a little bit of background on me), but I know someone has been looking out for me. Both tangible and intangible. God, guardian angels, or just real and true friends, they're all blessings to me. They've all been sources of strength for me, at different times in my life and in different ways. But the bottom line is, in some way they've helped me get by. To get back up when I'm pushed to the ground. To get back up, look whatever it is that hit me in the eye and say "You hit like a little bitch."

I know, big words coming from someone who had been so sad and depressed lately. But this did help, just a little.

To anyone reading this that is sad, depressed, in need of a friend or just wanting to fight their demons alone like I am, stay strong. Never give up, never back down. Different things keep people going. Faith in God, support from friends and loved ones, or sometimes just that people need you. Any way you put it, bottom line is to not give up.

"When you look at the night sky, what do you feel?"
"Hope."
"Why is that, little one?"
"Because no matter how dark and scary the night is, I know that sometime soon the sun is gonna rise again and chase the darkness away."

That's a little excerpt from a story I'm working on.

And to a friend that once told me to look to the sky when all seems lost and I told you that it didn't help, I'm sorry. It didn't help at the time, because I was in a dark place far beyond where sentiments like that could really benefit me.

But I was wrong.

It does help. I just see it a bit differently that you do, I think. But it does help, now of all times. So, thank you. I don't know if you, or anyone for the matter, read my blog any more. But if you do, I just wanted you to know.

Hey everyone

Hey ladies and gents, boys and girls of all ages! *silence*

Yeah, this place is totally dead. Anyways, if someone happens to visit this blog by some off chance that the planets aligned and pigs started flying, I'll have my next journal up by tonight. But I wanted to let you guys know that I don't think I'll be posting my third journal up. You see, I have something very personal and sensitive in mind for it and well, i don't think I'm ready to post it up yet. Just to let anyone that cares know, in case you guys wonder where my third journal went.

CW Journal 1 - Heroes

Heroes

Ever since I was a little kid sitting in my Batman-print jammies, in front of the big black box that defined my entire generation better than schooling ever did, I loved superheroes. I still do, I never grew out of that phase. The thing is, I see them in a very different light now.

In the earlier years of my life, when my mathematics homework did not have an illegitimate love-child with my English homework named algebra and I actually understood the words coming out of my teacher’s mouth in class, I watched numerous cartoons with superheroes saving the world. Underwear on the outside, big blankets tied around their necks, muscles that could have been sculpted from titanium, the whole package. My generation was the era of the perfect heroes. They did everything. They saved kittens stuck in trees, they stopped supervillains from casting the world into eternal turmoil, they were the heroes every kid wanted and wished they could be. Arbiters of light, upholders of truth and justice. Protectors of the weak.

But that was it. They were superheroes. They were never human. They were untouchable, no matter what was thrown at them, they overcame it. What everyone in the day saw were the heroes.

But that is not the case today. Today, heroes are viewed very differently. Just look at movies of them in the past and the newer version. Back then, heroes just beat the bad guys and saved the day. Now, heroes are human. They hurt on the inside, they have dark pasts that shaped them into the caped crusaders we keep reading about in comics. They are not as indestructible as they once were. Honestly, that is the part I love most about heroes today. They are flawed. They are human. They are believable. A hero that can deflect bullets off his skin and crush tanks with his fists needs no courage. He has nothing to fear. But a hero that bleeds, a hero that can die but risks himself anyways, now that is a hero. That is bravery, that is sacrifice. That is what makes a hero of today. Human heroes, flawed by design but every bit as perfect in practice as their legendary counterparts.

Now I am not just talking about the heroes in comic books here. The same thing applies to the real world. I grew up loving superheroes, that never changed. But instead of admiring these superhuman beings, I began to see the heroes in everyday life. They don’t always come in the form of a cape-wearing guy running around in tights. Sometimes, they wear a dogtag. Or a badge. A stethoscope. A fireman’s helmet. Heroes come in many forms, and I can admire these heroes because what they do is for real. They were not created by a writer, their deeds and acts of bravery are real. They may not save the world, or battle supervillains, but that is not what being a hero is about, now is it? It is about saving lives and protecting them. It was never about the glory, or the fighting. It is about the lives of people, and these average, ordinary, everyday superheroes save lives every day.

Call me childish or immature for believing in superheroes, but at the age of eighteen I still do. They can’t stop a speeding bullet. Well, maybe once. They can’t leap over tall buildings in a single bound. But they still do the job every hero in the comic books does. I look up to these people, I’m proud to say I’ve even met some. To me, these absolutely normal people that grew up in our very neighbourhoods and went to our schools, they are my heroes.

Short and Simple

My second performance with the Drama Club is now under my belt and I couldn't be happier. Not cuz it's over, oh no. It went so, so well that I was close to tearing up at the end. The tiring week, the 13 hour school days, the repetitive rehearsals, the stress of the sound cues (I was on the soundboard for the performance) all paid off in the most spectacular manner imaginable.

As the lights dimmed and the first of the plays began, I could almost feel the magic in the air, I swear upon my sonic screwdriver. The actors brought their all, the tech crew (me and my friend) did so too and by the end of the night, all we saw were smiles as wide and beautiful as the crescent moon and all we heard were the roar of a well deserved applause. Even in my sound booth, I was clapping my hands and rooting for the amazing people that worked themselves to the bone in the night and studied so hard in the day. The same people that transformed a set of six scripts into one of the most memorable nights of my two years in school so far. The only word that I can think of that was appropriate enough to describe it was: magical.

I don't know how many of you guys read my blog, but I have some stuff to say to all of you.

To our hard working stage manager: You did the hard job, the most difficult job that often left people irritated and hating you. Yet you carried your job out with grace and flare. Being an SM is no easy task, it is both difficult because of the workload and the fact that you often have people disliking you for shouting at them. But yet you undertook in a manner that would make Wonder Woman herself proud. On behalf of everyone in the club, and especially as one of your best friends, thank you. For your OCD-ness, your hard work, your personal sacrifice, for everything.

To my wonderful juniors: You guys keep surprising me time and time again. You're all so talented, I honestly don't know how I'll ever measure up. I hope someday I'll be able to stand on that stage with you all and take that bow as an actor, not as a sound tech. I have grown that little bit closer to you all and you are so amazing. I may be a year older and a year wiser, but I have more to learn from you all than I have to teach you guys. Amazing actors, even more amazing people.

To my fellow seniors: I know I haven't been in it from the start as most of you have, but you guys accepted me into your fold anyways and made me a part of your odd little family. Thanks to you guys, I've made so many new friends since that fateful first day when I said yes and took my first step into the lounge as a drama member. I don't have many people to hang around with nowadays, so the rare times I get to see you guys and hang out with you really means a lot to me and I'm so thankful I had met all of you. You are all so talented, so amazing and I have so much work to do to even come close to the honed skill, poise and flare all of you bring to the stage.

