Welcome to Gaia! ::

I stared out the window into the dark night, gazing at the beautiful, round moon out with its many glimmering stars. It was a breathtaking sight.
“It’s much better out here than in the city,” I said, absorbing the sight of nature’s true beauty. I live in the city with my parents, but right now, I was visiting my grandparents at the edge of the woods and close to the mountains. My parents had to go on a business trip and could not bring me along. My grandparents’ home wasn’t too far from the city, but it was far enough to see the stars in the night sky clearly. The gentle breeze combed through my golden brown hair, and I took in a whiff of the air that was full of the sweet scent of roses. My grandfather planted the rose garden near my room for my grandmother because her name was Rose. I didn’t get a chance to watch the world at rest for long before I heard my grandmother calling me.
“Jasmine, go to bed sweetie.” My grandmother only knew I wasn’t already asleep because she could hear me talking to myself. Once, when I was daydreaming in class, I accidentally spoke out loud. My ears turned red when my teacher heard me and scolded me in class. “Jasmine, are you in bed yet?” Grandmother said.
“I’m going. Night, love you,” I took one last glance at the sky and crawled under my warm sheets.


The next morning I woke up with the smell of mouthwatering, blueberry waffles wafting through the air. After I finished changing, I went downstairs for breakfast, but no one was in the kitchen. Instead, I found a note. It said:

“Jasmine,
Your grandfather and I went to the store. We didn’t want to wake you since you were up so late. We left you a batch of blueberry waffles for you.
Love, Grandmother
P.S. Don’t start any outside chores until we return. We’ll be back soon.”

I put the note down and began to eat my waffles. After finishing my breakfast, I started my chores. My parents thought that I might as well do something useful if I’m going to be staying here. I didn’t really like doing chores, but I told myself it was a way of thanking my grandparents for letting me stay over. I washed and dried the dishes first. I washed the floorboards next and then vacuumed the carpet. I also cleaned my room, but because I was quite neat and organized, it was more of a weekly chore than a daily one. I had just finished all the chores I could do indoors, when my grandparents came back.
I ran out the door cheerfully, eager to start my outdoor chores. I liked to do my outdoor chores more than the indoor chores because I can have some freedom. First, I picked fresh vegetables for lunch, which I brought to Grandmother. While I cleaned up, Grandmother made a delicious lunch of potato soup and salad. After lunch I fed and brushed the six livestock, which didn’t take very long. My last chore was to water the rose garden. I just waved the can of water around a little and I put it down.
“Jasmine!” Grandfather was walking out of the door, “You must water the roses with more delicate care!”
“Why? It’s fine! I did that before and it’s still nice and healthy.”
“Jasmine, you should understand why this rose patch is so important,”
Grandfather said shaking his head. Before I could even inhale, Grandfather had already turned around and went inside.
I watered the roses again, better this time, for Grandfather’s sake. Once I finished, Grandmother let me play outdoors. There was no one else to play with or enjoy the lovely afternoon with. This didn’t bother me very much because I was an only child and used to playing with myself when my friends couldn’t come over. Sometimes, though, I did get lonely.
I walked outside to the rose garden. The roses were bright red and in perfect health. I turned my head slightly and saw the peaceful river in the distance. I strolled to the river bank.
“It’s so peaceful here,” I thought out loud. I partially didn’t want to go back home to the air-polluted city with its factories and loud cars. It was nice to have things that made life easier, but it harmed the earth as well. Out here on my grandparents’ countryside home I could walk out every morning to smell the fresh air and see the great blue sky. My grandparents didn’t have many toys for me to play with or a television set, but I found that I had more time to play outside and discover the true joy of being outdoors. I would run through the green fields and around the tall trees. I can tell the flowers, bouncing with the wind, secrets, without any worry someone will overhear me. I had everything I needed here in the country, everything except my friends. I never had many close friends though, so it never mattered much to me. I’d talk to myself rather then to someone else, yet I can’t help but to feel lonely. I speak my thoughts aloud, almost as though I fear if I don’t speak for a long period of time, my voice would be gone one day.
I was lost in my thoughts and I didn’t even realize the time. When I finally checked my watch, I realized how late it was becoming and began to hurry home.
“What were you doing there, Jasmine? You were just standing next to the river like you were frozen solid. I thought someone took the real Jasmine and replaced you with a thirteen years-old looking statue!” my grandfather said jokingly from the doorway.
“Very funny, I was merely lost in my thoughts,” I replied, entering the house.
“You must have been really lost in that forest of thoughts since you were standing there for about half an hour! Now go help your grandmother set the table, dinner won’t be done in about another half an hour. How about you go daydream in your room this time? Hm?”
I stared at the ceiling of my room from my bed and then changed my gaze to the calendar on my wall. I only had a week left until I had to leave. Then there was a knock on the door.
“Jasmine, dinner is ready,” said my grandfather, sticking his head into the room. I hopped out of bed and headed towards the stairs.
I ate my curry rice silently, thinking of what I was going to do the next day, planning everything out perfectly. Grandmother cleaned the dishes and waited for me to finish.
Not too long later, I realized I was so lost in my plans that I had stopped eating. I quickly finished and handed my grandmother the plate. I was heading for my room, mumbling tomorrow’s plans to myself, when I heard a crash. In the kitchen, Grandmother was lying on the floor. Grandfather was helping her up when he saw me.
“Everything is okay. Grandmother just slipped and got cut. You can go up into your room now.”
I was on my bed thinking, as usual, but rather then thinking about my plans, I was thinking about my grandmother. I knew that Grandmother ‘fell’ wasn’t very likely. The chances that she did were quite slim. She couldn’t have slipped on something on the floor; there was nothing to slip on, and the floor was perfectly dry. Grandmother looked pale though. Grandmother was a strong independent woman who’d stand straight and strong. To see her sick face, lying on the floor, bleeding, it made me worry. My grandparents would probably tell me everything was okay if they didn’t want me to worry, of course, I was a bit more observant then they give me credit for. Does this mean Grandmother might be sick?
I looked at the clock on the table next to me. It was getting late. I should go to bed soon.
“Good night Grandfather. Good night Grandmother. I love you,” I said to them before hitting the hay. The next day was the big one for Grandfather and Grandmother that I had a special plan for. I needed rest so I can be up the next day bright and early.


