This blog just seems to have become a place to put down my random thoughts and observations XD Sorry about that…

Ah! After I spent so long (a day) trying to make it into a writing blog! For shame, me!

Well, until the next weird observation…

Bye!

Pear-Drop Girl

Sometimes there is a moment in your life that you remember, if vaguely, forever. You compare then to now and then to the future. Although these moments are very rare, they normally occur at least once in everyone’s lives and so they are not really considered something special.
Although, this moment has most likely caused me to make decisions that I would not otherwise make, I do not believe it was special. Even though moments like this make you question whether or not they truly happened, I do not believe it was out of the ordinary.
This story is not about a special event. This story is a vague memory of mine from many years ago that still pops up from time to time. It is akin to the way you occasionally flick through a photo album, smiling a little and feeling just a little sad that those happy times will never be experienced again.
This story is just a nostalgic view of something that happened in my past. Something that affected me deeply then.
This story is a photograph of the past.

I sat across from a friend of mine in a small, dimly lit cafe. The cafe itself was situated on the corner of the street and was uninspiring from the outside, just an off-white exterior with a couple of little windows and one basket of dying flowers.
The décor inside contrasted with this to a nearly terrifying extent. Red satin curtains hung to the floor never closing, even at night, and complimented the dark wooden panelling on the walls and floor brilliantly. The tables were made from the same dark wood but the chairs were padded and decorative, with miniscule carvings etched into the legs of each.
This was my regular hideout from life.
My friend, a girl of my age whom I had met in my English class, was busy drinking her latte and I was attempting to eat a chicken sandwich, although I was not a fan of meat We were sat in silence. She wore an oversized, pale green jumper with a tiny cartoon rabbit head stitched into the collar. The jumper made me uneasy, the green clashing a little with everything in the cafe.
I wondered vaguely where the rest of the cartoon rabbit was as I took a bite out of my chicken sandwich.
That was when a girl I had not seen before entered the cafe.
Initially she bore a striking resemblence to a shadow, but one with the ability to cast a flat replica of itself onto the floor as it walked. Her hair was neither long nor short, just reaching to her shoulders. It was a complete blackness that accentuated her pale skin in a peculiar way. Her long, charcoal jacket blended with it until she appeared almost to be a floating face amidst a near darkness.
Her face itself was neither beautiful nor ugly, but in some indistinct middle ground that forced her eyes to be narrow, but not small, her lips not too thin and her nose not too long.
The main thing about the girl that caught my attention were the bright pink and yellow hair pins that stood out from her dark ensemble. They hung in her hair like two tiny pear drops that had been flung into the night sky. They caused my eyes to widen ever so slightly and my gaze to follow her until she took a seat on the other side of the cafe to me and my friend.
My friend of course, finished her latte at that point and tapped me on the arm. I was still holding my sandwich in a kind of numb shock, my concentration broken. I looked at her with incomprehension as I realised she had spoken.
“Pardon?”
“You could really offend someone, the way you act sometimes!”
She smiled a little, bitterly amused by my absent mindedness. I noticed a strand of her pale brown hair falling dangerously close to the empty cup before her, but refrained from saying anything.
“Sorry, sorry. You know how hard I’ve been working.”
An easy excuse, but effective. She immediately laughed, pushing her negative feelings about me into the far corner of her mind. Her laugh was heartfelt and genuine. This was the reason she was my friend. I could trust her.
My gaze wandered back to the dark shadow of a girl sitting alone in a corner of the cafe. A phantom.
The two tiny pear drop pins caught my eyes once more. They stood out as if they were unafraid of being ridiculed or scrutinised by passers by. They seemed to be holding themselves up as best they could, being strong. I could almost hear them shouting “This is what I am!”.
I suddenly felt terribly jealous of those two pear drop pins. They were unaware of any feeling anyone had towards them.
Now that my mind had decided the hair pins were sentient (which of course, my logic demanded I debate with myself), the girl herself stood out less as a separate being away from them.
That was when the name suddenly sprung into my mind, like a bubble popping, giving me a sudden, delightful clarity.
Pear Drop Girl.
She was suddenly staring straight at me, as that name entered my mind as if someone other than myself was living in my head and had decided to scream it at me.
The Pear Drop Girl’s dark eyes watched me with a disturbing emptiness, but I could feel the pear drop pins guiding her gaze and implanting a bitterness in her slightly curled lip. It was as if their colour was only there to make the girl herself appear even darker.
My friend was talking but I was unable to hear her words. The Pear Drop Girl watched me, without blinking, never moving her gaze. My eyes were locked to hers as if I were under some sort of spell.
Suddenly, I found myself standing, my hands clutched to my chest as though I were suffering from extreme pain. I realised I was finding it difficult to breathe.
“Hey, what’s wrong with you?”
My friend looked up at me, confused and a little spooked by my unusual behaviour. I noticed that other people in the cafe were looking at me, I saw their impassive eyes scrutinising me.
You have no right to look at me like that! I wanted to scream at them, but no words left my half open lips.
I dragged my gaze back to the Pear Drop Girl, but she was no longer looking at me. It was as if I was of no interest to her. I felt tears sting my eyes, but did not understand why.
I turned and fled from the cafe, feeling my heart pounding in my chest and the heat spreading to my cheeks.

