Zariah

Zariah, confused at this behavior decided to act tough, and figured it would help her over come her shyness as well as come to understand this beautiful, yet sad creature before her eyes. "Well, Doomgaze, I am Zariah, Lady of the Crows. I come from a far off land, and I have found this place as my long-term, yet temporary home. I was just commenting to Sam about the stain glass windows, and then I ran out of interesting things to talk about." I must sound like an idiot. Oh what they hey! This is a new emotion I am feeling, I should go with it and withstand in this euphoria for as long as it takes. Perhaps when it wares off, I can head to the bar for a boost. "Hmmm, well as you can tell, I love to read, heh. You? What do you do?" What do you do? What a lame thing to say. I should just go back to my chair and continue reading.... When will Crow get here anyways!!!! Oh...and Nyyark too. Zariah turned that same color pink that she did upon her embarrassing entrance.

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Zariah glanced up and saw a male figure with wings, she had never seen an Angel before. And he looked so very sad. "Excuse me Sam, I will be back in a moment, I have someting to do." Zariah quickly glided accross the floor and gently tapped the fellow on the shoulder. "Excuse me, I know this is very odd, and I am not one to usually socialize, but would you like to talk? My name is Zariah. Who are you?

:wizzie: Yey! We have a potential member! Welcome to The Mighty Pen! I am Zariah, Lady of the Crows! If you have ANY questions, feel free to PM me! http://www.themightypen.net/public/style_emoticons/default/ohmy.gif

Zariah, slightly startled, quickly closed the book with her right thumb between pages 15 and 16. "Hello, yes, I am Zariah. I never caught your name? You are?" "Samantha Carmichael, but you may call me Sam." "Oh, well nice to meet you, er, Sam. Right. Well, I am not a very social butterfly as you can tell. But there are enough of them surrounding Annael, wouldn't you think?" Zariah points at Annael accross the room. "So," Zariah continued, "Riiiiight. Um, well as you noticed, I was reading. I did take a look at the beautiful stained glass windows. Heh...Um. Oh! Did you know I was raised by crows. That's true. You can cut in at anytime-"

So Jary turned from his limp body and began her journey back to her birth world, through the sky and into the new dimension. Zariah clamped the book shut. Finally the series was over. Now to more important and relevant books. But wait, wasn’t there something happening today? The Ball. I don’t know anyone there. But, at least Crow and I can continue our conversation of the history of crow-speak. I want to tell her more about my Mother-wing. Perhaps she knew something about her fatal illness. Crow seemed to know a lot about many things. Could she help me make some interesting friends? Zariah contemplated these things as she threw off her green tunic and jumped into her black velvet pants…well, she almost made it. She literally tried to jump into them, and missed, tripping over her own two tiny feet and landing face down on the hard slate floor of her quarters. Zariah sighed, pushed herself up from the ground and kicked the velvet pants under her bed. Frustrated, she stomped over to the water basin and washed her dirty hands and face. She stared into the looking glass, and realized that this was her first real public appearance here at the Pen. I really do hope to learn of all these interesting writers. I have never met elves, half-elves, mages, or wizards. Let alone mind-readers, angels, shadow-walkers, or almost dragons. I wonder if they are more interesting as humans. In my studies here, thus far, this bunch seems to get along well for the most part. And what of this Nyyark? He is a bit strange. But at least he was willing to go to keep Crow and I company! Zariah retrieved her velvet pants and changed into her simple, yet nice and casual outfit. On her way out, she plucked up her leather pouch and a new book to stick her nose in, in case the Ball was unexciting. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ At the entrance, Zariah rummaged through her bag and pulled out the invitation, handing it sheepishly to the guard. "Excuse me miss but this is not the invitation.” Zariah grabbed the parchment, afraid of what it could have been, and then her face turned a rosy pink. It was a poem she was writing, and he had read it. The lonliness is haunting In my dreams both night and day I yearn for friendship fully Yet I don’t know what to say. This always happens to me. Grrrrrr. “Uh, here this must be it,” she said as she handed the real invitation over. Peering inside before she took a step over the threshold, she observed the interacting people. Deciding it was safe, Zariah tip-toed in, and gazed upward at the happy faces looking down at her. “Welcome, Zariah! It’s so nice to have you join us!” “Erh, heh...um. Oh, geez. Where are my manners! Thank you, Ayshela. That’s your name? I’m Zariah. We’ve never formally met. You have a beautiful dress.” She then added in a whisper,“Isn’t that the kind of thing I am supposed to say?” Ayshela smiled and nodded. Zariah hurried away quickly, before anyone decided to comment. She gazed up at the beautiful wooden panelled walls. The stained glass windows caught her attention, and she began to compare the intricate designs to one another. The music filled the room with a feeling of autumn essence. I guess that’s in the spirit of having a Fall Ball. I wonder if Crow and Nyyark are here. I suppose not, since I don’t recognize Crow anywhere. She kind of stands out, being large and all. Meanwhile, I suppose I shall plop down in one of these chairs and start on my new book.