To our trainer: Thank you so much for all your help, everything you've taught us, everything you've taught me. We're gonna miss you while you're away and we're handling the next production.

I love all of you guys, you're all amazing actors. Each and every one of you. And after all the hard work you all put into the show, you guys deserve to shine. And you all did. Brighter than the stars in the night sky.

When we began this journey, I had no place in it. I just showed up to help out. Then as the pieces slowly began to come together, so did I come closer to being a part of it. Finally, I was chosen as the sound man. Why and how, I don't know. But apparently someone had some confidence in my abilities. I had watched all the shows since their conception, I watched them evolve and even helped shape each piece in some small way. Even in the final days of the production, when I practically memorised all the scripts and actions. I knew the pieces inside out after watching them so many times.

But that night. The night of the performance, watching everyone out there, bringing life to what were once just words inked into paper, it was like watching them for the first time. I was awed by their performances, even after watching them so many times. I was still awestruck by them after all the times I watched them, that's just how brilliant they all were. And if I could, I'd do it all again just to watch them put life into that stage and watch them smile brighter than the sun as the audience roared and applauded as they took their final bows.

This is the song we played as the curtain calls were made.



Hearing this song will forever remind me of the how the lights came on, the music came on and then the actors began streaming out for their curtain calls. The smiles on their faces, the joy that was so evident in them, it was intoxicating, contagious... I can't quite describe the feeling, but it was a marvellous feeling. And this song will have memories of one of the best nights in my two years here attached to it. Playing this on the bus will probably make me smile like an idiot as I watched the actors, my friends, became stars for the night.

And the looks on their faces, the joy in their eyes, the love of performing, it was all written on their faces, above the make-up and engrained into them all at the same time. I was close to tears at the joy I felt at that moment, watching all the blood, sweat and tears shed by them and me just suddenly become worth it all.

During the tech runs, I kept messing up and honestly I was so nervous that maybe I wasn't ready for the performance. I think some people may have been angry with me about it as well. But the show went off without a hitch and I was so thankful for that.

That night, one of the people higher up in the chain of command actually said I had grown a lot. When he first met me, I was just a kid. When I stood before him after the show, shaking his hand, he actually said I was a young man. I was so honoured to hear that from him.

I have never regretted joining drama, I doubt I will too. I love all you guys and I can't wait to finally  start acting with you all. I've got a long way to go, but if you guys are willing to let me try, I promise I'll give it my all and maybe next time this song comes on, I'll be taking the bow with all of you on stage.

I can't wait for that.

Nightmares...

Why?

Lately, I've been having a recurring nightmare and it's pretty scary for me...

I recently began having this nightmare a few days back, this is what happens in it...

I somehow find myself swimming in close to total darkness. Now this is open waters, and I am DEATHLY AFRAID OF DEEP AND OPEN WATERS. Wanna know why? Because I always stare into the murky distance and imagine tentacles or a maw or some other form of sea creature to suddenly come outta nowhere and eat me or something. So that is exactly what happens. Sometimes, I see a massive squid, just speeding out of the abyss and wrapping me in it's tentacles and preparing to devour me. Other times, I see the Cthulhu, as massive as my school and I spend the whole dream hiding. Sometimes I see sea serpents, no less scary I assure you. Sometimes, I see the Kraken, which is about a million times worse for me. And sometimes... I sometimes see other hideous, horrific mosnters coming out from the deep below me our out of the deep somewhere. Sometimes they just grab me from behind. The worst part: I cant control the dream.

Yeah, I dreamt of that. To scale.
I would have been human sized.
The ship would be as big as it would be in real life.
That's how big it was.

I mastered the art of lucid dreaming a long time ago. I turned my nightmares into my personal playground. Normally it works. I could summon any sword I wanted, a lightsaber, a gun. I had magical powers like a God. My personal favourite is my White Lantern Ring. That was always a beacon in the dark for me.

But even my White Power Ring failed me. I remember summoning it when I faced the Kraken. It appeared, it lit up and suddenly-

The light died. My ring lost it's charge. That's never happened before. I couldnt summon any weapons, any attempt at conjuring fire or lightning or anything failed. I was helpless and then true terror really struck.

I had dreams like this before. I was once stuck in some place that looked like Hell. Or rather, it was like Oblivion, like in the Elder Scrolls IV. I was chained at the top of the Sigil Tower, where a Dremora Kynval tortured and branded me. I could not break free from my restraints, my powers didnt work, summoning did nothing and my ring failed on me again. And the pain I felt was so real. Fire, electricity, all that. Yet I didnt wake up. I woke up and I could feel my heart aching and hurting so badly, because in the dream he tried to wrench my heart out with his bare hand.

Dremora Kynval in Daedric Armor, the male (right)
tortured me in my dream

I dont know why this is happening. My weapons grow weaker, I grow weaker, my powers are dying and my ring keeps dying on me. I even tried a Red Lantern Ring, but it didnt work.


What is happening to me? Why are my dreams torturing me so? And why cant I stop it anymore?

Why have you failed me all of a sudden?

Going out in a blaze of glory

If you read my stories, you know my writing style. I know most, if not all of you, have yet to see the endings I have planned for my stories. Now this might spoil it for most of you, so if you don't want the endings spoiled for you, do not read the next portion of my post. Move on or scroll really fast till you see a line of **** stars.

Still here? Alright, here it is for those that either don't mind seeing the spoiler or are just too curious for your own good. In most of my stories, the heroes end up dying. Usually making the ultimate sacrifice. I like the idea of immortalizing them in their finest moment, where they truly become heroes. Giving their lives so that others may live. It happens in all of them. Or at least most of them. I've always been in love with this idea. The hero sacrificing himself. Almost obsessed with the idea. I always end stories like that. I don't know why.

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

Alright, the spoiler is over. Now the idea of my mortality has been an increasingly thought about topic for me. I've been thinking about things like "What would happen if I died? Or maybe disappeared? Or if I ended up in the hospital maybe?" and what my friends reactions would be. Who would care, who would come to my funeral or grieve and mourn me, who would be out looking for me or worrying for me, or who would come visit me and stuff. Who would be affected by it and how deeply. So then the idea of how I might die has crossed my mind. And I wondered:

What if someday, I went out in such a way. In a blaze of glory? My final act would be forever burned into history and the last memories of me would be written as those of a hero. I'd go out giving my life for the ones I loved, for them to go on. What a way to go, right? Just imagine that. But then again, what will I die for? There's no war, no invasions, no call for a hero. No need for it. But the notion still strikes me as a way I'd love to go out with. A bang. One final effort. One last hurrah that would be remembered forever. What a way to die.