My friend had caught up to me later and questioned me about what had happened to make me ran off like that. She told me that I had suddenly gone pale then run away.
I had already planned the excuse that I had forgotten some work that was due in later that day.
My friend had merely looked at me for a few minutes before finally sighing and telling me not to work too hard.
I knew that she hadn’t believed me.

For some unknown reason, I found myself sitting back in that cafe the next day.
I was alone, of course. My friend had just shaken her head when I requested her company. I felt bad for lying, but there was no way she would understand why I had left that day.
It was particularly quiet in the little cafe today. Only a few workers were sipping coffee on their lunch break and there was one mother talking quietly on a mobile phone while her child slept.
There even appeared to be fewer staff than normal.
It was into this near silence that the Pear Drop Girl stepped.
I knew she had arrived even before I saw her. I could feel the coldness in her gaze as she watched the back of my head. After a few moments she walked past me, but stopped before the table she had sat at yesterday.
I held my breath, feeling my heart leap into my throat.
She turned slowly, the two pear drop pins glinting in the artificial light. Her small black loafers made no sound as she glided back to where I sat and slid in next to me.
She still wore her thick, black coat inside the cafe, even though it was a warm day. I briefly noted that she wore black woollen gloves.
We sat in silence for a long time. Her shoulder so close we were practically touching, yet there seemed to be a mile between us.
I could not see her dark eyes beneath her heavy fringe, but I knew she was watching me.
“Well, it’s-”
I began to speak, but she cut me off sharply.
“How did you know?”
I sat for a few moments in stunned silence, blinking a couple of times before replying edgily.
“Know…what?”
She turned her gaze up to me now and I was once more under the scrutiny of her empty eyes. I felt a chill run through me and a deep coldness settle in my gut.
“How did you know?”
The question was the same, but the tone demanded that I answer. It was as if she had spat a venom at me which stung every pore of my flesh.
“Those pear drop pins… they’re very….”
“We are not what we appear to be. Many would assume we are what they see us as or that this host we carry with us is just mad.”
Her pale lips began to smirk.
“There was a book that understood madness. Oh, we read that so many years ago.”
“B-book?”
They made her shake her head, glinting again and again in the light.
“No, we are not what you think. You are not like those…”
Here, her arm gestured to the others in the cafe.
“But you are not like us, or those who understand what we truly are. You are in… a sort of mental limbo.”
A small, unnatural laugh emitted from her small, red mouth. I realised that they must not laugh much.
“You are not a threat and yet you have attracted our attention. You are… peculiar.”
“Gee, thanks…”
Her stare was directed at me, not amused by my sarcasm.
“We do not think you will tell anyone, as you do not know what we truly are and so do not comprehend our purpose.”
I shook my head.
They used her narrow legs to stand, pulling the collar of her coat up as if to keep out the cold. They made her body shiver.
“This place… it is so cold.”
With a final examination of my eyes, they guided her gently towards the door and out into the sunlight.
I sat there at the cafe table, surrounded by people I didn’t know and suddenly I smiled.
Needless to say, I never once saw that girl again.
The Pear Drop Girl dressed all in black was gone. For what purpose, I had no idea.

The Pear Drop Girl was gone.