At six the next morning, I woke up. Sunlight was pouring into my lavender painted room. I made sure that my grandparents were asleep and that their door was shut. Silently, I changed clothes and brushed my teeth. Next, I crept outside and picked daisies and roses. Then I walked to the berry bush garden located near Grandmother’s and Grandfather’s room. With flowers and berries in my arms, I went back inside and began the main part of my plan, to make breakfast for Grandfather and Grandmother. When they were on their daily walk I’ve been secretly making pancake batter. I took out the pancake batter from the back of the refrigerator and let in thaw out a bit. While I waited, I took out two pair of silverware and wrapped a piece of decorated paper that said “Happy Anniversary~”. I heated up the stove and the frying pan. Few minutes later, I poured in the oil with the pancake batter. The air was full of fresh pancakes, berries, and syrup in no time. I set down the two platters of food when I heard a voice.
“Jasmine? Is that you dear?” In the doorway was Grandfather with Grandmother trailing behind him. “Jasmine, what are you doing?”
“Happy Anniversary!” I yelled with a large smile on my face, throwing my arms up into the air.
“Oh Jasmine! It’s so sweet of you to remember!” Grandmother looked at the plates of food then frowned slightly. “Jasmine, did you make yourself something?”
“Uh…” I was so focused on making the anniversary breakfast, using all of the batter and berries, that I forgot about myself.
“Have some of our breakfast you made us! You deserve it!”
I was about to debate that it was their anniversary and they should eat all of it, when my stomach cut in. My stomach growled loudly.
“That settles it! I say we split one third of each pancake stack and give it to Jasmine. That way everyone has an equal piece to eat.” said my grandmother.
Before I even had the chance to inhale Grandmother and Grandfather started to split the pancake stacks. In seconds, two-thirds of the pancakes were on a plate in front of me. I guess I could eat it if Grandmother and Grandfather insist. I was awfully hungry. We all sat down to eat at the table when Grandmother noticed the flowers.
“Jasmine, you went through all this trouble, even picking flowers for us.”
“Yes, this is probably our best anniversary yet,” Grandfather added.
I smiled at them and started to consume my breakfast. I was glad I was able to please Grandmother and Grandfather.
“As a reward…” Grandfather began to say.
“Reward? No, it’s not necessary! I did it because it was the right thing for me to do. It was my way of thanking you for taking care of me,” I replied quickly.
“Nonsense! You deserve it! This is our way of thanking you for being such a helpful, kind granddaughter. Anyway, your reward is no chores today! You can go outside to play or daydream, you choice. Your Grandfather and I will take care of it,” said Grandmother.
“Dad said that I had to do the chores!” I protested.
“Oh phooey! We raised him and I’m sure we would know that he won’t mind a bit!” Grandfather answered. I found no point in arguing with them. I decided I might as well as enjoy the day.


