Merelas

Merelas stood below the window, waiting. As soon as he heard the "All Clear" from Ayshela, he nodded to the others, slid outside the window with elven (or more accurately, half fire-elven) grace, and climbed the rope nimbly. Eventually, he made his way onto the roof, and looked out below at the hacking array of undead. "Next!" he called, unsure whether or not to keep his voice down. Sighting down the rope to the window, he waited for the next climber to appear... Before he saw the person that would follow him up the rope, he was knocked backward onto his back. Claws tore into his side, and above him he saw a ghoul that had somehow floated up onto the roof. He scrambled for his sword, not thinking to use flames in his haste. before he could get there, however, the ghoul dropped down on top of him, limp. Merelas kicked the ghoul off of him, and struggled to his feet. The woman-Ayshela, he thought- was standing a dozen yards away, her hand still outstretched from the throw. Merelas looked down, and removed the blade from the ghoul's lifeless body. Returning it to its owner, he said, "Thank you." Briefly, she nodded, as she returned to the business at hand. Hopefully, no more undead would make their way up to the roof, or securing the mage circle would be a hard thing. Time will tell, the half fire-elf thought.

In Character, Merelas will always say Red... fire... red... get it? Out of character, I really like cool colors-- green, blue, violet, and the mixes of those. One of my classes in school has a room that is painted pale-blue... although I don't care for the class, I find that I can concentrate more than my other disliked classes, which are all in white rooms... maybe it's just because the teacher is better... but I do like the cooler side of the spectrum, thank you. Thank you for the question... was a refreshing warm-up... just to be typing, rather than staring at a blank page is an encouragement. And, the answers (although scary at times) were fun . Carry on!

"Lady Salinye... I'm here, and I don't know what to do about the situation outside... however, I am prepared to deal with things here while the greater minds about think of a solution," Merelas said, taking on a new air, with more formality, and more strength than he truly had. Reaching beneath his robes, he pulled Chrissiannia's Jewel out from underneath his red garments, and clutched at the crystal. The swirl of red inside it glowed faintly, and the fire-elf closed his eyes. I shall lend you the power of healing. You yourself, fire-elf, are rejuvenated... and if you truly care for the rest of these people, you will find that you can tend to them as well. Merelas opened his eyes, and as the artifact had promised, found renewed strength. Quickly, he looked around the room, and saw the hostess herself. The half fire-elf strode over to her, and clutched the jewel once more, closing his eyes, and laying his free hand upon Lady Salinye. This woman took me into her hostel without a second thought. She cared for me, and had her staff heal me. I owe her a debt, but more than that, I owe her my thanks, and my loyalty. She has it... and may I now display this new friendship by giving her strength and peace. Not knowing if his silent prayer to the jewel would actually work or not, he opened his eyes tentatively, and saw a faint green light glowing about his hand on Salinye's shoulder... slowly, he could feel the energy passing into her, and wondered if it would do any good... Once he saw that he could help Salinye no more, he passed on to the next member of the group without a word, and as they discussed possible solutions with urgency, he provided a sense of calm and collectiveness... silently willing them to come up with a plan soon, and physically healing them to be able to execute it.

I should really read this. I think I will.

I wrote this essay a while back after stumbling across a site debating the validity of the death penalty website while looking for something else entirely. Previously, my position on Capital Punishment had been reversed... but you can see how it changed. CHARGE OF THE STATE You are condemned. You know exactly the day that you will die—the place, the time, and even your last meal. You have already designated five people that will watch as you take your last breath. You have seen your family for the last time. You are on Death Row in San Quentin, California. You are here because you have been convicted of a crime you did not commit. Innocence, in this place, is non-existent, and no one can, or will, believe that you are here for something you did not do. Because admitting that brings along other unpleasant thoughts. If you are here, and you shouldn’t be, then the justice system has failed. If the justice system has failed, then the government that set it up has also failed. And, since the people elect their government, the people have failed. Most people don’t care to admit that. The prisoners are always fed better just before an execution, and yours is no exception. Instead of the usual sloppy oatmeal for breakfast, they are giving you fresh fruit, and a bran muffin. But you won’t be able to eat any more bran muffins. It’s too bad you won’t be able to see your children grow up, and get married. You will never meet your grandchildren. You receive a letter the day before the execution. It is from your spouse. They write that they know you are innocent—that they will always love you, and that they know you’re going to a better place. But you don’t deserve to go there… not yet, anyway. And now you walk the mile. What do you think, as the executioner opens your cell door? Are you afraid? Angry? Benevolent? What runs through your mind, as you walk across the linoleum on Death Row? And, as you sit in the wooden chair that will be your hindquarters’ last resting place, what are your last thoughts? As they slip the metal cap over your head with the moist sponge beneath it, how do you feel? How did the 147 that were executed last year feel? More importantly, how many were innocent? Now, we will never know. Because, as man, we have taken upon ourselves the role that only the Lord God Almighty can take. We have become the tax collectors of the universe, and we’re making those murderers pay their dues. I read an article on how a man condemned to die had written to the family of a victim. A single mother of one daughter had been stabbed 16 times over her body with a butcher’s knife. The extent of the note was, “I’m sorry I killed your mother.” The daughter, who had received the note, made an appearance on television. When asked how she felt about the man being executed, she said that she was upset. “My mother is dead. Killing her murderer will not bring her back.” Her mother was stabbed 16 times. She understands that, in life, we are not to take away a man’s precious, if sinful life. I wonder how you would feel, sitting in that electric chair, right before the electricity surges through your veins. More importantly, though, I wonder what you will do now that you know.

