[Euthisa's Scrapbook] My Own Kind of Crazy

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The player scrapbooks forum is literally a place for writers to warm-up, brainstorm, keep little scraps of notes, or just post things to encourage themselves and each other. Each player can feel free to create their own thread - one per account - and use them accordingly.

[Euthisa's Scrapbook] My Own Kind of Crazy

Postby Euthisa on June 7th, 2012, 5:38 pm

*´¨)
¸.•´¸.•*´¨) ¸.•*¨)
(¸.•´ (¸.•` ¤ Katie

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Hey there! ♥ Welcome to my scrapbook. This is just my place to tell everyone a bit about me, and showcase my writing and such. Take a look around, comment if you want. Thanks!

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I'm a born and raised country girl. I certainly don't always show it, and I love a lot of things and there are a lot of things about me that aren't country. But in my heart and the way I live, I'm a true southern girl.

From my cowboy boots to my down-home roots. From the songs I play to the hell I raise. That's how I was born and raised, and I ain't afraid to stay that way. I hang out by the bonfire with the rednecks and their jacked up trucks, just havin a good old time. Kickin it in the sticks is where it's at. I'm a tan-legged Juliet, and I'm proud to wear camo and the confederate flag. I have my daddy's mouth and my momma's heart. I bust my butt and make my own money to get myself the things I want. Nothing has ever been handed to me that I didn't work for on my own. I work harder every day of my life than even most of the men I know.

I love to dance, flirt, get dressed up, and sometimes be girly, but I ain't afraid of a little dirt. I'll ride a horse over a bike any day, and I'll choose a good truck over any car (though I'm a sucker for sports cars too). I know what home-grown REALLY means. I like my shirt untucked and I don't like to fight but I ain't scared to bleed. I hold my ground and stand up for who I am, the choices I make, and who my friends are. I'll give everything I've got to help those I love, and if you mess with them, you're messing with me.

On the contrary, I have a deeply rooted love for all things dark, morbid, and deep. I'm a passionate writer and I will go far in life with it. I write like Edgar Allan Poe, and he is my number one idol. I love darkness and solitude, and find Gothic culture and fashion intriguing. I research the strangest things at times, and strive every single day to be as original and unique as I possibly can be. I will ALWAYS keep you on your toes and no one can quite figure me out, because once they do, something changes.

Yes, I'm vulnerable and emotional, and in those ways, I'm a typical woman, but I don't let it break me. I often forget it, but I'm one of the strongest people I know, and many have told me the same. Until you're close to me, you know my name, not my story, and I can't stand when people pretend like they do.

As well as a true blue country girl, I'm also a rocker chick. My dad raised me country and my mom raised me rock and roll. The rest I found for myself. I love rock, metal, alternative, hardcore, etc with a passion, and have seen somewhere around 40 bands of these genres in concert. I will just as soon start head banging as I will soothe my soul with violin and piano instrumentals. I love musicals, opera, melodic songs, metal, rap, I have a passion and fascination for spanish music, country, and pretty much everything in between. I'm also addicted to tattoos, though I currently only have 5, and my ears are gauged to size 0 (8mm). The many sides of me are vastly different and all of them contradict each other. But that's what makes me who I am, and there's only one me.

I'm a Beautiful Monstrosity, a Gorgeous Nightmare, and a Satanic Angel.
I love to write and it's my biggest passion.
My writing comes first in my life. Deal with it.
Love me for all of who I am, or don't love me at all.
I can be your best friend or your worst enemy. You choose.
I believe in fate and destiny, and that everything happens for a reason.
I worry about anything and everything, and something is always on my mind.
I'm an optimist but also a pessimist, depending on the situation.
I live my own life. Not the one everyone wants me to live.
I'm very ambitious and one way or another WILL achieve all of my goals.
I'm very open and will tell you anything and everything you wanna know. Just ask.
I believe that age is just a number, and it means absolutely nothing.
I am definitely a witch with a capital B. Please don't hold it against me.
I don't deal with petty bullcrap, liars, or games. Flat out.
Don't try me because you won't like the results.
I'm very cocky and full of myself but I'm like that in confidence.
I still wish on shooting stars. Even though they never come true.
I'm a lover but when I need to be... I can be a heck of a fighter too.
I don't care what people think of me. It's their choice to judge and I know the truth.
I know who I am, where I've been, and where I'll go in my life.
You can love me or leave me alone. That's how it is.
I'm not perfect and I don't ever want to be. ♥


Questions and Answers


Do you have a favorite place to vacation or spend leisure time?

Vacation: Pennsylvania or New Smyrna Beach, Florida. Leisure time: Anywhere peaceful and solitary (library, my room with soft or instrumental music, going for a walk down back roads in the country, laying in my yard star gazing)

Where do you fear to be?

Exactly where I'm at now. I don't plan to stay here, physically, where I live, and in this place in my life. I plan to excel far past this.

Do you have any physical weaknesses (disease, scars, and missing limbs?)

Lots of miscellaneous scars from my younger ages. Been raised around horses and the hard working life, so I've had more than my fair share of scratches, scrapes, cuts, etc. No diseases that I'm aware of. I do have three curves in my spine that aren't fun to deal with, but I get by.

What languages do you speak? What do you sound like? Do you have an accent?

English, VERY MINIMAL Spanish. I sound like me? No accent that I'm aware of or have ever been pointed out having, though every once in a blue moon, I'll say a word or two with a thick southern drawl to it

Do you have any odd mannerisms, annoying habits, or other defining characteristics?

OCD over stupid things, nothing important. I bite my nails pretty bad. I tap my fingers a lot when I'm thinking. I have a lack of anxiety control so major drastic emotions, usually fear or being upset, will cause me to have full body convulsions. I'm a grammar Nazi and everyone who knows me partly hates me for it. It can be the smallest statement or typo, and I HAVE to correct it. I have no control over it. I'm nitpicky and technical and thrive off itty bitty details. I'm very conceited and full of myself, but I'm not arrogant about it.

Do you have (or want to get) any tattoos or piercing? Why do you have them (or will get them)?

I have my nose pierced as well as two sets of ear piercings. I also have my ears stretched. I always thought nose piercings were beautiful, studs way more than hoops but I like hoops too. I have a rhinestone stud. It's a wonderful accessory/accent :) I also have 5 tattoos, with plans for at least 20 more. (See Tattoos section of Scrapbook)

What is your occupation?

Right now I'm a stable hand at a boarding stable for horses as well as a cook at an Italian Restaurant.

Do you like/dislike your work? Why?

I LOVE working at the stable and I'm usually fine with the restaurant. I love the stable because I'm working with horses, something I've loved since I was 7, and I've been working at the stable since I was 13. Also because I grew up across the street and work with close friends. I love what I do, my boss, and all of my coworkers. It's amazing.

