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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Harmonious_Echos

Quill-Bearer
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Everything posted by Harmonious_Echos

  1. This makes me giggle! And also kind of reminds me of Synupier... where is he, anyway? where is everyone???
  2. Methinks this is where Muse has been hiding. Don't worry, I'm not jealous--I don't mind sharing her (to a point!). Just tell her she has to tickle me too once in a while!
  3. JoyFall It starts with a whisper of comfort a hint of warmth a hint of rosy color a surge of an active peace painting just a touch of life into an age old picture then, listening a faint jingling of chimes and bells a silvery, heraldic ringing in my mind; building up, not chaotically, as disorganised and beautiful as an ocean's swell then Splash! my eyes are opened to catch a brilliant flash of beauty, out of the ordinary day, suddenly the diamond fractal shines true; again, and again, there, there! I catch my breath as the miracle of creation presents itself to me. The music within a thundering symphony bringing tears of humility and awe; Then fades again to the soft ringing of the bells the scent of a loving mother's embrace sweet sunshine on the dew yes, this, this is Joy.
  4. Also, in response; the view from the perfectionista's side... Pass me by You who are my friend, (You make me laugh, on days that are gray If you would stay my friend, (When you see me, I will smile) Don't pause— Don't stop or look deep into my eyes Don't pause Don't try to lift the mask on my face Because if you look beneath You will not see anything at all, I am a hollow, empty, breathless shell, Of what I used to be, in The days when I was truly me.. You who are my friend, (A bright flower in the desert of life), If you would stay my friend Don't—don't pause— Pass me by
  5. Harmony-goat stares at herself in the mirror for a few long moments, thinking to herself that she's rather pleased with her appearence, after all; the dainy black hooves, long smooth face, sharp horns, and spotless white fur coat...yep...not bad. Could've been worse. A rather refreshing change from the usual elvish child-like face with big brown eyes & long blonde hair. She might even stay like this for a while! She spots Muse in a corner of the room, making low growling noises & buzzing slightly, with flashing electrical discharges; She waves her tail at her merrily as she trips by, nodding her head to some unspoken tune. (Muse sulks in a corner, shocked & frustrated at Harmony's amusement & tolerant acceptance of her transformation.)
  6. Hooray for the obsessive perfectionista! Poor girl needs a reality check...and a good vacation. She sounds a lot like me. LOL
  7. "This Thyme, Zest, I'm gonna have your top!" yelled Pumpkin Spice from the Upper Rack. She'd had enough of Zest dumping Pepper over whenever she went out for a sprinkle. Lemon balm, rain, astrophysics
  8. Hey, you think that's bad, maybe I should write out the story of the pack of Demon Dogs that visited me when I was little...you'll never want to sleep again...or the time Muse thought it would be funny to put me in a packing-case full of candy & then drop it, and me, directly into the middle of an American Revolutionary battleground just AFTER the battle(yes, she time-travels too)...you'll think twice about riding a horse anywhere (especially when there are people carrying bayonets around)...
  9. *game; for the dispelling of depression, anxiety, and other such cobwebs of the mind. Write something, anything, poem, note, anecdote, must include the three words at the bottom of the last post. Then post your own 3 words. Lightbulb Bicycle Goldfish.