How I hope I might go out like that someday. Make my mark on history, however tiny it is. Maybe then people will remember me. Who I was. I've been pretty unremarkable and unmemorable all my life, it would be nice to have someone go "Oh that's him, I remember him..."

On my gravestone, I'd have this written.
"His life was small and insignificant. But his dreams touched the edges of the universe and heaven above. And they just kept going."

Good news, guys!

Hey dear readers!

Remember a while back, where I said I was writing in another blog as a form of emotional venting? I think you'll see it some posts back. In any case, good news!

I won't be writing in it any more. Maybe someday when I need it again, I'll open it up and start writing in it again, but right now I think it's time to cut the chord. It's time to drop that emotional crutch. I don't think I need it anymore. Either my problems got lighter, or I got stronger, or something happened, but I just... Well I feel I shouldn't write in it or even read past posts in it anymore. The reasons are twofold, really.

The first is because although writing in it helped me to vent and get my emotions out there without bothering anyone or burdening others with it, reading it all again brings back memories. Some good, some bad, all kind of painful. I don't want to fall back into that state, I really don't. And I know, as much as I want to read those posts, I can't because if I do, I just might. I have enough to deal with right now, I don't think slipping into that state again will help one bit.

The second is because I want to concentrate my writing on this blog again. I spent a very long period neglecting this blog, which I've grown rather attached to not only as a tool to use as a writer, but as an extension of my creativity. It's time I came back to this blog, start writing again, start posting again, start giving my readers more frequency and quality. They deserve it, you deserve it. So for your benefit, for my own benefit as a writer and just as me, Siegius, The Fragmented Storyteller, as a person, I'm closing the chapter on my other blog. It's been a good emotional crutch, it got me through a particularly rough patch. Maybe someday, I'll make it public. When all of this is over, so my friends and loved ones, the people that have been helping me through this rough time, will know what I faced. But hopefully I won't be needing it for a while, I wanna be strong enough to move on, to move forward, without it. It served it's purpose, but looking back on it will only be counter productive.

So I bid my other blog, A Big Bin For My Thoughts, a fond and well-deserved farewell. And thank you.

So hopefully now you guys will see more writing and of better quality as well here!

Sorry for the absence

Hey everyone,

Sorry for the absence. It's been a rough ride for me lately, and I've been pretty busy as well. What with my personal problems making my life difficult and me trying to get my shit in order. It's been a while since I last posted something, so here's a little fragment of a story for anyone that still visits this graveyard of a site (yeah, I know it's been pretty freaking dead lately, I do actually notice shit like that.)

Twinblade

“A true Cabalyst is one with his beliefs. To imbue their beliefs in action, to show commitment in work of hand and truth of heart.”

I was once an Academy kid, born and raised as a Saber. My Master was a Magi, a funny combination what with me being a Saber, but not unheard of in the Academy. She was the Academy’s best healer, which was just as well because I often found myself in the infirmary. People watch me now and most would never believe I was the clumsiest Saber Apprentice in all of the Cabalysts. I was clumsy and uncoordinated; many wondered why the Masters bestowed upon me the role of a Saber. “Mastery is achieved only with hard work, passion and determination. The art of the blade will one day reward you, young Saber.” I suppose the Masters were right, now I’m one of the best Sabers around. And thanks to my Master, I can do things with the Cabal most Sabers can’t. Healing, fireballs, even mimicking a Saber Master and infusing the Cabal into my blades, imbuing fire, lightning and even pure Cabalic energy. Praetorites and Masters alike say I’m a prodigy; the truth was I had an interesting choice for a Master and a lot of hard work went into what I became. My master was like a big sister, a mother and my best friend. I loved her dearly and we were inseparable, she loved me just so and with a heavy heart but complete confidence, she spoke to the Masters and the Grand Master himself put his vote down to begin my Trials of the Praetorian. But mere days before my Trials, it happened. The Anchorites, old enemies of the Cabalysts, stormed the Academy. It was a massacre. I watched as a Greater Anchorite pushed his broadsword through my Master’s abdomen. I was blinded by rage. I drew on as much Cabalic energy as I could, the air around my pulsed with a maelstrom of forces within me. With every fibre of my body brimming with it, I channelled them through me, through my blades, through the very air around me. I cut him down in what was the greatest duel of my young life. I was so overcome with grief, at my friends and my Master dying, I could not hold it in. I unleashed it all. The maelstrom of forces turned into a firestorm, scorching the enemies around me and bringing the entire Academy’s hall down around me. The Academy was in ruins, the Cabalysts were destroyed. We were finished. I had nowhere to go; all I could do was run… Now the Anchorites are raising an army in our wake. With the Cabalysts out of the way, nothing is stopping them from devastating everything and everyone. They believe that the land is rightfully theirs, and so everyone else belongs as either a slave or in a grave. With nothing else standing their way, they could march on unhindered and begin their own apocalypse. All that was left in their way was a lone Saber that hadn’t even completed his Trials of the Praetorian. If there were any Cabalysts left in the world, they had either gone into hiding like I did or dropped their flags and forsaken the Cabalyst ways entirely. Those with any raw potential or had a naturally strong command of the Cabal were quickly persecuted. It seems as if it is up to me to rebuild my lost order. My name is Caleb Darkcross, and this is my story…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Caleb! What do you think you are doing still in bed?” Samara stood at his bedside, hands on her hips and, rather evidently, irate over the fact that it was coming close to noon and the young Saber was still in bed.

-> Skipped straight to the Siege

The Anchorites poured through the gates and from overhead. The Siege of the the Cabalytes had begun.

“Master! Lady Samara, where are you?” Caleb called through the ranks of the Cabalysts.
“Steel yourself, lad. Your Master won’t be able to hold your hand forever. Now is as good a time as any to let go.” Said Master Sabian, a Saber Master.
Anxiously, Caleb pulled his blades free of their sheathes. The battlecries from the fighting in the courtyard carried over to the forces gathering inside.
As the Anchorites broke the defensive line of the Cabalysts, Caleb and the other Apprentices charged forth. Caleb leapt into the air, spinning into a deadly whirlwind of blades. He twirled in circles, cutting down Anchorites faster and faster.

Caleb.