If you could be anything you wanted to, what would you be?

A famous poet and author. I want my short stories, poems, and writing techniques to be in textbooks, with students learning from my talents and success. That would mean the world to me.

What sort of alcohol do you prefer?

Wine coolers and hard liquor. Beer makes me sick

What are your hobbies?

Writing, horses, bowling, music, dancing, hanging out

Do you like to read?

LOVE IT

What annoys you more than anything else?

Lying/Liars and even more so, telling me I'm lying or calling me a liar

What do you find the most relaxing activity to do?

Star gazing or laying down listening to music

What kinds of things embarrass you? Why?Image

Calling me out about my past in front of people who don't know it yet.

What is your favorite color or colors?

RED AND BLACK FTW, bright neon colors, and mossy oak camo (only mossy oak... the rest blows).

What is your favorite time of day?

Evening

What is the most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen?

Silvery crystal blue eyes

What do you like to eat? What do you hate to eat?

Junk food.
Vegetables.

What is your favorite type of weather? Does any kind scare you?

Thunderstorms and rain. There's been one storm that scared me and that's only because I got caught out in it on horseback and I was young. But now... None scare me that I've experienced.

Are you optimistic or pessimistic?

Realistic (so a healthy mixture of both)

What are your religious views?

Non-denomination/Agnostic. I believe in a better place than here and a worse place than here (some kind of "Heaven" and "Hell"), but I don't believe in anything the Bible preaches and I don't believe in God. I'm not sure I believe in a higher power either. I believe that there's a million things on this planet and in this world that can't be explained, and I'm okay with that. I believe many people use religion as an answer to questions we don't know yet. If something is unknown or unexplained, or we aren't advanced enough to find an answer, we mix it with religion to ease our minds. If we don't know how we started or where we came from or how something came to be, God did it. I don't believe that's the case. We simply don't know yet. I don't need to use a fictional deity to explain all the unknowns in the world just to feel better about them. However, if I come across a religion that is based off reality and science and actually seems legit, I wouldn't be opposed to believing in it upon further research.

Would you be able to kill?

Very doubtful. Probably only if it was for the sake of my children or something like that. Like if their lives were in danger. That kind of thing. But right now I have no kids, so no.

What are your views on sex?

It's a sacred thing in my eyes. It's great, but should only be done with someone you truly care about and want to share/give that part of yourself to, and they need to have mutual feelings and views for you. The first time, you should only give yourself to someone you truly care for on a very deep level and think it through because you'll be trusting them literally with the essence of your soul and who you are. They power they'll have over you once you give yourself to them is astonishing and will stay with you forever. Be wise about it.

What, in your opinion, makes a successful life?

Spending your life with people you love, doing something you love, and making yourself happy. If that's being famous and having lots of money, so be it. If it's being poor and living minimalistically so that what you have can be saved for future kids or something like that, then so be it too.

What is the worst and best thing you’ve ever done?

Worst - Caused myself to lose the two people I've cared about and loved the most in my life/Hurt said two people (hurt anyone really but the hurt I caused them impacts me the most).

Best - Been myself and stayed true to myself regardless of expectations, standards, and what anyone else said or thought.

What is your greatest regret?

I have none. I have things I wished I hadn't done, but I firmly believe that everything happens for a reason and I truly appreciate the lessons I learned (particularly from my "regrets") with each thing that's ever happened to me. They make me who I am today, and I'm actually proud of who I am now.

What is your best/worst memory?

Best - Discovering my passion for writing.

Worst - A decent handful I'd rather not discuss.

If you could change one thing about your past, what would it be and why?

I wouldn't change anything, for the same reasons why I have no regrets.

What are you the most proud of doing in your life?Image

Touching people with my words, whether they be advice or my writing.

How honest are you about your thoughts and feelings with others?

Very. Brutally sometimes.

Do you have any biases or prejudices?

Everyone does, we're human, but I try hard not to and to squander these because I hate the idea of biases and prejudices.

Who or what, if anything, would you die for?

My passion, certain members of my family, certain best friends, my children (once I have them).

Who is the most important person in your life, and why?

Myself. I can trust other people but I can't trust anyone as good as I can trust myself. And if I place no major importance on me myself, how could I ever expect anyone else to place importance on me?

Who is the person you respect the most, and why?

Too many people to list honestly. But one of the first that comes to mind is my best friend Bril. He goes through so much, yet still has the optimist attitude and he pushes me to do the same. He holds me together when I'm falling apart. And challenges my mind so that it expands. I love him to death and I'd take a bullet for him any day.

Do you tend to take on leadership roles in social situations?

Sometimes. Not necessarily the leader role, but the organized "let's do this" role.

Do you care what others think of you?

No and yes. Generally, no I really don't give a rat's behind what anyone thinks, the only opinion of me that matters is mine, but I do dress and act to impress people.

What do you think of others, in general?

Humanity overall? I hate them. I hate people and the messed up things they do to one another and their horrible ways of thinking, but I revolve and survive on having friends close by as much as possible.

What is your greatest strength as a person?

My perseverance and determination to make it through anything thrown in front of me and overcome any obstacle that tries to be in my way.

What is your greatest weakness?

Forgiveness. Unless you murder someone close to me, I'll pretty much forgive you for pretty much anything. No matter how many times you screw me over, in the end I'll still forgive you because I can't let go or ignore the good things. And in my book, the good always outweighs the bad. I can't stop forgiving. It's a curse.

What do you absolutely live for?

My passion.

What is the best part of life?

Finding your passion and purpose and going for both with everything you have and never giving up.

What is the best part of death?

Peace and final rest after life's long battle.

If you could choose, how would you want to die?

In my sleep in the arms of the love of my life :rolleyes:

What is the one thing for which you would most like to be remembered after your death?

My writing/words because of their impact.
Last edited by Euthisa on November 16th, 2013, 1:45 am, edited 16 times in total.
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Euthisa
♥ Euthisiastic ♥
 
Posts: 185
Words: 134477
Joined roleplay: May 18th, 2012, 5:43 pm
Location: Wind Reach
Race: Human, Inarta
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Medals: 1
Artist (1)

[Euthisa's Scrapbook] My Own Kind of Crazy

Postby Euthisa on June 7th, 2012, 5:44 pm

This section of my scrapbook is for displaying my tattoos. I'll post the design template and then a picture of the finished work. Enjoy!

Tattoo #1 - Black and red nautical star with tribal wings - Lower back

The nautical star represents my natural affiliation with symmetry and celestial navigation. The link to celestial navigation is my wish to find my way in my life generally. The tribal wings go with it for a few reasons. One is that I needed to add something to go with the stars and I wanted even the decoration to have meaning. I've always loved tribal and it expresses a little of my wild side. I chose wings instead of abstract tribal because I want to soar above my problems and fly straight to and through my plans for life and my destinations. I have this tattoo colored in black and red because I have an obsession and fascination with those colors together, and nautical stars are related to the punk/rock scene, which I also love and take part in.

