I'll Make This Quick.

New Ama stories coming. And I'm gonna try to rapid fire them. Buckle up peeps!!! Also, read them all first. Get a good idea of what it's about. I can publish a list that goes in order.

Second: Grand Slams.
There are multiple levels of these. These are the ultimate compliments from me, but they have an inner level of what they mean. They are all better than good and great and perfect, but they mean something else between themselves. Grand slam > perfect. Kay?
Grand slam. = good
Grand slam! = great
Grand Slam. = amazing (The most common and sincere compliment.)
Grand Slam! = fantastic (This ties with Grand Slam. very often. These two are used interchangeably a lot)
Grand Slam!! = So Dang GOOD!!! (Only one of these has been given so far.)
Grand Slam!!! = No words may describe this. (Not yet achieved. Get working peeps!)
GRAND SLAM. = Perfection in perfection. While no one likes caps, this is the one time you will like it. Since only one GS with two '!!'s have been given out thus far, we are far from here, but if you play nicely with me, I'll boost ya a bit and give you the Ultimate compliment. And yes, there are '!'s on the all-caps-GS, but that is just gravy on your potatoes.

Also, get your input on my The Weekly Tunes. It doesn't matter what it is. Share it with anyone passing by.
Thanks a ton! Y'all are Grand!
-Shawn

So Here's a Fun Idea. . .

I was thinking that I should do a weekly music thing. Up for only ONE (1) week!!! Then it gets changed and never played again on the weekly list. I'll start it, since NONE OF YOU EVER GIVE ME FETCHING SONGS! GRR!!!

Rage moment over. . . *sigh* I don't care if it drops the F-bomb a million times, or is 30 seconds long. And I probably won't ever do more than 5. Yeah, okay! Five (5) tops and whatever you want, got it? Once it caps, you are S.O.L.
Have fun, enjoy, play nicely, discover, read my older posts, I only tell you that, a million times so, you really should, do it some day, and Happy Holidays!

Infinite

I've been thinking about you lately, but that's a lie. 

I've never forgotten you. Even though we talked a couple more days since you've been gone,

I Am Alone

I think of you, I dream of you, I remember you. Do you remember me? What do you see? Do you dream of me? Do you think of me?

Like space thinks about the stars, and darkness and brilliance, the suns and moons, the dreams and thoughts and hopes. I think of your red hair, like red and blue, summer and winter, fall and spring, the autumn orange and blossoming pink, and the prism like unto a rainbow that is your eyes.

I think of holding on like a desperate man on a cliff, of loose sand and gravity. Like the purple majestic mountains and shadowed valleys, and the birds in the sky and the people on the earth. A scream in the mountain that resonates a melody in the forest. The snow and the rivers that were once snow. The snow and the rivers.

The houses and the gardens, the fruit and hunger, an itching for a snack, like a cookie and its crumble, and also the chocolate chips inside. The hunger for love and lust, of truth and deceit, the sheep and the wolf, and if it was all real . . . or not.

I think of the words you speak, and spoke, and my music I listen to. The words and their rhyme, the rhythm and meter, the poetry and meaning, and what I mean to you. What do I mean to you; it is like the fork and finger food. The napkin for clean hands, and a band-aid without wound. The fire for the heat, and the cooler for the cold, and the shower for spring morning rain.

Spring mourning rain.

But. . .

Now you are gone, and you won't come back. You left me before you ever moved away, and like the desperate boy I was, I will become a broken man to come.

Yet you hold nothing to me, nothing for me. You drew your line like chalk on a sidewalk. 

And I never rained on your parade until today.

I'm opening my eye's.

My ice.

I have no one stopping me now. You are gone, and you can't call the shots. Not now, not ever.

I am free and unbound, like the spirit in the wind that I AM!

I am unleashed, uncontrolled, and unforgiving. 

I have held back, because I have held on. The man on the cliff jumped. . .

and grew wings. I will fly farther than anyone can say I ever will.

I will reach higher than anyone says I can.