The Cabalysts fought valiantly, matching the Anchorites blade for blade. Fireballs and bolts of lightning flew through the corridor. Sabers became a blur of blades, Hawkeyes fired their arrows into the sky, only to have them return as a hail of arrows, multiplying tenfold as they fell. Guardians turned into walls of defense as they overlapped their shields in a phalanx formation and drove the invaders back. Anchorites, however, specialised in weakening a Cabalyst’s connection to the Cabal. Soon, the tide of the battle turned, the Anchorites getting the upper hand and slowly decimated the Cabalysts.

Caleb felt weaker around the Anchorites, like they stemmed the growing tide of Cabalic energy. But he drew upon it evermore, infusing his blades with lightning. Every strike was followed with a bright flash and a resounding clap of thunder that shook the Academy.

“Your Order will fall!” One Anchorite bellowed as he duelled the young Saber.

“So long as I stand, the Anchorites shall fail.” With a quick feint, he disarmed his opponent and executed him.

Caleb.

Master, where are you?

The Grand Hall. Make haste, my child.

Caleb sprinted for the doors, leaping and bounding off the walls as he dodged fight after fight.

As he neared the doors, he watched his Master duel an Anchorite in heavy red and black armour, wielding a double-sided sword, matching the movements of Lady Samara’s staff but with far more force and speed. She cast a bolt of lightning at him, but he simply slammed his blade end into the floor and grounded it.

Caleb dashed forward, ready to spear this heretic on his blades.

But for once, Caleb wasn’t fast enough.

The Anchorite smashed Lady Samara’s staff to splinters and impaled her on his blade.

Caleb watched in horror as he lost his master and best friend in the blink of an eye.

Blood seeped from the side of her mouth as her eyes became glassy and she clutched at the massive wound in her stomach.

“No! Master!” Caleb cried in anguish. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it. She was the one constant in his life, now she was gone.

“You’re next, child.” The Anchorite sneered.

“You. Are. Going. To. Be. Sorry.” Caleb was so grief-stricken, he called upon more Cabalic energy than ever before. He built it up within him, storing it, amplifying it, saturating his blades and then himself.

As the Anchorite charged, he released the energy forming within. The raw power he commanded sent the Anchorite flying. Caleb leapt forward, slashing and stabbing as if he wielded a hundred blades. He struck faster than lightning and harder than a sledgehammer. The Anchorite was overwhelmed in seconds. Each strike sent sparks flying and thunder roaring. Using raw Cabalic energy, he raised the Anchorite in the air.

“What, (cough) what are you?”

“Your worst nightmare. And you just pissed him off.”

He pictured a flame in his mind, like he did to create fire, just like Lady Samara taught him. The Anchorite cried out in anguish as he was burned from the inside out, turning to ash at Caleb’s feet.

Anchorites began to pour into the Great Hall and were about to overwhelm him.

“No! Leave this place!” he shouted, the flame he pictured in his head becoming a firestorm. He slashed downwards and the arcs created by the blades became a pair of soaring phoenixes. They circled the room, with him at the eye of the storm. The wind and flames whipped at his bloodied face, his armour singeing in some areas. He hung five feet in the air as the phoenixes circled around, trailing fire and creating a tornado of flames. Anchorites cried out as they were turned to charred bones and ash.

“Gaaaaaaaah!” Caleb clenched his fists as his power intensified rather than diminished. The phoenixes circled faster and faster, the sheer force of the firestorm began tearing at the walls and ceiling. Caleb hovered at the center of the pillar of fire that destroyed the ceiling and ripped the walls off their foundations. He dispersed the power with a massive explosion that sent levelled the nearby buildings. Anchorites still crawled through the ruins, intending of finishing the job and exterminating the entire Order. The battlefield was strewn with the bodies of his friends, Masters and Apprentices alike.

“You will all fall before you take the last of the Cabalysts!”

He summoned the power again, this time gathering as much raw energy as he could around him, creating a cocoon of pure Cabalic energy around him and Lady Samara’s body. He glowed a bright blue as he stared straight into an Anchorite General’s eyes and hissed,

“I, Caleb Darkcross, am now the Voice of the Cabal!” he released his powers in a massive wave. Anchorites were crushed by the pure force alone. Gathering the power one last time, he stabbed his blades into the ground and brought the already ruined Academy crumbling around him, burying the Anchorites in rubble and stone. Caleb finally released his hold on the Cabal, succumbing to the waiting darkness, having overexerted himself a thousandfold…

Night had fallen when he regained consciousness. He turned his head and saw his dear Master, Lady Samara, eyes wide open but glassy and lips parted as if she may take yet another gasp of air and rise as surely as the morning sun does. But alas, she was gone. Caleb shed new tears, tears of grief. He wasn’t angry like he was when fought the Anchorites. Now he simply grieved her passing. He missed her so dearly. She was like a mother to him in times of pain, she would pick him up, dust him off, kiss his wounds and whisper to him “It will all be better, sweetie.”, an often enough occurrence as a child. He knew she loved him like a son and he had more than enough reason to return the feeling.
At other times, she was his older sister. She taught him things no one else could, she got him through the awkward phase where a boy becomes a young man.  She was privy to all his private thoughts, feelings and he could go to her for anything. And at times, she was his best friend. They laughed, played, teased, joked and did everything under the sun together. She really was the one person in the world he couldn’t bear to lose. Memories of him as a youngster came flooding back, times where he disobeyed her and ended up hurt, she didn’t reprimand him. The times where he said hurtful things to her, brash and insensitive as he was in his youth. She was always still there later, ever ready to accept his apology and offer a hug.

As he gazed upon her lifeless form, his trickle of tears became a waterfall as the dam of emotions burst open and he sobbed incessantly. He pushed her chin up, closing her mouth and shut her eyelids. She looked like she was simply asleep now, so peacefully asleep. Almost as if she could wake up at any moment, hug him like she had so many times before and tell him it would all be alright…
Still holding her head in his hands, he cried long and hard. At some point, he fell into a fitful sleep.

He awoke to find himself in the Academy again. It still stood proud and tall as it always had.
“There you are, Caleb!” he pivoted on his heels to see the familiar pink and gold robes and maternally comforting visage of Lady Samara.
“I’ve been looking all over for you, you little scoundrel.” She scrunched up her nose playfully as she knelt down to ruffle his hair. He must have been no more than eight or nine, judging by how he was only waist height to her.
“We don’t have any training today, what’s say you and I go out to the forest? I’ll teach you how to sing to plants and make them grow.”
His face beamed at her as the memory of the Siege and her death faded to the back of his mind.
He had one more day to spend with her, he couldn’t think of a reason to not enjoy himself.
She raced him to the forest, her brown hair tied in a ponytail bouncing as he trailed her, gleefully laughing, having the rare opportunity to be a kid again.
She sat him on a tree stump in a clearing, placing a seed in his palm and taking one into her own.
She began to plant her seed, Caleb followed suit and stuck his little brown seed into the soil.
“Alright Caleb, now to sing to a plant and make it grow, you need to have a tune in mind. Everyone has a different tune, sometimes people’s tunes change depending on how they feel. Big events can change their tunes. The words do not really matter, tell the plant how you want it to grow as you sing and it will understand. Let me show you.”