  10. This makes me miss my teddy. Where IS that Mr. Squishy?
  11. In my everyday life, I'm a fairly everyday girl. I live at home with my family, go to school, and since I'm 'old enough now' I have a job. My job: I'm a lifeguard for the local indoor pool. It's not the greatest pay, but guys like a girl with authority--especially an immodest, attractive blonde one, in a cute red tankini & little black shorts. That would be me, except for the immodest part. I usually work the early morning shift, so I'm the one who nobody sees, rubbing her eyes & trying to look awake as she unlocks the heavy pool-room doors in the dark at 5:30 AM. But on the last morning I came to the pool, something was different. I wasn't different; I'd had my cup of coffee & brushed my hair, and was fumbling the doors open in the dim red light of the exit sign. The pool water lay straight in front of me, close, only a few feet ahead. It was smooth as glass, reflecting the sign & the emergency lights clearly on its surface. And then it happened; as I watched, a long line appeared in the surface; the water bulged slightly, then folded smoothly downward, as if it were a giant fold of skin, turning, repositioning itself. The line stretched the length of the pool, shifted, swirled, drew the reflected light into the shape of a single living eye. Then it rippled apart, became a line again, and rapidly faded away. Can you say, instant hyperventillation?! My mind, jolted fully awake by the shock, raced to find an explaination; but I knew there weren't any jets that could make a line in the water like that. Not even a broken drain cover could make the water use the light to make an eye. A breath of cool air caught the back of my neck. My whole SKIN stood on end, as I stood in the doorway, keys in hand, frozen. Only the soft ticking of the clock on the wall broke the silence. I tried desperately to convince myself that I hadn't seen what I'd just seen, but failed; the light from the door behind me seemed to fade into the air, as if the darkness were thickening around me. It couldn't be real, I thought. I t's not real. There's nothing in the water. The water isn't really watching me. I could pretend that the water was fine, it was all just a figment of my over-tired mind. Hey, maybe it was. I'm only 17, and it was 5:30 in the morning. Blame it on the teenage hormones. I had nearly convinced myself that it was just a dream, when, shaking my head, I took a step towards the office. The pool area office is located inconveniently opposite the entrance door, around the other side of the pool. I stepped forward, intending to go around the end of the pool to the office, but my feet and legs suddenly had a mind of their own. They carried me straight forward, directly towards that dark water. My eyes snapped open wide again and I stumbled, leaned back, dug my heels in, and swayed to a stop a milisecond from tumbling in. I felt a giant hand in the darkness behind me, pressed on my back, trying to shove me in. Instinctively I knew what I feared; the water wanted me. And that single hideous look had told me all I needed to know; it wansn't some mischevious friendly thing. It wanted me, because I was its prey. "Oh, God, help me!" I whispered aloud. I closed my eyes for minute and thought of everything I knew about evil. My fear bubbled violently in my mind, making it hard to think clearly. It's dark, I thought. Darkness. What is the opposite of darkness. The lights! If I could just turn them on, it would be gone; it would have to go, whatever it was, because it can't exist in the light. My sandals squeaked as I shoved my feet backwards from the water's edge, lifting my feet up & stepping down & back, hard into whatever was pushing me. I turned, and dragged my eyes away from the water, and found that when I didn't look, the pull lessened; looking at the floor, the wall, the lights above the door, whatever I could, I made my way around the pool deck to the office door. I threw open the door, flew inside and jumped at the light switch panel like a wild thing, flipping on every switch, even the underwater lights. Then I just stood there for a few minutes, leaning against the wall, shivering. Many thankful prayers were whispered. After calming down, I put on my whistle & rescue gear, and stepped cautiously outside the office to look around. The water of the pool shone blue & innocent, sparkling like some kind of liquid aquamarine jewel; nothing unusual there. I sat down in my lifeguard chair with a sigh of relief; it was over. Whatever it had been, it was gone now. Except, as I looked across the glittering blue ripples, a tiny echo came floating to the surface of my mind... "I'm still watching you".
  12. Muse, after drifting around the upper halls making farting noises for about a month, finally tires of the sound and decides that farts "really aren't so funny". A large pustule of immaturity on the side of her soul-scrap bursts, (making a farting noise, of course) and the inevitable but incredible finally happens; she begins to GROW UP. She drifts downward into the basement where Harmony lies, covered in dust and snoring slightly in nine harmonic tones, and looks around the room for something better to do. A white fur rug lies on the floor, and Muse eyes this with a grin; while she may be 'more mature' she hasn't lost her mischief or penchant for the random. Carefully, she plucks several hairs from the rug and lays them into Harmony's golden locks, which have grown into a golden mass, lying across the bed and onto the floor. As each rug-hair touches a golden one, the golden one becomes white, and shrinks to a few inches in length. Muse, tiring of plucking the hairs, grasps the whole rug & hurls it onto the hair-covered bed, cackling wildly; the rug smoothly envelops the small girl-form and reshapes it into the white, hair-covered form of a mountain goat. Harmony continues to sleep, shivering slightly at the strange sensation, and Muse decides to complete the 'new look' by placing her own nerd glasses on the goat. She then turns herself into a rubber ball, and begins bouncing herself loudly against the inside of the wooden door, shouting gibberish about Facebook, baboons, and Cartoon Network. Harmony, upon waking to discover herself as a goat, decides that calmly accepting the change would probably be the best way to deter its happening again; however, she does get out of bed & snatch up a broom with which to poke around for Muse, who stopped shouting when Harmony got up, & rolled away somewhere again to avoid any possible consequences...
