12:12

Twisted III

2012-02-21T01:34:00.000+08:00

"what a beautiful doll"
Vibrant water turned stagnant at the touched of those blue lips. Zanovievr gently dappled across the boy's lips, his arms around the new found "doll".

The doll was a like a doll, the eyes now opened yet deadpan.

"I thought you would die." Zanovievr sung, playing with the limps of the boy, lifting his hands and waving them, as if of a puppet's. The doll was like a doll, the eyes would not look straight at anything, although void and empty, its beauty spoke a certain melancholy about it. Pitiful and lonely. Mysterious and fearful.

Zanovievr was bewitched.. He had cast aside all his aims and forgot his devoid. He was behaving like a human, a regular human.

His head tilted, his silver hair dusting his forehead, his pupils dilated with every breath he took within the boundaries of this doll.

The doll was stale. It was rotting. Its beauty suddenly drained, the remaining color bleached black.With eyes still open but gone.

Zanovievr awoke from its spell and kicked the doll. Disgusted at the frail demon and his obsession with it. He had came to the city for a purpose and this boy had wasted his time.

The doll awoke.

Twisted III

2012-02-20T00:22:00.000+08:00

"Beautiful demon for sale!! Sure to get you back what you paid!" A fat man all dressed in suit, like a little dumpling about to burst out of the steamer piping hot croaked. Sweat dripping down his double chin, he plastered a wide smile across his face. He looked hideous and could be mistaken for a demon himself.

Zanovievr took a glance. Ah, the sound and smell of ugliness. Oh the humanity.
The naked boy with his face hung low, lay limp in the metal cage which barely fitted its content. The skin of the boy battered and ugly, how beautiful exactly is that? Zanovievr laughed. Oh the words that man speaks, indeed, only those homo sapiens could speak of lies so easily. The propaganda that spreads in all form of media, he was used to it, but never would he thought in a city with the revered angel would had people blatantly lying in the streets. He would be killed. He felt pitiful for that man, ah pity? Wait. He held no emotions like that. He changed his contacts as the lenses vaporised with such swift movement as if he had merely touched his own face.

The fat man as though felt his distrust, move forward and addressed Zanovievr.
"Surely, you would want to come for a closer look before you judge." His eyes piercing. He kicked the cage as it rumbled and turned. Turning along the boy who now had his back laid crushed onto the metal ridges to the ground. Indeed, despite all the scars, he was stunning, and beautiful. Although too tattered and battered, he held the tenderness and beauty any living thing would desire.

However, the boy's eyes laid close, as if he died, if not for that slight movement of his chest.
Zanovievr although amused by the life of a stunning creature, stared at the man critically. Surely he too would desire the boy? A mere man would not dismiss a beautiful creature like this. For centuries, human had always been fascinated by beauty and would do anything to get them. As time ran and disappear, man no longer see reason and did everything for their own selfish desire. If not for his detachment and his different source of life, Zanovievr would had did everything to purchase this boy.

Zanovievr was not curious enough. He walked away.
The fat man seemed shock, and ran to him.
"Never mind the price, you can have him." He shivered, that fat man whom a moment ago held confidence was now shacking, as he passed the keys to Zanovievr before stumbling away.

Zanovievr shrugged. For amusement, he opened the cage as the boy fell out. Like a succubus, the boy had seduced the demon despite merely being a sleeping log. The body although as if burnt from the deepest depth of hell held a certain charm about it. A charm so overwhelming, a choking charm. It then came to his senses that this boy must be a demon too. He caressed his face and was deeply fascinated. What a find. He kissed that blue chapped lips as he sling-ed the boy over him.

I would do something to make the last entry the first so you can read in order, meanwhile, make do. sorz.

!

2011-12-12T22:16:00.002+08:00

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

2011-11-01T22:59:00.001+08:00

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

2011-02-07T23:13:00.007+08:00

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 )

2011-02-07T22:33:00.000+08:00

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

2010-12-15T00:55:00.003+08:00

" ... 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

2010-01-03T14:43:00.046+08:00

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

2010-01-01T01:13:00.038+08:00

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

2009-12-29T12:17:00.016+08:00

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

"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.