Sweet flower of the forest floor,
The sun calls for your smile.

The birds are singing, the leaves are falling.
Please come out for a while.

My darling sweet boy, he yearns to learn,
to sing the songs of the forest.

Now, grow, grow, I wish and I pray
Show him the sound of your peaceful chorus.

Lady Samara had a beautiful voice, and as he watched in amazement, her seed grew into a beautiful pink rose. He stared in wonder as she plucked it from the soil and let him inhale the scent of the flower. It was the most beautiful aroma to over pass his nose.

Out of the blue, he hugged his Master’s leg. The gesture took her by surprise, but she welcomed it nevertheless. She never shied away from showing affection and encouraged Caleb to do the same.
“Please never leave me, Master. I feel so lost without you.” Tears began to well in Caleb’s eyes again as images of the Siege and of his beloved Master dead on the floor of the Great Hall flashed through his mind.

“Caleb, dear, I’m not leaving. I would never dream of leaving you. I’d miss you too much. Someday you will take your Test of the Praetorian and become a full-fledged Saber, but even then you will always be my Apprentice and you will never grow too old for me to ruffle your hair and give you a hug.” He clung to her even tighter as she said this, extricating his little body from her leg long enough to get on her knees and pull him into a fierce hug.

“I’ll always be here for you and I’m not going anywhere…” Tears welled in her own eyes as her voice began to grow distant and Caleb was ripped from that last perfect moment with his Master and thrust back into reality.

A little bit of a personal post, no stories here today.

Hey everyone. No stories or anything for today. This one is more of a personal post. I know this blog is supposed to be about my stories, but I think I'm entitled to a little bit of a personal moment from time to time, right? Not such a hard thing to ask for, right? Anyways some of you might know I've been going through a lot lately. It's been a little hard on me. As always, I turn to music for comfort. Here's a song that seemed to help when I was in one of those bad moods.

Blow the candles out, looks like a solo tonight. I'm beginning to see the light.
Blow the candles out, looks like a solo tonight. But I think I'll be alright.
To anyone that I'm close to in real life that is concerned enough to care about what I'm going through, just know that I appreciate that care and concern. More than you know. But I think I'll be alright. And I will be. Just give me time. I promise you, I will be.

Just a little question for everyone here.

Hey readers, I'd like to know what anyone's opinions were on me writing a short children's book. A short, simple little read. Textbook hero's story most likely. You know, boy/girl begins his/her journey to becoming like his/her favourite hero as a child. But overtime, he/she kinda sees that being a hero meant more than just fighting monsters and wearing a cape, so to speak. He/she learns what being a true hero meant. Typical story, simple and easy to follow.

It just occurred to me just how much of a fan of the classic "hero overcomes adversity and earns his happy ending, the end" story archetype that I am. My usual stories involve dark heroes, a lot of self-conflict and usually bittersweet endings. Hero dies, someone sacrifices himself so everyone else can live happily ever after. I always do that because I believe no story truly has a perfect happy ending. There's always scars, casualties, always. And I always make it bittersweet because I like the idea of an untainted legacy. Dying a hero so that memory of the hero makes it's impact on the world on what a true hero would sacrifice for the good of others. He will forever be remembered as a legend, standing proudly in gleaming silver armour, sword in hand and a shield raised to protect the innocent and the weak. Death has immortalized him as that. Never would he be seen as a weak old man, bedridden by disease or crippled by old wounds of battle. His image will forever remain of that strong man, standing tall against evil and injustice.

But despite all that, I want to bring myself back to my roots. Back to the bare basics. Back to the first kind of hero story I ever heard. Where the hero is the truest of their kind. Arbiters of light, defenders of the weak and innocent. Shining beacons of hope to all who see them. Where they battle evil, conquer it and live happily ever after with those they love, the people that make standing up and fighting colossal demons and hordes of dark soldiers worthwhile.

Just because no happy ending is truly all happy, it doesn't mean I can't write one. After all, children don't need the conflict and drama that I put into my usual stories.

All they want to read about is a hero beating the odds and earning their happily ever after.
For once, maybe I should write about a happy ending like that. A happy ending in the most pristine sense. No scars from the battle, no death and sorrow, no sacrifice, no bittersweet victory.

Just a tired hero, going home to the people he loves most and enjoying the peace he sought his whole life.

Sound like a good idea? Comment ideas and opinions, would ya guys? =)

I'll be home soon, guys.

Today was my first and last performance with the Drama Club. With everything that's going on in my life right now, I needed to leave to get my shit in order and sort out my own personal matters. It's only been a few hours since I officially ended my tenure with them and I already miss them so dearly. I saw juniors crying cuz their beloved seniors leaving. (not me, the juniors weren't all that close to me, but they did start crying a little harder when I said I was leaving too.)

The performance was great, and no matter what anyone says, I say we did a bang up job. After the performance, I went down to the studio to see people crying and hugging. I finally revealed to those that didn't know (a lot of people didn't know) and got my fair share of hugs and goodbyes too. It really broke my heart to see just how badly leaving affected them.

Needless to say, tonight (the night of the performance) was filled with tweets and posts about how much we love the club and how we were gonna be reciting lines and quotes from the shows for the next few like weeks or so. I can honestly say I can't listen to my Halo 2 soundtrack without thinking of the performance and how much I miss the drama club. I was so proud of the juniors, they proved me oh-so-right when they showed just how talented and amazing they were. And the seniors, well what can I say? They performed with all the grace and commitment to character that one would expect from such seasoned and talented performers.

I hope the shit in my life blows over soon, cuz till it does I can't return. I don't know how I'll get through the week without all the craziness and oddities of drama that I've become so accustomed to in the past few months. Not being able to see them, to get my customary hugs that always make me that little bit better when I had a crap day. It's gonna be a long and hard ride to the day I get back, but I just hope when I do, there's still a spot with my name on it in the club. Cuz even though I'm no actor, I can't act at all, I've found a little bit of a home within this big bunch of nutty actors and actresses. And now that I've left, I count the days till I can come back.

It's not goodbye,
It's not even farewell,
It's just a "see you later" is all.
(Quoted by a friend who, sadly, had to leave as well.)

And I will see you all later, hopefully real soon.
I'll always be there for all of you if you guys need anything. So even when I'm gone, a small part of me will be there with you all. And the second you all need help, I'll be right there to lend a hand.

