Serieve
Snow Snowfriend
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THE GAIAN PRESS - Issue 5.0/June '05
IN THIS ISSUE:
1. The Neighborhood Watch - Gaian news for our attention deficit generation.
2. Honorable Mentions - Writing submitted and scouted by the best.
3. Point! What's Your Point? - Anti-social, anti-state, anti-you.
4. Best of Issue - As voted by the members of the Press.
5. Writer's Aide - Featuring some helpful advice from our very own Gypsy_Hart!
6. Critic's Corner - A critique of one of our lovely pieces.
7. Contest Finalists - Woot, it's the finalists from Round Two!
8. The Afterthought - Preview for the next issue and then some.
Serieve reports:
.....-"On Saturday, July 2nd at 8:00PM PST, Gaia will hold a two hour panel at Anime Expo where we will show the latest in Gaia development, features, and answer questions." -Announcement by Lanzer
.....-The Gaia Casino-n. (guy-UH Kuh-see-no) A chancy place to spend all your gaia gold. Click link for details.
.....-Obsessed with Gaia? Get the downloads to further your craze.
.....-I don't know about you, but I sure as heck didn't know there was an Item Suggestion Thread!
.....-A glimpse into the far future- Gaia Schools!
.....-Like to keep your font original, but hate to constantly type and/or copy the codes? Now we have AutoText!
.....-Mozilla Foxfire users! A new extension just for you! The Gaiabar, a quick and easy toolbar for your convenience.
PART I. Poetry
Listed in alphbetical order.
Matricide
by Sephira Jo
I have never liked the color white,
but if you say so I'll wear it at my wedding.
Like a shroud that hides your death.
You feel so happy for the others,
yet you only cry and scream at me.
All through my youth I followed blindly,
foolishly believing I was free. Free, floating like
a leaf on your whims. Stray an inch, and be cut down.
You will never see the me inside
but you claim to know it's secret face.
Every day I live, I kill you a little bit more.
Tell me that you love me,
but that is not enough.
I want you to mean it too,
when nothing else is good enough for you.
Stained are my hands,
with a fancy and a whim.
Take this, don't take that.
Do this, don't do that.
You'll be a bad girl, when every thing you do is good.
Every day I live, I drag you far behind
like I've committed matricide.
Let me fly now, free
from this bloody cocoon, once called life.
Break from this body fired out of clay.
No longer I, the struggling caterpillar, I.
I have never seen your day.
To tell you what I am,
Is to prove you shall never know.
I could be as an angel down from heaven,
but to you, a devil still.
Shatter this, my dried, used husk!
Look beneath the battered rug
because every day you live like this
I kill you a little more.
I'll dig a grave for you in my back yard
and carry you all my life.
Plodding silently
your heavy weight.
Each day I'll bury you anew
(Killing you a little more)
Each day you'll resurrect anew
(Killing me a little more).
Each day I count on you
(Killing me a little more)
Each day I escape form you
(Killing you a little more)
Until you rise to trouble me no more
I, the Restless Spirt,
You, the Undead Beast.
I, the Lovely Angel,
You, the Breast of God.
Until you rise no more and leave me be.
I kill me a little more.
Let me be.
Then I'll be free, free.
No longer to kill you,
No longer to kill me.
Neck Tie
by Toast
Neck tie
Don't let me die
The ice is so slippery
Under my feet
There's a flood in my mouth
Of liquidy heat
frantic tapdance
on a missing floor
I can finally taste
what I failed to before
Oh hell, hello
The sensation of life
puts blush on the snow
Neck tie
Don't let me go
Rainy Days
by Kraeela
I.
Take my hand
We'll traipse the new world
No one will know
Save for my spotted glasses
And your wet socks
II.
By the fire
Snow-boots lined by twos
Hot cocoa
Your mouth tasted like
Marshmallows and love on a fur rug.
III.
Grandkids' toys
Weathered, splintered cane
Comb strangled
By strands of angelic white
Your wrinkled skin is beautiful to me.
Untitled
by alicemae
loving constrictions
born from the mind
free flow into your life
as it did mine.
bitter pieces of this heart
spread across the crimson sky
Devil's eyes gleam so sweet
when destiny isn't meant to be.
borderline kisses
fallen from the sky
land upon these lips;
I close my eyes.
girlish dreams and empty things
spinning through my mind
********, when did we decide
to leave it all behind?
once upon a midnight dreary
your fingers twined with mine
we caught a shooting star
and charred our hands for life.
now this door shuts as another opens
the sunlight's too damn bright
but I guess this is fate telling us
to take a look outside.
Untitled
by Krause
No noose is good news
is the convicts conviction,
but a nice knotted wrap will wrap things up
better than a rap on the wrists.
However, I hear that adhering
to such principles here is outdated.
The inmates' inn is comfortable in ways
So they please their peers
with pleas meant to appease
But still deaf ears hear
the anti-death penalty apology
And so outdated at the source but not outsourced,
The chainsawer's sour face reveals that veal,
his last meal, isn't a treat before the seat.
Kin can tell convicts to recant
but can't force the farce to reality.
And appeals are just the lure to reel in
the real big fish for the Friday fish fry.
And so the chair can char charimen
and convicts alike. Convictions or not.
PART II. Fiction
Listed in alphbetical order.
The Badger Brigade
by Hemp Fandango
Chapter Five: Intense Meeting Action
More Sues and more OCs. Fools.
News of the Badger Brigade had spread like wild fire all over the Hufflepuff house. Very soon Zacharias found himself the head of a giant army. Sure, most of the members of said army were under 13 but it was still impressive.
The large group of Hufflepuffs chatted animatedly amongst themselves as they awaited the first official Badger Brigade meeting to be called to order.
"It was terrifying." a third year said in a hushed voice to the assembled listeners. "His hair was all sleek and the word "obsidian" kept coming into my head when I wanted to describe it. His skin is still pale, but now it's like-like-" His face contorted as he struggled with the words "ivory." He spat in confusion and disgust. "He looks handsome now and that is just so wrong." The others shuddered collectively.
Elizabeth sighed and detached herself from the worried group to locate her friends. Her eyes scanned the room carefully, before landing on the familiar tall, imposing figure of Alex, who was scowling at something Hannah Abbot was saying.
"It's all over the school," Elizabeth said as she came up to the two. "Everyone's heard about Snape's... change."
"That was an unpleasant surprise," Alex said, looking as though she had swallowed a lemon. "I go expecting to see him being pulled about like a puppet and what do I get? Some whiny pretty boy making googly eyes at that new Japanese Defense teacher, whatshername. Horirashiuiramalamadingdong."
"Actually, her name is Professor Kotori Hikarino." Elizabeth corrected. "You were way off."
"I don't care." Alex huffed. "Her name is stupid in any form. And what the hell is with her eyes? I get a headache just looking at them."
"As I understand it," Hannah explained, sighing. "They're supposed to be silvery greeny blue with a refreshing hint of lime."
Alex snorted. "They sound like a soft drink."
"If her eyes bother you so much, why don't you eat them?" Elizabeth asked innocently.
Alex growled and opened her mouth for a response, but whatever she was going to say was drowned out by the sudden uproar of mutterings as Zacharias, the other seventh years, Sara and Ernie finally descended the stairs and into the common room. They strode over to a makeshift podium near the fireplace and waited patiently until the noise died down.
"You should all know why you're here," Zacharias began, his voice carrying easily over the silent room. "Odd things have been happening. Ridiculous amounts of exchange students have come crawling out of the wood work-"
"Actually, most of them come from America." Beth interrupted.
He shot her an impatient look, which quickly silenced her, cleared his throat and started again. "These new students have been causing a lot of problems, most notably; ignoring the existence of our fine and noble house. This is most disturbing. What's more disturbing, however, is the strange effect these people have on the other attendees of Hogwarts. Students we all know and... know are acting strangely, adapting to "gothic" or "punk" life styles and listening to bands called "Lincoln Park"[1] and "Avriel Lavinne"[1] and dying their hair baffling colours. What's even more baffling is how they claim these changes occurred over the summer, despite obvious evidence to the contrary." He paused for a moment, examining the rapt crowd. "Something has to be done. Not just for our sakes, but for the sake of the other houses, for the sake of Hogwarts!"
A rancorous cheer rose from the Hufflepuffs.
"It won't be easy," he said when they had quieted down. "Many of these things bend the laws of common sense and logic around their little fingers, making reasoning difficult, almost impossible. But we are Hufflepuffs. We don't shy away from hard tasks-"
"Despite the abhorrent shape of our Quidditch team," Alex muttered to Elizabeth, who grinned back.
"Oh, you two are just bitter because they turned you down last year." Hannah whispered.
"He really goes on, doesn't he?" Alex observed, ignoring Hannah. Elizabeth nodded while fidgeting with her dangling earrings, her eyes glazing over.