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red departure IV

2009-12-14T23:10:00.011+08:00

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.

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red departure III

2009-12-13T22:56:00.008+08:00

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/

red departure II

2009-11-26T00:04:00.014+08:00

----------------------------------------------
Bells were ringing a melodious rythm, humming each passing second with a vibrant sound.
Time was lost in an unknown dimension, it's existence mysterious, yet had marks all over the place.

Clover was told by the aids of kind women and men found in the bustling streets to seek a house that lay slightly beyond.

She was almost withered, but she had made it there. It was difficult yet she thought it was surprisingly easy.
Somehow she thought she get murdered on her way, her eyes dug, blood boiled, her intestines made as decor, hanging by the streets of Christmas.
A smile grew by the corner of her lips, slightly distorted.

She gazed at the house, it was not honorable. It was pathetic in a way that it smelled of common air. The rich men she was told about lived in a house of no difference from the commoners.

Can he really help her?

Her money had dwindled significantly so was her spirit. She gasped as she knocked the door, a hollow sound within. An unknown bewitching her as the door was thrown open, the place was beautiful.

"Can I help you?" An old man dressed respectfully, seeming to be a butler, spoke with much composure.

She opened her mouth, with words trapped.

"I seek your master, Zanovievr. " She attempted once more, successful.

He nodded than proceeded to apologise that his master is not in, with that he gestured her to the guest room.
Clover was pleased . He was not in, but yet at least she was not denied a meeting, she merely had to wait.

With such grand decor, she almost thought the house would lay hidden rooms and stairs. It did not, but the place was not to her disappointment, curtains embroidered with gold, a chandelier that clearly reflected with colours of violet.

The place was enchanting.

The bed seemed to lure her, the comfy comforter with its violet silk almost mocking at her clothes. Pillows piled up, everything seems to be just right.

It would be so rude, she thought.

She finally succumbed to the comfort of the bed, after-all the butler did tell her to take a rest.
She allowed her mind to drift, allowing any danger that wanted to befall.

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red departure I

2009-11-21T01:34:00.028+08:00

It was Christmas eve, a day before jesus embraced the earth only to be crucified later.

A day where people celebrated this cruel irony, hearts filled with warmth like wine and beer in glass.

Wearing the reflection of a demon, his heart was long devoured as he left Trefford behind.
The demon that never loved others, only Kleo. Bore with hatred and grudge, like blood staining his soul.
He was not sinful, he was a sin.

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

Trefford eyes flickered red once more, like the day he left Clover. However the ember did not subside only to grow with pain. He was depressed. He felt manipulated. His trust stepped upon and crushed.

No one loved him.

Perhaps he was, that time, that embracement of two aching souls. That time he found his identity. Anguished once more, he realised he was perhaps already seen as a substitute that day he thought life had changed. He pitied himself as he laughed, tears trickling down his cheeks, licking away the salted delight.

It was a clear dawn, no signs of a storm, Christmas was going to be beautiful.

Even the snow was subtle.

Somehow, he expected the snow to be blood-stained.

Trefford walked on, almost too afraid to make another step. He was cowering with agony, when pain was too much to bear. Shivering with every step, he stumbled and fell.

Everything was against him, he held no place.

A plague of black, melancholiness ate him.

Stoked and amused, he had tripped over a ghost, a ghost with ivory eyes.

He moved, kicked the ghost as he laughed, choking on his very own saliva.

Suddenly, the ghost awoke, and stared with twilight eyes.

Zanovievr would not ask for help, he rather die. But that boy, with glowing red eyes, could it be?

His mind ached, those eyes, it must be.

With what's left of him, he manoeuvred quickly towards him, a knife wielded in his eyes.
"Who are you?" the words burned fiercely.

Trefford stared at him blankly, those ivory eyes seem to be frightening yet important memories.