To any of you from drama that may read my blog in future, I love you guys so so much and I await that fateful day when this big teddy bear comes home.

City of Sin

I like songs like this in my darker moods, I've plenty more that are way heavier for when someone really pisses me off or I have a seriously shit week, but right now I'm in just a bad mood for no real reason, so here's something that isn't as heavy and in your face as some of my other music. It helped inspire my newest addition, Demonspawn (Check out the previous post)

Can't wait to continue that one. But I really gotta be in a dark mood to write it :/

Demonspawn

Ever heard of evil incarnate?
Ever thought it could exist in reality?
Guess what, sweetheart. It does exist. And I’m it.

Yeah, I’m a demon. Don’t sound so surprised, we’re everywhere. You poor mortals just don’t know it. That hot girl on the street? Yeah, a succubus. She’ll gladly do all the things you thought of doing to her in your head. But you won’t make it through the night alive, I’ll tell you that. Maybe those punks that stole your bike last week? Yeah, minions. They’re cheeky and hard to keep in one place at a time, but harmless most of the time. These few are the lesser demons. They’re no big deal. Most mortals don’t ever get the chance to worry about any of the bigger demons.

Well, that’s about to change a whole lot in a really short time…

My name’s Drakonika, well I was created with that name. Most people in the daylight call me Drake. Despite being only several hundred years old, I’m still schooling. No, I didn’t redo high school again and again for the fun of it, that’s just plain stupid. I could have done something more productive with my time. I spent the last three centuries in Hell, fighting and surviving. Finally, I got out. Yeah, I escaped Hell. Seriously, it’s not that hard. The gatekeeper’s a tough nut, but a good sword arm and three centuries of nothing but constant battle in the lowest levels of Hell do make for a good training regimen.

This mortal world is gonna take some getting used to, you can’t stab anyone and everyone here. There are “social conventions” and “laws” that don’t let you do the sort of stuff that is common practice in that Hellhole. Killing, maiming, stealing, all illegal. Stupid mortals. But I don’t want to call any attention to myself. If I get dragged back to Hell, I’ll be in for an eternity of the most miserable and torturous existence imaginable. In fact, not even something imaginable. Demons down there, especially the Painmasters, don’t have the mortal inhibitions of the mind. They are twisted, sick and sadistic beyond mortal comprehension. And I’m in for some of the worst of it if I was caught.

Imagine my horror when I find out a new Demon Lord has ascended. And he’s looking at some new property placement. MY property. Here, on Earth. By the time the Angels get down here to reclaim their “precious land” made for the race that was “flawed by choice but perfect in practice”, millions would be dead. Not to mention I’d not only lose my new home, but I’d get dragged back to Hell if his troops found my horns.

Not an option.

If you think this is gonna be a tale of how a demon finds the good inside him and sheds his horns for good to live happily ever after, I’d like to stop you right here and direct you over to another book. One with a happy ending and a nice, wholesome story. This is gonna be anything but wholesome. Shit is gonna hit the fan more than once. Blood and guts everywhere. Things are gonna go down in the worst ways. So if you made it this far and you’re ready for a story that is more realistic, as far as realistic goes with angels and demons for your mortal minds, then here you go boys and girls.

Demonspawn.

I sat on the ledge of the skyscraper, dressed in my customary full black, sword slung over my shoulder and throwing knives tucked away underneath my hoody. Being a demon, I only needed to eat and sleep once every few months, so that’s twelve hours of darkness to kill. What better way than to make use of the restless nature I was created with?

I hunt demons, other than myself. It’s like a strange sport that has developed within the earthbound demons’ community. With demons escaping left, right and centre from the Gates of Hell, we gotta keep the numbers down. If a demon deserves to live here on Earth, he’ll keep his head low and out of trouble’s way. But there’s always a numbskull or two that think their demonic strength, speed and powers make them gods. And if they attract attention to themselves, it’s not long before angels crack down on the city. Or worse, if hellknights do it. So we police ourselves. As soon as night falls, we hunt. Crime lords, petty criminals, terrorist cells, crooked businessman, paid-off politicians, all ripe for the picking. Sounds like I’m a goddamn saint for doing it right?

Well if getting paid in money and powers still counts for it, then yeah I’m a bonafide Mother Teresa.
Demons of desire often pay for the destruction or capture of souls. Some pay in mortal cash. A lot of it. Some pay in soul shards, a more… demonic form of currency. And some pay in demon essence. Rare essences extracted from a demon before death, only powerful demons are given powers and extracting the essence of one is no small feat. But absorbing it means all new abilities. Imagine that?

But those always come with a catch. You don’t hunt little snatch thieves or cripple a con-man for those. Hell no. Those contracts are usually put out on greater demons. Demons have multiple horn sets according to their caste.

No horns are pathetic weak demons like minions and grunts.

Two horns are ordinary, the bulk of the population of Hell, like myself.

Four horns are usually powerful warriors or hunters, accomplished in the art of killing.

Six usually denotes greater demons,  they’ve been around for millennia.

Eight horns are Archdemons. Generals of the Demon lords. They could crush an army in the blink of an eye.

Ten horns are only reserved for Demon lords. Only three live. Four, now that there’s a newly ascended one. They have been clawing their way through Hell since the dawn of time.

Contracts with powers usually mean killing a greater demon. Not an easy task for a two-horn like myself.

My cell phone rang through my black jeans as the sounds of the ever-bustling city surrounded me.

“Drake, got a contract for you. Big pay off.”

“You’ve got my attention, as always. What’s the pay-off, Phil?”

“An essence. Pyrokinesis.”

“Woah woah woah, hold on. What’s the catch?”

“Six-horns. Before you say no, just hear me out alright?”

“You better be sending a small company along with me. Or maybe a couple of tanks.”

“The contract was put out ten minutes ago. Every Hunter within a five mile radius is gonna be running for this one.”

“So? If they’re tired of living, let em screw themselves over. I’m perfectly at ease not getting myself ripped limb from limb.”

“Or you could use this as your chance to take him whiles he’s weak.”

“Phil, that four-horn nearly ripped my head clean off my neck two weeks ago. You want me to risk a six-horn like him? He’ll erase my sorry ass from existence.”

“Alright, your choice.  I’m not the hunter here. But its pyrokinesis, rare ability.”

I bit my lip, it would be worth it. Really worth it. It was a rare and powerful ability. Control of fire.

“I’ll do it. Upload the contract.”

“That’s my boy! The go-getter, the hunter, the eye of the tiger, the-“

“Dude, please shut up. I swear, say one more thing and the first thing I burn down is your house.”

