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I edited some of the parts. It was scary. How much I expected you guys to know without telling. So much mistakes. the names, the simplest mistakes. You can choose to read again, but it's alright if you don't. Because as the story develops, and the chapters increase, you may forget the mistakes :p and understand afterall. I inserted a break (-----------------) between change of characters. In the past I hated it, but I did so for the ease of you guys ( because there is two entry that uses 'he' all the way consecutively, and I fear you may misunderstand), and may chose to remove it at a later point of time. sorry!!! I will continue editing for now, new entry by this week xx.

pardon and give me few more weeks, (I'm trying to make an impt decision in life) x_x

Twisted 0 Dream X

A grey hue, the sky spoke it's ash burnt pain.

Nonchalant humans equipped with masks, invisible to the naked eye,  brought them the perfect combination of air. They snorted gayly in the neon coloured city, made for the rich and only the rich. Heavy metal built the bridge, the bridge that only the wealthy sees. Zanovievr choked heavily as he reached the end of the bridge, another life revealed. He stretched for the mask. Ah. It's been long. Long since he made his way here. Lifted by the high ranking officials and the cruelest thief, the richest black trade masters, fancy hats of pure diamond and gold greeted him. He was after all a blue-blood, acknowledged by the Queen herself. Money was like the air around him, it would only choke him. Demons of all kind were kept in cages, robots were outlawed since the last decade. They were too easy, to make or destroy. Too easy to manipulate, too weak, too slow compared to pure DNA.The beastly creatures were fast, some ugly to the core, some too mesmerising. Many humans attempted the illegal act to induce such DNA in their bloodstream but became a demon themselves. These humans, the YSTREAM humans, owned detestable yellow eyes, too mellow to be seen, were a failure and held no control of themselves. The never ending pursuit to create the perfect demon was the downfall of many. Demons cultivated from all kind, often betrayed their masters, yet their power too great to resist. Sold at different prices, Zanovievr never bothered with these demons, he never needed one.

He was one.

One of the rarest success yet the greatest failure.

He was near perfect, but held mutated DNA unwanted by his creators. He was to be disposed of, but went unnoticed. Even managed to get the coverage of a noble's family, one that saved the last century's King. Life was too easy for him, too boring. Death entertained him, but it soon bore him. However, to be lucky or perhaps unlucky, he found a girl that once knew his mother and that boy ... that served more than an interest. He had an aim in life, for now.

"Argh." He winced, a low whisper.
He wore black eyes, contacts that evaporated off by the seconds. He would replaced them ever so often, just to gain less attention in a city of demons. It would had been too easy to be identified if he was careless. The facade made his face soften, less cruel, more humane, almost cute, yet like a broken doll's, it was frightening.

The city was silent. There was no casino there, there was no theft, it would had been the so called perfect society. No human went behind their words, hence no deals were made, only purchases of demons.

A lurking angel guides the city. One that disobeys would not be seen, and if seen, would be the greatest nightmare unfold.

not completed, this is an entry of appeasement. To fulfill my promise ( don't kill me) I will continue or scrap this if i wish. I know it's not thirty first in my country, but I hope it is in yours, and that I've yet to break my promise.

Twisted II

The mission, the soldeirs and aristocrats blind by wealth, Zanovievr understood.
But her father ...?

Those kind eyes, Zanovievr could not comprehend.

Why would a girl whose hands, never stained with blood, spoke such death with such determination.
A reason of forced marriage and foolish politics for all these bloodshed?

Zanovievr was bored, very bored. He did not felt the need to help this lady, or to lay a finger in this matter. He could perhaps sprinkle some money to get the matter done.

One thing did however aroused his interest, the demand of the death of the red-eyed boy. The boy that held the colour to his void eyes of white, the boy whom was supposedly god, the Killer pair.

 Kryon and Kleo.

The one that was flawlessly perfect in the eyes of the scientists.

Scientists whose hearts worst than beast, whose research based on destruction instead of restoration. He would take the mission he knew, the bracelet in return, would be his. He could not stand the bracelet being held by an ordinary tainted lady. Such beauty, such eyes, such grace, she was a disappointment to held a heart black discording with the aura she held.