Energy was no longer with him as the man fell.

Trefford fell along, siting beside the ghost of his heart, staring at the void of darkness, his soul lost as cold wind brushed his broken skin.

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/

the crossword puzzle part VII

2009-11-08T00:14:00.012+08:00

"Kryon!" A beautiful face lits, affection written all over his amber coloured eyes. His silken skin nearly ashen in the brutal blizzard .

The moon bled through the nebulous break between the doors as Tyler entered the broken house, a fading light.
Kryon, was his real name.

Kleo was petite, his hair similar to those of Kryon's, mesmerising. His fuchsia lips met Kryon's as he hugged him with glee. Almost hanging on to him as Kryon moved to close the door, blizzard was gushing in.
Shaking the dim light that hung in the process.

"There there, " Kryon gently pushed Kleo aside. Kryon was his brother. Perhaps more. Both abandoned by their parents, orphans. He played a paternal role even though they were not link by blood. He cared for him more than himself, more than anyone. Kleo meant everything, the world, if not more.

"Here." Kryon lips curled to find a smirk smile, nearly conceited.
He revealed what seems to be a normal box of pizza, what was more disappointing was that it was not even of medium size.
That however, brought rainbows to Kleo, brightening every inch of his face with pure ectasy.

Kryon did not eat, he watched Kleo devour every single piece of it. Kleo was all he need.

Kleo glanced guiltily at Kryon upon devouring all the pizza. Kryon laughed and patted him on his head, a hidden manacle between them.

Fatique filled his stomach. Kryon had been doing odd jobs for several months, it was not enough to keep him going. If not, both of them. Taking night jobs to earn secret keepings. He was a trained assassin adopted along with Kleo by a devil.

Kryon often rebelled in name for light in return of gashs, did endless labor instead. They were never taken care of, only to earn of what they could not keep.

Adopted for pure monetery means, Kryon for his strength and Kleo for his charisma.
Even the pizza was exchanged with blood.

Their master returned shortly after. A hidden storm aching for destruction.

That fateful night that Kryon could not bear the vitiation impaired on Kleo and the desecration that awaits, he ran with him. The night that he was not human, his eyes malachite. The night he killed the devil, defiled Kleo with the sights of gore.

The night so fearful that he lost Kleo in the admidst of crimson death.

Kleo's body was not there, not a hint of him was at the scene. Envidence of him vanished, like he never existed.

Kryon led a life of a wanderer before he returned to be a hired gun in this ominuos winter. A year had passed, yet not along with the agony of Kleo's unknown fate. He no longer see reason in moral. He adored death. If Kleo truly died, he wanted to anger him and drag him out of heaven, to accompany him in hell.

Now Trefford with the looks of Kleo lay in front of him, his heart that he had lost was found, He burried himself with self-dellusion. Yet he was Trefford. There was nothing that spoke of Kleo. That great resemblance, yet never a single inch of Trefford's face was similar Kleo's.

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/

the crossword puzzle part VII

2009-11-04T17:04:00.009+08:00

The bond between them was forged secretly, a brotherly love, a kindness between two strangers.

Tyler would not hurt him.

Trefford smiled subconciously, brightening the dark mien that seperated them upon the sight of him.
He was assured. He trusted him, even though every thoughts of his opposed it.

He felt sore, the hurt that he had obtained from his father. It gradually eased with rest and distraction, Tyler.

Tyler tugged him by his arm, pulling an unwilling soul which proved to be futile.

"Hurry, come." Tyler spoke with much urgency in his voice, he urged to carry him away but part of him told him to show some respect to this delicate being.

Helplessness depicted in Tyler's emerald eyes in which with time faded back into a kind shade of chestnut brown. He stood there, pained.

A time of blank occurred.

Trefford knew it was not a time to question. He followed him, his heels sore, catching up his breath with Tyler's quick paces.

With time falling like a waterfall, they came to reach an evergreen forest, haunting with its beauty of green shades unknown in winter.

