A Grand Total Of Eleven Sentences

According to some mythology, we are all half of a person. Our other half was lost to us at birth and hidden somewhere on this lonely planet. We spend our lives looking for this other half, this soulmate, so that we can finally become one whole being.
I knew she was my half the first time I saw her. She was more than beautiful. She was perfect in every way. She was everything I wanted and all I needed.
All I have left of her is a faded photo. It's creased and battered, but I can still see her face. She's smiling at me and I smile back. I'll see her quite soon.


.....I wrote this quite a while back and now have no idea where I was going, so I'm going to leave it as is and if the idea comes back I'll finish.

A Novel Idea. haha punny... (updated)

Here're some ideas I was having. They've been floating around and I want to scrawl them down. Some of it's rubbish, but altogether, it might be interesting.

• You know the gangers from Doctor Who? Or the Cylons? If a person is killed, they can regenerate, download, into a new body. That's the Cylons. The gangers are similar, but they eventually become separate entities from their originals. They can morph forms. Kinda nasty.

gangers

cylons

• Stuff happening on crazy other planets. Like Pandora or whatever Alien and Prometheus took place on. Planets that are large, scary, and unearthly, to be totally cliché. 

Pandora

Alien

• We had a lesson in G&T today about love. Here's a snippet. If you had a really close friend named Aleksander and suddenly an evil magician came down and killed Aleksander and almost instantly replaced him with a perfect replica of Aleksander, right down to emotions and memories, would you love the new Alek or would you mourn the old one?
• According to Plato, the new Alek is the same as old Alek, and so nothing is lost. New Alek reflects the same beauty as old Alek, has the same skills, the same memories, the same feelings. nothing is lost or added.
• But we still mourn old Alek, do we not? Most people reject Plato's idea here. 
• So, the idea is replacing people without replacing people.

I don't know where else to go from here. I'll come up with it at some point. Have a lovely St. V's day. I'll tag all stuff related to this "Rayner." Don't worry about the meaning, just go with it, s'il vous plait.

Ok, new stuff

• Political scandals. Bill and Monica. Laura and Richard. In the office late at night...

Laura and Richard

• Places in the middle of nowhere. Wyoming. Just kidding. Places like Grace's lab from Avatar. Very concise and compact.

Silver and Diamonds

Moonlight flowed over the snow, turning the hilltop to silver and diamonds. The diamonds were reflected in the sky, where cold stars looked down from black velvet seats. The stage below them was free of trees and perfectly crystalline. 

A man stood dead center, his shadow dimming the diamonds behind him. He wore a thick wool coat and a warm fur cap, but he shivered as though a north wind was knifing through him. His boots creaked as he shifted from one foot to the other, breathing out clouds of gossamer.

Graphic Novel- update

I just drew some stuff out. It's going along the lines of "there was a storm warning or something, they've been underground for three days, they come back up and their world is actually a laboratory experiment."

3 pages?
 maybe....

Full Spectrum

"There must be some way out of here," said the joker to the thief. "There's too much confusion; I can't get no relief." - Brennen McCreary, All Along The Watchtower

I don't see the point of sleep anymore. I know the scientific reasoning, but artistically, adventurously, there's no point. I'm seventeen now, and I'm only twelve. I've spent a third of my life submerged in the blackness of dreams.

I've been living more, staying up later, and it's wondrous. It's like someone tinted my world Prismacolor. I think it's letting me go free.

Now there's always a beat in my blood. Drums, strings, and flutes roar in my ears, and colors are dancing at my fingertips. I tell myself I want a science-math major, but it's hard to believe when I'm trying to sit still in calc. The music in my head is screaming for me to dance, spin, jump over the desks.

Someone

It's like ice on her skin.
Burning with a fierce passion.
She aches with the pain,
Curls further into herself,
Seeking warmth and relief from the burning.
Her fingers burn
As though her skin is finest kaolin.
A cough escapes,
And a slow breath out counters
To no avail, as it
Transforms into another cough.
She twists away,
From herself,
The world,
The ice and burn,
Into the cold.
More burning,
And she falls into herself again.
Her breath-noise fills her ears,
Loud,
Raspy,
And then suddenly silent.
The world is ethereally silent,
And she opens her eyes.
Moonlight falls like a silver snow.
Stars gleam like dew in the sky.
There is a cool hand against her forehead,
Softening the burning inside.
It is there for
A moment,
Eternity,
Just long enough
To bank her fire and stop the kaolin ache.
A voice calls to her.
She answers, but there is no reply.
Just a feeling of
Someone.

Delphiniums

She stepped into the crisp fall night. It was dark, far past midnight, but she couldn't sleep. Her lover had left months ago, but the pain was still as fresh as a new cut.

Eglantine rose, symbolizing a wound unhealed.

The weather was still warm enough to keep hard frost at bay, but not for long. The days were cool, and the nights cold. The trees had dropped their leaves. The more timid plants had already curled deep into themselves, and let pale browns wither and dry their leaves and buds.

Oak leaves of strength.


Her feet moved of their own accord, carrying her across cool, pebbly dirt and into the large garden behind the house. The last of the summer vegetation brushed her fingers, slowly numbing them. A dainty evergreen slipped along her thumb, and she paused. She twisted a stem of it between her fingers, broke it, and held it tight.

Rosemary for remembrance, my love.

A voyage across the world, to the far East, was the reason for separation. Educational purposes, supposedly. Love of variety, truly.

China asters for fidelity and the love of variety.

A perfect representation.

She carefully trod through the shriveled roses. They shimmered with a dusting of the thinnest frost. During the summer, they had grown rampant along the trellises. She could look out her window and see a vibrant palette of roses. They all looked the same in the moonlight now, seeming as dark as sorrows or bright as silver.

Black roses for farewell, crimson for mourning. White roses for innocence, yellow for friendship and apology.

Her innocent lover never knew the pain departing caused. Didn't need to know. She kept it to herself, since, after all, there would be a reunion.

Fir, meaning time. Almond, promise. Heliotrope, devotion. Primrose, eternal love.


The lover would be back. Returned to her side in less than a year. Full of new sights, smells, experiences. Spices, silks, and the great souks of the Eastern markets.

She turned down the next row of the garden. The herbs by her hand were the sturdiest of all the plants, often lasting long into the winter.

Fennel for strength.

Her lover was the strongest person she'd ever met. In fact, that was part of the reason for her love. Not physically, but spiritually, mentally, morally. Standing up to what was wrong, heart upon sleeve, and colors flying.

Holly for defense, orange lilies for passion, and lotus for eloquence.

She began to hurry past the last of the plants, racing her memories.

Apple blossoms of perseverance. Pink carnations for friendship. Delphiniums, able to transcend space and time. Fidelite pink carnations. Mallow, forget-me-not, lime blossoms. Freesia, marigold, rue.

Periwinkle for memories. Snapdragon for strength. Yarrow for heartache.

She stepped through the door, slamming it behind her. Flowers pelted the wood, herbs scented the air.

Fidelity, love, faithfulness, hope, regret, desire, change.

"We will be together again." The house was silent around her as she climbed the stairs to her room. The bed sat in the corner, its covers strewn wildly. She lay down, pulled the blankets high, and held her pillow tight in her arms. "Together."

Just outside the back door, a sprig of rosemary lay in the dirt. It was slowly turning silver. The frost crept across its thin needles, gleaming in the clear night.

Remember.