" Let's pray my senora or should I say my dear mother? That the lady you kept held some purpose, or of course I could give her one, " The wind gushed, "to be on my platter." his words as ivory as his eyes.

copyrighted. no republications, editing, similarities. the novelist is currently doing her best to continue this. stay tune and for more info on disclaimer etc. http://www.en.says.it/

Special Diary I (special )

Dear Diary,
my child whom I called a monster,
is just but an experiment failure.
Nevertheless, I believed that he is of potential,
of greater strength than the corrected one.
The days my womb served his growth,
I had became mad.
What immediately reasoned, was the child.
But I was wrong,
I was a growing demon myself.

twisted I

" ... kill them "
the words echoed in her mind.
She yearned their death, like a child, ready to make a din just for an ice cream that probably only cost a buck or so.

" Kill them , leave no one behind." those were the words that hung in the air, Clover's request.
That was the exchange between Clover and Zanovier.
Cruel words said by a kind blueblood which frightened the terrible soul of a living dead.

She was no different from her father, she knew.
But she had changed, and she knew it.

There was no going back.

red departure VII

The pursue stopped, yet seemed endless.
He was safe from others but not from himself.

With his right eye flickering red time to time, memories of non-existence reoccurred each time as he closed his eyes. Traumatic encounters, the abuse he had, those memories somehow did not felt the worse.



It was another dawn.
Spectrum decorating the morning sights, seemed to dance and laugh, laughing at him.

He slowly eased as a beautiful video played in his mind.

Clover.
 She called out to him, "Trefford", his name, yet not the one that truly belonged to him.
Knowing that, he would not let go of what would make the last of him. ah.
He was being selfish, for he knew that was the only thing that would kept him going.


Who and what exactly was he?
His mind ached for more recollection, the hurt gushed as he screamed.
.
.

Deep in the forest covered with magenta, shrubs even seemed to thirst for his blood.
Attempting to leave the forest would only be foolish.

Foolish, but the only option.
Pain was his comfort, for it was always with him.

Overwhelmed by hurt, he did not realise the fresh liquid dripping down his mouth with pleasurable warmth.
With memories that served him no use, he was unharmed yet poisoned.
His veins turning purple with time deprived of exigencies of life, oxygen.

Death was almost too certain.

He fell onto the damp cold floor of green, delicate among the wilderness - weak, as creatures of the wild sighted him.
Glowing eyes that eyed his flesh, vultures nearing him, pleased for their next meal.
His right eye burned ember, as blood seemed to flow endlessly forming a pool around him.
Like wings of a butterfly.

His hands dugged into the ground as he struggled to breathe, losing his senses once more.
His mind fluttered and flew away.

copyrighted. no republications, editing, similarities. the novelist is currently doing her best to continue this. stay tune and for more info on disclaimer etc. http://www.en.says.it/

red departure VI

Zanovievr coloured himself red, a knife held in his hands.

That day his mother left him, her face vague, a blur image of a pale-skinned maiden with long wavy hair plated bronze.

Her mother was always fearful, frightened of something unknown, but revealed with time.
Him.

He never had a father as told by his mother.
He thought it was a metaphor, that their father betrayed them in one way or another and left.
But it was as plain as it lay, it was a fact. His father never existed.

He was a failed experiment, a clone of a dead person.

Implanted forcefully onto his mother, inflicting sufferings of hell.
He grew at a monstruous rate, which almost brought her death.
Though no longer in her womb, his existence haunted her mentally.

Hate existed, yet it came along with love.
She brought him far away upon the dictate she received, the death of the newborn child.
Taught him the basics of life till she cried her eyes swollen red and disappeared.

He hated the mastermind of his existance, he was a disaster.
Bringing him to existence so that he could be disposed of.


Yet.
It was a pity they did not pursue his disappearance.

Disposing of him now would almost be too gulible.
.
.

Presposturous.

He lived for the day he lay the blade on them, before laying the same fate to himself to relief his mother's dead soul.

But there was another reason now, the red-eyed boy and the connections of the blueblood. He was complied by it, like a blood sucker on his skin, watching it as it takes your blood bit by bit.

copyrighted. no republications, editiings, similarities. the novelist is currently doing her best to continue this. stay tune and for more info on disclaimer etc. http://www.en.says.it/

red departure V

 -----------------------------------------

"It must be him!" Zanovievr roared with anger yet ironically with what sounds of a laughter, entering the unknown door of his house, sensing his butler giving him secret signs, a visitor.

Without words, Zanovievr picked up a knife, ready to blow the breath of death to the foolish soul whom had seek his existence. He had gained pleasure in seeking fools with the pretext of a wealthy kind man, but recently it became a chore

Well he was wealthy, but he was definitely not kind.

