Kaze

Craptastic

Fri, 02 May 2008 20:12:24 GMT

One of my friends, Doodlebuggy88 got hacked. I don't have her on my friends list, but they have access to hers might be able to get to mine in a round abuot fashion. I doubt it, but I'm posting ya'll to warn you not to click on anything from her until this is all cleared up.

And to say that if I EVER catch who hacked my minion. . .

I'm going to eat you. Without special seasoning. After I've tenderized you and maranated you for a bit.

Fri, 28 Dec 2007 06:17:01 GMT

Bwahaha! Okay, so I was just going to go do this because it looked funny, then it popped up with this and, well, I had to keep it. So, there you have it. Hahahaha.

Get Your Cyborg Name

twitch

Wed, 28 Nov 2007 02:16:25 GMT

Look, I'm alive! I'm alive! I had so much homework I never thought it would end, but I liiiiiiive!!! Go me.

I think I'm actually caught up with my work. I haven't been caught up with anything this entire semester. Man, I'm surprised I have the grades I do. Sleep deprivation is amazing when interpreting crazy old guys that make no sense. In case you can't tell, I'm in a class called "Intellectual History of the West." It makes me sound smart, but I don't get half of what they're trying to tell me. Maybe it's the sleep deprivation again.

Who cares? At least I've gotten very good at crapping my way through it. Very, very good. And the best part? My prof either doesn't know, or doesn't care. I don't care which it is, either. As long as my grade stays decent, that's just fine.

Okay, I'm shutting up before I get overly loopy. By the way, Amber, I'm sorry I didn't get to see you over Thanksgiving. I wanted to, but I was so busy all week. It was horrid. I'll call you when I get home for Christmas, though, and we'll have to plan to see each other. I should be home sometime the 14th, but it'll probably be late, so I doubt I'll call you that day, but maybe the one after.

Yay for almost being done with the semester!

Creative Mood

Sat, 03 Nov 2007 22:34:28 GMT

I was looking for a community for my writing, and I thought, "why not make a new one? We're all writers on here, and it could be fun." This will be an interesting experience, but I hope a lot of people will want to join in on the fun and let me get a feel for this whole, "making a community thing." So, why not? I'm really looking forward to it, and I hope other people like it too. It promises to be an interesting experience.

Plus, I'm really thrilled with the name. The account name is Pen_v_Sword, a play on that, "then pen is mightier than than the sword." I thought it was great fun. And then the name of the community is "Inked Quills." Forgive, I think it's fun. And I'm amused. But we all know where that gets me, considering my sense of humor! Ha ha!

I hope to have some fun it.

Drool

Mon, 22 Oct 2007 23:33:47 GMT

I would have put "dead" for my mood. . . but couldn't find it. Drained will simply have to do.

It rained today. Poured, really. I wanted to die. Okay, not really. What I really wanted was to sleep until doomsday. And maybe a little further. The sky was nice and dark and gray and I didn't really need to get out of bed. Except to go to class, and I had this pesky test I had to take. . . yeah, I really didn't want to get up. And I got up too late to get tea, because I'm lazy and I'd rather have real sleep than caffeine. Studying my eyelids is a lot more interesting than studying my textbooks.

But I had a test today.

It took me less than ten minutes to take.

I could have been sleeping.

Go figure.

So I got up, went and took my test, went to my next class, and got out in time for it to start pouring, then get soaked on my way to chapel. The real kicker was that I had an umbrella. And I didn't get wet from top down, but from bottom up. I think it soaked into my pants, crawled up my legs, and took over to make itself at home in all my clothes to make me uncomfortably damp during chapel. Not wet, not dry, damp.

I hate being damp.

I like to play in the rain. I like the wind, I like the water. They're great. I like to dance in the rain. I like to sing in the rain. But I hate having to wear wet clothes all day. Which is why I hate the rain.

It's the same reason I hate snow.

It gets me damp. I hate being damp. And cold. And. . . and. . . damp.

So I'm out in the rain, trying to huddle under my umbrella because I don't want to be damp through chapel, and through my next class, wanting to play in the rain, but not wanting to get. . . damp. Have I mentioned that I despise, loathe, and all around detest being damp? Playing in the rain and snow? Great! Anytime! But I'd better have something dry for afterwards.

And then I get in a mood like this. Classes have fried my brain, I haven't written anything decent in weeks, and I'm going insane. My muses have vanished because they can't take the pressure. Put in a notice of resignation, clocked out, and changed their cell numbers. I think one was headed towards the Bahamas.

What jerks. They could have taken me.

Who ever said only unmotivated people have writer's block should be shot. After I get to use the thumbscrews. They have obviously never tried to take seventeen hours at the uni while attempting to write a book. Then they can tell me writer's block is all fake. I can't even think. In fact, there's probably smoke coming out my ears and I just haven't noticed yet. I'd check, but I can't muster the energy. Agh. Maybe I should just go pass out until morning. Except I know I'd wake up about ten and be energized and ready for a new day. And then I wouldn't get back to sleep, and then I'd be really cranky tomorrow.

I think I'm going to go pretend to be an ostrich for awhile. If I don't see the homework, it won't see me.

Excuse me, I need to go find some sand to shove my head in.