Unseen by Trefford, Tyler's eyes flashed jade. Embracing Trefford for the third time, his tears moisting his face in the cold.

"Kleo ... Kleo." Tyler mumbled with his delicate lips, distinctively red against his pale skin.

Trefford was stunned.

He never experience love nor adulation, he never expected to have it, but neither did he expected this. The thoughts tormented him, affliction all over him.

Trefford was hurt. He long suspected it, the sudden affection from a stranger. The conflicts of Tyler's behaviour. He was a substitude.
Tyler did not see the pain, as he wept on. Bringing barrows of pain onto Trefford.

He would be abandoned, Trefford eyes burned with tears.

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

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the crossword puzzle part VI

2009-11-03T01:33:00.008+08:00

The palace had a cold demeanor but yet was almost a haven of warmth, enfolding each individual and phantom.

Sounds of wild was muted at the very second they entered, another dimension.

Tyler advanced through the hallway, crystal windows that appeared translucent. Beautifully bright, yet light did not enter. A prism playing with lights of a chandelier burnishing colours of rainbow.

He had a mission to accomplish and he was close to it.

"I've brought Trefford." Tyler appeared to predominate at the sight of a lady whose eyes were of translucent brown resonating those of the burning flames, contrasting her skin of ice.

She was imposing, fierce yet small, almost fragile. Her hair black and glistening, she was pulchritudinous and almost too lonely.

"Kill him," She said, her voice smiling. Her mellow rose-coloured eyes, fleeted with bliss for that moment. "I've seen him." She grimaced, looking through the crystal windows that Tyler was sure was opaque.

"Kill him." She repeated, her melodious voice filled with vile.

Tyler appeared confused, his hands trembling with anger. "Then why the trouble of bringing him here?"

She laughed, as if his voice tickled her.

Momentarily stunged by his own action, realising his feelings had gotten control over him. A mistake he had never made. He knew, that this trip was the typical trip just to confirm the goods before disposing of it. Yet he ... Tyler excused himself as he ran with much haste, agility speeding him up. His eyes illuminating with green. He was not human.

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/

the crossword puzzle part V

2009-11-01T20:15:00.010+08:00

Blur of white flourished the window pane as the train travelled on.

Clover sighed, vapors condensing on window glass.
The leaves of fall had been covered by thick layers of snow, with withered trees finding beauty within it.

It was Winter, the frozen tears of lovers.
Melancholiness filled Clover as her heart ached out for Trefford, she was nearer to what she had thirst for, the exigencies of her life, yet ironically further too.

Zanovievr, a guy whom she does not know. Will this guy help her with no strings attached?
She doubt.

Her heart pondered, anxiety overfilling her. Angushed with mental pain, her mind throbbed as she dropped her glass of red wine, overflowing a tinge of red onto the white tiled floors simultaneously. She had made it this far, with the sacrifices of her loved ones, she could not give up, she was not entitled to.

She gazed at the white as the train traveled on to her destination.

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

He awoken to a new surrounding, yet he was not bedeviled. He knew Tyler was the reason.

"Trefford, come." Tyler voice sang, alluring the soul of a lost.

Suddenly, blood rushed through him like a shot of epinephrine. How did Tyler knew his name? How could he not notice?
Dismayed, he analysed his position. He did not know how he had came here, he did not know where he was at all.

He was vulnerable.

The beautiful creature, snow, only seemed to add more detriment. It was just a reflection of white everywhere, there was nowhere that he could elude.

Abruptly aware of Trefford's fright, Tyler embraced him once more. Led him by the hand as they travel towards the direction of void. A palace starts to piece into image, it was a fairytale.

Painted with a vast of gold, only to be revealed as true gold in closer sighting. The palace was huge, almost endless. Towers after another came into sight. For that moment, bewilderment filled him, replacing fear altogether. The warmth of Tyler's hand, this pair of beautiful hands, was fair. Yet even snow could not compare to its beauty, as his hand brought comfort to Trefford's unpretentious world.