Okay, so that was it. I hope you liked it
Until next time!

-Kizukimizu

I’ve also decided to try posting a couple of shorts stories up every so often (I’ll aim for one every two weeks, but college is seriously demanding), so if you’re interested please stick around to read them, even if it’s just to give them a go

Narrator:
Has no name and no gender (it just ended up this way). I loosely based their character on my sister at the start, but then they became their own being.
Very realistic and logical, doesn’t like unnecessary emotions. Kind of grumpy and cynical. They never see the beauty in life.
Seriously don’t like Kit when they first meet him – they think he’s rude and irritating.
Fond of Ash – they feel sorry for him and act as a sort of older brother/sister figure to him.
Wary of the Council – thinks they seem suspicious.

Kit:
A jolly enigma hiding a lot of things from everyone.
Smiles a lot, but not particularly emotional. Works a lot and moves in and out of the story easily and quickly. Could be annoying for some, others might be interested in his secrets.
Seems initially to like the narrator – despite treating them like an idiot. Looks after them to an extent, but wanders off often.
A sort of friend to Ash – in Ash’s flashback story thing, he describes how they were good friends.
Has no opinion on the Council, at least no obvious opinion.

Ash:
Nervous, anxious, generally concerned.
Wrings his hands a lot – his nervous habit. Is pretty genuine but has high expectations of himself and so thinks himself unworthy of a lot of things.
Likes the narrator a lot – they get on really well, with them both looking after the other. Surprisingly emotionally strong, being able to tell the narrator of his troubles eventually.
Likes Kit – understands him more than the other characters do. They seem to get on well, but are not friends.
A bit of a tenuous relationship to Audrey – had some issues.
In awe of the Council.

Audrey:
A very average girl who has some secrets of her own.
(Can’t say much more without ruining the story XD)

Samael:
One of the eldest Council member. Has a majestic aura.
Gives the narrator the aid they require to go after the Being.

The Council:
The people (?) who make decisions on how the essence’s world should be run.
Seem a bit sinister.

Narrator’s sister:
A cheerful girl, but tries to stop burdening her sibling with her emotions.
(Again, can’t say too much ^^”)

That’s pretty much it Hope you enjoyed it!

See you later!

-Kizukimizu

I finished my first manuscript of 42,000 words approx. a little while back and have been recently looking for publishers interested, but the good ones only accept those sent via and agent.
Of course, I understand why – they get a load of manuscripts every day ^^” I just wish it was easier for new writers to get a break.
I’m fairly sure my book would be fairly appealing to young adults or children (the target audience), being set between the normal world and a world on the edge of dreams, with supernatural abilities and characters with a twist. It’s not a typical fantasy story, but retains many of the characteristics of the traditional fantasy novels.
I have a feeling that it will be pretty difficult to get it published purely due to the small word count, but I want it to be an easy read for those children who aren’t really into books, or those that are. Just something that you think ‘yeah, it was pretty nice’ or something ^^”
So far, I’ve only had any chance with US publishers (as the ones I looked at in the UK were mostly scams if you didn’t need an agent).
Ah well, the never-ending search continues… maybe I’ll get around to making up a portfolio for Bloomsbury at some point =.=

Til next time!

-Kizukimizu

So, I’ve finished-ish the first novella aimed at young adults, edited it so it was perfect. Or so I thought.
It turns out that I’ve spelled one word wrong the whole way through (thanks to my lack of spellchecker), so I have to go through it AGAIN.

Sigh.

Aside from that, the sequel has been going pretty well, reaching the 15,000 word mark recently. However, I now have something I’m calling writer’s laziness, not writer’s block. I am perfectly capable of writing and I know exactly what will come next, but I’ve got this weird fatigue that’s stopping me from starting the next sentence.
I blame English course work stress (I also have a stress cough. Weird.) and not sleeping well. Music’s not helping either, which is bizarre.

Ah well. I guess I’m young and have all the time in the world…. but that doesn’t make me feel better D:

See you later, hopefully with less angst.

-kizukimizu

Anyway, see what you think.