I will be stronger than the corrupter and killers of dreams.

I will dream harder than you can fathom.

I will think deeper than the greatest abyss to ever be found.

I will forget like it never happened, and

I will fight until my dying breath for it.

I am me, I am alone,

I am free.

I Am Infinite.

And don't you try to stop me

A Bit About a Friend

So, assuming that you've ever read my first blog post (implying heavily that I still ask you to read OLDER posts. . . ), I made mention of a friend who, in her infinite goodness, decided to share some of her . . . experiences in a sort of way to help me write the stories under the label of Amanalii. Yeah, the ones where she doesn't know where she is and almost gets raped and stuff. You get the point.

I owe something to her, personally. Sure, I share her stories, albeit they are tweaked a bit from original format, with consent of course. I wanted to share something about her. Since we are doing lists, why don't I just give you the likes and dislikes, and then a little note from me (with commentary in parenthesis throughout).

The likes of my dear friend Amy:
Rainy days in which to play, some yummy eggs, performances, dancing, cute shoes, leggings (I don't know what those are), sleeping with someone special (shes an adult, cool it -.- ), that favorite shirt, a good book, any sort of films, Danny, a nice kind of tease, love and being loved, #MaybeI'mLeftHanded, a cold day to be warmed, hearing about Star, English, video games (wut O.o ), that cheese from Spain I had one day, good food that speaks to my soul! A Thorn For Every Heart, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, The All-American Rejects, more bands like that. God. And a lot more about me! ~ <3 (Yeah. . . Okay, I'll type that in.)

The hates:
Parroting (It's so complicated), bad ham, soggy green (I don't even know), being ignored, being outdone on unnecessary things, ghost music (You cannot find it for the life of you), being told what to do, swimming in my dreams, trying to compare myself with others, having to wash your favorite clothes (I prefer mine clean <.<), stuck in the same place, having something not work, running out of ideas, coming out and sharing the deep stuff, wasting time, stupid rap, heavy metal (Wah! :O No you like my heavies. . .), being on the internet [like pictures and stuff](It's the NSA!!! >:O), being uncertain about God.
Thanks peeps!

So, that is just some of her stuff. Honestly, I like a lot of these, and showed her ATFEH, but my metal passion is certainly not shared. Anyways, before I ramble on about other stuff, I'd like to get to that note.

Amy,
    you are fantastic! I know you don't use a blog, and only really read this now and then, but thanks for the stories. I wish you were in this class, but you are a bit to old for that (and yes, I can mention your age without you kicking my ass for it). Yet, you are never too old to be a kid with me. We have a lot in common, and that doesn't matter right now. Brilliant, cool, creative, and more than anything, so much fun to be around. I hope you get to be with Danny someday, cause I think that would be cool. Hang tight for now! You are Grand!
-Shawn (You know my real name, but they don't!)

Thanks for reading a bit about a friend! Have a grand life, my blog stalkers. Oh. . .
P.S. Not a word from you, Alan. Not a darn word!

Red Hands of the Past

"Amanalii, I'm sure you've heard that monsters, rather demons, have attacked the towns to the south."
"Yes sir."
"And that means a lot of them will come this way, both man and demon."
"Yes. . . sir." I answered shakily.
"Normally, I might look at this with an eye for business, but if they are sending the army from the north, then I think we might be in trouble. The waves hit places no more than five days south of here."
"Sir?" I interrupted him. 
"What?" 
"Why do you tell me this?"
"Because you are priceless to me. I've watched you for thirteen years, and whether I've been right for you or not has never crossed my mind until now." The large man seemed so different to me. He seemed worried. I had been suspicious if he actually cared for me, but now I knew. Something wasn't right. It was true: there was talk of demons slaughtering the towns and cities south of here. I even heard that Deserta prison to the north had been re-purposed for supposed ex-demons as a city. Something was wrong.