The ground he stepped on was no longer snow, it was reflective and even vibrant of colours, it was crystal but through further notice turned out to be diamond.

Whoever that built this palace was madly rich. Trefford thought.

Tyler released his grip of his hands and walked hurriedly ahead, bringing consternation to Trefford, leaving him behind.

Why was he brought here? His name... he only got it a few days ago, how could Tyler have known?

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/

the crossword puzzle part IV

2009-10-31T21:28:00.018+08:00

Through the sorrowful memories, he overcame the fatique and distress.

Pulling himself, like a log towed by a mouse, he came to the main street with all sorts of people hurling vulgarities at one another, most almost close to violence.

Dressed in a white overall with two large pockets that he kept his hands in, he was cold-blooded yet beautiful as he caught sight of Trefford, his hazel hair glimmered sinfully for a man.

"You." His voice murmured in the wind, sending chills down the back of Trefford's spine. Trefford glanced up at him. He was feminine but yet too charming to be mistaken for a maiden. Trefford's eyes quivered as he tried to stagger himself up tall, almost falling in process. The pain intensed, but it seemed to had came from the heart.

The guy was lean, strong yet lanky as he gently carried Trefford up like a puppy before he held him stongly towards his chest while Trefford struggled, carrying him away despite his puppy calls for help.

He was carried to an elegant room, gruesome decors, with the sight of knives stained with blood and equipments of a murderer's crashing in painful frights. He was placed on the bed but was too afraid to even breathe.

"I love you." Trefford caught sight of a card placed at the side table, mislayed in the piles of frightening French words of which he could not recogonise.

"To my brother, Kryon. Love,Kleo." He read further on. Kleo, it must be his brother, Trefford thought to himself.

Trefford placed his eyes on the unknown, who is he?

"Tyler. Your days here are short, so ... you might as well enjoy." The man in white overall whom now calls himself Tyler spoke in a soft velvety tone as he scrutinised Trefford, dangerously passionate for the look of a stranger's, answering silent thoughts of Trefford's.

Trefford looked shyly away, before fright gave him courage to look at Tyler again. Kryon, is that not his name?

"Kleo." Trefford called controlled by his subconcious mind, his eyes with a sudden deadpan. He was afraid of the surroundings and the man that now lay in front of him.

Anger was shown, as the man's teeth bared and his hands flashed in a second on Trefford's chin, holding his face up towards him. The force applied was nearly enough to break his neck, before he soften and grew apprehensive, a weakness in him.

Tyler liked him. Not in a way of a homosexual's yet terribly wrong. It was more than that. He was black and white at the same time.

He kissed him on the forehead gently and hugged him despite Trefford's pathetic attempts to decline the abrupt affection.

Even if it was just a moment of heat, Tyler was harsh as he pushed Trefford against the wall and punched him.

He looked away and apologised before leaving the room. Leaving Trefford in greater despair. Kleo was important to Tyler, Trefford was sure of it. He was almost ascertain that everything about Tyler was a lie.

But ... why? Thoughts gushed through his mind like a bullet train before mental and physical hurt starts to eradicate. He needed sleep. He was in an abstruse danger of which he did not knew.

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

Clover waits upon the platform, as a train arrives. She boards the train. The doors closing behind, leaving no apologies to the ones chasing upon it. She was close to her objective and she needed Trefford.

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/

the crossword puzzle part III

2009-10-29T20:28:00.005+08:00

She was alone but her soul was not.

She was devastated yet she was effervescing with shrill delight.

She had never experienced what many had thought as a magic word, love.

Betrayal, deaths and manipulation numbed her.

The only thing she felt was kindness bestowed by a family who tried to save her from the madness of the war. Yet in return, she could only repay them by death.

She was blond, born with a british accent, yet never did she thought that she was a true blueblood.
In a world filled with poverty, this news did not come along affirmative. It was catastrophic. Her parents had searched endless for her, killing several people in process. They did not find her for kinship, for adulation, but merely politics and power. They needed her for alliance, marriage.