Her mind drifted back to that day's Charms class, remembering how the girl who sat in front of her, Luna Lovegood, was behaving strangely. Well, more strange than usual. She kept twitching and once or twice Elizabeth heard her muttering things like "abusive" and "cutting" but every time she caught Luna's eye, the girl shook herself and returned to her more or less normal self... and then degenerate into muttering and twitching again. Finally, Luna excused herself from class. Elizabeth could have sworn Luna's hair caught the brilliant sunlight and shone like a river of spun gold as she rushed from the room. Odd, that.
The sound of excited applause shook Elizabeth from her thoughts and nearly caused her to tug her earring off. Zacharias had finally stopped speaking and now Ernie and Sara approached the make shift podium.
"Er," Sara began, paling slightly as her eyes fell on the crowd. "Um, we -that is to say, Zacharias and the rest of us - have decided on a few ground rules. Um." She waved her wand and a white square appeared suspended in the air. She tapped it once and words sprouted from her wand tip. "Rule number one: Do not approach the creatures alone. They are armed and d-dangerous. Uh, rule two: Because we have not identified the nature of the people we know acting strangely, we are not to challenge them or hurt them in any way unless they are Harry Potter- Zach!" Her head snapped around to glare at Zacharias, who stared at the ceiling. She tapped her wand again and some words vanished and turned back to the crowd. "Do not attack the real students or teachers of Hogwarts, no matter how strangely they may be acting."
"You mean we can't attack any of them?" a voice asked from the crowd. A few people moved aside to reveal Susan looking slightly disappointed.
"No, Susan. We don't know what's wrong with them yet." Ernie explained.
"Not even Snape?" Alex asked loudly. A few people tittered.
"No," Sara said firmly. "Not even Snape."
"Rule three," Ernie continued. "When confronting these things, be wary of ridiculous Animagi forms, such as unicorns, dragons, oddly coloured phoenixes. Similarly, be wary of animal friends or pets the creature may have, such as, uh, unicorns, dragons, oddly coloured phoenixes, etc."
A hand shot into the air. "What if they're part cat?"
"Yeah," another voice piped up. "Or part unicorn?"
"That is a world of wrong, and we will not discuss it here." Sara cleared her throat and continued, more confidently. "A note: the only thing we've seen work against these creatures is a spell, known as the Purity spell, or "Purus Morbus". It's similar to the Patronus charm in that it wards off evils, but this is far simpler and - as such - weaker. If this spell fails when you attempt it, run. Run like the dickens back to the Hufflepuff common room." She paused. "Any questions?"
***
In another part of the castle, a figure in a silver and green school uniform strode confidently along the moonlit halls. Her short black hair was streaked with red and her eyes were the colour of the finest sapphires. Her various flesh mutilating metal appendages caught the light of the moon as she strode past the many windows.
Another figure sidled carefully down the hall. This one, too, was wearing silver and green Slytherin colours, but unlike the first girl, her uniform was not altered in any way. She tip toed her way quietly, flattening herself against the wall any time she thought the first girl was going to look back.
After a while, the first girl came to a statue of a beautiful woman with wings and a vacant smile, even for a statue. She spoke, her voice as clear as a bell: "Sparklypoo." The statue sprung to life and stepped aside, allowing the ebon haired girl to enter and the second girl to slither past, unnoticed.
They had entered into a vast hall, full of all kinds of reflective surfaces and rich violet tapestries. The floor was the finest white marble and the domed ceiling was charmed to show the gibbous moon outside. It was absolutely packed with all manner of woman, their hair catching the light of the moon and, in turn, was reflected against the various mirrors and other such shiny objects, almost eliminating the need for light. Their rich, heavenly voices filled the room like a bad smell.
The first girl strode to the center of the throng, where she murmured something into the delicate ear of Polaris Riddle. The other girl ducked behind a pillar, hiding in the shadows.
Polaris cleared her throat, a small action that instantly ceased all noise in the room. The other women looked to Polaris with polite interest.
"Alright, ladies," Polaris began, all business. "It's time for our nightly review. First of all, progress reports. Whysper Potter, would you like to start us off for the Collation of Potter Relatives?"
A girl with sleek black hair, tied into a neat ponytail stepped forward and spoke in confident tones. "All has gone according to plan," she trilled. "Harry has accepted me as his twin sister, along with Danielle, Serena, Vespa, Alicia, Heather, Melody, Serena-"
She continued to rattle off a long list of names for what seemed like a few years. The Slytherin girl sighed and quietly counted the floor tiles.
"...and Zelda." she finished at last.
"Very good," Polaris nodded at her and she stood down. "How are our teachers doing? Professor Saityr Marielle Nymph Evangeliski?"
A woman with hair like moonlight floated forward, her crimson cat-like eyes showing no emotion. Two scythe-like fangs could be seen as she spoke. "Everything is happening on schedule, lady." she said in a soft, emotionless, yet sorrowful voice. Some might say it was an odd mixture for a voice - downright contradictory, even - but those people are all dead. "As you know, we had slight resistance from the potions master, but he has been... dealt with." A soft whisper ran across the room.
The Slytherin girl's knuckles whitened as she gripped the pillar she was hidden behind.
"I hope our replacement is working out for you?" Polaris asked politely.
"Yes, the new one is much more compliant," she sounded amused. "The old one was ugly, anyway." The others voiced a murmur of agreement.
"Hey, what's that noise?" the Slytherin girl with short hair and red streaks asked.
"What noise?" a girl with shining royal blue hair to her ankles asked, her wine eyes showing confusion.
"I hear it too," a girl with thick blood red hair that curled at the tips and cerulean blue eyes that glowed a faint red. "Sounds like someone is grinding their teeth."
The Slytherin girl clamped a hand over her mouth and cursed her bad habits. She held her breath, her eyes squeezed closed. 'OhgodohgodohgodohgodtheyknowI'mhereIamsoscrewed.'
She could just make out the sound of footsteps approaching over the blood pounding in her ears.
"I wouldn't worry about it, Raven. The sound's gone now," the commanding voice of Polaris broke the silence. The footsteps stopped.
"If you're sure, 'Laris." an uncertain voice said. The footsteps started again, but this time they hurried in the opposite direction.
The girl could've laughed. She slumped against the pillar with relief and slid down to the floor. She didn't even bother to contemplate the inanity of the nickname "Laris".
"Right, moving on then," Polaris continued. "Who shall we hear from next," she murmured thoughtfully. "Ah! Would the Psuedo Canonica Club care to tell us of their progress?"
There was a soft shuffling sound and the Slytherin girl peeked around her pillar in time to see a tall, breasty girl with long, thick raven black hair with electric blue streaks. She wore the typical gothic wear of a red tartan schoolgirl skirt and a black leather corset. Most noticeable of all, however, was that she was Hermione Granger.
"It's goin' pretty good, 'Ris," Hermione said, while adjusting her skirt.
'I wonder when they're going to start calling her "Pol".' The girl thought, smirking.
"The host was resilient at first, but she eventually fell when we teamed up on her. We've done her a great favour. Now she knows what it's like to be a real powerful female figure," her voice held a hint of pride. "For example, she hates all men," she paused, looking thoughtful. "Because she was raped by her abusive father," she added decidedly. The other assembled girls nodded in approval.
"We've also managed to change Malfoy, Potter, and Zabini for the better," Ginny Weasley said as she marched up next to Hermione. Her red locks cascading down her back and sad sea green eyes reflected the world around her like mirrors. "And Zabini. Did you know she thought she was really a boy? How silly. We set her straight pretty quickly."
Polaris looked at Ginny with mild surprise. "I though you were goth today."
Ginny shook her magnificent head. "No, that was yesterday. Today I'm returning to Hogwarts after spending a year in America where I became a pop singer under the handle of Blood Rose."
"Oh. Okay."
"Tomorrow I think I'll be a punk pot user who loves Jhohen Vasquez. Or maybe a Ghetto Fabulous street fighting queen."
"Good for you," Polaris said.
'Ghetto fabulous? What the hell does that mean?' the girl thought. 'And who the blazes is Jhohen Whatever?'
"And what is your progress on Luna's possession?" Polaris asked, looking down her nose on the two girls. They shifted uncomfortably.
"You have to understand, Ris," Hermione began nervously. "While Ginny and Hermione had a giant force against them, Luna only has a handful of us trying to get her. She is, uh, putting up some resistance. But," she went on hurriedly as Polaris' eyes narrowed. "It won't last long. She's already showing signs of The Change."
"She better," Polaris said dangerously. "I don't know if we have enough time to fabricate a replacement for her. Alright, you may step down. Next on our list;" her violet eyes turned an icy blue and her face hardened. "The untimely demise of one of our own at the hand of some Pufflehuff." More murmuring. "We don't know how they managed to do it, but rest assured it doesn't mean anything," she smirked. "We are, after all, at war. There will be casualties, but it will be worth it, in the end when Hogwarts is ours." She threw her head back and laughed manically. The other girls followed suit, filling the hall with ringing evil laughter.