Design and Product :
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Tattoo #2 - Quote from The Phantom of the Opera - Left shoulder blade

"The bridge is crossed, stand and watch it burn", encompasses my entire life and my biggest philosophy. I've gone through quite a lot of tragedy and loss and pain in my life, and I've had to overcome many obstacles to get where I am today and to be who I am today. The way I see it, you can't change the past or do anything about it, so you might as well burn the bridge behind you so you don't torment yourself with the temptation of wanting to go back.

Design and Product :
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Tattoo #3 - Heartagram inside a rose - Outside right calf

The heartagram in a rose on my ankle is a design I found drawn for my favorite band, HIM. The heartagram is their symbol and their lead singer, who writes all of their lyrics and all of their music, is my biggest writing inspiration and idol, particularly for my poetry, which is the main focus of my writing passion.

Design and Product :
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Tattoo #4 - Old style key = Outside left ankle

The key was something I got matching tattoos with a best friend... And now we're not friends anymore. But I've always loved old style keys, so I'm going to add a matching lock on the other side of my ankle, and a chain connecting them together around my ankle like an anklet.

Design and Product :
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Tattoo #5 - Cemetery scene = Right shoulder blade and upper arm

This tattoo is my tribute to Edgar Allan Poe, my biggest idol and inspiration for writing. I also have always had a love of cemeteries and creepy things like that, so when I came across this design, I absolutely HAD to get it. It's my favorite piece of mine so far, and I love it more and more every day.

Design and Product :
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Tattoo #5.1 - Addition to cemetery scene = Right shoulder blade and upper arm

Design and Product :
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Last edited by Euthisa on July 13th, 2013, 6:42 pm, edited 9 times in total.
User avatar
Euthisa
♥ Euthisiastic ♥
 
Posts: 185
Words: 134477
Joined roleplay: May 18th, 2012, 5:43 pm
Location: Wind Reach
Race: Human, Inarta
Character sheet
Storyteller secrets
Scrapbook
Plotnotes
Medals: 1
Artist (1)

[Euthisa's Scrapbook] My Own Kind of Crazy

Postby Euthisa on June 7th, 2012, 5:44 pm

This section of my scrapbook is for posting my poems. Poetry is my biggest passion and my stronger point in writing. I really hope you guys enjoy them!

This is a compilation of what I consider to be my best pieces. In chronological order as to when I wrote them. (16 out of 114 [so far])

(2007)(15 years old)
Death By You :
Imprisoned by the shards of my shattered heart,
I'm held within your labyrinth screaming.
Your inner demons fuel your burning dream,
to submerge me in my tear-made ocean.
My passion for you dismembers my soul,
and enslaves me to your every desire.
My insanity chips away at my very existence,
forcing me closer to termination.
No longer living, my undead corpse roams this Earth,
in search of he who can escape my wrath.
My morbid being is constantly conjuring,
ways to sink my fangs in the neck of eternal sacrifice.
Drenched in blood, I inhale my last breath,
before dying in the embrace of your hate.


(2008)(16 years old)
First You Change, Then You Fade :
By myself, all alone,
I look in the mirror,
not knowing what I see.
The strange image before my eyes,
is supposed to be me,
but instead it's something else.
I started out looking at my own reflection,
but then it all changed.
The background shifted and disappeared.
The lines began to blur.
The colors turned to black and white.
The image started to stir.
The focus moved and went in and out.
The figure took on a whirl.
The person before me became pixelated.
The edges began to curl.
Is the individual in the mirror me,
or a painted picture of who I am?
Is that how I look inside,
or something else entirely?
I stood staring, unable to move,
when the reflection changed again.
This time she waved goodbye,
and then slowly faded... until she was gone.


(2008)(16 years old)
Cycle of the Unwanted :
I don't want to live in the shadow of another or beneath the veil of the unknown.
I don't want to submerge myself in the ocean of what I can't change.
I don't want to wake up to another day underneath the blanket of mistakes I've made, lies I've believed and trusted, and the many regrets I hold in my heart.
I don't want to carry the burden of pain and stress, heartache too, and the unending confusion clouding my mind as I drag myself through each and every day.
I don't want to walk through a crowd of people and yet be completely alone.
I don't want to feel cold and empty, useless, and always in the way.
I don't want to fall asleep to the swirl of stressing thoughts and problems in my head, or with the weight of my many worries on my chest.
I don't want to die in the grip of insanity or what I should've/could've, and/or would've done.
I don't want to pass unloved and be forgotten.


(2008)(16 years old)
Reaching an Understanding :
The sorrow, the pain, the misery I feel, tears through my core, igniting the ever-burning passion buried beneath the layers of flesh and the network of nerves that make up the host's body in which my soul inhabits.
It burns, but not in the way everything else burns; it carries no heat and it does not destroy in the same sense as fire. It consumes all it comes in contact with, but with an overwhelming power and not a desire to terminate the entire existence of that that is the subject of its consummation.
It stings and pinches like that of a long, sleek blade, that of a knife, being plunged tip first into the soft tender skin of my heart and slowly twisting, ultimately destroying the flesh and shredding the internal veins, until finally, my heart thuds its last beat and the warm blood ceases its flow to my body.
It devours me, from the inside out, beginning with the bones before moving on to my muscles and veins, before then moving on to drinking my blood and devouring my skin, before finally devouring my personality, my identity, and finishing off with my existence.


(2008)(16 years old)(One of my top 3 in my opinion)
Forever and Always :
Before your feet I fall, weeping, begging you to turn the light in my heart to darkness.
I dream of wandering the corridors within the labyrinth of your mind,
a twisted Hell frozen in place on Earth,
by the very introverted concepts you so longingly grasp and express.
You walk the razor's edge with a reckless vengeance,
completely unaware, or completely unknowing,
of the dangers and consequences,
and I yearn so badly to join you.
I long to be locked away in the catacomb of your soul,
in a tomb beside you,
built with the tools of your knowledge, the words of your wisdom,
and the thorns of the rose of your love.
Come with me, step into our crimson fate,
and let the abyss that awaits us,
seal us within one another,
as an eternal night swallows us whole.


(2009)(17 years old)
The Great Battle Within :
In my heart, in my mind, in my soul, a battle wages on.
Each side conflicting, constricting, controlling.
Striving for freedom, independence, and power,
The battle is an endless fight.
No one wins, and all lose.
No one gains, and all suffer.
The battlefield is treacherous, lined with traps and surprises.
The struggling warriors push on, and fall back,
an endless cycle of anticipation and exertion.
All sides wear themselves down; the casualties are rising.
Who will wave the infamous white flag and subject themselves to their dreaded fate?
Perhaps all.
Perhaps none.
Perhaps I'll never know.