I roamed the fields and wandered to the rose patch. Grandfather had already watered it.
“What did Grandfather mean?” I pondered what Grandfather had said before, crouching to see Grandfather had watered it patch delicately, not too much or too little in any spot. Grandmother name is Rose, this I knew. I also knew Grandfather planted it for her, was that the reason? It doesn’t seem like a big deal to me though. Perhaps, maybe because I just don’t understand what people called ‘love’. Maybe I should just ask them. However, I would sound silly if it didn’t have anything to do with Grandmother. Mine as well as try to figure it out myself.
Since I had no chores, I had the rest of the day to investigate.
“Man it’s dark in here!” I said as I opened the attic door. Grandfather and Grandmother kept old photos and letters up here. I suspected the answer to my questions would be up here. I turned on the light. It was so old and dim. Nearby me, there was a stack of boxes. I chuckled to myself as I read one of the boxes labeled, “Youthful days”, knowing that my grandparents were neat and specific. When I opened the box, dust flew up into the air. I coughed and fanned my hand in front of my mouth then went back to business.
I was welcomed with the smell of old sheets of paper and ink. I found many letters and pictures inside the box. Besides a plastic rose, I have yet to find anything about the rose patch when I came across a photo album. I turned the pages carefully. I didn’t want to break the aging, delicate, cracking pages. Looking though the pages, I found nothing indicating anything special about the rose patch.
I found nothing, ready to quit and move onto something else besides the photo album until I turned the page and a picture with a letter fell out. The picture was of Grandmother and Grandfather, happily sitting by the roses together. I opened the letter and read its contents. It said:


Dear Rose,
Our happy years together have been wonderful. I have to tell you something very important. Meet me at the rose patch at 6 P.M. I’ll be waiting for you my love. I hope you can make it.
Love,
Nathan

“‘Something very important’? Hmm…” I turn back to the picture of Grandmother and Grandfather sitting in front of the rose patch, hands in one another’s. Thinking about it carefully, I came to a conclusion. “Perhaps the rose patch was where Grandfather…” Before I could finish my sentence, I heard a loud thump downstairs. I found that Grandmother had fallen again but could not rise this time.
My grandmother slept in her bed with me sitting next to her. She was normally like a bird, fluttering around and singing, but today she was silent, confiscated to her bed. Her face was as white as the milk we drank in the morning. I held my Grandmother’s hand and said nothing until the question came bubbling to the surface.
“Did Grandfather propose to you at the rose garden?” Grandmother smiled.
“You’re such a bright child. I’m glad I can call you my granddaughter. I hope the light shines brightly in your future.”
No sooner than she said that, she died. Tears welled up my eyes and streamed down my cheeks. I buried my face into the bed, hoping it was all just a dream, but this dream seemed all too real.
Grandfather and I buried Grandmother by the rose patch. Mom and Dad came back early from their business trip to mourn for Grandmother. Mom and Dad was worried that Grandfather couldn’t take care of himself. We decided that Grandfather should come with us back into the city where we can look after him.
Grandfather packed his things the next day, then Grandfather and I watered the rose patch for the last time there. The rose patch was more important than what I thought. This rose patch was probably the happiest spot in my grandparents’ lives. The rose patch was my grandparent’s love symbolized.
We all got on the car and began to drive away.


I looked behind me, tears slowly swelling in my eyes once more. The house was moving farther and farther away as we drove on. The house slowly disappeared from sight. It may be out of sight, but it will never be forgotten. I’ll never forget how peaceful and happy everything was. Most importantly I’ll never forget the sweet scented breeze of the rose garden and Grandmother’s blooming smile.

Not really the type of story I would normaly read, but it was good. Very good for a 13 or 14 year old. It feels in a way compleat... as if that's the end. But if there is more, there's more.

Summary . . . thing – Nory has run away to find a different destiny and her family. However, what begins as a new start ends with the battle against her always past and forever future.

Daemon’s Children


I clenched my teeth at the burning metal against my cheek. I must not cry. Those who cried had a weak heart, and I needed to be strong to survive.