Silence pervaded the call before the receiver on the other end clicked and the call ended.

Heh. Phil was always such a goof.

2.20am and I'm still awake...

Jesus, Mary and Joseph. It's 2.20am, I have a quiz at 8 and a presentation at noon. And I'm wide awake. And I am not even studying. Genius, aren't I?

Anyways, I have some story developments I should probably change. Because of these developments in Green Lantern lore that I wasn't aware of, I'll have to drastically change my Lantern story.
(Red Lantern's cannot love because their hearts are replaced by their rings, therefore falling in love while bonded to the ring = death) and (Red Lanterns cannot remove their rings on their own because their rings replace their hearts, the only way to safely remove a Red Power Ring is to have a Blue Lantern negate it, then it can be removed.)

God damn, right? Yeah, well looks like I have even more work ahead of me. FML.

On a side note, comment some nice names I can use in my stories would ya? Seriously any names will do, I just need ideas to name characters. Thanks, faithful readers!

If anyone reads this at all. Seriously guys, just comment would you? It feels like I'm writing to a wall, no one responds or anything. Just a little feedback or something to let me know PEOPLE ACTUALLY READ ALL THIS. Even a "hey, yeah we read this" would be appreciated. I mean if someone were to comment "this blog sucks" then, that's a different story ofcourse. If that's the case, fuck the hell off right now and don't come back =) BUT if you genuinely like this blog, let me know please? Seriously, a little positive feedback and encouragement from his dear readers goes a long way for a writer in terms of motivation to write.

Or ill just keep blogging and writing to no one in particular... :/

A New Blog

Sorry about this long hiatus I'm gonna be going on, dear readers. But things in my personal life are really building up, a lot of which has to do with my parents. And without anyone I can really talk to now, well for now at least, I really find it hard to write or do anything productive. So I apologize to anyone who checks back often. I've put most of my writing into a new blog, it's private though.  Anyone that wants to read it will have to get permission from me. Cuz the thoughts and feelings there are really personal and I can't have just anyone read them. It's just my one and only place to really vent cuz I really have no one to talk to now. Or at least for the time being, it's a long story there. So once again, to my faithful readers, I apologize. The Fragmented Storyteller will be back, no doubt about that. How long before he is, though... That's an entirely different story. Hehehe, different story, get it? Fragmented Storyteller?

Oh, shut up, I thought it was funny.

Hey readers

I know nearly no one reads this blog, but to whoever does, I'll not be posting for a long while. School and other problems are coming up and I'm having trouble keeping up with them and writing as well. As such, I won't be posting for a long time. So to any of my regular readers, I'm sorry. Check back soon for more :) but not too soon, or you will be sadly disappointed...

A Lantern's Story

Hey there, faithful readers!


Yeah I know, no one reads this freaking blog. But on the off chance a random wanderer of the interwebs drops in to take a look, here's a little something for you.


I mentioned before in my intro that I loved the Green Lantern and the Blackest Night and Brightest Day stories. The idea of what could be millions or even billions of beings that have access to such a power by using a certain emotion always appealed to me. So much so that I wrote a story set way in the future of the DC Universe, where Lanterns like Hal Jordan, John Stewart, Guy Gardner and Kyle Rayner and idols of legend, heroes of a time long past. Perhaps I should elaborate more for my readers that do not read comics. In the beginning of time, there was only one light. The White Light of Creation. As sentient beings began populating the universe, they each discovered the ability to harness a particular part of the light spectrum with an emotion. Altogether, there are seven colours, just like the rainbow. Each Lantern's power is garnered by their emotions. The greater the emotion, the more powerful their constructs and powers are. Each colour represents a different emotion.

Red Lanterns are fuelled by their anger and rage.
Blue Lanterns are find strength in hope.
Green Lanterns draw their power from strength of will.
Violet Lanterns, or Star Sapphires, use love to power their abilities.
Indigo Lanterns utilize their compassion.
Yellow Lanterns draw strength from fear.
Finally, an Orange Lantern (there's only one) takes his power from avarice (greed).

Only two colours do not use emotions.
Black, which represents death.
And white, which represents life, naturally.


Each Lantern Corps has a different story to tell, but I won't get into that. If you want, you can go read the comics. You're here to read my story, right? So, here is the synopsis of my story so far. I'll be writing into a full story sometime in the future, so look out for that =)

Trouble once again brews in the universe and the Lantern Corps turn to the humans, the race of beings that produced said legends, in the hopes that they could once again save the universe from destroying itself. However, the four newly anointed Lanterns knew not of a fifth. A Red Lantern. Trouble ensues and this young Lantern's Power Ring is damaged in the battle. After watching his parents die and having his Power Ring damaged so badly that he could not maintain constructs or even flight for long without it shorting out, he turns his back on the other Lanterns, his friends.


Time goes by and this Red Lantern is forgotten. The Four become heroes, just like their predecessors. But this Red Lantern, left with no family or friends, wanders aimlessly. With a broken Power Ring and a broken spirit, he could not even create a construct with his Ring even if he wanted to. But his spirits perked up when he found a new Ring. One he had never seen before.


A Black Power Ring.


As soon as he wore the Ring, he felt the power coursing through him, different than his Red Power Ring, but it was power all the same. With his newly found power and a sinister force taking over his senses, all he wanted to do was to destroy. To annihilate. To bring the entire world that spurned him and broke him crumbling down around him. And with his new ring, he found new allies, raising an army of the dead. Each body risen was a new Black Lantern added to the ranks of his legion of the walking dead. The greatest perversion of his power was committed when he raised four new generals to match his former team mates.

Kyle Rayner
Guy Gardner
John Stewart
Hal Jordan

He raised four of the greatest Green Lanterns to ever live as his undead generals. And so begun the Second Black Lantern Crisis.

The Second Black Lantern Crisis ravaged entire galaxies. But the Four finally managed to confront the problem at it's source: by battling their former team mate. The battle was fierce, the Lantern that was once their friend was immensely more powerful with his new ring. But they managed to shatter the Black Power Ring and return him to his senses. Wracked with guilt over the use of the Black Power Ring and his part in bringing about the Second Black Lantern Crisis, he went into seclusion. He lived his days out now fearing the power of the Rings while his former friends went about battling the hordes of undead Lanterns, trying to take the universe back from their cold, dead grasp. For a long time, he helped a small group of survivors. But it wasn't to last, as soon the need to use his old, damaged Power Ring came.

That was the story so far, but I haven't written it all out yet. I do have some of it written out already. The names of places and people are slightly different from the original version. Note that it's still in a sort of beta stage, a lot of work is yet to be done.