"Oh, my rib," Polaris said, whipping away a tear. "Now onto more important matters; angst. Has everyone filled their quota today? By show of hands, how many of you have thrown temper tantrums? Oooh, very good. What about breaking into song? I walked down the hallway today and I didn't hear a single mournful Linkin Park or Evanescence song. We need to work on that. And now a Persephone Snape would like to lead us in a sing along. Persephone?"
"Okay ladies, today's song is "Vindicated" by Dashboard Confessional. Be sure to make your voice extra whiny for the chorus. On three: one, two, three!"
Feeling vaguely nauseous the girl sighed quietly and picked herself off the floor. She left the room, while trying to drown out the sound of emo music and each of the girls trying to sing louder than the other. When she reached the exit, she glanced back briefly to see Polaris singing loudly and confidently, her impressive bosom heaving. Fighting the urge to run over and strangle the stupid tart with her own waist length hair, she turned on her heel and stalked dramatically out into the moonlit hall.
'Damn them, anyway,' she stormed. 'How dare they do this to our house! What self respecting Slytherin would be caught singing muggle music? The lyrics make no sense! "Hope dangles on a string/Like slow spinning redemption"? What the hell? Damn their stupid metaphors. Mozart never added lyrics to his music-' It was then her internal rant had to be cut short when she walked into another person, stumbling a few steps backwards.
"Hey!" she snapped. "Watch where you're going, you big... guy." She glared at the other person, who, she noted, was a Hufflepuff. A rather greasy looking Hufflepuff. 'Probably around 7th year, if I'm any judge. Which I am.'
"Sorry about that," he said, and she noted that even his voice was oily. "I was out for a moonlight stroll. I was anticipating running into a beautiful young woman."
She sniffed. "I'll forgive you because I appreciate honesty in a man."
The Hufflepuff grinned in the darkness. People were easy.
"My name is Conrad Coates and perhaps you would be interested in buying a few cosmetic items? Finest quality, straight from Paris," he pulled a small compact from seemingly nowhere. He held it out to her, but he pulled it away suddenly, looking hesitant. "I guess someone so pretty wouldn't need make up, would she? How stupid of me. I'm so sorry for bothering you." He turned, as if to leave but the girl rushed forward after him.
"No, it's okay," she said hastily. "I mean," she recovered. "I have a friend's birthday coming up and she could really use some lippy. She's an autumn."
"Well, then, I think we can work something out. What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't. It's Persiapicacia Edwina Dorian," she drew herself up. Conrad privately admired her for not being crushed under the weight of the syllables. "You can call me Persia if you must. Or Edwina."
"Edwina is a lovely name," he said smoothly. "Now, is your friend interested in lippy?"
***
Several minutes later, Edwina returned to the Slytherin common room, her purse much lighter than when she left. She was about to ascend the stairs to her rooms when she heard a muffled sob from the corner of the room. She winced.
There was a possibility, she knew, that the sobbing could be coming from one of those girls crying about being all alone or because their dogs have died or whatever it was they whined about. But, then again, the girls were supposed to be singing bad muggle songs in their hall.
She approached the trembling heap in the corner with some trepidation.
"Um," she said. "Hallo?"
The trembling stopped. "...Persia? Is that you?" a muffled voice asked.
"Pansy?" Edwina said, shocked.
Pansy looked up, her face streaked with tears and mascara. "Oh... oh Persia!" She flung herself into Edwina's arms.
"Aw, Pansy." Edwina said awkwardly. "There, there."
"It was terrible! Draco called me a slut! He said I was hideous! As if he's one to talk," her voice suddenly became a harsh snarl. "Him with his stupid died hair and blue lipstick! He looks like a clown! Oh, my poor Draco." she simpered, the storm having passed.
"It's all those stupid girls' fault, Pansy. I followed one of them today; you know, the one with the short hair and the red streaks? Well, they're planning on taking over Hogwarts! It's like they're in a cult!" She paused. "And Ginny Weasly smokes pots for some reason."
Pansy crinkled her nose. "Pots? Why? What does she have against them?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe they called her black." She paused again. "Get it?"
"I dislike you, sometimes." She pulled herself from Edwina and sat against the wall.
"I can live with that." Edwina reached into her robes and pulled out a hanky. "Here, your mascara's running."
"Bloody hell," she muttered, taking the offered hanky and rubbing off the streaks and smudges of black. "What are we going to do now?"
Edwina considered this. "Weeeell," she said slowly. "I got us some lippy."
"I meant about Draco and those weird cult girls." She paused to blow her nose. "What colour?"
"The Hufflepuff boy I spoke to said something about forming an army against them. Polished bronze and dusky rose."
"Really?" Pansy looked thoughtful. "They're crazy... crazy like a fox." she said looking devious. "Perhaps we should inquire about joining them? After all, saving Hogwarts will look very good in the eyes of the Ministry, I'm sure. Ew, I hate bronze. I'll take the dusky rose."
Edwina handed the small tube to Pansy. "We could be heroes. Admired and loved." Her eyes sparkled as she stared into space.
"And Draco will be fine again." Pansy said softly.
"Sure. Back to his old, muggle hating self."
"Let's do it!" Pansy stood up, clenching her fist, her heart pounding with excitement.
"But we don't know where their common room is," Edwina pointed out. Pansy slumped, the excitement draining from her.
"Damn, you're right. Well, we could always find the Hufflepuff again and ask him."
Edwina nodded and stood up. "Then it's agreed. We will defeat those stupid cult girls!"
Train Stop
by Pukio
It had been a long time since he'd seen her. Fleetingly, he wondered if it would be awkward between them. The thought latched on to something on his insides as he slid through the throng of people at the station, one hand on his head to keep his hat from getting carried away in the bustle, the other clutching nervously at the hem of his coat. As he emerged at the front of the crowd, the coal black locomotive chugged up alongside the platform. Quickly, he pushed away the thought. It had been a long time but certainly not too long.
Certainly not too long to forget that smile. The one with the little twists at the corners and the slight indentation beneath her lower lip. The way her right cheek dimpled with expression but not the left because her mouth always had a way of quirking just slightly in that direction. Certainly not too long to forget her laugh: a lilting tone he couldn't exactly copy in his mind without feeling a dull ache somewhere in the back of his chest. However, perhaps it had been too long that misunderstandings and stagnant letters had collected dust between them. Perhaps the only thing she remembered was him forgetting.
Edging out farther on the platform, he searched the train car windows anxiously, lips twisted in a nervous rickety line. Hastily, he snatched his hat from his head, ginger hair poking out in strange directions. Pressing the piece to his chest without thinking, he continued to search the dismal black and scarlet train, eyes crinkling as they narrowed in speculation. The train slid to a slow halt with a hiss of the brakes, a plume of steam rising from the head of the locomotive. For a moment, the clamor of the awaiting parties was the only noise and then a shout of a conductor sounded somewhere throughout the train cars and, just as abruptly, the noise of compartment doors being thrown open and bags being brought down from their racks clunked and shuddered through the air.
Insignificantly, he shrunk back, hands wrinkling the outside of his hat as he clutched at the fabric unconsciously. Nervously, he found himself glancing along the length of the train. She would be coming soon. Would she recognize him? Would he recognize her?
The steps of the nearest car were flooded with passengers. Young men hauling cases and peering about with narrowed, ambitious eyes. Women and children clutching hands and smiling: calling out to husbands. A teenaged boy with a knapsack that left him wondering how on earth he had afforded the train ticket in the first place. Then, directly after a business man in a suit slightly shiny with age and a dulled pocket watch stepped off and adjusted his bowler hat, she came.
Her hair was longer than he remembered, pulled back into a loose bun and caught in netting. A blue cap with no veil obscured much of those sharp orange-brunette curls. Her cheeks had rouge on them and her lips were painted. For a fleeting moment he wasn't sure it was her. Those eyes were the same shape but they seemed so different at the same time as they flickered across the crowd. Her lips were pursed into a severe line and her attractive face was creased with concentration.
Then she caught sight of him: half standing behind a shorter balding man, clutching his hat so tightly it was ready to come apart at the seams. For a brief moment, she simply watched. He caught her eyes with his own and for a handful of seconds he thought she didn't know who he was. Why a stranger would be staring at her so.
And then she smiled that smile with the twisted corners and the dimple on her right cheek. Without thinking, his grip on the hat loosened and he found himself smiling back.
Awkwardly, he raised a hand in a half wave, ducking forward to retrieve the suitcase from beside her. Stooping, his fingers closed around the handle of the piece and he straightened, casting her a nervous sidelong glance. Swallowing, he carefully replaced the hat on his head and opened his mouth to say something. Lightly, she rested her hand on his arm, her smile widening just a touch. As if it was some sort of cue, he closed his mouth and released a heavy sigh from his nose he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A sigh he might have been holding for the past ten years.