(2009)(17 years old)(One of my top 3 poems in my opinion)
Dead :
Dead thoughts inside my brain.
Dead blood flows through my veins.
Dead fingers search but never find.
Dead eyes can't see because they're blind.
Dead heartbeats echo in the night.
Dead feet are longing to take flight.
Dead lips speak but are never detected.
A dead body dances, though misdirected.
Dead screams are lost along the wind.
A dead smile on the face of she who sinned.
Dead ears listen but don't hear a sound.
A dead soul is lost and never found.


(2009)(17 years old)
A Hunger for Forgiveness, A Thirst for Understanding :
Rain falls outside so steady,
As a thick blanket warms my body, ready,
Ready and willing, ready and waiting, to comfort me,
But they're not you.
Every moment I don't bring you to smile, I dream,
Of pitch black and blood red, and being torn apart at the seams,
I dream of enticing pain, pleasure sufficing,
And helplessness, and sacrificing.
Of thoughts paralytic, tears continuous, laughter ravenous, and eyes cold.
Whispers in the dark, blindness, and straight lines forced to fold.
I'm lost among the grave sites, approaching my doom,
As I run, scared, illuminated by the moon.
Loving you, I'm healing, but it's taking so long.
For I must whither and die and become a new, and it's so hard to move on.
I'm the heart of winter, and I'm buried beneath the falling snow.
Will I make a return? I do not know.
You wish to find me, track me down,
But what if I don't want to be found?


(2009)(17 years old)
Reaction to Departure :
Every time I say goodbye,
I leave your side with tears in my eyes.
I think of all the times we've shared,
And now I'm alone, disposed of and scared.
In the night, I call for you,
And the response is silence, painful and true.
In the dark, I stumble blindly,
Praying you'll return and try to find me.
My prayers are lost along the wind,
As I wonder where I'm at, and ponder where I've been.
Once right here, you now have gone,
And I'm left with memories of your touch, for which I long.
Every thing gone wrong, cuts me deeper,
You and I have died, and I fear the reaper.
The worst part is, I'm partly to blame.
And I've no choice but turn and walk away in shame.
I hurt you, tested you, and made you leave,
I can't believe I was so naive.
You don't know what I would give to take it all back,
But you've disappeared, and I'm way off track.
Some moments I think, you'll come back and stay,
But you prove me wrong with each passing day.
Instead of happiness, I'm filled with doubt,
As the light in my eyes dims, and the fire in my soul goes out.
The beating of my heart slows down and then stills,
For my pain is so great, instead of hurting, it kills.


(2010)(18 years old)
Inner Monstrosity :
In the corner, the angel lies,
Her sorrow is the melody to her heartbroken cries.
Never beaten but surely broken,
Confusion swirls in her head, unspoken.
So many thoughts, so many tears,
So many decisions, so many fears.
What to do, where to turn,
She crossed the bridge and now it burns.
Her footsteps fall on foreign ground,
The solitude cackles, the only sound.
The air grows dense with insanity,
She loses yet more of her humanity.
The angel morphs; the demon awakens,
She's chastised, evaluated, and horribly mistaken.
No one sees the girl inside.
No one dares to even try.
Her wings grow black and drip crimson red.
A puddle forms atop her bed.
They're splattered with blood from her very own death,
And her soul was freed with her final breath.
Tortured and tattered, it haunts the night,
Lurking in shadows, hidden from sight.
No matter where you go, you just can't hide.
She's always there, wanting inside.


(2010)(18 years old)
Infernous Doom :
Open, exposed, vulnerable,
You toss me aside, unread.
You rip the pages from my mind,
And tear through the memories left ingrained there.
You strike a match and walk away,
Leaving the flames to lick at my binding and my words.
Chapter by chapter, I turn to ash,
My essence and love ignited away.
The wind carries me,
Away from you,
Away from us,
And you warm your heart by the remaining fire.


(2011)(19 years old)
A Beloved Nightmare :
I'm a beautiful monstrosity,
A satanic angel,
A creature born from ashes into the light,
Whose soul is forever chained to darkness,
Whose heart's beats fluctuate from one complication to another,
Vigorous one second,
Faint the next,
Whose mind is misunderstood,
And whose thoughts are unattainable,
Whose feelings make for treacherous ground to stumble through,
A hazard wrapped in candy-coated innocence.


(2011)(19 years old)
Slipping :
Chances slipped away,
and regrets replaced,
the dreams I never chased.
I go to sleep and I'm alright,
live to survive another night,
a shadow in the sunshine of my life.
When I wake, the pain ensues,
depression, confusion, not knowing what to do.
I lose myself in my own mind,
wandering, searching, trying to find,
a way to defeat this nightmare.
The wind doesn't answer my call,
only silence is there, if that at all,
and completely alone I fall,
Never to be seen again.


(2011)(19 years old)
Farewell :
When I'm gone,
Come dance upon my grave.
Let the moon be your spotlight,
And my tombstone be your stage.
Prop the gates wide open,
Present the world your play.
Hand in hand with shadows,
Dance the night away.
When you're done, the wind rolls in,
And lifts you high into the sky.
The crowd cheers, sounding in the leaves,
And we say our final goodbye.


(2011)(19 years old)
Passionate Tragedy :
A phoenix reborn from the ashes of my life,
You lifted me up and spread my wings.
You flew beside me, a flock all our own,
And together we soared high,
Above the weapons often used against us.
In each others' arms, not even words could hurt us,
And all our dreams began to come true.
You sheltered me, protected me,
Taking my bullets; My umbrella for the rain.
But chivalry became deceit,
And I've been left out in the storm.
Raindrops burn my skin,
The bullets you once took to save me.
I cower in the shadows left of my life,
And my tears, once roses in your eyes,
Slice my cheeks as they fall,
Bloody daggers piercing my heart as they thunder to my chest.
Once the safest and most trusted thing I knew,
Your very presence frightens the pieces of my heart,
And the flames of your bitterness disintegrate my tortured soul.
For so long my savior, my best friend,
You've become the nightmare that leaves me screaming.
You look me in the eye as I cry for your help,
But no emotions show on your face for my pleas.
You tell me you love me and you'll always be here,
But never in my life have I felt so abandoned and alone.
I try and pull you safely into my arms,
But you pull away from me,
Leaving me with even more emptiness.
I see right through you,
Your translucent eyes give you away.
I still see light in your heart and soul,
But it's clouded by the darkness threatening to destroy you.
I reach out to pull you from the abyss,
To be your light in the shadows again,
And what's left of me dances on razors.
Will you put out the light in me once and for all,
Or will you take my hand once more and let it burn bright?


