The Forgotten Children Part 2

By the time he could remember he had his two sisters with him and no father or mother to speak of. He knew who they were, but they were of no interest to him, having never really made contact with them.

Tears almost fell from his dry eyes as he made remembered his sisters.

Helle and Jormugandr, were the only beings he had ever cared for in his life. Even in his state of being forsaken and disgraced, he thought of them. Jormugandr was a thin and tall being who would always find a way to get what they needed to survive; being crafty and well spoken. He remembered times when she would find him in pain and whisked it away with her eloquently devised melodies with their slithering verses. He had always loved to hear her speak because she was never patronizing like the gods of the past.

Helle was definitely the most cheerful of the siblings despite her almost stern looking smile. He remembered that she would constantly joke at how the different realms were constantly in turmoil and how she would rather be in Nieflheim, the frozen hell like land. It was true that all of the realms were always squabbling over themselves, but they knew that it was a jest.

He stared into the light of the candle and the darkness which pervaded the bottom of the silver holder. He stared at the flickering flame and felt no warmth from it. The light was deceptive.

He remembered the day they were separated from atop a mountain. The wind was light and whistled softly from between the cracked boulders covered in moss. They were forced to walk between the most powerful of gods at the time as they trudged along, barefoot, up the winding gravel path to the summit. They didn’t know where they were being taken.

His mouth frothed with rage as he remembered what happened at the “zenith of the world” as it was called. The elder god halted the entire party and motioned Jormugandr towards him. She had no choice but to obey. He remembered how both he and Helle tried to stop her and how they found that they were already magically shackled. He remembered her, only a foot away from the god, turn back slightly to look at them for the last time. He remembered her eyes. He remembered… her eyes and the sorrow they carried with them. And then he remembered the rage which he felt when the elder god grabbed her and tossed her into ocean.

Why is it that a person will be censured for harassing someone verbally in public, when it isn’t okay for homosexual members of society to marry.
Personally I think society’s taking away of the right to marry for gays causes more emotional and mental pain than verbal abuse in public.
—  Verosatchiel- Not quite understanding the priorities of society
Poetry is not my strong suit...

Poetry is not my strong suit.

So what is?

Maybe the tuxedo I was wearing during that one wedding?

Or is it that one thing made out of rings?

What do they call it? Ah, Yes chain mail.

I put these ideas into my head through a sort of rail system,

and then I think thoroughly through the throng of ideas

which approach me like a roach via train.

I examine and find salmon as well as other sorts of smelly things.

The putrid smell caused most likely by my acidic and rancid puns.

I think on and I find my strong suit as well as my strong card.

Spades, Ace high.

Unsurprisingly, I lost that game of poker despite my stalling.

Are you happy? No? Didn’t think so. I won’t let you. Not until you become rich. Not until you screw everyone else over. No No No. I won’t let you go until then. But then I will leave you when the only things you have are tangible.
Then You will be truly alone.
—  The voice in my head (The American Dream)
The Funeral's Arcana

It was raining upon the dull little mound of a hill. The grass was limp with the weight of water but still seemed to be dying by deprivation. Random patches of graying grass were all over the hill like a bad case of small pox. 

Under the heavy rain the dark procession proceeded up the hill to bury the newest member of their deceased. As they walked up the winding path which took them to the final resting place of their brother they let their tears fall from their grieving faces and unto the puddles of nature’s tears. The boots sloshed through the tears and finally came close to the resting place of their loved one.

Among the procession there was a younger man holding his head down to hide his tears. He let the rain drench his  black suit, he did not care, he had lost his father. The man who had given him life. The man who had helped to raise him. The man who helped him in times of need. That man, was no longer there for him. The tears flowed freely down his sleepless face, dripping off of his chin. Pain pervaded the entirety of his chest, he had trouble breathing under his circumstances. He didn’t want to be there.

Nature cried along with the procession except for different reasons.

An unaffiliated sermon began to take place on top of the meaningless mound where the young man’s father was to be buried, his father was not a man of any specific religion. As the mundane sermon went along the young man held his head down and began to recollect the last moments he spent with his father.

It was during the end of fall when he last saw his father in the house he was raised. He remembered how he sat in his bed with the windows open, letting the cool breezes of fall take him in. His health was already declining by that time and he remembered the fear of losing his father. What his father said to him when he voiced his fears crawled back to his mind. “Don’t worry, you’re fine” He wondered how his father could be grinning at him from ear to ear on his deathbed. It didn’t make sense to him.

It was winter now, the rain had been heavy for the past few days. The sermon was over now and most of the procession had already began making their ways to the bottom of the hill. The young man stayed there, in front of the grave, staring blankly into the stonework. He wondered what the funeral was for. It didn’t do his father any good, he wasn’t there anymore anyways. He let the rain hit him for longer. Nature wept. “It’s for us” muttered the young man, reaching his conclusion.

“It’s for us” he raised his head. The rain had stopped. He thanked his father in his mind for all he had done for him and turned to make his way to the bottom of the hill. Spring was on its way.

[Title not yet developed]- chapter 3-Verosatchiel

From the ceiling a table came crashing down like an anvil in some cartoon and luckily for Rin, did not come falling on top of her head, like a cartoon. After it hit the ground there was very little of it in one piece and whatever was on it ceased to be whatever it was.