Perhaps he could find forgiveness for such a forgetful fool like himself in that smile.
Epiphany
by Kyt Dotson
"Epiphany," said the stranger. Her eyes were lost in thought, hidden behind broad sunglasses.
"What?" Tiffany hadn't even heard the woman sit down next to her, but there she was: a pale phantom dressed like an opera connoisseur. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there. I can move to a different bench."
The stranger dismissed Tiffany's offer with an eloquent gesture. "The sunrise, yes?"
Tiffany nodded. She had come here many mornings now. It was the best place on the boardwalk to watch the sun rise over the bay. Even now the waters were turning from a black into a deep navy. Soon the stars would flee from the sky.
"It's like an epiphany, isn't it?" the stranger asked as if she had never seen a sunrise before. "A sudden brilliant realization; true and pure and beautiful." The woman turned to look at Tiffany. "Tell me, how many have you watched?'
Tiffany started to feel concerned for her safety now. She swallowed, trying not to wither in the chilly gaze of the strange woman. "I've been coming here a year now."
The woman smiled an inward smile, a secret smile. "I have not seen a sunrise in as long as I can recall."
"Do you live underground or something?" Tiffany asked and a moment later regretted it. The woman could have worked when the sun rose as far as she knew, and never was able to sit and enjoy one.
"Something to that effect, yes," the stranger didn't sound offended. "I'm breaking the rules by being here. I just wanted to see it. Just once. I hope you don't mind."
"No," Tiffany said. "I don't mind." She sat back. The stranger didn't seem to mean her any harm; she just had a foreboding in her attitude. There was something unsettling in the woman's voice, something that put Tiffany on edge that she just couldn't put a finger on.
"Can you tell me what it's like?"
Tiffany assumed she meant the sunrise. "Well," she said. "First the sky will lighten and the stars vanish." She could see the entire thing unfold in her mind. "A breeze will come from the ocean and the water will turn from dark to deep blue. The sky will blush red, and then when the sun crests the horizon it will be like a golden crown being lifted above a sapphire cloth."
"It sounds beautiful," the woman said. "Just like your poetry described."
"You have to experience it yourself, to really know--" Tiffany said but caught herself. "What? My poetry? I don't show my poetry to anyone." How could the woman know about that?
"It's really good, you know," the stranger said. "I knew that you were the one when I heard your work."
"How did you read my work? I keep it in a--"
"Diary with a keyed lock. I have been pleased to be an audience to the private night-time performances of your work, however clandestine my appearances in your gallery." The brightening sky reflected in the woman's glasses as she watched Tiffany's expression pale. "I will miss your readings."
Tiffany stood suddenly, her back to the ocean, staring at the strange woman. "Who are you?"
"I'm just someone who wanted to experience a sunrise," said the woman, removing her sunglasses and revealing empty sockets where her eyes should have been.
Terrified, Tiffany ran. She did not look back.
As sun rose the stranger was heard to have said, "I see now; it is beautiful," before the morning blush gave way and the golden light breathed the flesh from her bones.
Point! What's Your Point?
#5 Responsibility, a New Low Price of Free.
Jeff A. Van Booven
Ok quick, you're three hundred pounds overweight, who do you sue? You got drunk and ran your car off a bridge? You were going too fast, turned the corner too sharp and rolled over your SUV? You accidentally killed your best friend while playing with a gun? You went and murdered your next door neighbor because you did it in a video game? If you answered anything but "yourself"� to any of these questions, you need to stop and take a long hard look at your values and morals.
Some of you may not believe me, but who ate the food to make themselves three hundred pounds overweight? Who drank the alcohol to get drunk? Who was pressing on the accelerated and cranked the steering wheel too hard? Who fired the gun? Who decided to murder their next-door neighbor? It certainly wasn't some corporation. It was one person, you. Now you may not have done any of these things here, but you most likely have shifted responsibility for your actions to somebody else somewhere in your life. We all do it. It's naturally, but to take it to the extremes to sue somebody else for it, then it becomes almost criminal.
And now the burden of guilt has to rest on the consumers. Companies have to pay lawyers, even when cases are thrown out of court. Are the companies going to take a hit to their profits over this? Certainly not, they're going to pass it on to their consumers. Want to know why health insurance is through the roof? Try asking your doctor how much his liability insurance is a month. I'm sure he'll be glad to tell you that he has to take your arm and leg to cover it. People today can not accept that things are their fault, that others can't fix every problem.
Which is why here today I'm offering my brand new device I call responsibility. With this revolutionary concept, you can take the blame for the things that you have done, knowing that you were wrong to do them. What joys you will discover in finally accepting that you are not perfect and that your actions do indeed have consequences. And if you call now, we're offering this great, revolutionary product for the new low price of free. So call now, operators are standing by.
REVISING AND EDITING #1
A Checklist for Critiquing
Use the checklist that follows to help you evaluate compositions during editing or groups revising sessions.
Purpose: Does the writer have a clear purpose in mind? That is, is it clear that the writer is trying to entertain, to inform, to persuade, etc?
Audience: Does the writer address a specific audience? And will the readers understand and appreciate this subject?
Form: Is the subject presented in an effective or appropriate form?
(Mechanics are included in form, and the correctness of the writer's grammar and punctuation)
Content: Does the writer consider the subject from a number of angles? For example, does he or she try and compare, classify, define and/or analyze the writing idea?
Writing Devices: Does the writer include any figures of speech, anecdotes, dialogue, specific examples, etc.? Which ones are most effective?
Voice: Does the writer sound sincere and honest? That is, do you "hear" the writer when you read his or her piece.
Personal Thoughts and Comments: Does the writer include any personal thoughts or comments in the writing? Are they needed or desireable? Does the writer overpower the piece with personal thoughts and comments?
Purpose (Again) : Does the writer succeed in making a person smile, nod, or react in some way? What is especially good about the writing?
Untitled
by alicemae
loving constrictions
born from the mind
free flow into your life
as it did mine.
bitter pieces of this heart
spread across the crimson sky
Devil's eyes gleam so sweet
when destiny isn't meant to be.
borderline kisses
fallen from the sky
land upon these lips;
I close my eyes.
girlish dreams and empty things
spinning through my mind
********, when did we decide
to leave it all behind?
once upon a midnight dreary
your fingers twined with mine
we caught a shooting star
and charred our hands for life.
now this door shuts as another opens
the sunlight's too damn bright
but I guess this is fate telling us
to take a look outside.
Round Two ends here! Our judges this go around were Kraeela, Dragon Lilly, and myself. Next will be the ever important Round Three, located at our guild in a thread titled "TGP Round Three- The Finale." Here, our readers will vote for the winners. All finalists from rounds One and Two will be posted here, and then our readers will look through and decide which they like best. Then the votes will be tallied.
1st place: 6500
2nd place: 1500
3rd place: 1000
Thanks to all the finalists and supporters for reading. And now, the finalists of Round Two, to whom I'll be sending 100g shortly:
Dream Away
by Symphonie
Fallen
by Ellyrianna
My Angel
by Saori
Summer
by Doe
The World is An Ugly Place
by R. Cade Norton
Notes from Serieve: Yeah, this was a little bit chaotic. Can you believe I actually deleted the first rough draft by accident, right after I'd completed it? I had to go and put it all together again. That's okay, no harm done, really. So now I have some people to thank. Eruden Ki, for donating to the contest. Kraeela, for holding things down while I was gone. And of course, the biggest thanks goes to all our supporters!
We find the best so you don't have to.
IN THIS ISSUE:
1. The Neighborhood Watch - Gaian news for our attention deficit generation.
2. Honorable Mentions - Writing submitted and scouted by the best.
3. Point! What's Your Point? - Anti-social, anti-state, anti-you.
4. Best of Issue - As voted by the members of the Press.
5. Writer's Aide - Featuring some helpful advice from our very own Gypsy_Hart!
6. Critic's Corner - A critique of one of our lovely pieces.
7. Contest Finalists - Woot, it's the finalists from Round Two!
8. The Afterthought - Preview for the next issue and then some.
Serieve reports:
.....-"On Saturday, July 2nd at 8:00PM PST, Gaia will hold a two hour panel at Anime Expo where we will show the latest in Gaia development, features, and answer questions." -Announcement by Lanzer
.....-The Gaia Casino-n. (guy-UH Kuh-see-no) A chancy place to spend all your gaia gold. Click link for details.
.....-Obsessed with Gaia? Get the downloads to further your craze.
.....-I don't know about you, but I sure as heck didn't know there was an Item Suggestion Thread!
.....-A glimpse into the far future- Gaia Schools!
.....-Like to keep your font original, but hate to constantly type and/or copy the codes? Now we have AutoText!
.....-Mozilla Foxfire users! A new extension just for you! The Gaiabar, a quick and easy toolbar for your convenience.