(2011)(19 years old)
Untitled :
Somewhere I will find,
All the pieces left behind,
Torn to shreds by the hands of your betrayal.
Someday I'll make it through the pain,
And my tears won't leave a stain,
As they fall from my down-turned face.
Sometime I'll look back up into the light,
And finally let go of all my fright,
So that I too can be happy once more.
Somehow I'll be okay,
Once again longing for the day,
When I taste true love's sweet kiss.
Something will allow me to let you go,
Your memory will no longer haunt me so,
And peace is what I'll finally find.


(2012)(20 years old)
Tormented Fixations :
Another breakdown in,
More tears spent on you.
In circles around you I race,
Torn, dazed, and confused.
Your words resound through me,
The echo shatters my heart.
What must I do to be good enough for you?
Please tell me where to start.
I plead for your mercy,
And beg for your love.
Your memory surrounds me,
Fitting me like a glove.
Our deep connection grabs hold of me,
Hands tight so I can't breathe.
This torment is suffocating,
It'll be the end of me.
Please throw me in consideration,
Give us one more thought.
We're both changed and better,
Life's lessons have well been taught.
Last edited by Euthisa on July 13th, 2013, 6:44 pm, edited 7 times in total.
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Euthisa
♥ Euthisiastic ♥
 
Posts: 185
Words: 134477
Joined roleplay: May 18th, 2012, 5:43 pm
Location: Wind Reach
Race: Human, Inarta
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[Euthisa's Scrapbook] My Own Kind of Crazy

Postby Euthisa on June 7th, 2012, 5:45 pm

This section of my scrapbook will be for posting my short stories. I hope everyone enjoys them!

This piece is my very first short story, in it's original form from 5 years ago, lightly revamped in places with my skills from today. Enjoy!