Mmmm... teenagers don't get migranes? Wanna bet? In times like that, I praise my ibuprofein bottle like the divine ambrosia. And then I go worship the porcelin gods. Yes... I do get them as well... it's odd, actually, that so many people here have them. At least, to me. Excellent poem, Ayshela. Summed it up all too well... though I've never been to the emergency room, and I think mine aren't as bad as some of the ones described here... but still. Well done, again.

LOL! If only everyone could be so upbeat and chipper about their RL's! Have fun, Appy! Write a little in between parties!

So did you mean "command"? I think that would make more sense. But, otherwise, I thought both of them were extremely well written. I really like both of these, and I believe that you certainly have a talent. Carry on! I'd love to see more.

This is excessively sad... I know that people would miss you, and especially many here at the pen, if not in reall ife, as well. Hang in there.

Well... I really haven't worked with creative writing in Spanish, though I do know quite a bit of it conversationally... so pardon how choppy/unprofessional this is Yo creo en la verdad. Yo creo eso la verdad es la luz en el mundo. Yo creo la verdad voluntad triunfo encima el oscuro. Yo veo la luz. La luz es brillante. La luz sustos la sombras lejos. Yo veo la luz. Yo creo en la luz. Pero yo no veo la verdad… y yo aùn creo. ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~ Roughly translated, it reads thus: I believe in the truth. I believe that the truth is the light in the world. I believe the truth will win over the dark. I see the light. The light is bright. The light scares the shadows away. I see the light. I believe in the light. But I do not see the truth... and I still believe. Comments and critique are welcome... I'm hoping to try a longer, more drawn out effort sooner... and I'm sorry to any other spanish speakers who notice that, hey, HE CAN'T SPELL IN SPANISH! Lol, it's true, I'm terrible... but hey. I tried, right?

Arwen, I wanted to say that I'm impressed with how much honesty and reasoning you really put into your poetry... the following line especially impressed me: The adjective "teenage" tells me that you recognize the fact that these emotions will probably pass, and that they're perhaps not what'll be important in a few years. I'm really in awe that you can recognize that, and display that recognition so fluently! Carry on... I'd love to see the final version of this!

Wow... this is amazing... an essence and situation in which the pen definately is mightier than the sword... "A sword may silence one's voice, but a written word may echo into eternity." Someone wise said that-- or something like it Definately continue, I want to see more!

Ahh... I see. Again, well written!

This was really, really excellent. It has a literary feel, the rhyme and rhythm are so good. This stanza was the only one that didn't go along with the rest of the rhythm, and it's definately not bad (I like it so much!) but I could see revising it a little. The rest of the poem seems to have an 8/6/8/6 syllable count, while this one is 8/8/8/8. I would suggest changing it to: Once again, this was an awesome work, and I loved it!

It sounds so angry... I had also pondered the question Ayshela asked...?

This is so sad! All of these sad poems are making me sad! It expresses so much emotion, so much hurt, so much desire to be accepted... or maybe not, just to move on... It speaks to me... and I appreciate you for sharing it!

This is so sad... again, I'm reminded of my previous thoughts about suicide... and how they were totally wrong. Very well written, lots of emotion, and good imagery. Well done, and I hope to see more!

Your hatred stings my soul… your scorn burns me as a flame. And what sin have I committed against you? What wrong have I done you? I see it now… I have not done you wrong, but myself. Forgive me for ever believing you could change. Forgive me for ever hoping to be the one to help you do so. Forgive me for placing myself on the line… Forgive me for loving you. How could I be so blind? How could my love have been so true, And been so wholly and utterly rejected? How could I have loved you? Why have I done this to myself? Why have I handed you my heart? Why have I allowed you to cut it up into pieces before my eyes? But more importantly… why do I still love you? I just wrote this in about 7 seconds, lol... comments are welcomed and encouraged.

Excellent description! I hate that feeling when you wake up in the middle of the night, and you're too hot in bed, so you throw the covers off... then five minutes later, you're freezing... it's getting worse with winter here, I swear! Well done, again... I can relate!

Well done, Wyvern! A good reminder that everything in life is beautiful to someone... even if it is Wyvern, lol. Next?!

Illianna, this is excellent... I loved the imagery you used, from pastel, to bleak... you used excellent vocabulary effectively, and I must say I like the result. Let's have more!

I would ask that everyone continue to post entries, though... Let's still have a bit of fun with this!

I suppose in the Oval Office, or some other secret meeting room for the President and his joint chiefs of staff... That sort of thing interests me... Millitary vs. Politcal arguments... hmm.

OOC: Yes, Illianna, I'm sorry to say I can only accept one ENTRY per person, but you may have numerous posts. If you do, just be sure to specify here which you'd like me to consider your entry. Also, you could send a Private Message specifying which post you would like to consider your entry... as long as I know which one it is! IC: Merelas pauses for a moment at the end of the speech made by Illianna, speechless. Eventually, he comes to his senses, and speaks, "Thank you very much, Illianna... I think I can speak for everyone when I thank you for that excellent reminder of what a treasure The Mighty Pen is for all of us. It was a good message delivered expertly, and well recieved. Indeed, the beuaty of tollerance is one that some may overlook, others may not accept... but here at The Pen, we are all accepted. Thank you, once again! "Next?"

OOC: Allright, everyone! Thanks to Stick for a wonderful first entry! Just a few more things to clarify: 1. Once again, my post is not being considered an entry-it's only a demonstration of sorts, an example entry, perhaps... of course, you don't need to have the physical apsect of the entry... or even vice-versa. Just remember that your submission will be evaluated on how well it displays beauty-- not even how beautiful it is in itself. 2. Contest dates: The contest has been officially open for submissions since November 6, and entries will no longer be accepted after the 1st of December. Again, Nov. 6-Dec. 1 are the dates for the contest. 3. I have decided upon a prize, but I believe I'll leave it a surprise until the end of the story! 4. Let's have some entries, people! Have fun!!