PART I. Poetry
Listed in alphbetical order.
Matricide
by Sephira Jo
I have never liked the color white,
but if you say so I'll wear it at my wedding.
Like a shroud that hides your death.
You feel so happy for the others,
yet you only cry and scream at me.
All through my youth I followed blindly,
foolishly believing I was free. Free, floating like
a leaf on your whims. Stray an inch, and be cut down.
You will never see the me inside
but you claim to know it's secret face.
Every day I live, I kill you a little bit more.
Tell me that you love me,
but that is not enough.
I want you to mean it too,
when nothing else is good enough for you.
Stained are my hands,
with a fancy and a whim.
Take this, don't take that.
Do this, don't do that.
You'll be a bad girl, when every thing you do is good.
Every day I live, I drag you far behind
like I've committed matricide.
Let me fly now, free
from this bloody cocoon, once called life.
Break from this body fired out of clay.
No longer I, the struggling caterpillar, I.
I have never seen your day.
To tell you what I am,
Is to prove you shall never know.
I could be as an angel down from heaven,
but to you, a devil still.
Shatter this, my dried, used husk!
Look beneath the battered rug
because every day you live like this
I kill you a little more.
I'll dig a grave for you in my back yard
and carry you all my life.
Plodding silently
your heavy weight.
Each day I'll bury you anew
(Killing you a little more)
Each day you'll resurrect anew
(Killing me a little more).
Each day I count on you
(Killing me a little more)
Each day I escape form you
(Killing you a little more)
Until you rise to trouble me no more
I, the Restless Spirt,
You, the Undead Beast.
I, the Lovely Angel,
You, the Breast of God.
Until you rise no more and leave me be.
I kill me a little more.
Let me be.
Then I'll be free, free.
No longer to kill you,
No longer to kill me.
Neck Tie
by Toast
Neck tie
Don't let me die
The ice is so slippery
Under my feet
There's a flood in my mouth
Of liquidy heat
frantic tapdance
on a missing floor
I can finally taste
what I failed to before
Oh hell, hello
The sensation of life
puts blush on the snow
Neck tie
Don't let me go
Rainy Days
by Kraeela
I.
Take my hand
We'll traipse the new world
No one will know
Save for my spotted glasses
And your wet socks
II.
By the fire
Snow-boots lined by twos
Hot cocoa
Your mouth tasted like
Marshmallows and love on a fur rug.
III.
Grandkids' toys
Weathered, splintered cane
Comb strangled
By strands of angelic white
Your wrinkled skin is beautiful to me.
Untitled
by alicemae
loving constrictions
born from the mind
free flow into your life
as it did mine.
bitter pieces of this heart
spread across the crimson sky
Devil's eyes gleam so sweet
when destiny isn't meant to be.
borderline kisses
fallen from the sky
land upon these lips;
I close my eyes.
girlish dreams and empty things
spinning through my mind
********, when did we decide
to leave it all behind?
once upon a midnight dreary
your fingers twined with mine
we caught a shooting star
and charred our hands for life.
now this door shuts as another opens
the sunlight's too damn bright
but I guess this is fate telling us
to take a look outside.
Untitled
by Krause
No noose is good news
is the convicts conviction,
but a nice knotted wrap will wrap things up
better than a rap on the wrists.
However, I hear that adhering
to such principles here is outdated.
The inmates' inn is comfortable in ways
So they please their peers
with pleas meant to appease
But still deaf ears hear
the anti-death penalty apology
And so outdated at the source but not outsourced,
The chainsawer's sour face reveals that veal,
his last meal, isn't a treat before the seat.
Kin can tell convicts to recant
but can't force the farce to reality.
And appeals are just the lure to reel in
the real big fish for the Friday fish fry.
And so the chair can char charimen
and convicts alike. Convictions or not.
PART II. Fiction
Listed in alphbetical order.
The Badger Brigade
by Hemp Fandango
Chapter Five: Intense Meeting Action
More Sues and more OCs. Fools.
News of the Badger Brigade had spread like wild fire all over the Hufflepuff house. Very soon Zacharias found himself the head of a giant army. Sure, most of the members of said army were under 13 but it was still impressive.
The large group of Hufflepuffs chatted animatedly amongst themselves as they awaited the first official Badger Brigade meeting to be called to order.
"It was terrifying." a third year said in a hushed voice to the assembled listeners. "His hair was all sleek and the word "obsidian" kept coming into my head when I wanted to describe it. His skin is still pale, but now it's like-like-" His face contorted as he struggled with the words "ivory." He spat in confusion and disgust. "He looks handsome now and that is just so wrong." The others shuddered collectively.
Elizabeth sighed and detached herself from the worried group to locate her friends. Her eyes scanned the room carefully, before landing on the familiar tall, imposing figure of Alex, who was scowling at something Hannah Abbot was saying.
"It's all over the school," Elizabeth said as she came up to the two. "Everyone's heard about Snape's... change."
"That was an unpleasant surprise," Alex said, looking as though she had swallowed a lemon. "I go expecting to see him being pulled about like a puppet and what do I get? Some whiny pretty boy making googly eyes at that new Japanese Defense teacher, whatshername. Horirashiuiramalamadingdong."
"Actually, her name is Professor Kotori Hikarino." Elizabeth corrected. "You were way off."
"I don't care." Alex huffed. "Her name is stupid in any form. And what the hell is with her eyes? I get a headache just looking at them."
"As I understand it," Hannah explained, sighing. "They're supposed to be silvery greeny blue with a refreshing hint of lime."
Alex snorted. "They sound like a soft drink."
"If her eyes bother you so much, why don't you eat them?" Elizabeth asked innocently.
Alex growled and opened her mouth for a response, but whatever she was going to say was drowned out by the sudden uproar of mutterings as Zacharias, the other seventh years, Sara and Ernie finally descended the stairs and into the common room. They strode over to a makeshift podium near the fireplace and waited patiently until the noise died down.
"You should all know why you're here," Zacharias began, his voice carrying easily over the silent room. "Odd things have been happening. Ridiculous amounts of exchange students have come crawling out of the wood work-"
"Actually, most of them come from America." Beth interrupted.
He shot her an impatient look, which quickly silenced her, cleared his throat and started again. "These new students have been causing a lot of problems, most notably; ignoring the existence of our fine and noble house. This is most disturbing. What's more disturbing, however, is the strange effect these people have on the other attendees of Hogwarts. Students we all know and... know are acting strangely, adapting to "gothic" or "punk" life styles and listening to bands called "Lincoln Park"[1] and "Avriel Lavinne"[1] and dying their hair baffling colours. What's even more baffling is how they claim these changes occurred over the summer, despite obvious evidence to the contrary." He paused for a moment, examining the rapt crowd. "Something has to be done. Not just for our sakes, but for the sake of the other houses, for the sake of Hogwarts!"
A rancorous cheer rose from the Hufflepuffs.
"It won't be easy," he said when they had quieted down. "Many of these things bend the laws of common sense and logic around their little fingers, making reasoning difficult, almost impossible. But we are Hufflepuffs. We don't shy away from hard tasks-"
"Despite the abhorrent shape of our Quidditch team," Alex muttered to Elizabeth, who grinned back.
"Oh, you two are just bitter because they turned you down last year." Hannah whispered.
"He really goes on, doesn't he?" Alex observed, ignoring Hannah. Elizabeth nodded while fidgeting with her dangling earrings, her eyes glazing over.
Her mind drifted back to that day's Charms class, remembering how the girl who sat in front of her, Luna Lovegood, was behaving strangely. Well, more strange than usual. She kept twitching and once or twice Elizabeth heard her muttering things like "abusive" and "cutting" but every time she caught Luna's eye, the girl shook herself and returned to her more or less normal self... and then degenerate into muttering and twitching again. Finally, Luna excused herself from class. Elizabeth could have sworn Luna's hair caught the brilliant sunlight and shone like a river of spun gold as she rushed from the room. Odd, that.
The sound of excited applause shook Elizabeth from her thoughts and nearly caused her to tug her earring off. Zacharias had finally stopped speaking and now Ernie and Sara approached the make shift podium.
"Er," Sara began, paling slightly as her eyes fell on the crowd. "Um, we -that is to say, Zacharias and the rest of us - have decided on a few ground rules. Um." She waved her wand and a white square appeared suspended in the air. She tapped it once and words sprouted from her wand tip. "Rule number one: Do not approach the creatures alone. They are armed and d-dangerous. Uh, rule two: Because we have not identified the nature of the people we know acting strangely, we are not to challenge them or hurt them in any way unless they are Harry Potter- Zach!" Her head snapped around to glare at Zacharias, who stared at the ceiling. She tapped her wand again and some words vanished and turned back to the crowd. "Do not attack the real students or teachers of Hogwarts, no matter how strangely they may be acting."
"You mean we can't attack any of them?" a voice asked from the crowd. A few people moved aside to reveal Susan looking slightly disappointed.