"What's going on?" I inquired. He turned and opened a chest, digging through scrolls and books and papers, candles and pens and bottles, even some armor. I had never really seen the inside of this chest. "What are you looking for?"
"This," he held a sword. "I had been a soldier for sometime when I was younger. I left service and moved here to work. After several years, I found you."
My eyes narrowed. I never knew where I came from, and he never told me. I suppose he was like a father to me, but he never called himself my father. 
"Wh-- where did you find me?"
"You were by the roadside. Alone. I ignored you for most of the day, but you were still there much later. I took you in. I've taken in many, and they worked for me. You were always different. . . "
"How? Why do you tell me this? What is going on?!"
"I can't explain right no--"
"And you couldn't before?! You can't later?!"
"Amanalii, look--"
"No! What is happening? You haven't answered me. Something is wrong! What?"
"I--" He sighed.

I left, frustrated. I did this more often now. I always thought of running away, and never coming back. I didn't think I would come back until tomorrow, maybe. Steal some food, maybe a cake, and come back tomorrow. I was walking down the street, upset, my hair burning fiery red.
"Hey pretty! What'cha doing?" A group of men across the street were calling out at me.
"Hey, babe where ya goin'? 
"C'mon over here. Yeah, c'mon, right now."
"Yeah, you look stressed. Perhaps we could. . . relieve you of that!"
Obscene gestures and laughs. I quickened my pace, but they followed. I suspected they were drunk.
"Hey wait! Get back here." 
I started to run, but they followed, and they were faster. One stepped in front of me, and I collided into him, but only I staggered back. Another quickly came up behind, grabbing me, and I couldn't move. They circled in on me like vultures. I tried to scream out, but before I could I was gagged. 

"Where do you think you're going?"
"When we tell you to come, you come." He slapped me hard. I began crying, and struggling for my life. These were the kind of men that raped and killed. My arm slipped out of his crushing hold on my body, but I couldn't strike him anywhere before another grabbed my arm. One licked me on the face, and I turned my head. I struggled harder. The one in front of me pulled out a dagger, and I knew that I would soon die. As he came close, I kicked him in the face. His lip bled, as did his nose.

"Stupid little bitch! I'm gonna kill you!" The other grabbed my legs and I could only twist in place. He eyed me up and down, and just as he was about to gouge out the artery in my leg, someone tackled him to the ground. The man holding my legs dropped me, and I stood. The large man turned as the other stabbed him in the stomach. 

My eyes bulged, and with impossible strength I ripped myself free. I ran to him, tears streaming down my face. I pulled the gag out, but before I could reach him, the man from behind grabbed me by the hair and pulled, slamming me on the ground. I lay there, dazed by the sudden impact of my head to the ground. I sit up, and all the men are kicking him on the ground. "No!" I scream out. They stop and two turn to me. The rest continue beating him. They approach me slowly. I see a dagger on the closest one's hip. If only I could distract him, even seduce him. Anything to stop or slow or distract!

I close my eyes and focus on stopping him. I open my eyes, and I slowly feel something inside of me awaken, or possible be born. My hair that hangs in front of my face turns from red to pink, and the look on the faces of my enemies turn from sinister and malefic, to desperate and wild, like hungry animals. They begin calling out, strange, insensible things. Even the others, including my rescuer turn to me with the same look. What have I done? The man reaches out, but I grab his dagger and cut off his hand. 

He screams, and my hair goes blood-red again, as well as my clothes. I remember my own dagger, and it lies several feet behind me. At this point, all the remaining men, six in total, turn towards me. As I try to stand, the one handed man stomps on the back of my leg. I cry out, falling flat on the ground. I turn and slash his stomach, and he reels back in further pain, absolute hatred ingrained on his face. I crawl as fast as I can to my dagger. I turn, a dagger in either hand, as one grabs my face, a knife raised high to stab me. I act faster and stab him in both sides.

