Saturday, 11 September 2010

Brought to you by Dead or Alive 4 (can you tell :l )

You stand atop one of the many skyscrapers defining the city's skyline, long hair dancing on an unseasonably cold wind. You subconsciously clench your hands into fists, stomach twisting slightly as the thing before you begins to fully materialise.

It is you, in every way that matters. Your skill, your knowledge, and from the looks of things it is quickly analysing your looks to take as it's own. A changeling, a shapeshifter of some kind. You watch as your own expression morphs into a sickly grin, showing far too many teeth. It steps forwards and you fall back into a defensive stance. This, at least, is one thing you understand; this is a kill or be killed situation, where the prize is getting to leave with your life.

You feel your lips turning upwards into a smile of your own as it rushes you, dodging a probably fatal blow to the temple and countering with several rapid-fire kicks to the temple.

It manages to evade all but the last, and how lucky for you that you've saved the best for last, and you send it flying towards the edge-

The creature stops just before, flipping upright and...floating, at least six inches off the surface of the building.
You feel momentary surprise before the excited anticipation hits. This, this is what you've been waiting for all this time. Your smile widens. The best kind of opponent for you, after all, is yourself.

Thursday, 9 September 2010

On dreams

I am in a dressing room. The walls are a deep blue, lined with velvet curtains. I appear to be backstage in a dressing room; am I a performer waiting in the wings? I am unsure.

I look at my hands, the skin prickling. They are covered in lumps, perfect domes of translucent skin. I stare, transfixed as the skin pops and ruptures, leaving nothing but a black hole. I bring my hand closer to my face in curiosity, pulling away with nausea and disgust as bright orange fluid wells up inside like magma.

I find my face turning upwards to the mirror before me. I am dressed in the same material adorning the walls, blue velvet flowing over my skin like water. I run my tongue against my teeth, probably some sign of my oral fixation or maybe not, but what distracts me is how my teeth move, wobbling in their foundations like milk teeth. The sense of nausea intensifies as I push harder with my tongue and the teeth move more and more.

I hear a soft 'clink' as one falls from my open mouth into the sink, red droplets falling swiftly after.

I wake up.


A mix of two recurring dreams I've had. The hands one was from my childhood, and rarely pops up now. The tooth one isn't as frequent lately but I can count on it showing up in my sleep when I'm stressed. Damn my obsession with perfect oral hygiene haha

Things I've Noticed...

Looking over my writing.
  • Most of my dialogue is pure sarcasm.
  • Most of my female characters seem to have the personality of Cid Highwind.
  • Awkward, awkward romances.
But mainly the second one, dammit.

Not sure if I have words...

So. It all starts with an innocent suggestion. 'Let's go to my house,' Nate says, 'it'll be a right laugh,' in that posh accent of his, and, well, it seems like a good idea at the time. Go to Nate's, have some drinks, go out, have some more drinks and then have a wonderful multitude of options such as over-drink, pass out and wake up on a drip at the hospital OR over-drink, go home, pass out and wake up with your head on the toilet seat sat in your own vomit OR over-drink, go home to someone else's house, wink wink nudge nudge and wake up in the morning feeling like you've been hit by a truck, rolling over and finding out that the beer goggles were on damned tight last night.

What actually happens is that we go to Nate's house and since his parents are out for the week and someone has good connections, two hours later finds us stoned off our faces, laughing at absolutely nothing. There's a monopoly board in the centre of our impromptu circle, which means fuck all really because at present I don't think any of us can remember what piece we are, let alone whose turn it is or what the actual rules are.

By this point I'm still in the room, not floating off in my own subconscious, though I'm only half aware of the rather embarrassing fact that I'm falling to one side whilst sat cross-legged, giggling to myself. I'm also growing steadily less aware of the fact that Nate is laughing as well and his fingers are massaging my scalp. I'm about two seconds away from purring at the sensation and for a moment the startlingly sane thought that my hair will be an absolute state after a while more of this crosses through my head.