“My, look at that scar across her face, makes me feel sorry for her. What’s she doing all alone in this weather?” a woman said to her friend on the porch. She had put her hand over her mouth, though it did not prevent her words from traveling to me a bit, but I ignored the noisy women chattering. I didn’t need their comments and I didn’t need their help, so I continued to trudge forward in the snow.
The wind picked up and my teeth chattered. I held the battered jacket around me tighter. It was tattered, worn out, and ripped in several places, but it was the best I could get.
“You need any help, little girl?” a man asked, appearing in front of me, his lips curled over his teeth into a disgusting smile. His breath reeked of alcohol and his clothing had the lingering smell of smoke on them. I started to walk around his large body, when the man grabbed my shoulder tightly. “Come on, girly, I can get you food and a warm place to stay-” I decided that he would not leave me alone as long as he was allowed to. The women gasped in horror as they watched me drive my elbow into the pit of the man’s stomach, at the solar plexus, and in an instant, he was lying in the snow, most likely unconscious. I tossed my pitiful jacket onto the dark figure surrounded by dancing white flakes. I continued walking and shivering.
I believe I heard one of the women threw open the door to the house and ran inside. A few moments later, the woman ran after me with a woolen blanket. I turned and gave her a simple glare, which stopped her in her tracks. I could tell what she saw. She saw a thin fifteen-year old girl with wild, crazy, hip-length hair, matted with dirt and speckled with snow. She was dressed in ragged clothing: her shirt and pants were in horrible condition, her shoes were only several pieces of cloth kept together with several safety pins. The left side of her cheek held a strange, deep burnt pattern that could pass as a large scar from a distance. It lined from the rim of her hair to the bottom of her jaw on her pale skin. Her eye was glaring, reflecting, full of hatred and pain. The woman simply held out the blanket from where she was, her eyes wide and not blinking in the blistering wind. I just moved on. The woman did not pursue me again.
I decided to spend the night in a small, dark alleyway, where the bitter winds should be slightly subdued. I was halfway into the alley when I was about to sit down. However, I was ambushed then.
A male, that seemed to be no older then eighteen-years old, appeared from the deeper end of the alley, pinned my arms together from behind and banged me against the brick wall of the alley. Another teenager showed up just as I used my heel to promptly smash down on the foot of my binder. The one holding my wrists behind me released me and I kicked his side, silencing his scream. I turned to the second adolescent, leaving the other one gasping for his breath on the floor. However, this boy had a knife and I shifted quickly into a crouch, so his blade merely sliced the air. I used the momentum of my drop to spring upwards, snapping the teenager’s head back, causing him to become unconscious. I assumed there was another one that appeared behind me, because I heard quick footsteps and then everything flashed red, then black. A faint scream echoed in the head.
With a whip in hand, the man laughed. Failures are eliminated. The weaker and older are executed. The rebellious are terminated. Immediately. We never went over the limit of fifteen people. Babies were stolen to replace the previous.
My consciousness floated about my head and slowly surfaced. I peeked through my eye and saw that it was sunny in the room. However, it was too bright and my eyes were shut again. I tried to roll over into a more comfortable position on a bed that felt like a cloud underneath me, but I moaned when I felt pain running up and down my head.
“Sorry. It’s too bright in here, isn’t it?” I heard a gentle and soft voice, then the closing of small doors. I opened my eyes and found the room’s radiance dimmed.
I started to run though past events like a picture show, trying to figure out where I was. Then it occurred to me that I was knocked out before appearing here. I propped myself on my elbow, though, halfway through, my attempt in trying to sit up was too sudden and my head exploded with strong pain again.
“Don’t try to sit up. The doctor says you were hit in the head really hard and it won’t be good for you to do anything for a few days,” the voice said again. At this point, I was curled up on my side in a fetal position, my eyes were pinched closed, and I had my hands pressing the sides of my head, as if it could stop the aching. A small hand ran over the side of my face, the right. I slowly looked at the girl in front of me, who was gently trying to comb a section of my hopelessly tangled hair.
The girl’s warm, light brown eyes looked up at me and then she smiled. I felt my cold heart warm a bit, I could not snap at the girl to stay away from me even if I had the strength in me.
“Grandma thinks that you need a haircut. That way it’d be easier to comb.” The little girl giggled at something on her mind and decided to put the comb aside.
“What’s your name?” the girl asked me. Her face lighted with interest.
“I’m called Nory,” I said, my voice wavered.
“I’m June,” the girl said with enthusiasm.
“June?” another voice called from the opened door.
“I’m here, Grandma.” A small face, that didn’t look very old at all, popped up in the doorway, her head haloed by the light outside of the room.
“So she’s awake,” the grandmother said, looking at me. “Come on, June, don’t bother the poor girl, she needs to rest and get better.” June obediently jumped out of the chair next to my bed and ran to her grandmother.
“Her name’s Nory, Grandma!” June explained happily. June’s grandmother gently nudged June out of the room and then said to me, “If you need anything, Nory, June and I will be here. Just yell for us.”
I stared at the ceiling for a bit, trying to successfully recollect all my thoughts. I only remembered fighting off two teenagers and then blanking out, I assumed that was all I was going to get out of my memory for now.
I began to wonder where I was right now. It did not seem to be a hostage’s cell, though I’ve never been captured before, I’ve been told what one would look like. The room would often be made of stones or bricks and the cell would be located in a basement, with a high-up, small, thin window that shows a view right above ground level. A thin ray of sunlight would enter through the window, representing your last ray of hope. Of course, the room I was being held in was nothing of the sort. The walls appeared to have a grayish-blue hue to it and there were family photographs posted in several places. I recalled June saying something about a doctor. Perhaps I was in a hospital. However, I’ve never been to a hospital, either. When on a job, and even if you weren’t, you’re always on your own. Whenever you got hurt, you had to first-aid yourself, if you couldn’t do that, you died. I felt a bit lucky that I was saved. By measuring how much pain I felt a moment ago, I was sure I would have died with a doctor’s help. I couldn’t die just yet.
My head was slowly starting to ache again from my overwhelming thoughts and I decided to sleep a while, I didn’t seem to be in any danger. Jun and her grandmother could have easily been sent as disarming pawns, but I didn’t want to think that way anymore. I decided that once I was well enough, I would leave, continuing on my blind quest. I allowed my thoughts to wander in curiosity a bit more and then I drifted of into another haunting dream.