  13. NO!! Just because you took your smelly pile of clothing to the laundry room and dumped it there, it does not mean you have 'done your laundry'!! NO!! You may not just leave it there and expect it to magically clean itself & reappear folded in your closet & drawers! Same goes for the nasty 3-week-old dishes you hauled out of your man-cave (since I refuse to go in there!)--they will not clean themselves, and I am not vollenteering!! No!! Do not drop your coat, backpack, etc. on the floor and spend the next 5 hours playing video games, and then ask me 'when's dinner'!! I will tell you to go eat some of that lovely pixellated crap you've been messing with all day instead of picking up after yourself! NO!! 'wizard', 'alchemist', & 'magicweaver' or 'five years experience in casting Firebomb spells' does not look good on a resume! At least not in this century!! Get your butt out of the computer screen & into real life, before I sic Muse on you!!
  14. Power of Pen, Power of Tongue, Flame of Rift Drop of Dung Eye of Cockatrice Tail of Snake Ink of Squid Peice of Cake Pot & Stir, Boil and Hiss, Hisssssss, 'till all that's left is a Muse's Kiss...
  15. Hey...is this turning into a topic poem line? I can do lonely and depressed pretty well...altho lately my style has been more of the 'goofy lame' type... by the way, nice job both Peredhil and TheOtherOne...those are good, they express emotions very clearly...
  16. Hi. I'm Harmony. Of course this isn't really me talking--it never is. I'll get to why later. I was born Harmony Aethenios Echoe, which means "Neverending echo (of the beautiful, musically harmonious variety)". Not "neverending beautiful music", because I was never meant to be the real thing--only a mirror image OF the real thing. It's long, I know, and rather confusing, but considering my life, it's been appropriate. When I was 4 years old, my parents foolishly attempted to administer a spell which would bring our 'earth' and the earth of the Fae (elvish tribes) back together again--they have been drifting apart for thousands of years and the reason is too confusing to write just now, but the end result was that the twain refused to re-meet, and my parants were split & swallowed by the enraged Void (yes, the Void can be enraged). I, being only a child at the time, caught a glimpse of the terrible Rift between worlds during the the spell, and suffered a Soul Splitting. In said soul-splitting,the terrible Voices of Chaos possessed and became my new self, riving self from self. However, they were unable to rive my body, thanks to my 1/16 percent Elvish blood. I possesed the Voices also, and became an Unharmonic Harmony, a union of un-unitable forces. I am the bridge between worlds which my parents had originally intended to create, however unintentionally inflicted upon me. Physically, I am 17 years of age. I have hair the color of sunbeams reflected from gold dust, a sort of muted yellowy shimmer. My eyes are big brown eyes which properly belong on a lovely Jersey Cow. I stand approximately 4 feet 3 inches tall, and wear clothing most commonly sold for the 8 to 11-year-old humans. It can be embarrassing, especially when other people mistake my age to BE 8 to 11. Even though I am mostly human by blood, I don't consider myself human, because of the fact that the Rift has burned most of the humanity off me (it made my Elven DNA dominant, thus my features are dominantly Elvish). Being so small in stature would have made me an object of ridicule in my life, if it weren't for my aura. My aura is so close in form to the aura of the Rift, (utter chaos with a touch of purest misery), that I tend to terrify everything and everyone who comes within sight of me. So, in school, or in social circles in general, I tend to simply float through without a single friend or enemy, merely a terror avoided by all--rather like a Basilisk, or perhaps a young Medusa...since no one (no human anyway) has yet dared to look directly at me. Being friendless has caused me to become much more aware of my inner self/not self, and eventually I became able to differentiate my different 'selfs'. To explain: my inner 'self' is Muse, who speaks & acts on her own will, experience, and knowledge. She (I) is not bound by the constraints of my body, but like a poltergeist is free to act however she pleases, slip through walls, become visible or invisible, create strange illusions, etc. My physical body, that which the world sees as Harmony, is merely a host for the Nine. Because of the relationship between the Rift, the Nine, and present humanity (humanity's version of the cosmos), Muse is unable to possess her/my own body for more than a very breif period of time, and is always affected by the mood swings of the collective Nine. Since Muse has an ephemeral form, she/I can only cast an illusion of her own physical form. Muse is the embodiment of what human creativity & empathy (or perhaps, soul?) I have, in spirit-form, and enabled to live this way through the mix of human blood & elvish blood, which flows in Harmony's unfeeling veins. The physical Harmony, body & mind, is used & sustained by the workings of the Nine who dwell within, and whenever Harmony opens her physical mouth, it is one or more of the Nine who speaks. Thus her voice, character and words change according to the character of whichever Voice is currently speaking. I am the Voice known as Claire, or the Feminine Voice of Chaste Knowledge. I write in and for the eternal partnership of the Nine. The other voices are as follows; my partner, Dane, Male Voice of Chaste Knowledge. Bernard and Dolly, Male & Female Voices of Simplicity (they would say 'innocence', but I disagree). Then Kyyl and Kyaa, Male & Female Voices of Impure Knowledge (they prefer the simpler term "Voices of Evil"). Then Susan and Gareth, Voices of Chaotic Mischeif (they don't care what anyone calls them). And lastly, Harmony, the silent Voice, the Mirror, Channel, & Bridge between us all. Trapped in this unusual circumstance, we can only wonder what is in store for us all.
  17. Also; when hardened by unicorn-horn powder, said Plloyi statues posses varying 'shades' of healing and/or protective powers...they are highly valued as shielding charms by humankind...unicorn-horn is not collected through cruel methods as often said in foklore, since killing the unicorn makes the horn worse than useless--it becomes a sort of negative-power, bringing bad luck and fostering unwise decision-making often leading to the death of the unicorn-killer or horn-user. Instead the horns are collected through necessity, for they never stop growing & eventually become cumbersome; a wise unicorn knows to go to the Horn Grinder to relieve iteslf of excessive horn growth. The Horn Grinders are a specialised sect of young people, who live in hermitage and use the income from the sale of Horn Powders to support themselves and local honest poorfolk...if they become impure in thought or deed, (like spending too much on themselves, taking too much horn, neglecting others, etc,) the unicorns won't come to them. Most young people pass along the trade to a more worthy Grinder after only a few years.
  18. Heart attack # 2Another silent momentAnother sudden recognitionAnother yawning fearWhere is the small hand that was in mine,just a second ago?I turn to look,nope, no tousled head in viewbut then a terrible, tumbling soundand a scream from the staircase.and I'm off again,heart racing, clenching, thundering as I snatch her upAnother trip to the ERAnother goose-egg on her precious headAnother black eye,how much more? Please stop,My wild, wild darling--won't you?I don't know if my heart can take much more strain.
  19. Going back to before Again How did this all start? Mind spinning, writhing in pain, trying to find a solid place to stand I see a steering wheel in my hands, and No--I don't want to, don't make me see this again. Car running, headlights searing the night, but not quite far enough not clear enough to see the childish figure, walking in the road NO! take me back. I'd rather be insane. The reel still running in my brain unrelentlessly... a soft, unbearable thudding sound. the screech of brakes as, finally, my foot obeys my eyes and I'm running running running... my mind still can't wrap itself around that fact that she's fine barely bruised, still herself enough to use her bump for treats While I'm too shaken to eat. God, why do you scare me this way?
  20. Plant your heart in fertile soil, then go, Love, go wheels roll fast, & long days pass while you're gone, we grow Babies come in their own time, in a while, Love, while grindstones grind but Daddy pines for a small one's smile those nights on the road stretch out so long, and still, Love, still but if you go, we'll stay ahead on those never-ending bills there's a gaggle of mouths that must be fed, tho you miss, Love, miss and I'll make sure that while you're gone they respect all this and while you're rolling far & near, stay safe, Love, safe 'cause for us, no one could ever fill your place, Love, place it's cheezy, but it's my first attempt at a poem about real love...difficult, very difficult...