But now she was sure that her life would not end with an apocalypse. Now that she had found the magic, the regalement for life. She found him, Trefford. And the simple joy of acknowledging his existence, soothed the agonising pain of the lost of her god brother.

Trefford, the name echoed in her mind endlessly, like ongoing ripples of a vast sea. Disrupting the peaceful yet dreadful occurring thoughts to be abscond of the future that lay in front of her.

She was searching of a man by the name, Zinovievr. A man related to her godmother, a man known for his ruthless ways for overtaking companies in the stock market. He was known to be unkind, but she needed his help. Hopefully, with the relationships of her godmother, he would aid her to go against her parents, to free her from them.

"Go by the golden river of North, and you will reach a bustling city known for gold. Seek his help... Zanovievr." Clover recalled the altruistic words of her godmother before her death, never once did her godmother blamed her for the death of her family, before her deathbed.

She had clung on to these words like precious diamonds, the only hope she had. She had travelled far, taking odd jobs on the way. Yet, the aura among the humans were unkind. She had to frequently leave her jobs and fight for her own diminutive pay. Luckily, the humans were foolish as none had recognise the mine they had found.

She had made it this far, and she would not give up now.

Not now.

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/

the crossword puzzle part II

2009-10-28T23:11:00.006+08:00

Trefford had a liking towards Clover, however he did not identify it as love.
In a world of his, love never existed.

They both shared something in common, the love that's lost. Within exchanges of short words, Trefford figured out the words that went unsaid. The reason, that an angel could be found in hell.

Trefford was grateful to her kindness as he bid farewell, he had to go, he was almost Cinderella..

The lovebirds, vibrant of colours seemed misplaced in the forest as they chirped and sang in a place that screamed hell.

Clover picked a flower, which seemed almost too beautiful in a forest so defective and placed it into Trefford's hand. She smiled embracing the last momment they had as she began to leave.

Grace followed her, she was simply stunning no matter where she was or what she had that hangs on her angular shoulders.

He knew happiness never lasted as he begun to leave, not bothering to cast a glance at the fading sight of her.

Pain stroked him.
Perhaps he wanted her.
He needed her.

No. He needed to be strong.

No... Not just strong. He thought.

He had to be rich and powerful to have her, to bring her away from her sufferings... He need to bring more fear than her parents to save her...

He was determined, for that momment as if darkness coloured his eyes, a flick of red flashed in his eyes.

His journey had begun and yet he needed help.

"Damn that bastard!" A seemingly large man dressed in black suit yelled, fury written all over his face.

His dusky coloured eyes and his overgrowned moustache gave him a distinct figure, people knew who to go when they needed a good deal in the black market

"Just cool it ... " A lady dressed in yellow overgrown, spoke nonchantly as she cleans the Uzi machine gun that was recently popular.

Trefford walked briskly on his way home, his mind clouded with various thoughts. He had found a new purpose in life and things would not be the same.

A flash of white washed the dark sky, little droplets before a heavy fall of rain occured.

What a perfect excuse to be late. Trefford heaved a sign of relief, before he shook his head. No, he is not going to live on his life like this.

Even if rain could still be used as an excuse, he was terribly late and his father, the man in black suit would not take it.

Upon the sighting of Trefford, the man said no word, he pulled him to the back alley and slapped him.

He tore whats left on his rawboned body and slashed him with a pen knife that he always had with him. Blood scattered but it did not pacify him. He continued to abuse the boy, as sounds of pain filled the alley.

He was helpless. There was nothing he could do.

He groaned with pain as he was abandoned at the back alley. He tried to stagger his way out, yet he was too weak.

He lay by the back alley, hopping perhaps a kind soul would help him. He was unsightly, yet people who interacted with him, never failed to notice the genial smile of his, and the hidden pretty face under all those markings.

No one helped him, neither did rain. With salted water rubbing against his wounds, he lay there heaving. Since young, he was abused. He did not like nor dislike his father, for he had not treated him well nor killed him.