June came in the room yawning, still rubbing sleep out of her eyes with the back of her left hand, and dragging a small doll with the other.
I stared at her in wonderment how one could look so relaxed and innocent.
June sniffed the air and her eyes grew big, not longer looking tired.
“Pancakes!” June said excitedly, drawing her doll into a hug, then promptly sat down at her seat.
We ate in silence and I loved the sweet taste of the syrup on fluffy, flat cakes. If Helen hadn’t dumped another stack on my plate after I finished my pancakes, I would have been too embarrassed to ask for more.
At the end of breakfast, Helen gave me the responsibility of putting the plates back in the cabinet as she washed and June dried. I did the simple job enthusiastically.
“Now then, kiddies, it’s a cleaning day,” Helen announced, once we were all done with the dishes. June moaned, and I gave Helen my absolute attention. “Since you don’t know what to touch, what to not touch, where to dust, and where to wipe, you’re going with June, Helen.” I nodded and followed June into the hallway.
“Let’s go to my room first,” June said, heading to the first door to our right.
The basic lay-out of the room was pretty much the same, however, in June’s room, there were different pictures, books scattered around, and a doll sitting on a chair next to her bed. The room looked very lived-in.
June stacked up the books and sent me off the study/read room, the second door to the left, to put them away on the shelf. When I came back, June was already wiping off the surfaces of the table and bureau with a damp piece of cloth. I began to broom out dust and things that may have fallen under June’s bed, when I noticed the picture on the end table next the bed. It was a picture of June when she looked about five years younger then she was at the moment, five years old. There was Helen behind her, when her hair did not have invading gray strands of hair, but there were other people to the right of them. Some looked like hikers, but a few looked like they were in their teens.
“Who are they?” I asked June, still observing the picture. It seemed to have been taken right outside of June’s window.
“We used to house lost or injured hikers until they gathered themselves up enough to leave, runaway teens until they cooled off, and we’d also take care of some people who were abandoned.” I turned to June with strained interest, feeling odd how I was not different from these people years ago. “Grandma and I were abandoned ourselves,” June whispered, “Grandma managed on her own somehow and she found me alone on the corner of the street in town, she took me in. I was three years old, then.”
I went to June and hugged her, feeling horrible for starting such a disheartening conversation that brought on terrible memories. However, I felt even more connected to June and Helen then ever before.
That night I stood at the window next to my bed, staring out and looking at the beautiful crescent moon that shined into my room. I was surprised to recall what I as thinking when I first got here. Pondering the thought of me being captured, trapped in a cell with the light streaming into the room. This place was nothing of the sort. I continued to gaze out into the world, for it was still early into the night for me to go to sleep, wondering if it was possible for me to live here forever. With Helen and June. They did not have their blood-related family, and neither did I. Maybe I had hope for a life, blotting on my past. Then I wondered about my family, and my mind was suddenly confused on what I should do.
The next few days I did not think about leaving June or Helen. I felt that my leaving may hurt them more then it would for me, despite the fact that I’m no less then a stranger to them. However, my attachment to them seemed to grow with every hour, which was precisely why I preferred to reject help from others before, my longings to be pampered and loved was overwhelming. I may never complete the quest in which I had thrown myself in, though the disturbance of the thought had been subdued in comparison to before.
It was to be expected that all good things doing last forever.
“I’m going to be going for my walk,” I said warmly, after finishing the dishes. Helen looked outside from her chair, her eyes then traveled to the old-fashioned grandfather clock in the corner of the room, her forehead creased with concern.
“It’s late to be walking around outside. Do you really want to go on a walk in the dark?”
“It’s alright, Helen. I’m just strolling around through the meadow. I should be back around,” I said, pausing to look at the clock myself, “nine.”
“Alright then,” Helen said, though her worry did not fade from her face when she gave me a wary smile.
I put on a jacket and walked into the chilly winds of the early spring. My shoes crunched the snow that had refused to melt in the mountainous temperature. I made my way to a little meadow, perhaps a mile or two away from the cottage.
The small round opening was surrounded by looming trees that looked a bit terrifying at night, with the full moon hanging in the sky above, casting long shadows. However, I took walks here nearly everyday and I was no longer fazed by its strong contrast with the beautiful meadow it was during day.
There was a small rustling of leaves behind me that I found unsettling, even in the windy night. I turned around at the sound, but before I could process what was happening, my wrists were pinned against a tree behind me.
Despite his black hood dimmed his face, I could still make out the person.
“Chris!” I said in surprise at the appearance of my old teammate.
“What are you doing with these humans?” he hissed in my ear.