A Transformation :
It was a cold still night when the phone ran. Lyra was so intently watching her favorite movie, Dracula, that she jumped at the sound of the phone. Laughing at herself for being so jumpy, she flipped her dark auburn hair back and answered it. It was her best friend Sylvia. She apologized for calling so late, but she wanted to go for a walk and knew better than to go alone. Lyra agreed and met her outside her house half an hour later. They set off and started walking east, towards the full moon. As they walked down the street, Lyra took note of the scenery around her. Everything glowed an off-white color from the moon, each acting like a candle in the darkness. It was actually quite a site to see, similar to a snow-covered town in the dead of summer.
They continued walking, and in about fifteen minutes they reached the end of the street. There lied the most beautiful thing Lyra had ever seen... The Burban mansion. A two-story, attic, basement, garage mansion with five bedrooms. The mansion had been there, unoccupied, ever since anyone could remember. Lyra had lived on that street her whole life and never saw a single person live there. She stood at the eight foot tall, cast iron, gate with Sylvia and wished more than anything that she could go inside. She turned and pleaded to Sylvia.
"Sylvia, I know you hate stuff like this, and you'll want to stop me, but I've always dreamed of going inside that mansion. You know I love things like this. Abandoned places, dark basements, old cemeteries, and adventure. I won't ask you to go, but I am begging you not to tell anyone that I went, and to stay here in case I need help. Can you do that for me?"
She stood perfectly still, waiting to hear Sylvia's response, and prayed she wouldn't have to argue with her. Sylvia finally responded and agreed to stand guard. She stepped forward and helped Lyra over the gate. Once over, Lyra promised she'd be back and headed up the hill to the fortress of her dreams. She was shaking almost uncontrollably from the adrenaline pumping through her thin body. She could barely contain herself. She reached the front door and finding it locked, went around the back and found a window broken. She carefully climbed through and looked around. Having only a small amount of light from the moon outside, she couldn't see much. She found the stairs and, after taking a few deep breaths, headed up. What she found up those stone cold steps was something she'd never forget, if she lived that long.
The house was warm. Too warm for an abandoned house. It felt like someone was still there, cooking in the kitchen, soaking in the bathtub, sleeping in the bedroom. The house felt alive. The only problem was, there wasn't anyone there. She reached the first floor and stood at the edge of the laundry room. It was small, and dark, and stemmed off of the kitchen. It was very difficult to see, but she found the light switch. She flipped it on and found that it didn't work. That was expected. She looked around the dusty kitchen and found a lantern. "Matches... Where would matches be?" She thought to herself. She started looking through every drawer in the kitchen and after going through almost all of them, she finally found a pack of matches. There was only one left.She struck it and lit the lantern. Instantly, the kitchen was illuminated.
She looked around her. It was very bare. There were pots and pans in the cabinets, spices in the pantry, and there were cobwebs everywhere. She started walking and found herself in a rose wall-papered hallway. It wasn't a very long hallway, but long enough that it had two doors on each side. She walked to the first door, on her right, and opened it. It was a bedroom set up like a guest room. The bed was made up with a blue quilted ruffle and it looked as thought it had never been touched. She didn't see much importance in that room so she closed the door and moved on to the next room.
This time it was on her left. She stopped and reached for the brass knob. As her hand was closing around the cold metal surface, there was a loud thud that caused her to jump backwards. Her hand instantly flew over her mouth to stop herself from screaming. Once she had herself under control, she slowly and quietly lowered her body to the floor. She peered under the door and waited there to see if anything would happen. After a few moments of complete silence, she got up and opened the door. It opened slowly, creaking very loudly for every inch that it moved, yet it was just another guest room.
It looked the same as the first, although it seemed a little darker. She was scared now, so she shut the door and moved on. The next door, on her right again, was a study. There was a grand mahogany desk in the center and the walls were lined with dozens of bookshelves, full to maximum capacity with books. Walking in, she found Dragons 101, Everything You Need to Know About Vampyres, Dracula, and many similar titles shoved onto the shelves. She pulled out Dracula, being as obsessed with vampires as she was, and flipped through the pages.
There were a few pictures inside and as she glanced through them, one in particular caught her eye. It was of a mansion. It was set on a lonely hill, looming over the nearest houses, and it had a large gate. You could tell it was old by the dark musky color it had to its exterior, and its Victorian architecture. It was two stories tall and rose vines covered it, shrouding it in a protective cloak of beauty. There was a woman figure at the gate and beneath the picture it read: House of Count Darzur. Beware. She was about to keep flipping through the pages when the "light bulb" went off. She looked at the picture again. Yes, she was certain she was right. She was looking at the Burban mansion. No doubt about it. She looked at the gate in the picture, where the girl stood. Strangely, it looked just like Sylvia.
Just then, the door to the study slammed shut. It was so loud and unexpected that she jumped, screamed, and dropped the book all at the same time. She turned to the desk and grabbed the lantern. She went to the door and tried to open it, but it was locked. Panic began to set in. She then looked around and saw that the window in this room was one of the few on the mansion that wasn't boarded up. She ran to it, opened it, and climbed out with the lantern onto the wide sill outside. The cold air hit her like a blizzard. It had gotten colder since she had come inside. It shot through her jeans and tank top, and almost instantly she was freezing. She stepped off the sill onto a small porch overhang, but was much too afraid to jump down. She crept along the edge closest to the house and ended up at a ladder. She looked up and discovered that it ran right next to yet another unboarded window.She would rather go down than up, but she didn't have much of a choice in the matter. She climbed up, with one hand still holding the lantern, and found it was much harder than she thought. She almost fell multiple times, and came close on several occasions to breaking the lantern. Thankfully, she made it to the window and, hooking her arm through the ladder and holding the lantern, freed one hand to open it up. She set the lantern inside and carefully climbed in, trying to be as silent as possible. When she turned to shut the window behind her, she realized she could see the street out front. She searched the roadway a little bit longer and found the gate to the mansion. She focused for a minute, straining her eyes to see that far in the darkness, and after a minute, she could frighteningly tell that Sylvia was no longer standing guard at the gate. She'd mysteriously disappeared.
Shock, more defined than it already was, registered across her smooth, unblemished face. Swallowing her fear as best she could, she shut the window and turned around to find out what room she'd crawled into. She was in another bedroom. A teenager's bedroom by the look of it. There were dragon posters, a few of them from different movies, all over the walls. There were dragon lamps, an open drawer of dragon movies and games, and a dragon sheet and comforter set on the bed. Dragon statues lined the walls on every single shelf. Most of the posters were dragons in flame form. A room this modernized felt out of place in such an older styled mansion. As she continued on around the room, totally in awe that she was in a room filled with another obsession of hers, she heard something fall off a shelf. She searched the bedroom but noted that nothing around her had fallen. Using the famous process of elimination, she looked towards the closet.
She figured if there was anything in there, she needed to get it, before it got her. She reached the door, which was ever so slightly ajar, and silently gripped the handle. She counted to three and flung it open. As she did, she heard a terrified scream of fear. She covered her mouth and jumped back, almost dropping the lantern. She looked into the closet and didn't see anything. She summoned up the courage to go closer and as she did, she held the lantern out in front of her. There, in the back corner of the closet, hiding and shaking with fear, was a teenage boy.
Seeing him sitting there, terrified, made her mouth gape open in a mix of shock and confusion. She set the lantern down between them and sat on the floor. In the calmest voice she could manage, she spoke to him.
"Hello, my name is Lyra. What's your name?" She smiled her charming smile and waited for him to answer her. After a few minutes with him just staring blankly at her with his breathtaking blue eyes, she grew impatient and frustrated. She stared back at him and said, "Look, whoever you are, I'm just as scared as you are and I'm not in the mood for nonsense or games. I'm just trying to figure out what's going on here and find a way out. You look like a good guy and I think it's safe to assume you want out of here as bad as I do. It'll be a lot easier to accomplish all this if you give me your name so it's easier to talk to you. If not, I'm gonna find a way out and leave your ass here and who knows what'll happen to you. Comprendo?"
He looked at her and smiled. "Damn you're bitchy! Haha. The name's Trace." She laughed and stood up. She offered her hand to help him up and he took it.
"Look, I'd love to sit here and chat, but we really need to get out of here. So let's go." She tiptoed to the door and carefully opened it. She peeked around the doorway in each direction.