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/

the crossword puzzle part I

2009-10-21T11:18:00.011+08:00

She had frozen eyes, eyes so cold that would not melt, she had pierced the soul of many, bewitching them with the charm of a maiden.

She was beautiful and lonely, her snow skin burned in the sun with glorious pride like of a refurbished city.

She walked alone, yet she was well sought after, and love is not what she finds.

"Clover." she was called, a name of luck yet never obtained.

She turned as she did her golden hair sparkled with wind in her hair.

Clover... the only word she had heard before her foster parents were brutally killed by the soldiers.

Heartless creatures who had lost their souls.

She smiled, it was her god brother. As she did, he died in front of her.
Her loved ones was always lost.

A bullet was in his heart and in a moment of lost, she hid with tears overwhelming her.

They were still finding her.

She was a blueblood, an aristocrat. And her true parents seek her. She was bore by a murderer, that could only see wealth.
Hatred and agony filled her, her existence was a cataclysm.

If words could describe, it was lugubrious.

Like a worn out toy, she was tattered and sore but yet it did not contain her beauty.
She was like an aurora in the night that would not be missed.

She lay by the pond far from the searchers, crying into her own reflection. A fair lady with a pair of beautiful azure eyes, her complexion clear, distinct yet with a touch of tenderness.

He saw her.
He was the exact opposite, his father tortured him to a life worst than a slave, he brought the bread home yet was never respected.
His skin burned in the sun, but unlike hers was with pain and sorrow.

Different from others, he did not want her beauty, he did not even held a tinge of envy of her. Those golden silk and stones? It was all worthless to him, worse than dirt.
He pitied her as he laughed at her sorrow.

Clover was shocked, but not only that, she was angry. How could he laugh upon her brother's death?
She however did not know that a stranger upon the sighting could only see a blueblood in rags and nothing else.

She threw a stick followed by a stone at what she thought was a shameless slave out of nowhere.
She had thrown lightly for she had meant no harm yet he had yelped in pain.
Now she was concerned.

Clover looked at him, before slowly approaching him like a cat meeting a dog for the first time.
For once, the two different worlds approached, and time seemed to stay.

He liked her but not for her beauty, as he saw the pain that truly hidden, he apologised.
The hatred was washed away with a simple apology, as she grew more concern why he had hurt this way.

The distance had brought coverage and now that she noticed the scars on his face, torturous wounds on his body. It was almost akin to witnessing another death.

She could not bear the pain as she hugged him, calling her brother's name.

The nameless boy who was only called by "hey you" when his father was feeling kind.
When worst, the names were discriminating.
Even his mother before her death had yet to call his name, so much so that he had forgotten and took her godbrother's name for his.

He acknowledged his new name with a slight smile of his.

"Trefford..." Clover whispered. Whispers that cries in the wind, echoing through the emptiness of the forest that was brutally victimized by deforestation, deprived of its green.

Clover called the name of her godbrother once more, which now belongs to the boy, bringing tears to her face.

She had fallen in love, and she was not going to loose it.

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/

epilogue

2009-09-28T22:53:00.015+08:00

I like to thank everyone who I requested to read this and did (including my adulterer. Inspirations: Terence yew, Leong Jia Yu, the morning. My friend who reads it all, Xun yi. My sister and dog, Lim Yi Chiew and Pretty. ), people who bypass this and came to read again, including Kong Jia Sheng.
Everyone who read this but respected this work and respected the disclaimer.
For respecting my copyrights of no publishing for commercial, editing. For not using this source for your own work. Only republishing in a non-commercial way credicted with at least font size three with no editing and with permition is accepted.

And one person who really went great lengths to help me to check and such ( like an editor but I'm not sure what an editor does ;b), Dennis.
And the person who advertised at great length for me, EUGENE :)

Thank you all, much appreciated!

Any doubts please contact.

Thank You :)

*note that date is edited to make this the last post