“Have you forgotten that we’re human also?” I retorted, struggling from his hold.
“Have you forgotten what we are? Exactly why we can’t infiltrate with people?” We stared into each other’s eyes. Everything was happening so fast, and I felt my head spinning from the intensity of the air. I felt my throat thickened.
“I haven’t forgotten,” I whispered, looking at the mark of a black, flying monster on his cheek, thinking of the same one on my cheek. “We are the daemon’s children. We don’t belong with society.” I closed my eyes. I didn’t say anymore, the very name can tell people what we’re like. Our soiled hands would remain impure forever in reminder of what we did.
We were a secret organization, where we were silently kidnapped and taken in the open claws of the Daemon’s Children. As a part of this new hidden life, we were raised to lose all contact with the world, there was no such thing as happiness or laughter. There was simply only hatred, anger for the families who didn’t care for us, and the world that had abandoned us. We were trained since childhood to become professional assassins.
Of course, there was a time where we’d learn that we were not left behind but kidnapped. However, by the time we could fluently speak, we were already brainwashed, it wouldn’t matter what happened in the past. We were murders. The only thing we would do was follow our master’s orders. Their only mistake seemed to be was choosing me.
There was a strange reason, one that I can not seem to comprehend, but I felt the emotions that did not exist in my cold-hearted world.
I was deceived, learning to only hate and to kill as the purpose of my existence. However, when I learned that we were kidnapped from our families, I felt what the others did not. Pain. Grief. Yearn.
I decided that I would not stay forever in this secluded life of nothingness. A life where we were destined to kill or be killed, and yet, we were finished off in the end, anyhow. No one among the Daemon’s Children died of old age.
The day came where I was fourteen years old, and I planned my escape. Running and going off on my journey, a journey to find my family.
“What did you tell them?” My imagination was shattered and I was back to staring at Chris face to face. I knew exactly what he meant.
“Nothing,” I growled. I wouldn’t lose a chance to be with a perfectly normal and kind family as to tell them that I was an ex-member of a killing organization. Chris’s eyes narrowed into slits.
“You left and said nothing about us?” Of course he wouldn’t understand why I left to find a family; he doesn’t even care to try to understand. “I don’t believe you.”
“Well I didn’t, Chris. What do you want? To kill me? How did you even find me?”
“After you went haywire, I was sent to training to replace you and then dispatched to track you.” My mouth drew into a tight line. I was the best tracker in the organization, and I was sure I had covered my tracks well enough in order to fly under the radar if they decided to send another tracker. I didn’t expect them to send Chris—since there was only one tracker per team—one who was adjusted to my behavior and scent.
“And obviously,” he continued, his voice like steel, “I’ve come to kill you. We don’t allow stray cats.”
“Good luck with that.”
I kicked Chris’s leg and his grip loosened. With one arm I forced him back with my elbow, with my free hand, grabbed hold of the handle of his dagger in his belt. As Chris fell backwards, the blade unsheathed itself and I quickly moved into a defense stance. Chris spat into the bushes beside him and stood up, drawing his second knife.
We stood there for a short moment, our blades glinting in the moonlight. Then Chris charged forward and our knives met. He jumped back and his dagger came forth again, only to meet metal. Chris’s blade did not meet my flesh after several cuts.
“Why don’t you attack?” Chris asked venomously, fully aware that my abilities were beyond his, regardless if I have fought or not in weeks.
“I-I don’t want to hurt you” I said with a bit uncertainty why I ignored the holes in his defenses. Chris’s eyes were suddenly filled with disapproval and detest.
“Stop joking around with me!” he screamed, pushing his dagger forward harder and forced me to take a few steps backwards. His knife cut through the air but hit my blade over and over with clashing sounds. Chris only grew more irritated, his arm seemed to move at a blinding rate and I felt cuts appear on my arms slowly, one by one.
Chris was overtaken with rage and his face was twisted by pure hatred. I was revolted by the look on his face. My mind flashed to my own, possessed by the same kind of bitter look.
“Stop it,” I said, tears welling up in my eyes. “Stop it!”
The pristine meadow was painted with red.
My knife fell to the grass and my hands trembled as it searched out my mouth, to cease the sobbing noises escaping from me. I started down at Chris’s figure on the floor, his blood shined in the dull light.
Our hands are stained forever with the blood we’ve killed. We’ll never be able to put aside our pasts.
I moved my hands away from me and stared down them. They were covered in blood. I screamed loudly, my shriek echoed and bounced off the trees. My eyes pinched closed and tears streaked my face for the first time in my life since I was a baby. When I looked again, they were not red, but rather unnaturally pale.
I buried Chris hastily in a hole that I stabbed out of the ground with his knives. When I covered his body with dirt, I placed his two blades, crossed, on the mound, the symbol of fighting that every one of the Daemon’s Children knew and enjoyed. Then I thought about it, and turned the daggers to juxtaposition, as a way of representing peace.