Invasion Journal
Day 34
All Saint’s Secondary School


The Black Lantern Invasion has gone on for a little more than a month. Already they have overrun the more populated countries of the world. China, India, America… Gone.


The Lanterns are stretched as thinly as possible. Even reinforcements do nothing but delay the Black Lanterns.


They raise the bodies of the dead, thickening their ranks as they pass through town and city. Even the human Lanterns, so fabled are they after their predecessors but so very helpless. There are just too many…




~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~




“Caleb, we need help with the wounded.” Mason spoke as he bandaged a bloodied arm of a young boy they found nearby. His parents… didn’t make it. They were claimed like all the other dead. None but him knew of Caleb’s secret.


Mason pulled him aside, away from the ears of the rest.


“Caleb, use that Ring to help us. Look at these people. They need hope.”


“Then get them a Blue Lantern, not some washed up Red Lantern with a broken Power Ring.” Caleb snapped back.


“They need a Lantern. Look at him,” he said, gesturing to the young boy who now sobbed into the crook of his arm with a picture of his parents in hand.
“His parents were claimed. Doesn’t that make you angry? Doesn’t that give you any feeling at all?”


“It does! How could you even ask me that? I lost lots of good friends just like he lost my parents. Do you remember how Jon died?”


“Caleb, that wasn’t you, that was the Black-“


“That was me! I picked up that Ring! I never should have, but I did. Now Jon is dead. Now Sam is dead. Now, about a billion people all around the world are dead. Because, of, me. If I hadn’t touched that Ring, I wouldn’t have become a Black Lantern, this entire invasion wouldn’t be happening, so don’t you dare tell me I’m not at fault here!” Caleb ended his tirade with his finger buried in Mason’s chest. But the aspiring young pilot looked emotionless.


“You could put that anger and guilt to good use. If you’re not gonna accept that it’s not your fault, the least you could do is try and make something right by using those emotions to save people.”


“Look I’m not a Red Lantern anymore. I left that part of my life behind me. The Ring is damaged, I couldn’t keep a construct going for very long even if I wanted to.”


“You still keep that ring with you. You haven’t left it all behind.”


“Look, the other Lanterns not only have fully functional Rings, but they have reinforcements too. They can fight this war. I can’t.”


“The least you can do is help these people. With or without the Ring’s help.”


“I plan on doing just that.” With that, the two clasped arms and began moving supplies. It wasn’t long before a sentry came running in, out of breath and wild-eyed.


“Guys, the Black Lanterns are here!”


“Mason, gather the people. Go buy the underground passageways. Seal them behind you and blow the charges.”


“Dude I’m not leaving you behind!”


“Someone has to hold em off, now go!”


But before Mason could leave, the Black Lanterns descended upon them. Hordes of these undead Lanterns swarmed the area. They had them cornered.


“Caleb, your Ring!”


“No!”


“For their sake, do it!”


A Black Lantern charged, ready to claim his first victim.


He never made it.


A glowing ruby wall blocked him from his target. And standing right behind it, was a young man dressed in the scarlet suit of a Red Lantern. Gasps of surprise and awe filled the corner of the ruined school as they watched the famous Red Lantern cut down scores of the undead Lanterns. As the last of the Black Lanterns fell beneath the powerful Lantern, his powers wavered. His suit flickered and faded, replaced by his hoody and jeans. His contructs lost form and faded as well. But even so, those under his protection saw him in a much different light.


“He’s a Lantern!”


“The Red Lantern!”


“The Last of the human Lanterns has returned! We’re saved!”


Caleb stood before the crowd and addressed them, in a much different manner this time. This time, he had their unwavering attention and silence.


“I’m not a Red Lantern. Not anymore. I’m just a guy with a broken Power Ring. Look I can’t fight any war, especially not like this.”


Mason pulled him aside once again as the crowd grew angry at him, with shouts of “What do you mean ‘not a Red Lantern anymore’?” and “You can end this invasion and you’re not gonna used your powers?”


“Caleb, these people need a hero. The other Lanterns are doing what they can. But you have a Ring too. You’re a Lantern, like it or not. These people need hope, and sometimes it doesn’t need to come in blue. A Lantern, no matter what colour the it shines, lights up the darkness. So will you finally man up and be a Lantern? Make a goddamn difference with that Ring?”


“It’s not as simple as that. Look, I used my Ring this once to protect them. But I can’t fight a war. I’m not Hal Jordan. I’m no hero.” With that, Caleb gave Mason a look of finality and they began evacuating the area and blew the charges to stop any Black Lanterns from sneaking up behind them.


That night, Mason was doing his rounds when he saw a familiar figure staring out at the moon, a ruby red ring in his palm.


He simply let Caleb have his time alone, no doubt this was a big deal to him.


As Caleb stared at the moon, he felt his name being called.


Caleb…

Caleb…


The moon wavered before a blinding light struck him square between the eyes.


When he came to, he could see nothing but white.


“Am I dead?”


“No, not quite yet. You most certainly wouldn’t be here if you were.”


“Who are you?”


“My name is Sabba. I am the Guardian of one of the Twelve Rings.”


“Woah, hold the fuck up. The twelve rings? As in the Twelve White Rings of Power.”


“Yes, particularly speaking, your Ring.”


“I don’t know if you’re colour blind or something, but my ring is not only broken, but it’s red. And it has never spoken to me before either.”


“After the First Black Lantern crisis, the Twelve Rings were kept safely, in a pocket dimension similar to the way a Lantern keeps his Power Battery. Each ring had a Guardian made, to advise the next generation of White Lanterns. After Deadman was killed and the Ring Alec Holland had under his possession was returned, the Light of Creation spawned twelve Guardians to watch over the Rings and to prepare the new heralds of the Creation's Light.”


“So what do you want me for? I’m just a failed Red Lantern and former Black Lantern that started this entire shitstorm.”


“Do you feel remorse? For every drop of innocent blood spilt because of your folly with the Black Power Ring?”


“Of course, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t feel the weight of their deaths on me. You done rubbing salt into that old wound?”


“That makes you the perfect candidate to bear the White Light of Creation.”


“How does being indirectly responsible for the deaths of millions mean that I’m a good candidate?”


“Because you now know the true value of a life.”


“I really don’t think I’m the best choice for this, you have the wrong guy…”


“The time will come when you are called upon to bring light to a world of darkness. I offer you a lantern of white to bear that light. . You will not stand alone, but you will stand tallest, I assure you. All you have to do first, is stand up.”


With that, another flash of light hit him and he woke up in the makeshift infirmary they erected not three hours ago. Well, three hours plus however long he was out. He patted his pockets for his Ring but rather found a second ring in his pocket.