She couldn't see much, for it was still very dark. She stood quietly and listened. When she didn't hear anything, she turned to Trace and asked if there was anything nearby to use as defense weapons. When he said there wasn't, she frowned, sighed, and told him they needed to move, but she didn't know her way around the mansion. He thought for a moment and said he thought they should go left. She led, as she felt she should, and they were soon down the hall and at a door. She hesitated but silently gripped the brass knob and flung the door open. It was another bedroom. More done up than the other two but definitely not the master's. She waited for a reaction and when the room was quiet, she walked in and turned around. Trace closed the door and walked over to her, his shaggy blond hair fluttering around him. It reached his chin and framed his face handsomely. Lyra could finally get a good look at him, and she was pleased. He was several inches taller than she was, but he didn't tower over her. He was very skinny but built nonetheless and he looked like he was tan. It was a scrawny surfer look, but she liked it. She herself was a country rocker, and she thought their mixed up styles worked with each other fine.
"I know you must be confused as to why I directed us here instead of downstairs and out. There's the entrance, the only entrance, to the attic in this room." He paused and pointed to the square door above him. "From the window up there, you can get to the roof and the ladder that leads the ground by the back gate. It's a less obvious way out." Not waiting for a rebuttal, he walked over to the closet door and pulled out a tall step stool from the back. He placed it underneath the attic door space and climbed up. Grabbing the handle on the attic door, he shoved upwards and it popped off its frame. He set it off to the side.
"Do you need a lift up or can you lift yourself up there?" Lyra gave him the dirtiest look she could manage and stormed over to him on the stool.
"Let me show you how it's done." He smiled, stepped off the stool, and moved out of her way. She gracefully climbed onto the stool and once she had her footing, jumped to reach the edges of the opening. She got a good grip on the ledges and then, without much effort, hoisted herself up through the door and inside the dark attic.
Trace then made his way up and put the door back on. When they turned around, they couldn't see much at all. It was musky, fairly dark, and cobwebs disguised everything in a sticky tangle of mystery. Lyra was utterly fascinated. She started making her way through the attic, as softly as possible, and began rummaging through all the old things collected up there. Old records, books, antique clocks, and trunk after trunk of junk. She reached the other end of the attic and stopped. She was a whirl of emotions. She was scared, excited beyond reasoning, and shocked. There, in the darkest corner of the attic, lay the bed of her dreams. And her living nightmare. It was a large, black, open coffin. It was lined with expensive red velvet and gleamed when she opened the blinds to shine moonlight on it.
Trace came up beside her and tried to pull her away but she wouldn't let him budge her. Her eyes were fixed on the coffin and refused to look away. Her feet wouldn't move, and when they did, they brought her closer and closer until she was at the side of the coffin. She reached inside and ran her hands over every inch of it. It was delicate to the touch and it immediately soothed her hands. Before she knew it, she was crying and Trace was by her side comforting her. He was telling her that it was okay even though he didn't know what she was upset about.
This made her laugh and look up at him. His entrancing crystal blue eyes looked deep into her own and she gasped a little. She forgot what she was crying about and leaned into him. He held her tight and stroked her hair. Her head was against his chest, rising and falling with his every breath, and she could hear his steady heartbeat in her ear. It echoed in her mind, sending all things negative away in waves, until she was completely at peace. She was happy there, sitting on the floor, him holding her tight and keeping her safe. She relaxed and was now practically sitting on his lap. She was falling asleep in his arms, while he whispered sweet nothings in her ear, until she was jolted back to reality.
As they sat there in one another's' arms, they didn't know that their "intruder" was coming up behind them. He snuck right up until he almost stepped on them and threw a rope around them. Before they could register what was happening, he had them tied up and they could do nothing but scream. He soon muffled the screams with good old duct tape. The man picked the duo up with amazing ease and carried them out of the attic, past the bedroom where she found Trace, and into the master bedroom at the other end of the hall.
It was exquisite. Bold. Dark. Gloomy. Intricately designed red wallpaper and black velvet curtains made up the walls. Marble table tops and mahogany armoires were scattered throughout the room. A canopy bed with what looked like satin white sheets sat in the center of the room, and Lyra could only imagine the decadence that was the master bathroom. He put them down and disappeared into another section of the room. It was very silent. Too silent for an old mansion. Lyra heard a small click and looked down. Trace had a small pocket knife in his hand from his pocket. He started cutting the ropes and in minutes they were free. They stood up and slowly crept out of the room and down the hall to the spare bedroom once again. Lyra didn't reject Trace's offer of help into the attic this time and as they both got inside, they could hear the "intruder" coming down the hall after them, very unhappy. They hurried to the ladder leading outside and as they reached it, the "intruder" reached them.
Trace whirled around to face him and was sent flying to the side with a loud smack of the "intruder's" hand. He crept slowly, seemingly floating, over to Lyra. She couldn't move. She was frozen in fear. She had no idea who this "intruder" was, why he wanted her, or anything else that had happened that night. He grabbed her and hushed her screams, threatening her life if she made another sound when he removed his hand. She nodded her agreement and he removed his hand from her mouth. He instead tied her hands behind her back and carried her back to the master bedroom. She looked back towards the bedroom and attic and noticed that Trace was walking silently behind them. "Why isn't he helping me?! What's going on?!" She thought to herself, remembering not to open her mouth. The "intruder" set her down on the bed and walked over to Trace.
They talked in very hushed voices for a few minutes. After that, the "intruder" handed Trace a very big roll of cash during this exchange. Lyra looked on with a shocked expression on her face. She couldn't believe what she was seeing before her eyes. The "intruder" then walked into a different room and she looked at Trace. he walked over to her, smirking, then kissed her, and walked away, calling to her behind him.
"Bye. I had fun. How about you?" She didn't care enough to say anything. She was confused, upset, and infuriated. The "intruder" came out then, grabbed a chair, and sat down in front of her.
"We haven't properly met, have we, my darling? My name is Count Darzur. I already know who you are Lyra Actose. Look, I'm the kind of guy that doesn't beat around the bush..." He giggled then about something Lyra didn't know about. She didn't think she wanted to know. "So I'm gonna cut right to the chase. I am a powerful vampire and I've chosen you as my next meal. It won't hurt much. Just a pinch and you'll slowly die as I suck you dry." He laughed at his coincidental rhyme.
"You're probably wondering why I let you roam this mansion instead of grabbing you the minute you stumbled in. I like to play with my food. My parents never taught me otherwise. I followed you too. When you were going from room to room, I was behind you. I slammed the door when you were in the study. I payed Trace to do exactly what he did and bring you to me. Everything that happened tonight, happened exactly the way I wanted it to. Now, you stay here..." He got up and made her lay down on the bed, and he tied her feet to one of the bedposts. "...and I'll be right back."
As he walked to what she figured to be the bathroom, Lyra looked around. After surveying the layout and contents of the room, she noticed something. Not only were her hands free, but a scythe was hanging on the wall, just within her reach. She grabbed at it, but clumsily knocked it off its perch and it clattered to the floor. Darzur came rushing back in the room, and laughed at her for even thinking she could try to gain the upper hand against him. He kicked the scythe underneath the bed, where it was out of her reach, and climbed onto the bed. Her crawled over top of her and held his body above hers. Although she knew he was about to try and kill her, she had to compliment him in her mind. He was in great shape and had a beautiful body. He proceeded by moving her hair away from the left side of her neck. She obediently turned her head to the right and he smiled. The more he trusted her, the better. He started by smelling the length of her neck up to her hair. She fought against the urge to shudder. Then he slowly and seductively licked her neck. All over. The hairs on her neck stood on end and chills ran up and down her body, and this time she couldn't fight it. She quivered beneath him. For her next move, she only hoped the handle of the scythe was near the edge of the bed and in her one shot to move and grab for it, she prayed she would be able to reach it. And she hoped it was legit and was sharp and not just a decoration. Or she was done for sure.
Darzur continued licking her neck, moving more towards the front now, and having to angle his face more towards the inside of the bed instead of the edge. "Good... Less likely to be caught before I get the chance to make my move." She thought to herself. Her right arm hung loose off the side of the bed and her fingertips reached the floor. She felt around, trying to make as minimal movement as possible. Luck was on her side for at least one thing tonight. Within seconds, her hand closed around the handle of the scythe. Darzur used his outside hand to brace himself against the headboard behind her head, opening the opportunity for her body to move off the bed if she was fast enough. This was her shot.