“Ummm. Sorry I forgot which button raised things out of the floor”, muttered 000,“ Here, listen to some of this jazz I found lying about on the internet”.

“Things don’t lie about on the internet…” replied Rin. The jazz started to play after 000 said something along the lines of “smart ass” in the background.

The jazz was surprisingly good. Lots of piano and trumpets but the thing that made it nice was the very sexy tenor saxophone playing constantly throughout the background. Rin didn’t listen to much jazz so she found it quite interesting to listen to something new.

The music cut off and a table rose up from the ground.

“Hey guess what?”


“I found the button”

“Oh thanks, next you’re going to tell me that you shut off the music. Huh?”

“…How did you?”

“Never mind, what do you want from me?”

“Oh right. I need you to push the E key in front of that rifle”

Rin looked at the table and sure enough there was a rifle. She proceeded to walk in front of the table and then she stood there and wondered: what the hell does she mean by push the E key?

A keyboard came out of the ground from a sliding trap door and came up to Rin. Oh okay, thought Rin, and she reached out to tap E.

“Wait wait wait wait”


“You have to push the E key to use the keyboard”

Utopia Complex

Everything was calm on the beautifully made city streets. Everything was clean: the sidewalks, the lampposts, everything. The trees swayed magnificently in the soft, cleansing breeze. The people who walked on the streets were healthy, beautiful, and pure of heart. Simply put, everything was perfect. Everything.

A young man opened up the window to his apartment, overlooking the serene grace of the streets. He placed his chair next to the window and stared at the beauty which was the society he lived in. His eyes glistened with tears as he rest his head along the sill of his window.

The breeze caught his hair and gently pushed it to the side of his face, away from his eyes. He let himself take in the view in all of its beauty. In his mind all he could think of was just how perfect the world was. Just how perfect everyone else was. Just how perfect he was.

Perfect. Everything.

He sat back into his chair from his perch at his window. He thought about the future and what it held. Perfection. He knew what to expect. Happiness. Perfection.

He closed his window, his eyes wide open and he grabbed the gun he had on his desk and put a bullet through his head.

The Diary of An Antagonist

Date- Day 1

Dear Myself,

I’ve sat down for the first time to write in you because there is a need for me to formulate my plans TO DOMINATE THE UNIVERSE. MWAHAHAHAHAHA!! Well, I don’t have a plan yet. But I will leave my plans written down in the most obvious of places: MY DIARY!! They will never expect me to hide my plans in the most stereotypical of places. Reverse psychology I think they call it. I will place fake plans all around my room in order to create false trails as well! Like that giant pancake machine which will drown an entire city in pancake batter which cooks in daylight. (I actually really liked that idea, but it was too expensive to buy all of those damnable eggs) Nevertheless, I have formulated several possible ideas which will lead to my eventual ascension to becoming the emperor of the UNIVERSE!

1. I shall place giant, mutated, man-eating plants, which I synthesized a while ago by accident in the lab, on top of the desk of several dignitaries and shall have them digested within the acidic traps of my plants!!

2. I shall dress up as that meddling protagonist…Superma…wait, no that’s not it. I forgot his name. WHATEVER! I’ll dress up as him and I will cause havoc throughout the world, defaming his name. After I cause all of these damages I will rain explosives onto those fools as they keep that dastardly protagonist away for me.

Contingency plan- The giant pancake batter machine or just rain explosives on everyone from the start.


Countess Eris

Countess Eris! Countess Eris!

Lady of strife.

You wreak confusion upon

All those who live a merry life.

You hide them from their families

You steal their very names.

Your fame precedes you

I know you cannot be tamed.

Countess Eris! Countess Eris!

Don’t deceive me

Please I repent!

I shan’t do another evil thing

Just don’t make me sing

Your insane jail song!


-On Eris the goddess of strife and discord

I Know You're There


I walk through the hallways occasionally

Remembering the feeling of the floor

Where I used to rally my toys together

And have an all out war.

I look into that room

I remember sleeping there once,

I remember how you helped me indirectly.

I never realized it until now.

I look to my right

The bathroom

I still can’t go in there.

I remember I used to use it all the time.

But I still can’t go in there.


I will transcend my fears one day

and I will come to terms.

You lay here once

And in my cowardice I would not look upon you.

I still can’t go in there.

But I will again one day.

And I will remember that you are still here.

Despite my blindness

to my fears.


I know you’re not there

Where I can’t lay my foot

But I can’t go in there yet.

I know you’re there



I can get to know you better

Next time.

Because I know

You’ll be there.


Insanity...not there yet.

Oh so once upon a time I was being crushed by the stresses of reality. I began to panic and my mind began to tumble into the void of true insanity. I saw a possible light away from my problems and what I saw was not pretty. It wasn’t suicide, what’s the point? It wasn’t run away, I’d just be forced back. I saw something that would force me out of everything it would make me into something which if caught would cease to exist. What I saw was murder. Brutal murder of all those that I trusted at my own hands. Not those that trusted me, but those who I put my trust into. Why? To destroy my feeling of safety, my background, my environment, everything. I would have no choice but to escape from reality by continuing on.

Fortunately I didn’t take that choice. It wasn’t in my interest and I was very worried about myself for even thinking it. Freud would be proud of my superego of titanium.

Woe to those around me the day I stop thinking.