"No, Susan. We don't know what's wrong with them yet." Ernie explained.
"Not even Snape?" Alex asked loudly. A few people tittered.
"No," Sara said firmly. "Not even Snape."
"Rule three," Ernie continued. "When confronting these things, be wary of ridiculous Animagi forms, such as unicorns, dragons, oddly coloured phoenixes. Similarly, be wary of animal friends or pets the creature may have, such as, uh, unicorns, dragons, oddly coloured phoenixes, etc."
A hand shot into the air. "What if they're part cat?"
"Yeah," another voice piped up. "Or part unicorn?"
"That is a world of wrong, and we will not discuss it here." Sara cleared her throat and continued, more confidently. "A note: the only thing we've seen work against these creatures is a spell, known as the Purity spell, or "Purus Morbus". It's similar to the Patronus charm in that it wards off evils, but this is far simpler and - as such - weaker. If this spell fails when you attempt it, run. Run like the dickens back to the Hufflepuff common room." She paused. "Any questions?"
***
In another part of the castle, a figure in a silver and green school uniform strode confidently along the moonlit halls. Her short black hair was streaked with red and her eyes were the colour of the finest sapphires. Her various flesh mutilating metal appendages caught the light of the moon as she strode past the many windows.
Another figure sidled carefully down the hall. This one, too, was wearing silver and green Slytherin colours, but unlike the first girl, her uniform was not altered in any way. She tip toed her way quietly, flattening herself against the wall any time she thought the first girl was going to look back.
After a while, the first girl came to a statue of a beautiful woman with wings and a vacant smile, even for a statue. She spoke, her voice as clear as a bell: "Sparklypoo." The statue sprung to life and stepped aside, allowing the ebon haired girl to enter and the second girl to slither past, unnoticed.
They had entered into a vast hall, full of all kinds of reflective surfaces and rich violet tapestries. The floor was the finest white marble and the domed ceiling was charmed to show the gibbous moon outside. It was absolutely packed with all manner of woman, their hair catching the light of the moon and, in turn, was reflected against the various mirrors and other such shiny objects, almost eliminating the need for light. Their rich, heavenly voices filled the room like a bad smell.
The first girl strode to the center of the throng, where she murmured something into the delicate ear of Polaris Riddle. The other girl ducked behind a pillar, hiding in the shadows.
Polaris cleared her throat, a small action that instantly ceased all noise in the room. The other women looked to Polaris with polite interest.
"Alright, ladies," Polaris began, all business. "It's time for our nightly review. First of all, progress reports. Whysper Potter, would you like to start us off for the Collation of Potter Relatives?"
A girl with sleek black hair, tied into a neat ponytail stepped forward and spoke in confident tones. "All has gone according to plan," she trilled. "Harry has accepted me as his twin sister, along with Danielle, Serena, Vespa, Alicia, Heather, Melody, Serena-"
She continued to rattle off a long list of names for what seemed like a few years. The Slytherin girl sighed and quietly counted the floor tiles.
"...and Zelda." she finished at last.
"Very good," Polaris nodded at her and she stood down. "How are our teachers doing? Professor Saityr Marielle Nymph Evangeliski?"
A woman with hair like moonlight floated forward, her crimson cat-like eyes showing no emotion. Two scythe-like fangs could be seen as she spoke. "Everything is happening on schedule, lady." she said in a soft, emotionless, yet sorrowful voice. Some might say it was an odd mixture for a voice - downright contradictory, even - but those people are all dead. "As you know, we had slight resistance from the potions master, but he has been... dealt with." A soft whisper ran across the room.
The Slytherin girl's knuckles whitened as she gripped the pillar she was hidden behind.
"I hope our replacement is working out for you?" Polaris asked politely.
"Yes, the new one is much more compliant," she sounded amused. "The old one was ugly, anyway." The others voiced a murmur of agreement.
"Hey, what's that noise?" the Slytherin girl with short hair and red streaks asked.
"What noise?" a girl with shining royal blue hair to her ankles asked, her wine eyes showing confusion.
"I hear it too," a girl with thick blood red hair that curled at the tips and cerulean blue eyes that glowed a faint red. "Sounds like someone is grinding their teeth."
The Slytherin girl clamped a hand over her mouth and cursed her bad habits. She held her breath, her eyes squeezed closed. 'OhgodohgodohgodohgodtheyknowI'mhereIamsoscrewed.'
She could just make out the sound of footsteps approaching over the blood pounding in her ears.
"I wouldn't worry about it, Raven. The sound's gone now," the commanding voice of Polaris broke the silence. The footsteps stopped.
"If you're sure, 'Laris." an uncertain voice said. The footsteps started again, but this time they hurried in the opposite direction.
The girl could've laughed. She slumped against the pillar with relief and slid down to the floor. She didn't even bother to contemplate the inanity of the nickname "Laris".
"Right, moving on then," Polaris continued. "Who shall we hear from next," she murmured thoughtfully. "Ah! Would the Psuedo Canonica Club care to tell us of their progress?"
There was a soft shuffling sound and the Slytherin girl peeked around her pillar in time to see a tall, breasty girl with long, thick raven black hair with electric blue streaks. She wore the typical gothic wear of a red tartan schoolgirl skirt and a black leather corset. Most noticeable of all, however, was that she was Hermione Granger.
"It's goin' pretty good, 'Ris," Hermione said, while adjusting her skirt.
'I wonder when they're going to start calling her "Pol".' The girl thought, smirking.
"The host was resilient at first, but she eventually fell when we teamed up on her. We've done her a great favour. Now she knows what it's like to be a real powerful female figure," her voice held a hint of pride. "For example, she hates all men," she paused, looking thoughtful. "Because she was raped by her abusive father," she added decidedly. The other assembled girls nodded in approval.
"We've also managed to change Malfoy, Potter, and Zabini for the better," Ginny Weasley said as she marched up next to Hermione. Her red locks cascading down her back and sad sea green eyes reflected the world around her like mirrors. "And Zabini. Did you know she thought she was really a boy? How silly. We set her straight pretty quickly."
Polaris looked at Ginny with mild surprise. "I though you were goth today."
Ginny shook her magnificent head. "No, that was yesterday. Today I'm returning to Hogwarts after spending a year in America where I became a pop singer under the handle of Blood Rose."
"Oh. Okay."
"Tomorrow I think I'll be a punk pot user who loves Jhohen Vasquez. Or maybe a Ghetto Fabulous street fighting queen."
"Good for you," Polaris said.
'Ghetto fabulous? What the hell does that mean?' the girl thought. 'And who the blazes is Jhohen Whatever?'
"And what is your progress on Luna's possession?" Polaris asked, looking down her nose on the two girls. They shifted uncomfortably.
"You have to understand, Ris," Hermione began nervously. "While Ginny and Hermione had a giant force against them, Luna only has a handful of us trying to get her. She is, uh, putting up some resistance. But," she went on hurriedly as Polaris' eyes narrowed. "It won't last long. She's already showing signs of The Change."
"She better," Polaris said dangerously. "I don't know if we have enough time to fabricate a replacement for her. Alright, you may step down. Next on our list;" her violet eyes turned an icy blue and her face hardened. "The untimely demise of one of our own at the hand of some Pufflehuff." More murmuring. "We don't know how they managed to do it, but rest assured it doesn't mean anything," she smirked. "We are, after all, at war. There will be casualties, but it will be worth it, in the end when Hogwarts is ours." She threw her head back and laughed manically. The other girls followed suit, filling the hall with ringing evil laughter.
"Oh, my rib," Polaris said, whipping away a tear. "Now onto more important matters; angst. Has everyone filled their quota today? By show of hands, how many of you have thrown temper tantrums? Oooh, very good. What about breaking into song? I walked down the hallway today and I didn't hear a single mournful Linkin Park or Evanescence song. We need to work on that. And now a Persephone Snape would like to lead us in a sing along. Persephone?"
"Okay ladies, today's song is "Vindicated" by Dashboard Confessional. Be sure to make your voice extra whiny for the chorus. On three: one, two, three!"
Feeling vaguely nauseous the girl sighed quietly and picked herself off the floor. She left the room, while trying to drown out the sound of emo music and each of the girls trying to sing louder than the other. When she reached the exit, she glanced back briefly to see Polaris singing loudly and confidently, her impressive bosom heaving. Fighting the urge to run over and strangle the stupid tart with her own waist length hair, she turned on her heel and stalked dramatically out into the moonlit hall.
'Damn them, anyway,' she stormed. 'How dare they do this to our house! What self respecting Slytherin would be caught singing muggle music? The lyrics make no sense! "Hope dangles on a string/Like slow spinning redemption"? What the hell? Damn their stupid metaphors. Mozart never added lyrics to his music-' It was then her internal rant had to be cut short when she walked into another person, stumbling a few steps backwards.