-Kizukimizu

On a lighter note, I was recently very excited when this came through the post:

I’ve wanted to play a PS (Phantasy Star) game since it first came out as Phantasy Star Online for the Xbox and my friend got it (seriously, this was way back).
So I was ecstatic that they finally brought it out on a console I owned, with wireless connection so I didn’t have to pay annually for Xbox Live or however much you have to pay for PS2 online.
I’m playing as a HU (Hunter) Newearl (elf-being, female) :

Except I customised my character

I’m currently level 27, on the Mother Trinity boss (I’m not going to elaborate on what/who that might be, in case people who read this haven’t played that far). But yeah, It’s a darn good game, one of the best I’ve played in a while ^^ (The last being Atelier Annie, but the Atelier games are on another level).
I also got ‘My Japanese Coach’ for DS to try out learning Japanese in a more interesting way than re-reading language books.
It is the best tool to aid learning ever.
But I wish it’d let me try Kanji…

Jeez, I keep forgetting things!
I finished my novella finally (I’ve been working at it on and off for a year, it ended up being 65 pages in a word doc., so about 130 on A5 paper). I recently finished editing it, which led to it’s increase in size.
I’ve also started a sequel (I must hate myself, seriously), set a couple of centuries after, which is better-written and much more dramatic (I believe there be dragons! Or are there?), with three main characters already introduced. What is it with me and doing things in threes?
Ah well, I plan to have the trilogy (yes, it’s a trilogy) finished by the end of the yer after next, just before I go to university, so I can send them to publishers.

On the subject of exams, I just had my English Literature one today.
There we go, token work comment.

Anyways, I suppose that’s all for now.

Until next time!
-Kizukimizu

I decided today, after reading my friend’s blog and finding it pretty philosophical and much more serious than my own, to give the dreaded ‘serious moment’ a go.

Let us discuss the idea of good

and bad

My general thought on the matter is: it’s all down to perception.
If I was just going to discuss my view, this would be a pretty short entry ^^”
However, I realise that many people feel opposed to the almost ‘cop-out’ feeling you get from saying something that broad.
It can be noted that many of the things the majority consider good and bad are created from either instinctual remnants punching us from the lower brain or social constructs and ‘truths’.
I mean, a good example was given by my English Literature teacher a week or so ago:
“Incest is a social taboo. There is (apparently) no real evidence to suggest it being wrong or damaging, or the result of mental disorders.”
Obviously, there may be some proof she has not read (and neither have I. I don’t find the topic interesting sadly).
Take Christmas:

As you can see, I think it is a good thing but then, there are those who despise it and even avoid it (I heard some guy on the radio telling people to leave the country for Christmas at least once).
Perception.
You get my point.
Anyway, the idea of a socially constructed ‘good’ and ‘bad’ just emphasises my point that it really is perception, but the instinctual part holds more water.
I mean, the argument that murder can be seen as good has been pointed out in relation to war, but I think a better example is trying to figure out how one random person can think it’s good to kill another random individual, while everyone else thinks ‘What a loony’.
An argument could be. The three things my friend pointed out:
1. Survival
2. Accident (can immediately cross this one off, I’m talking about intentional)
3. Corruption
Now, survival is the one that seems the strongest to be for going against my argument (corruption would be a form of social construction or interpretation).
Killing another gives you a better chance of survival – more resources and less chance of them giving you a disease.
However, what if the person is not concerned about their own survival and is homicidal? That changes things a bit.
If it’s not for any of those three reasons, what is good about killing?
Release of adrenaline? Feeling powerful? Probably those to an extent, but that doesn’t make it good to the majority of people, right?
I’ll just reiterate my point that good and bad are seriously just down to perception in my view, but obviously try to come up with your own argument for it and, if you want to, please post it in the comments section
Thanks!

-Kizukimizu

On the 12th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… a charming timed essay.

On the 11th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… a pretty bad cold.

On the 10th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… a day off to do course work.

On the 9th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… Propp’s character functions.

On the 8th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… a detailed analysis of ‘City of God’.

On the 7th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… a theatre production.

On the 6th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… a really difficult film quiz.

On the 5th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… RE-VI-SION!

On the 4th day of Christmas, my college gave to me… four children writing.

On the 3rd day of Christmas, my college gave to me… bottomless lemon cake.

On the 2nd day of Christmas, my college gave to me… a research method test paper.

On the 1st day of Christmas, my college gave to me… a CHRISTMAS PEN!