Happy Birth-day, Happy Birth-day, Happy Birth-day, Happy Birthday to you!!!!!

Joyfulness grows Love can unite Happiness flows Hands hold you tight Babies are born, Sinners repent; There comes a new morn', After each sun is spent. To help one another We offer our care For sister and brother We’ll always be there Here at the Pen we are always there for each other. Hopefully, that is something that can be used as a reply to "Why do we live at all?" To be there for each other and to live according to our higher power (if you have one).

I think a good handful of writers here at the pen can relate to this post. I, personally, have been through this. Unfortunately and fortunately I failed (heh, due to caring parents who put me in the ER several times and hospitals) but it definitely struck a chord. Oddly enough, I did not feel pity for her, or sadness for her. I felt sorry for her mate, her children. I felt that she could have tried to get help somewhere else, and that she gave up too soon. It's all most likely a way of personal perception, especially in this case, where i am a reader and not familiar with the author's intent of this poem. Not only was this a well written piece, but it fits as a reminder that everyone here at the pen is a survivor in one way or another, and that we don't need to be in the drivers seat with pills and a bottle of scotch. we have each other, and there are a lot of people we can turn to. As for you, Ayshela, keep writing these pieces that address the uncomfortable topics, so that if we can be open about thse sorts of things with our trusted friends, they can survive too.

Yey! Time to celebrate! Happy day of birth! Hope you have lots of fun! And much love from all the Pen!!!!!!!!! :woot: :wizzie:

You know where this would fit in really well? Reader's Digest. If you wanted to, you could submit it there. I really enjoyed this piece. I found it interesting how in speaking very little about the main character's emotions, the humor he derives from manipulating naive people is apparent in the main characters actions and reactions. I really liked the opening as well, very characteristic of a witty story. I could almost believe this was a true personal narrative.

Wow, That's so very sad. He basically was careless and unintentionally killed his friend and teammate.

Snyder passed away on Sunday, from injuries he had received in a car accident that he was in the previous week. He will always be remembered.

This, Justin Silverblade, is a very sad and beautiful poem. The juxtaposition of beauty and sadness is what I find to no only impact me emotionally, but I admire the artistic characteristics. This is a poem that could be written or read somewhere and with the right inflection, pausing, general created vocal mood, could bring the audience to tears. What amount of work did you put into this? It seems not only well written, but thought out perhaps? Could you explain your motivations for such a striking construction. (not necessarily the personal circumstances, but maybe why?) I really admire your talent.

Rune, that was beautiful. I watched it 4 times and cried like a little baby. I am sure that it touches so many hearts. Just as Peredhil does.

Zariah's Introduction Peredhil suggested that I suggest that anyone unfamiliar with character introductions, who want to participate in the Ball should use my intro as a guideline (why? I don't know...and please don't interpert this as me being full of myself, I am merely following a suggestion.) Hope that it actually IS helpful.....

It's like many Cinderellas at a hip European dance club who must leave by the strike of midnight. I like the mood and how with just the discriptions of movement, an entire scene comes to life.

My uncle, whom I mentioned in another question (the one about chosing a deceased person to spend an evening with) died of cancer when I was 13. He had battled cancer for 5 years. My mom had been down with him for his last few weeks in Florida, while my dad and I remained home in Virginia. On August 5th at 12:03 am exactly, I shot strait out of my bed and knew that my uncle passed away. I woke my dad up, and we called my aunt. He died at exactly 12:03 am. Freaky.....

(O.O.C. NOT PERSONAL) You attempt to extinguish flames from my scorching heart. Constantly you are repentant after the detail. Anguish can not comprehend the agony I employ. Your overrated “I Love You’s” only fuel the fire. Devotion does not exceed sentiment always. So again I must overlook my repulsive scars, And redeem your merit in my distant eyes.

I am interested in theater. Always have been since I was maybe 12. I have performed SO many monologues. THIS IS THE MOST PERFECT monologue. Maybe, if you are interested, you could try to get it published. I would just LOVE to perform this as a monologue. Wow. That was very powerful! I really loved it!

What would we do without you, Zool? *chuckles* (((sigh))) Depression is like poison ivy. It itches and burns. You scratch the surface for temporary relief, and instead it grows, and grows......and grows. What's the Calamine Lotion?

Yes, I know what you mean! I have had dreams where I fall from buildings. It's odd, I think in my sleep I sit up, because as I wake up from my nightmare, I fall onto my bed. However, it feels like I fell many stories, yet in reality it's only me laying back..... odd. I would also like to say that I have a HUGE fear of spiders. I like bugs...some of them...and I feel sorry for spiders because they are actually better for our environment than others, but something about their many eyes and creepy crawly legs, and their wicked bites, just scare me into becoming a pertrified rock, when they are near. I think I am actually arachnaphobic. Oddly enough, I wouldn't mind holding a traranchula in my hand, but a wolf-spider? Oh-no. I'd RATHER go sky-diving or bungee jumping.... (and I'd rather do alomst anything else to avoid THAT).

