Monday, March 23, 2009

Script Frenzy

Script Frenzy's in only 8 days! I'm really excited. I've done neither Screnzy or NaNo, so I'll cross my fingers and hope I can get it on the first try. But I have CeltX, so 100 pages may not be so far after all. I just have to remember to keep writing. Even if what I write becomes sloppy and/or trash.

Write first. Edit later.

My script's logline:
A very ordinary mailman finds himself in a tough job: delivering mail to a road of ritzy and generally psychotic villains.

Yep. Should be a fun, crazy, stressful April.

Friday, March 20, 2009

Fanfiction bit - Naruto

“So they tell me you’re my brother,” Itachi says conversationally.

Sasuke grunts. He wishes he weren’t.

There is an uncomfortable, pregnant pause. Neither of them knows what to say. In Konohagakure’s prison, there is all the time in the world and enough words to fill none of it. Of all the fifteen cells, only two are occupied, but both of them contain Uchihas, and that is more than enough reason for the rest to be empty.

They are on opposite sides of the hallway, a few cells laterally from each other, but neither can see the other, as their precious Sharingan eyes have been blinded thoroughly.

It doesn’t make much of a difference. For Itachi, his vision has waned and even now he can hardly see the darkness from his blindfold. For Sasuke, his eyes will soon no longer be his but his sannin mentor’s, and he tells himself he had better get used to the darkness. After all, the back of his mind is dark, and once Orochimaru takes over his mind that is where he will be for the rest of his life.

Sasuke dwells on this fact. In that way, both he and Itachi will lose, and he doesn’t know if that is good or bad.

“They also say you’re trying to kill me.” Itachi speaks as if stating a fact, but there is a subtle hint of confusion in his words.

He grunts again. “That’s right,” he says without a second thought.

“Aa,” says the amnesiac Itachi.

Silence again reigns the prison, echoing against the dark, damp walls. Sasuke’s glad for that. He feels uncomfortable talking to Itachi. It is hardly desirable for him to talk with the man who murdered his clan, even if that man didn’t remember any of it.

But Itachi speaks again. “What did I do?” he asks.

“What did I do?” asks the murderer. How laughable, Sasuke thinks scornfully. He remains silent, because he knows that if he gets started, he might not be unable to stop until Itachi is dead. That isn’t bad, but the chances of Konoha shinobi arriving before he can do that is high, and he would certainly be put in another cell, away from Itachi, and his chances of killing him then would diminish.

Something I wrote a while ago. Naruto fanfiction. Unfinished. Yeah. Sorry 'bout that.

Sunday, March 1, 2009


"I try to tell them about you."

He laughs--a refreshing laugh that rings long in her ears. "I know," he says.

"They don't believe me."

"I know that, too."

"You are... very observant, are you not?" She struggles to find the right words.

His so very blue eyes, as varying as the ever-changing colors of the Northern Light and as deep indeed as Tartarus itself, sparkle mysteriously. "You can say that."

"How is it so? I do not see you in the daytime. Only here, at night, can I see you."

"I am not visible to them," he replies. "Only to you."

She tries to understand, but finds that it is a futile effort and stops. "I want everyone to see you. To see how great and amazing you are."

A sudden melancholy blankness lights in his so very blue eyes that indeed can look through her own soul, but it disappears in a second. "I am not as great and amazing as you say!" he laughs. Then he sobers. "I fear, Sonya, that I will not be able to stay here any longer."

"Why not?" She asks, alarmed.

"You are growing up, Sonya," he says with a fond smile. "Soon you shall not need me."

"I shall always need you!" she cries, but oh, that spiteful doubting voice speaks its protests!

His oh so very beautiful eyes dull to near greyness, and his very body begins to fade. "Sonya..." Even his voice has begun to wilter. "I hope that you may always remember me, my dear one. I'm sorry. I love you. Good-bye, my dearest Sonya."

The words do not come as easily anymore. She tries to scream but finds that her voice has left her, just as he has left her--oh, how such a thought disrupts her very mind, her body, her sense! Such a painful yet numb feeling. She feels as though she has lost one of her own limbs.

The tears keep flowing and she can't stop, but she doesn't want to.


He, the boy; she, the girl.

He loves her; she loves him.

She is such a fool.

How can one love a dream?


"We're losing her! Quickly!"

"Hurry! Her blood pressure's rapidly dropping!"

"It's not working! Doctor!"

"Doctor! What shall we do?"

"... Too late, everyone. It's too late..."


I'm calling out to you, my love, so why aren't you answering? Please answer. I'm so lonely here without you...


I do not know what prompted this. Imaginary, for an imaginary friend, I suppose. Ugh. Far too angsty... but whatever...