  21. The first part of that poem seriously reminded me of the life of Emily Dickinson...the 'whole hidden away in a room because the outside world is a twisted perversion' thing. Cats? really? I always thoguth they'd prefer the whole "secret invasion" thing they have going now--secretly controlling the world by inserting themselves into our lives and demanding things of us which we give them because of their ghastly cuteness, or their powers of mind control...they're happy to let us think they are OUR pets as long as they know we humans are really their pets...I dunno that they'd ever care to take on the strife and struggle, as long as they had us to serve them. Also, great poem.
  22. I'm really not implying that you NEED firsthand experience to write about cutting! (I just realised that my last post sounded almost like I was encouraging you to go slash yourself in order to write better!! Please don't!!) Just that it's not an easy topic by any means, and that a little research on the topic couldn't hurt. Try looking at it from other points of veiw, too; not all 'cutters' believe it's an addiction, and sometimes it's a condition easily remedied by resolving the underlying issue, meaning they were never truly addicted at all--they were only using a bad technique to relieve stress...great, now I sound like a counselor. It's true tho. Anyway, food for thought--does this girl want to quit? Does she like the pain, or is it emotional pain that drives her to cut? Is it a deadness of emotion that causes a need for some type of 'feeling' that causes the cutting? Or, is she smart enough that she's cutting not for the pain but to induce the bloodloss euphoria that follows? All questions that you could use to build her, and the young man as well. Good luck! Also thanks Sny for the compliment! lol!
  23. Being a Historian of Avinarr is, I am told, somewhat akin to an earth 'Monk' or 'nun'. While our customs and traditions relate more to charts and the re-penning of ancient books, some of our deeper moral traditions run thusly, as is written in our Great Book; No historian shall betray the confidence of the King or his family. No Historian shall take a bribe. No Historian or Historian's Ward (meaning all the Historians, from Adopted to Grand Caretaker of Histories) shall pen an untruth. No Historian shall steal, lie, or commit acts of debauchery. (the last command is often overlooked during the New Year or other great festival occasions). All Historians are responsible for their own care, behavior, and motivation. A Historian may not marry; sexual relationships are permitted, but highly discouraged. (Also, since the women and men are housed separately and have little time for anything but work, most grow old in the pure fulfillment of an entirely un-sexual life). All Historians answer to the King and family first, then to the Grand Caretaker, then to themselves. A Historian shall not sit in council upon one another, or discuss another without their knowledge. A Historian shall practise cleanliness, chastitiy, prudence, and wisdom. (practising poverty is not a rule, but we are encouraged to practise simplicity and moderation). As such rules had applied to me since the day of my offical Adoption into the Order of Historians, breaking one would create a rift between myself and the other Historians, and if I were discovered, depending on my offence, I could be cast down to Librarian, or even to Adopted. Seldom had anyone committed an offence so great that they had to be excommunicated from the Order. I knew of a few Historians who chose to leave the Order voluntarily, in order to marry. Most of the young Historians have had breif relationships, which, under the patient dulling pathos of time, strict rules & hard work, have eventually lessened to the point of casual friendship, or died out completly. I was not one of those. For my part, I have always had a hard time pretending to fit in with the more socially adept crowd; the Library and its books have always thrilled me far more than the sight of a young man in partial undress. When the New Year rolls around I tend to hide in the least conspicuous part of the city, and if I am sought out there, I retire to my quarters on some excuse--usually heat-sickness or some other similarly convenient illness. In the year of my Lord Jeoffrey the second's regrettable illness and death, I had hid myself in the Covenant Room of the palace, with a large stack of Histories in need of repair, and tools to aid my work.
  24. White clay can be used to make incredible statues which dry in the sun & create an eerie sense of long, long ago...mischeivious elven babes, playing in the warm clay & fashioning crude, childish representations of their parents, who are to beautiful to look upon with human eyes...
  25. To tumble in the grass is lovely, provided you tumble with the right person...perhaps I should continue in the Red Pen... LOL. Of course, it can be just as lovely to tumble into an icy brook in midsummer, or into a bank of white clay mud (if you happen to be a pig)... White clay is especially nice.
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