"Hey!" she snapped. "Watch where you're going, you big... guy." She glared at the other person, who, she noted, was a Hufflepuff. A rather greasy looking Hufflepuff. 'Probably around 7th year, if I'm any judge. Which I am.'
"Sorry about that," he said, and she noted that even his voice was oily. "I was out for a moonlight stroll. I was anticipating running into a beautiful young woman."
She sniffed. "I'll forgive you because I appreciate honesty in a man."
The Hufflepuff grinned in the darkness. People were easy.
"My name is Conrad Coates and perhaps you would be interested in buying a few cosmetic items? Finest quality, straight from Paris," he pulled a small compact from seemingly nowhere. He held it out to her, but he pulled it away suddenly, looking hesitant. "I guess someone so pretty wouldn't need make up, would she? How stupid of me. I'm so sorry for bothering you." He turned, as if to leave but the girl rushed forward after him.
"No, it's okay," she said hastily. "I mean," she recovered. "I have a friend's birthday coming up and she could really use some lippy. She's an autumn."
"Well, then, I think we can work something out. What did you say your name was?"
"I didn't. It's Persiapicacia Edwina Dorian," she drew herself up. Conrad privately admired her for not being crushed under the weight of the syllables. "You can call me Persia if you must. Or Edwina."
"Edwina is a lovely name," he said smoothly. "Now, is your friend interested in lippy?"
***
Several minutes later, Edwina returned to the Slytherin common room, her purse much lighter than when she left. She was about to ascend the stairs to her rooms when she heard a muffled sob from the corner of the room. She winced.
There was a possibility, she knew, that the sobbing could be coming from one of those girls crying about being all alone or because their dogs have died or whatever it was they whined about. But, then again, the girls were supposed to be singing bad muggle songs in their hall.
She approached the trembling heap in the corner with some trepidation.
"Um," she said. "Hallo?"
The trembling stopped. "...Persia? Is that you?" a muffled voice asked.
"Pansy?" Edwina said, shocked.
Pansy looked up, her face streaked with tears and mascara. "Oh... oh Persia!" She flung herself into Edwina's arms.
"Aw, Pansy." Edwina said awkwardly. "There, there."
"It was terrible! Draco called me a slut! He said I was hideous! As if he's one to talk," her voice suddenly became a harsh snarl. "Him with his stupid died hair and blue lipstick! He looks like a clown! Oh, my poor Draco." she simpered, the storm having passed.
"It's all those stupid girls' fault, Pansy. I followed one of them today; you know, the one with the short hair and the red streaks? Well, they're planning on taking over Hogwarts! It's like they're in a cult!" She paused. "And Ginny Weasly smokes pots for some reason."
Pansy crinkled her nose. "Pots? Why? What does she have against them?"
"I'm not sure. Maybe they called her black." She paused again. "Get it?"
"I dislike you, sometimes." She pulled herself from Edwina and sat against the wall.
"I can live with that." Edwina reached into her robes and pulled out a hanky. "Here, your mascara's running."
"Bloody hell," she muttered, taking the offered hanky and rubbing off the streaks and smudges of black. "What are we going to do now?"
Edwina considered this. "Weeeell," she said slowly. "I got us some lippy."
"I meant about Draco and those weird cult girls." She paused to blow her nose. "What colour?"
"The Hufflepuff boy I spoke to said something about forming an army against them. Polished bronze and dusky rose."
"Really?" Pansy looked thoughtful. "They're crazy... crazy like a fox." she said looking devious. "Perhaps we should inquire about joining them? After all, saving Hogwarts will look very good in the eyes of the Ministry, I'm sure. Ew, I hate bronze. I'll take the dusky rose."
Edwina handed the small tube to Pansy. "We could be heroes. Admired and loved." Her eyes sparkled as she stared into space.
"And Draco will be fine again." Pansy said softly.
"Sure. Back to his old, muggle hating self."
"Let's do it!" Pansy stood up, clenching her fist, her heart pounding with excitement.
"But we don't know where their common room is," Edwina pointed out. Pansy slumped, the excitement draining from her.
"Damn, you're right. Well, we could always find the Hufflepuff again and ask him."
Edwina nodded and stood up. "Then it's agreed. We will defeat those stupid cult girls!"
Train Stop
by Pukio
It had been a long time since he'd seen her. Fleetingly, he wondered if it would be awkward between them. The thought latched on to something on his insides as he slid through the throng of people at the station, one hand on his head to keep his hat from getting carried away in the bustle, the other clutching nervously at the hem of his coat. As he emerged at the front of the crowd, the coal black locomotive chugged up alongside the platform. Quickly, he pushed away the thought. It had been a long time but certainly not too long.
Certainly not too long to forget that smile. The one with the little twists at the corners and the slight indentation beneath her lower lip. The way her right cheek dimpled with expression but not the left because her mouth always had a way of quirking just slightly in that direction. Certainly not too long to forget her laugh: a lilting tone he couldn't exactly copy in his mind without feeling a dull ache somewhere in the back of his chest. However, perhaps it had been too long that misunderstandings and stagnant letters had collected dust between them. Perhaps the only thing she remembered was him forgetting.
Edging out farther on the platform, he searched the train car windows anxiously, lips twisted in a nervous rickety line. Hastily, he snatched his hat from his head, ginger hair poking out in strange directions. Pressing the piece to his chest without thinking, he continued to search the dismal black and scarlet train, eyes crinkling as they narrowed in speculation. The train slid to a slow halt with a hiss of the brakes, a plume of steam rising from the head of the locomotive. For a moment, the clamor of the awaiting parties was the only noise and then a shout of a conductor sounded somewhere throughout the train cars and, just as abruptly, the noise of compartment doors being thrown open and bags being brought down from their racks clunked and shuddered through the air.
Insignificantly, he shrunk back, hands wrinkling the outside of his hat as he clutched at the fabric unconsciously. Nervously, he found himself glancing along the length of the train. She would be coming soon. Would she recognize him? Would he recognize her?
The steps of the nearest car were flooded with passengers. Young men hauling cases and peering about with narrowed, ambitious eyes. Women and children clutching hands and smiling: calling out to husbands. A teenaged boy with a knapsack that left him wondering how on earth he had afforded the train ticket in the first place. Then, directly after a business man in a suit slightly shiny with age and a dulled pocket watch stepped off and adjusted his bowler hat, she came.
Her hair was longer than he remembered, pulled back into a loose bun and caught in netting. A blue cap with no veil obscured much of those sharp orange-brunette curls. Her cheeks had rouge on them and her lips were painted. For a fleeting moment he wasn't sure it was her. Those eyes were the same shape but they seemed so different at the same time as they flickered across the crowd. Her lips were pursed into a severe line and her attractive face was creased with concentration.
Then she caught sight of him: half standing behind a shorter balding man, clutching his hat so tightly it was ready to come apart at the seams. For a brief moment, she simply watched. He caught her eyes with his own and for a handful of seconds he thought she didn't know who he was. Why a stranger would be staring at her so.
And then she smiled that smile with the twisted corners and the dimple on her right cheek. Without thinking, his grip on the hat loosened and he found himself smiling back.
Awkwardly, he raised a hand in a half wave, ducking forward to retrieve the suitcase from beside her. Stooping, his fingers closed around the handle of the piece and he straightened, casting her a nervous sidelong glance. Swallowing, he carefully replaced the hat on his head and opened his mouth to say something. Lightly, she rested her hand on his arm, her smile widening just a touch. As if it was some sort of cue, he closed his mouth and released a heavy sigh from his nose he hadn't realized he'd been holding. A sigh he might have been holding for the past ten years.
Perhaps he could find forgiveness for such a forgetful fool like himself in that smile.
Epiphany
by Kyt Dotson
"Epiphany," said the stranger. Her eyes were lost in thought, hidden behind broad sunglasses.
"What?" Tiffany hadn't even heard the woman sit down next to her, but there she was: a pale phantom dressed like an opera connoisseur. "Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't know you were there. I can move to a different bench."
The stranger dismissed Tiffany's offer with an eloquent gesture. "The sunrise, yes?"
Tiffany nodded. She had come here many mornings now. It was the best place on the boardwalk to watch the sun rise over the bay. Even now the waters were turning from a black into a deep navy. Soon the stars would flee from the sky.
"It's like an epiphany, isn't it?" the stranger asked as if she had never seen a sunrise before. "A sudden brilliant realization; true and pure and beautiful." The woman turned to look at Tiffany. "Tell me, how many have you watched?'
Tiffany started to feel concerned for her safety now. She swallowed, trying not to wither in the chilly gaze of the strange woman. "I've been coming here a year now."
The woman smiled an inward smile, a secret smile. "I have not seen a sunrise in as long as I can recall."
"Do you live underground or something?" Tiffany asked and a moment later regretted it. The woman could have worked when the sun rose as far as she knew, and never was able to sit and enjoy one.