His butler stopped him.

"The girl, if I'm correct wore a bracelet owned by the consort." The butler spoke with his ever ready grace.

Stung by words, his ivory eyes burned, could it be?

He entered the room to be greeted upon a sight of a beauty, her pale face contrasting to her golden hair, pink lips.

She certainly let her guard low, he thought. Despite he had not enter with an attempt of silence and even coughed for his arrival , the lady slept with peace.

The bracelet, it belonged to his mother.

Silent tears wept, yet unknown to every soul.

"Miss." He spoke with an attempt of waking her.

Her dreamy eyes blinked, revealing her azure eyes and what seems left of a innocent soul.
Unknown to him, she was kind and brutal at the same time.
Upon the sight of a charming man whom seemed cursed with a pair of ivory eyes, she excused herself immediately out of the bed with utmost grace.

"You must be Zanovievr!" She spoke with joy, her voice revealing her journey.
Suddenly aware of her manners, she apologised herself.
Several thoughts washing her mind, planning her every movement.


He nodded. He wanted to ask her about the bracelet, but anyone would know any better than to reveal their weakness. He asked of her purpose to only be more certain that she had connections with his mother, she was after all a blueblood with ranking close to his family's.

"What makes you think I'll help you?" Zanovier whispered to her ears, his voice nearly sneering.
The gentle act was dropped in a blink of an eye, like an illusion.

Stunned by his actions, she sensed the real situation she was in.
No amount of contemplation would remove her from the unfavourable situation.

Clover gambled away the last chip she had, her connections with an unknown family.
A wrong mistake, revealing their sacrifices and
death, but careful enough to leave the important details out.

Zanovier nearly trembled, despite his mature composure and looks, he was of similar age of Trefford.
To be revealed of his mother's death in the speech of a stranger's was almost too much to take.

Zanovievr excused himself.

copyrighted. no republications, editing, similarities. the novelist is currently doing her best to continue this. stay tune and for more info on disclaimer etc. http://www.en.says.it/

red departure IV

He dodged each incoming bullet .
Innocent trees, taking the blame of hurt.

Bleeding, it was not the pursuit, yet the creature of woods.

With a blur image in the shades of green, he was almost elegant.

Agile, fast and at glance, almost powerful.
Yet every step ate into his bare bone body, leeching life away.

The nerve of pain detached.
The hazel eyes, glowing with an empty scarlet.

Tearing every piece of wilderness that hindered his way,
Crimson dripping with delight. Footsteps stained of cherry blossom.

A grin that did not belong to him grew along his cerise lips, a devil's.

Pathetic, his mind laughed.

The assault had failed, he was far and safe.

A pity, he wanted to challenge death.

The glow softened, but the conscious mind would not return as he lay limp against the tree.

KRYON.

The words burned in fury.
a bundle of personalities fought in his mind.

Drifted by fatigue.

Sights of gore returned, black, red and breaths of death.
These were people he knew he wanted to demise.
But why?

Their hollow cries haunt him.

"YAHHH!!!" He heard a scream all too familiar, awoken by it.
A memory that envelops him with despair.
That scream in his dreams,
was his.

copyrighted. no republications, editing, similarities. the novelist is currently doing her best to continue this. stay tune and for more info on disclaimer etc. http://www.en.says.it/

red departure III

Sounds of nature, in its fastest speed.

Chlorophyll colouring his skin. Trefford ran as branches happily tore what's left on him like a playful kitten devoid of toys.
He was running away, his memories unclear.

This had happened before, it was all too familiar.

The scent, the overwhelming fear have start to replay, like a cassatte of past memories playing with a screen of void.

His eyes mad, he was running away from a fallen man that stung of blood, whose presence was almost death.
Why was he there? Who was he?

Trefford memories was twirled up in a hurricane, sucking what's left of him.
White noise filled his mind.
Unclear of his existence, his purpose.
He had forgotten the most important thing.
Himself.

And this, was the second time.

A sound came faster than the running footsteps of a desperate, it was silent, a bullet.
With a sheer struck of luck, it missed the heart of Trefford, only to struck a fallen leaf.

He was no longer afraid, another monster than death ate him. His eyes coloured ember burning, as if to stay forever.  As the ember fades to what's left of a dull soul.

copyrighted. no republications, editiings, similarities. the novelist is currently doing her best to continue this. stay tune and for more info on disclaimer etc. http://www.en.says.it/