As he falls back, I use the daggers stuck in him to pull me up and forward. I rip my weapons out, stepping off him into the next target. Something within begins to burn as I look past all my attackers and see the body of my protector. After all these years, he kept me out of the way of creeps like these, and now he lay there lifeless. No I would protect-- no. I would avenge him, dead or alive! The next man approached, and stabs me in the side. I stand my ground and stab him in the chest, twisting the blade.

As he falls dead, I step backwards, looking at my wound. Nothing fatal. . . yet. The man behind me stands and pulls my hair, forcing my head back as he brings his knife across my throat. It cuts in a bit, but I jump back, losing balance for the both of us. I quickly turn on to my knees as he begins to sit up. Before he can focus I stab him. He wheezes and coughs blood on me. I don't care. I need to protect him. The man who lost his hand to me is holding a club. He swings at me, but I dodge and cut his throat.

Four left. They don't run, but pull out weapons and come at me together. Before, it was a one on one brawl. Now I was outnumbered, and soon to be overpowered. I had little energy left. I tried what I did before. Somehow, my hair turned pink, and they had been suppressed, or rather seduced. I needed that, now! I began to focus, but it came so easily and naturally that I was shocked. They approached me, letting their guard down. Quickly, I dispatched them all by stabbing them in the back, severing their spines. They all dropped to the ground, one on top of the other.

All my energy spent, I dropped the daggers, my hair turning back to normal. I collapsed next to the large man. I drag myself to his side, and turn him over. He is alive, but he has bruises and cuts all over, and he is still bleeding out from the stomach. I tear some fabric from the bottom of my shirt and fold it into a pad, and push it down on the wound. He groans.

His eyes open, and he looks at me and the seven men behind me, and the audience I collected in the melee. Several guards rush over to me, grabbing me by both arms and hauling me off. He laughs a bit, before he passes out. I am covered in the blood of eight men and myself. The ground is red, and everyone is speechless. I guess I'm going to prison. Damn. . . I wanted to avoid more people like those rapists and murderers. Once word gets around in prison that I killed seven men alone, then I suppose I won't have any trouble. 

"Varan. . . I'm sorry." I whisper quietly to myself.

I awaken, sitting up. I touch my neck where the scar is. It's not there. I had one from my stab wound. I lift my shirt enough to see it, but it too is not present. Varan. He must be the large man in all my memories. I lie down again. I remember something more than what I just dreamt. Assassinations. Deaths at my hand. I was older, about the same age I am now. Something about me that seemed to explain why I like the dark. I could meld with the shadows, move as silent as still air. I could execute with clean precision.

Oh, the things I remember. . . perhaps I could do something that didn't involve killing here. Here in this new world with a new body. No scars, no evidence of past events. I began to drift back into sleep. Something I didn't have before would soon be a part of my life; I could feel it in my bones.

Twilit Day

Daylight broke through the thin slits between each blind on the window. I sat on my bed, rocking back and forth. I had stared into the mirror many more times to believe what I had seen, but nothing happened. Maybe I was just seeing things that weren't really there at all. I couldn't shake the terrible feeling that I was forced to watch something that had been a blur before, only now in bitter detail. It was intense, frightening; at least I was able to sleep a bit.

I left the inn, and walked around the city. I went to the house, but nothing about it seemed to comfort me like it had before. Walking back through the strange, door-less structure I saw the man who sold me the mirror. I wanted to approach him about the mirror, but for some odd reason, I felt it would be best to not mention anything about it. In fact, I probably shouldn't really talk to him right now at all. It might avoid the potential to have any conversation about the mirror.

As I was walking back to the inn, I saw the Night Elf again. Wrael. He was speaking with someone, and didn't see me, or at least I was certain he didn't notice me. For the briefest of moments, I did think he glanced over at me, but I wasn't sure. Since I was near the market, I purchased some food, and a bottle of medicine, to help my upset stomach after last night.

I was unsure of what to do with my day. After all, being stuck in my room wasn't a very appealing idea, and the day outside was very pleasant. I wandered the city, after consuming some food and medicine in my room, and decided to search for a quiet peaceful place. My walk lead me to a new area of the city. Everything here was green and peaceful; it was everything I was hoping for.