I went onto the field, the hood pushed back. I got one member’s attention immediately. His charge towards me brought along the attention of others. I swiftly lopped his head off and face the mass of shrouded figures.
I had to use Jodi’s dagger and my machete in order to keep myself from being killed. I blocked one person with the dagger and stabbed another in the stomach with my own knife. I turned around to kick a person back and I sliced the throat of the person I was previously blocking. It was extreme chaos that I had absolutely no time to think, everything was based off by pure instinct and skills.
I was breathing hard as I stood in the center of fourteen dead bodies. I remembered instantly to my dream. I felt covered in goosebumps all over my body and suddenly, a hand grabbed my wrist. I reflexively turned and slashed at whatever it was, like in my dream. However, I hit nothing, the figure had jumped back just in time and it was not June who was there, smiling an angelic-demonic smile. Rather, there stood my Master.
“Nory, Nory,” Master said, shaking his head playfully, his smile did not leave his face. “You’ve made quite a mess of things. You’ve already killed your comrades, don’t tell me that after all this killing you have been doing hasn’t satisfied you enough that you feel the need to kill me, your Master.” He tilted his head back and gave out a loud laugh. I tightened my hold around my machete, wishing I could slit his throat at that moment, but I knew that behind his careless act, he was prepared.
“You’ve made me so proud, Nory,” my Master’s face abruptly turned grave, “but it’s time your binds to this Earth have been . . .” I recognized this little speech that he always gave at the execution of Daemon’s Children. I panicked my Master’s voice stopped mid-sentence and he vanished from my sight.
“. . . cut.” My Master appeared suddenly in front of me, his sword slashed forward and its tip licked my skin. The small cut left my body a strange burning sensation and I staggered backwards.
“I don’t really to like this sword a lot,” my Master said, looking at his sword in admiration, “I’m afraid its poison coating will lose its effect.” My eyes widened. “But, then again, no use in having it wasted.”
My Master’s sword came forth again and I managed to block it, but he pushed his sword forward, causing me to stumble back and his sword made a small cut my arm. Knowing how I would not have been able to effectively block an attack, I knew he was messing around with me. I jumped back and threw Jodi’s cloak onto the ground. My Master’s eyes opened wide with amusement as I pulled out my hook swords from my sword holsters that I had custom-made a year ago.
“Now, where in the world did you learn to use hooks?” my Master asked, looking at the curved blades with deep interest. “More importantly, where did you get them?”
“I planned on leaving this place several years ago. I was going to destroy the lot of you before, but I decided against it. I wanted to get away from being a Daemon’s Child. But now I know that it’s best for the Daemon’s Children to disappear.”
“Oh?”
My Master’s sword crashed down on my crossed hooks.
“Let’s see you try,” he said, his face was uncomfortably close. He drew his sword back and it attacked again, the blade’s image blurred, though my Master’s arm was quite still.
I had difficultly blocking the attacks that seemed to get stronger and stronger with each clash our blades met. The hilts of my swords pressed down on my hand, and my bandaged left hand started to ache.
“How are you going to destroy me, the creator of the Daemon’s Children, if you don’t attack?” my Master inquired, looking at my struggling face. Enjoying ever bit of this fight.
I felt suddenly sick in my stomach. How could this man love to fight, to see others suffer and die so much?