Excellent, excellent! Quite a stinger! Perhaps your story will be the buzzz around the Assembly room. It may BUG many, but Bee-lieve me, honey, it was clever!

Zariah enters the Assembly room with quiet grace, her head to the floor composing her final thoughts. She walks toward the center of the room, aware that all eyes are on her. She produces and timid smile and begins her formal introduction. “Good evening to all. I am aware that I have lived here at the Pen for almost one turn of the four seasons, and I have not yet formally introduced myself to you all. Well, that is about to change this very instant. For those interested in my past and present, please bear in mind that I am not a gifted public speaker.” Zariah pulls from her tunic a stack of oversized index cards. Clumsily, they scatter upon the floor and her cheeks turn a rosy red as she bends down to pick them up. “Err…. Pardon me for a moment; I am having some technical difficulties.” She gathers the remaining cards and begins to read…and LITERALLY read the words on the paper. “My Personal History” “I was born almost twenty turns of the four seasons ago in the winter. Small and fragile, my parents feared that I would not make it more than several days past birth. Rather that take that risk, they left me bundled in ragged terrycloth behind a shed, many lands far from here. I was found by my Mother-wing, the head Mistress of the Crows. She was this middle-aged woman who did not realize she was a woman. She, as I was told by my Crow family, was raised by them. Mother-wing had been with child less than three days before my discovery, but the child died. Heartbroken, Mother-wing was prepared to take her life. She stumbled upon me while raiding through the garbage on the outskirts of town for food for the Clan. Instantly, she took me in as her own “lost” child. Mother-wing spoke no English, so naturally I was raised for most of my early childhood speaking the languages of the Crows. Yes, I say languages in plural because there are many. Just as humans have many different cultures, so do the Crows. I was brought back to the forest and introduced to the Clan, and very welcomed. I have fond memories of my early childhood. At the age of seven, Mother-wing died of an illness I have never since encountered. Without her to watch over me, the Clan became worried that I would not survive, for I had no wings to fly from danger. I was so tiny and vulnerable. I decided to travel back to the town where Mother-wing had found me to find my human birth parents. The Clan accompanied me to the outskirts of the forest. When I arrived, the town had been burned to the ground with no human in sight. I was too young to understand this phenomenon and so I returned to my family. They taught me everything I needed to know to function as a human from their own interactions with humans, but knew I needed to be with others of my kind. After a two year journey with them, they delivered me into the hands of an elderly gentleman by the name of Freiffer. Freiffer lived several lands away, but alone apart from a small village. He was a grandfatherly man, kind and wise. Freiffer taught me the language of man, and all the proper human activities. I helped him gather food each day from the forest. When I was eleven, he brought me to the village to sell goods at the market. This was my first encounter with human society, and I was fascinated. Each fourth-day I would accompany Freiffer to the village and ask him every question about everything. When I was twelve, he told me that he had taught me everything he knew and that I needed to learn from someone else. He introduced me to the village recorder, Shutnol. Shutnol took me under his care and I learned how to read and write. He found that I was a quick learner and fascinated with everything I discovered. I was then asked to study with other young apprentices in the arts of writing and recording. Shutnol took me and three young boys to Hustbrier, the town to which the village reported to for political affairs. In Hustbrier, I was enrolled in a guild school with sixty other apprentices. Here was where I excelled in composing and writing. This was the first place I felt that I fit in and found a niche. I had many adventures in Hustbrier, but those stories are quite long and deserve a different occasion to be told. I remained an apprentice for five years, and was the first to graduate from my year mates.” Zariah pauses and glances around for a place to sit. A kind listener offers his seat and he finds another. She takes a deep breath and notices that there are quite a few more members present than when she began. “So, I decided two years ago that I am determined to find my birth parents to let them see who I am and what they gave up. I have traveled from far away. One winter evening in the forest beyond the Pen, I was encountered by a huge crow. She seemed angry at the time about something and was cawing to herself. Little did she know, I understood her, for her particular crow language was the same of my Crow Clan. She spoke of her master and friend Nyyark, (Whom I have yet to meet) and told me of this wonderful place. So here I am, Zariah, Lady of the Crows, pleased to make your formal acquaintance.” Zariah stands and gently bows, glancing to each member present. Satisfied with her introduction, she returns the index cards to her tunic pocket and resumes to her sitting position.

Well, you see I was raised in Catholic schools my whole life until I switched my junior year to public school. Now I am a freshman in college. I am a RECOVERING Catholic... and still have a Catholic conscience. So while I belive that God is loving, I don't think there is Purgatory and I don't think that God will forgive me if I make mistakes and forget to appologize and ammend for them. So I fear that I won't make the most of my potential, walk in the way a Christian should, and therefore be deemed unworthy of Heaven. But, I also have a really bad self-esteem issue, so that could be a contributing factor.