She slung her body sideways, off the bed and out from underneath Darzur. Gravity pulling her body out from beneath Darzur tripped him and he was knocked off balance on the bed, and her body thudded to the floor, the ties on her ankles shifting around the bedpost, allowing this new position of hers to be somewhat easier. She yanked the scythe out from under the bed as quickly as possible and as Darzur was diving off the bed after her, swung it at him with whatever accuracy she may or may not have naturally had.
It made contact with his back. A beautiful and deep gash ran from rib to rib across his back. He screamed in pain and leaped off her, clutching at his wound, trying, and failing miserably, to stop it from gushing blood everywhere. Lyra took the opportunity to cut her feet loose, gather her equilibrium, and charge at him with the scythe once again. She raised it over her shoulder as she ran towards him, and just as he spun to face her, she swung it in front of her with as much force as she could muster. This time, it made contact with his neck. He was beheaded, and she was drenched in his blood as his body collapsed to the floor at her feet. She threw the scythe and bolted out the bedroom door.
Like lightning, she raced down the hall, down the stairs, and out the front door of the mansion. All the while, she was filled with a surge. A surge of power. Invincibility. She felt unstoppable. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, pumping so hard she felt they would explode inside her. She wasn't sure how she found it, but she didn't care. She soon crept up the walk to Trace's house.
His house was nice. Built like your average two story city house, it was white with blue trim. Cute shutters made the house look welcoming and loving. You'd never know someone like Trace lived inside. A small front porch guarded the door, but it too looked inviting. Lyra also suspected there would be an average sized back patio, complete with patio furniture, grill, and outdoor bar. It just seemed like it would be that kind of a house. Music blared upstairs and Lyra didn't need a rocket scientist to figure out that was his room. Luck was on her side once more. A tree grew beside his window, and Lyra loved to climb.
Perched on the branch near the window, Lyra's blood covered face and soaked clothes, blended in with the night. All that could be made out was her eyes and her smile, now more demonic than the vampire she'd just murdered. Trace had fallen asleep to his music, and somehow Lyra wasn't surprised to see he was a metal-head who could pass out to obnoxiously loud and intricate instrumentals and screeching voices. She transferred herself to the window sill and gently slid open the window and crawled inside. Just in case this didn't go exactly how she wanted it to, she closed the window behind her. It just wouldn't do to let him escape. Her eyes adjusted to the darkness and she surveyed his room for anything of use. A roll of tape was on the floor near the desk and Lyra eagerly snatched it up. She clicked on his bedside lamp and leaned over his sleeping body. Her face was no more than a foot from his and a few drops of Darzur's blood fell to his forehead from her bangs. She spoke to him in hushed whispers, saying only his name. After a minute or two, he finally opened his eyes. The second his focus kicked in and he figured out what, and more importantly who, was above him, he tried to scream. She jumped on top of him and muffled the screams with her hand so she wouldn't suffocate him. That's not how he was going to die or how she was going to kill him. It was going to be painful. Slow. Brutal. Her way. It would be fun too. To murder a traitor. The person who gave her to a killer. She would teach him a lesson, and he would pay with his life.
Lyra taped his mouth shut so she had use of her hands and then dragged him downstairs. Most houses in this neighborhood had basements, and it didn't take long for Lyra to find it. Down they went. A chair leaned in the corner and Lyra set it in the center of the room. A lamp hung directly over the chair, similar to an interrogation room, and rope was coiled in another corner. She grabbed the rope, sat Trace in the chair, and tied him in place. Then, she started talking to him.
"I'm pretty sure you know why I'm here Trace. It's obvious that your plan with Darzur didn't work out. It's also obvious that he's dead. I killed him. As you can see, I'm drenched in his filthy blood. Now that I've confirmed what miniscule thoughts were buzzing in your brain, I'll get to my point. You see, Trace darling, you crossed a line. A big one. You got me to like and trust you, and think you'd keep me safe and out of harm's way, and then you handed me over to a killer. You double-crossed me. And no one, I mean NO ONE, double-crosses me and gets away with it. Not while I'm still breathing. So what happens now? In this room? Alone and secluded where no one can hear you scream? Trace dear, I'm going to kill you." A maniacal laugh erupted from her chest and the look of shock and terror on his face, made it all the better. The hint of admiration on his face was the icing on the cake. Even when he was moments away from taking his last breath, Trace still proved to be the typical guy, mesmerized by a woman who was beastly enough to take down a man.
"Your pretty little face is going to hell! Hope you like fire! Mwahahaha!"
Giggling like a school girl, Lyra walked over to the work bench latched to the back wall. She surveyed the "weapons" of choice and chose three. A drill, a nail gun, and hedge clippers. She untied Trace and shoved him towards the wall, holding the nail gun up at him like a revolver. He froze where he was and she shot four nails. Two entered the edge of his pant legs and the other two pinned the sleeves of his shirt. All those shooting range visits with her father when she was younger paid off. Trace was terrified, to the point of wetting himself, but was in no pain. Not yet anyway. Laughing at him again, Lyra walked over to him and removed the tape from his mouth. As expected, Trace immediately began cursing at her, and in return, Lyra turned every ring on her fingers upside down and slapped him across the face with all the strength she could muster. Every ring left a bleeding cut upon his perfect face, made even more prominent by the welted duplicate of her right hand on his cheek.
Using the nail gun once more, Lyra shot nails into Trace's hands and feet, making it impossible for him to escape. She assumed that when he calmed down, if he calmed down, he would simply rip his clothes and run for it. Although a chase could prove entertaining, Lyra was in no mood to hunt him down tonight. No longer having use for it, she set the nail gun down and moved onto the drill. She ripped his shirt down the front and then ripped it from the nails in the wall. His bare torso and flawless skin glistened under the light, sweat beads forming all over it. Drill in hand, Lyra got to work. She used the drill like an over-sized tattoo gun, and used it to carve his skin. Morbid as it was, Lyra produced her best piece of artwork in his flesh. Dozens of lines and swirls wove around each other across his chest and stomach. Trace screamed the entire time she was carving, and the more he screamed, the happier she was. She showed it too. The biggest grin lay upon her lips, shining bright against the blood dried all over her face. Lyra chose to finish Trace off by doing a little "surgery". She undressed him and picked up her hedge clippers. Large and sharp, they were perfect for what she intended to do. She lined them up at the top of his groin, where it was the most sensitive, and in one fluid motion, slammed the handles back together, completely severing him in one slice. His blood-curdling scream almost broke her eardrums. She was now done with him. Castration complete. The clippers clattered to the floor and she stared up into his tear-filled bloodshot eyes. They still held their beauty, but no longer held their magic for her anymore. She kissed his blood-splattered lips and walked away, calling to him over her shoulder.
"Bye! I had fun! How about you?" His shriek of agony was the perfect answer. Accomplished and proud, Lyra climbed up the stairs, out of the basement, and out the front door, leaving Trace to die alone, as she felt he should. She cut through the grass and was soon on the road. A trail of sticky blood followed her every footstep. For the second time that night, she was drenched in blood. She was now headed home to clean up and go to bed. As for what happened to Sylvia? She may never know. She wasn't worried about it now. She was now a cold-blooded killer. No more life of playing nice and getting by. No more silly adventures to quell the curiosity of a young mind. Life had just drastically changed, and Lyra welcomed it with open arms. And she actually enjoyed it. Every second of it. She had won against the evil and walked away from the eventful night, unscathed, as a new unstoppable woman. And she was content.
Last edited by Euthisa on July 13th, 2013, 6:46 pm, edited 5 times in total.
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Euthisa
♥ Euthisiastic ♥
 
Posts: 185
Words: 134477
Joined roleplay: May 18th, 2012, 5:43 pm
Location: Wind Reach
Race: Human, Inarta
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[Euthisa's Scrapbook] My Own Kind of Crazy

Postby Euthisa on July 13th, 2013, 6:47 pm

My Theme Song

She carries memories around like souvenirs down in her pockets
She should have let some go by now but can't seem to drop it
Says forgiveness ain't nothing but a lifeless tire on the shoulder of her soul
That never rolls

For as much as she
stumbled she's runnin'
For as much as she runs she's still here
Always hoping to find something quicker than Heaven
To make the damage of her days disappear
Just like Guinevere



Last bumped by Euthisa on July 13th, 2013, 6:47 pm.
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Euthisa
♥ Euthisiastic ♥
 
Posts: 185
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Joined roleplay: May 18th, 2012, 5:43 pm
Location: Wind Reach
Race: Human, Inarta
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