“It’s such a shame how one who is so skillful in the art of killing, to be such a softy inside,” my Master continued one, “Tell me, did the people you ran off to tell you how to be sentimental and be weak?”
I grinded my teeth.
“Your eyes seem a bit red, have you been crying earlier? How the mighty has fallen! What a laugh-”
I watched my Master’s face turn from easy-going to shocked, and expression I had never seen on his face.
I withdrew my hook from his bleeding side.
“Don’t talk down on Helen and June,” I said, my voice cold and firm. “They did not teach me to be weak, but to be strong. Strong so I can protect them and defeat you!”
Adrenaline took its course and I was almost surprised myself to see my Master backing down, his movements still fluid, but rushed. Our swords met and we each took several cuts.
I felt my arms growing weak, despite my persistence to continue on. My legs buckled against the force of a sword continuously pressing me down. I hesitated with my next movement, but then I felt an excruciating pain shoot through me from my stomach. I looked down to see my Master’s sword there, piercing me.
I gasped in pain as the poison spread through me, more distinctively then it was from the small injuries I received. My body set off into series of quaking, I felt like there was a fire within me, one that I did not know how to put out. I held my hand at the site of the bleeding.
“You can’t beat me, Nory. You’ve reached your limited,” my Master said, walking towards me. His hand poised to for the final blow.
I shook my head frantically. My thoughts were going crazy. If he lived, he would continue on the cycle of Daemon’s Children: unrightfully stealing babies from their families, teaching them how to be cold-blooded killers, no! I couldn’t let it happen, he’d send- He’d send people after June and Helen again!
I stood there, bent in half from my injury, but I stilled my shaking. I heard my Master’s footfalls approach.
“Good for you to have come to your senses,” he said, when he was before me. I shuddered and sliced forward my sword suddenly, from the position I was in. My head was still down, but I felt the warm blood on my hand. Before my Master was able to regain his footing, I stood up straight and hacked my swords in frenzied power.
It was over. Out of pure luck, I supposed, that he stepped on one of the corpses when backing up, throwing off his balance, allowing me a once in a lifetime chance.
I fell onto my knees and stabbed his figure on the floor without the need to. At that time, I was crying uncontrollably. Each time I brought my sword down, I thought of each person whose lives were ruined because of the Daemon’s Children. Because of one man’s joy to kill.
I soon ran out of energy and the rest of my body fell to the ground with a thud. I felt the shaking of my breath and the tremor of my body. The pain was almost unbearable as I felt the poison travel even faster through me. I thought of Helen and June, back at the cottage where they took me and cared for me, even though I told them nothing about me or my past. Tears filled my eyes and I gasped for breath even though it ached. I was not sure how I’d ever forgive me, after all I’ve done to slowly destroy their peaceful lives. I wondered how much I’ve scarred June forever.
But, at least, their lives would not be harmed by the works of daemons anymore.
Yes, I thought. Then I said aloud, “It’s really much worth it to die for the people you care for.” I closed my eyes. I wasn’t a daemon’s child anymore, there’s no such thing as Daemon’s Children. Rather, I was part of my family, with young June and kind Helen. Though my time with them was brief, I’m certain that if I lived, I would never forget them, as I haven’t forgotten the feelings of love and warmth. They were my loving family.

I'm still editting this thing. Weeee~ Yeah. neutral
-Pie's Savanger Hunt