Of course, the most annoying thing about this kind of situation is that all sorts of little secrets start worming their way out of my mouth, one hundred percent due to the fact that I physically can't stop talking. They're mostly innocuous but occasionally a priceless little gem pops out, and then the others refuse to let up on it.

“Seriously? Oh my god...I had no idea you were a rug muncher, Maria...” Nate says, cueing the most girlish giggle I've ever heard from Craig and Landon, though I'm not sure if it's the term 'rug muncher' or Nate's posh accent saying the term 'rug muncher'.

“Guys, she likes...guys...” Jazz says ever so eloquently, displaying just how absolutely tanked she is. “Not like, just girls...” Darling girl, is Jazz. I love her so, and declare it loudly to the group.

“So did you do it with her?” Craig asks, wide eyed with wonder, followed by an overly curious 'did you see her tits?' from Landon and I roll my eyes.

“'m not givin' you guys wank material just 'cos you've no experience with women.” If I were of sound mind right now my eyes would be rolling in their sockets at my slurred words, but to be fair Nathaniel's hand is still running through my hair and now it's less 'back of my mind' and more 'pleasant distraction'. It probably doesn't help that now I'm sat down with a risk of falling over onto him instead of the floor, either. There's a delayed yet affronted 'Oi!' which could be from either Craig or Landon, but I don't care any more. My eyes are closed and the world outside my mind exists only as a blur of sound and Nate's hand, slipping from my hair and trailing down my back, eventually wrapping around my waist and drawing me close to him.


Shivering, I pulled my arms across my chest, wishing not for the first time that I'd brought a second fleece because clearly one wasn't enough, despite the many layers I was wearing underneath. I was absolutely freezing, though it shouldn't have surprised me much; we had long since passed the boundary for the Arctic circle, and were now well entrenched within it.

At least I had a hat. I didn't want to think about how much pain I'd be in without it.

We stuck to an ill-defined pavement, so much snow covering the ground that it was hard to tell where the pavement ended and the road began, and the blizzard really wasn't helping. Carla and Craig were bickering behind me, though it didn't sound like anything too serious so I wasn't too worried. Adjusting my goggles, I sped up my pace a little to catch up with Ermine, who seemed to be the only person who knew where we were going.

“Heading to a car park,” he said, though how he expected to find it in this weather was beyond me. I almost hoped we were going to drive the rest of the way because it felt like the cold was beginning to seep into my skin.

“And how the fecking hell are we gonna find that, then?” He laughed, not taking my tone too seriously. It was mainly because of the cold; it seemed to trigger some kind of switch inside me that was labelled 'foul mouthed temperamental bitch'. I'd managed to tone it down over the course of our journey though, thank god. Even I got annoyed when pretty much everything that came out of my mouth was a variation on a four letter word beginning with 'f'.

We finally reached a gap in the wall we'd been walking by that led to the car park. I had no idea what time it was; the sparse scattering of street lights were lit, as were the headlights of the cars passing by, but that could have been due to the blizzard more than anything. Which, I noted happily, was finally letting up to a light snowfall. The clouds above were the typical thick grey covering, tinged an icy green. They looked dark, like the sun was close to setting, but that could have been due to the orange glare of the street lights, and even if it wasn't, that narrowed it down to possibly any time between eleven at night and five in the morning.

It was Wednesday, that much I knew. We still had a week and a half to make the deadline thanks to the sheer luck that resulted in us getting this far so soon.

All we had to do now was find the right car, the one that our group's key would open. According to the instructions we had been given at the start of this, our next set of supplies would be there, and we would be required to take the car with us to the next checkpoint.

my first post!

i said it before and i'll say it again, i will monopolise the name albinopunkfish!!

this blog's mainly gonna be for my original writings, in depth looks at my dreams (weird stuff, seriously) and anything that catches my eye that day! :)