I sat on a stone bench, sitting in solitude and bliss. I let my body soak the sun in, and a smile spread across my face. This was so much better than my room. But in the midst of grand afternoon, I felt a pair of eyes watching me, first from afar, but coming closer. I opened my eyes and saw the elf approaching me. I was confused. Why would he be coming towards me? What did he want? And then I looked at what he held.

"The man at the apothecary was calling for you. You had left your coin purse at his table. I volunteered to return it to you." He held out his hand for me to accept my purse.
"Thank you," I did wonder why he volunteered, "why did you decide to come for me?"
"Because I knew what you looked like. I did have the chance to meet you, after all. And I do believe you never told me your name." He explained. He did have a point; he was probably the only person who knew what I looked like that was near that shop.
I took the purse. "Amanalii", I said, "that is my name."
He smiled. "A beautiful name," he said, "my name is --"
"Wrael." I finished his sentence. "Yes, I couldn't forget it. Thank you so much for your help."
He nodded. "Of course."

I sat in silence for less than a minute, between staring at the pouch in my hand and the space in front of me. I looked over to where Wrael was, but he had left without a word. I suppose his goodbye was 'Of course.', but I almost wished he had stayed. Something about him made me feel a bit more comforted here. I had been here for a little over a week now, and he was probably the first person I really got to meet. Of course there was Gerald who sold me the mirror, that damned thing, but he wasn't really someone I just encountered much, or even someone I wanted to encounter.

I sat on the bench, lost in thought for a very long time. No one came over here. I sat in peace and quiet, only moving when I noticed the sun was starting to set. I wish the world would be suspended in this twilight. It was warm and tranquil, and everything was illuminated by the red and pink and orange of the sky and soft clouds. I liked these colors. They were very familiar to me. Very me, I almost thought. I felt that I belonged in the time were everything was red, between daylight and nighttime. Besides having the golden eyes and blood-red hair, I couldn't figure out what else it was about this time that seemed so familiar; color was only a part of it.

I returned to the inn. . .

Neverland, Wonderland, Land of the Free, My Land, Everland

What does that mean? They call it Neverland because you will never find it, no matter how hard you try. 

Wonderland is just confusing and strange. It leaves you in wonder and awe, even though it is apparently really named Underland. Whatever.

Land of the Free, Home of the Brave, King of Laws, I feel like a slave. Judged by neighbors and friends to conform to their wills. Hell NO!!!

My Land, a weird place, filled with hopes and dreams. Nothing is tangible, just free-flowing, thought forms populating the infinite space.

Everland, where everything is eternal, and great. A utopia so full of shit it makes me sick.

Dear Moon,
   What's it like to be so surrounded and so alone at all times? You have the sun, the earth, and the forever stretching heavens to blanket you from absolutely nothing. Here I am. I look up at you, but do you look back at me? Everything around me is so purposeful, but am I? What do I mean to anyone? I know I mean something, like they mean something to me, but they won't tell me. Am I selfish? I think you are. You keep your space all to yourself. Why don't you come down someday and see what it's like. Disconnected from everything, you begin to lose meaning in everything and anything. I guess you hit the point where you turned into a silver sphere that illuminates the darkness of night, and pulls the waves closer to our homes. Perhaps I've turned too much to realize you are something more.

We all want to be something more,

but when I look into the mirror I'm happy with who I am and what I've become. When I look into a mirror, the reflection is only half of it. Living is a price we pay. Reflections are the progress that we made. Here in the place where the sun is silent, the moon reigns supreme.

The worlds I hear of, and the worlds I see, and worlds I create are nothing to me. Unless I can get by with here and now, I will forever be lost in the sight of the silver titan that owns the night. Neverland, Wonderland, Land of the Free, My Land, Everland; they are nothing to the sun and stars and moon. And nothing makes sense anymore. What have I been saying this whole time? . .  What have I been saying? And I become disconnected...       once more.