"Something to that effect, yes," the stranger didn't sound offended. "I'm breaking the rules by being here. I just wanted to see it. Just once. I hope you don't mind."
"No," Tiffany said. "I don't mind." She sat back. The stranger didn't seem to mean her any harm; she just had a foreboding in her attitude. There was something unsettling in the woman's voice, something that put Tiffany on edge that she just couldn't put a finger on.
"Can you tell me what it's like?"
Tiffany assumed she meant the sunrise. "Well," she said. "First the sky will lighten and the stars vanish." She could see the entire thing unfold in her mind. "A breeze will come from the ocean and the water will turn from dark to deep blue. The sky will blush red, and then when the sun crests the horizon it will be like a golden crown being lifted above a sapphire cloth."
"It sounds beautiful," the woman said. "Just like your poetry described."
"You have to experience it yourself, to really know--" Tiffany said but caught herself. "What? My poetry? I don't show my poetry to anyone." How could the woman know about that?
"It's really good, you know," the stranger said. "I knew that you were the one when I heard your work."
"How did you read my work? I keep it in a--"
"Diary with a keyed lock. I have been pleased to be an audience to the private night-time performances of your work, however clandestine my appearances in your gallery." The brightening sky reflected in the woman's glasses as she watched Tiffany's expression pale. "I will miss your readings."
Tiffany stood suddenly, her back to the ocean, staring at the strange woman. "Who are you?"
"I'm just someone who wanted to experience a sunrise," said the woman, removing her sunglasses and revealing empty sockets where her eyes should have been.
Terrified, Tiffany ran. She did not look back.
As sun rose the stranger was heard to have said, "I see now; it is beautiful," before the morning blush gave way and the golden light breathed the flesh from her bones.
Point! What's Your Point?
#5 Responsibility, a New Low Price of Free.
Jeff A. Van Booven
Ok quick, you're three hundred pounds overweight, who do you sue? You got drunk and ran your car off a bridge? You were going too fast, turned the corner too sharp and rolled over your SUV? You accidentally killed your best friend while playing with a gun? You went and murdered your next door neighbor because you did it in a video game? If you answered anything but "yourself"� to any of these questions, you need to stop and take a long hard look at your values and morals.
Some of you may not believe me, but who ate the food to make themselves three hundred pounds overweight? Who drank the alcohol to get drunk? Who was pressing on the accelerated and cranked the steering wheel too hard? Who fired the gun? Who decided to murder their next-door neighbor? It certainly wasn't some corporation. It was one person, you. Now you may not have done any of these things here, but you most likely have shifted responsibility for your actions to somebody else somewhere in your life. We all do it. It's naturally, but to take it to the extremes to sue somebody else for it, then it becomes almost criminal.
And now the burden of guilt has to rest on the consumers. Companies have to pay lawyers, even when cases are thrown out of court. Are the companies going to take a hit to their profits over this? Certainly not, they're going to pass it on to their consumers. Want to know why health insurance is through the roof? Try asking your doctor how much his liability insurance is a month. I'm sure he'll be glad to tell you that he has to take your arm and leg to cover it. People today can not accept that things are their fault, that others can't fix every problem.
Which is why here today I'm offering my brand new device I call responsibility. With this revolutionary concept, you can take the blame for the things that you have done, knowing that you were wrong to do them. What joys you will discover in finally accepting that you are not perfect and that your actions do indeed have consequences. And if you call now, we're offering this great, revolutionary product for the new low price of free. So call now, operators are standing by.
REVISING AND EDITING #1
A Checklist for Critiquing
Use the checklist that follows to help you evaluate compositions during editing or groups revising sessions.
Purpose: Does the writer have a clear purpose in mind? That is, is it clear that the writer is trying to entertain, to inform, to persuade, etc?
Audience: Does the writer address a specific audience? And will the readers understand and appreciate this subject?
Form: Is the subject presented in an effective or appropriate form?
(Mechanics are included in form, and the correctness of the writer's grammar and punctuation)
Content: Does the writer consider the subject from a number of angles? For example, does he or she try and compare, classify, define and/or analyze the writing idea?
Writing Devices: Does the writer include any figures of speech, anecdotes, dialogue, specific examples, etc.? Which ones are most effective?
Voice: Does the writer sound sincere and honest? That is, do you "hear" the writer when you read his or her piece.
Personal Thoughts and Comments: Does the writer include any personal thoughts or comments in the writing? Are they needed or desireable? Does the writer overpower the piece with personal thoughts and comments?
Purpose (Again) : Does the writer succeed in making a person smile, nod, or react in some way? What is especially good about the writing?
Untitled
by alicemae
loving constrictions
born from the mind
free flow into your life
as it did mine.
Serieve
First of all, lower case letters give the poem an amateuristic feel. I don't know if I like the phrase "free flow." It's somewhat un-poetic in this specific usage.
bitter pieces of this heart
spread across the crimson sky
Devil's eyes gleam so sweet
when destiny isn't meant to be.
Serieve
This reads like a rock I've stubbed my toe on. It just doesn't fit. In every other stanza, you use assonance (same vowel sounds) in the second and fourth lines. Here, you use it in the third and fourth lines. This stanza read alone sounds okay, but combined with the rest of the poem, it just doesn't work. There was also a flow change between stanzas.
borderline kisses
fallen from the sky
land upon these lips;
I close my eyes.
Serieve
The semicolon in line three helps with the sudden change, but it's still like stumbling while reading.
girlish dreams and empty things
spinning through my mind
********, when did we decide
to leave it all behind?
Serieve
Another flow change here.
once upon a midnight dreary
your fingers twined with mine
we caught a shooting star
and charred our hands for life.
Serieve
The phrase "midnight dreary" has probably been over used in poetry.
now this door shuts as another opens
the sunlight's too damn bright
but I guess this is fate telling us
to take a look outside.
Serieve
Here is really where the poem lacks. There are too many syllables in the first lines. The ending also is a bad culmination of the poem. It's not that the line is bad, but it's what leads up to it that makes it fall flat.
Altogether, you have several overly used words in the poem. Words like "heart" "bittter" "sweet" "destiny" "fall" "empty" "star" "fate" etc. You were also a bit repetative with the words "mine" and "sky," both of which you used twice. My suggestion would be to extend your vocabulary while still keeping the poetic feel. Another problem is your flow, which varies throughout the poem. You change the pace of things too many times between stanzas. Maybe, just maybe, trying a different form instead of the four-lined stanzas would help. Doing this would require that you change several things, like the breaks and words to pass on the flow from line to line, but it may also allow a little more freedom of flow altogether.
What I really liked about the poem was the meaning behind it and the feeling you gave with the meaning. It's the form and the words that aren't so great. Sort of like putting a beautiful gift into a plastic bag. You can still see the beauty and the charm, but the plastic bag just smudges the whole effect in general. So the main things are to work on the flow and the vocabulary, while still maintaining the entire meaning and the feeling put into it.
Altogether, you have several overly used words in the poem. Words like "heart" "bittter" "sweet" "destiny" "fall" "empty" "star" "fate" etc. You were also a bit repetative with the words "mine" and "sky," both of which you used twice. My suggestion would be to extend your vocabulary while still keeping the poetic feel. Another problem is your flow, which varies throughout the poem. You change the pace of things too many times between stanzas. Maybe, just maybe, trying a different form instead of the four-lined stanzas would help. Doing this would require that you change several things, like the breaks and words to pass on the flow from line to line, but it may also allow a little more freedom of flow altogether.
What I really liked about the poem was the meaning behind it and the feeling you gave with the meaning. It's the form and the words that aren't so great. Sort of like putting a beautiful gift into a plastic bag. You can still see the beauty and the charm, but the plastic bag just smudges the whole effect in general. So the main things are to work on the flow and the vocabulary, while still maintaining the entire meaning and the feeling put into it.
Round Two ends here! Our judges this go around were Kraeela, Dragon Lilly, and myself. Next will be the ever important Round Three, located at our guild in a thread titled "TGP Round Three- The Finale." Here, our readers will vote for the winners. All finalists from rounds One and Two will be posted here, and then our readers will look through and decide which they like best. Then the votes will be tallied.
1st place: 6500
2nd place: 1500
3rd place: 1000
Thanks to all the finalists and supporters for reading. And now, the finalists of Round Two, to whom I'll be sending 100g shortly:
Dream Away
by Symphonie
Fallen
by Ellyrianna
My Angel
by Saori
Summer
by Doe
The World is An Ugly Place
by R. Cade Norton
Notes from Serieve: Yeah, this was a little bit chaotic. Can you believe I actually deleted the first rough draft by accident, right after I'd completed it? I had to go and put it all together again. That's okay, no harm done, really. So now I have some people to thank. Eruden Ki, for donating to the contest. Kraeela, for holding things down while I was gone. And of course, the biggest thanks goes to all our supporters!