I know, I know. . .

Mon, 17 Sep 2007 19:42:46 GMT

So what if I never write? Geeze. . . lol. I should get better about this, seeing how I'm in school and this is a great line of communication, but I'm soooo lazy! And we all know about my summer anyway, since I was home. Meh. *sticks out tongue* Lol.

I'm pretty well settled in at school and down to work, though I never did find a job. Evil little buggers, jobs are. But I have enough to live on, so I'm not too worried. I just wish I wasn't so. . . broke. Heh.

My car is working good (which it better be) and I have enough school work to kill a small animal--okay, so what if I ran two squirrels over with my car? They ran in front of me and there's no way I'm going to risk running into a ditch over a squirrel. If they want to be suicidal, that's their problem. Meh. But my school work. . . well, that's just not right. I have three tests this week, two on Wednesday and one on Thursday, and it stinks. I also got my hair cut. It's really short and cute and all I have to do it put a little water and leave in conditioner on it in the morning and forget about it. It's great! And I can take really, really, really short showers now that I don't have to mess with my long hair.

I donated, and it was sixteen inches long. Ha, and that was before she styled it. Have I mentioned how amazing my stylist is? She's great. I was sooooo glad I waited to cut my hair until I go back because Brenda's amazing! I love how she cuts my hair. I'll be very sad to leave her behind, that's for sure!

Well, I just wanted to let people know I was alive, but now I've got work to do.

Later!

I LIIIIIIIVE!!!

Thu, 07 Jun 2007 04:34:04 GMT

Yeah, yeah, I know. Bad Sarah, you should actually keep up with this thing incase people want to know if you're still breathing. Well. . . *Pouty face* I know. I'm a bad critter. Bad, bad, bad critter. Yup. But, see, I'm still breathing, so it's okay!

My brother is all moved into his new apartment in Chicago, which is totally great and we really cleaned out half the house for him, but it's all good. I have plenty of stuff left to take with me, and there's still plenty at home, too. Hee hee. That's what happens when you move three households together. You dig through the stuff in the basement as a poor college/recent college grad, take a few hundred dollars of stuff they'll never care to use again, and make it your own, therefor saving lots of money!

I also have a funny story about baby-sitting. So, I've been baby-sitting since, like, middle school, you know? Back when I set my rates, they were normal and reasonable for the time. $2 for the first kid per hour, and $1 for each additional kid per hour. Normal, reasonable rates. And I was 12. Cheap was good. Got me more jobs. This was all well and good, but when I moved I lost a lot (okay, all) of my clients. Which is all well and good and everything, but I've never changes my rates. I don't baby-sit much, the people I usually sit for aren't exactly rich, and I'm not usually hurting for money.

So I baby-sat Sunday for a couple hours, two kids, one six, one three (I got the three year old down for her nap! The mom didn't think I could do it! Hah!) and charged her six bucks. Those're my rates, haven't changed them in years. Not much, but so what? It wasn't like it was a real chore for me to sit her kids. So the lady looks at me, frowns, and goes, "You aren't expensive enough."

My jaw dropped. I'm going, "Wha--? I'm not. . . wait. . . did she just tell me I was too cheap? She did! She just refused my rates and told me I was too cheap! Who does that?" So I'm staring at her like a fish that's just been dropped out of his bowl, and she doubled my rates, despite (some) protest. So, for the first time in my life, I've been told I'm too cheap. I have never in my life been told my rates were too cheap. I mean, sure it was $6, but it wasn't like I was trying to make a living. I'm not entirely sure if I'm offended, yet. Of course, I keep looking at this and laughing, so I must be all right. Either that or it has yet to sink in and I'm still in shock. Maybe that's it. Shock. Heh. Oh well. But I just had to share that. I have finally been told I'm too cheap. Heh. And even as I write this I'm thinking, "Oh well. I'm still not changing my rates."

Isn't that pathetic? Hahaha!

Part Fifteen: Wow, I'm still breathing!

Fri, 25 May 2007 21:30:32 GMT

Holy crap has it ben awhile. Whew, sorry, people! I've been out of my mind with real life, in case you can tell, and I'm just now getting done with school and caugh tup on sleep. I'm amazed I'm actually posting, too, but that's all right! You know you love me anyway.

Well, life's good and all. My big bro just graduated, and I'm sitting on my butt right now, looking for a job for the summer, but I'm not going stir crazy yet. This thunderstorm here has given me a raging headache, but all in all, that's all right. I'm home and away from that monstrosity known as school, typing for fun instead of homework and loving every, relaxing moment. Sounds a pity, right? Oh well, I love it anyway.

Okay, got to get ready for supper, but maybe I'll actually manage to post more often now! Ha ha, wish me luck on that!

Part Fourteen: Look, I haven't died!

Wed, 27 Dec 2006 04:21:21 GMT

Well, exams are over (finally) and so's my semester. I'm on break! w00T! So I'm kicking back and relaxing and catching up on life. Heh.

I do need some help, though. One of my friends needs help. His mom has cancer and needs a histerectemy--I guess that's spelled right. . .sigh--anyway, they don't have insurance, as far as I know, and need help getting the money for it. He's a good guy, though he's an on-line friend, which apparently makes him untrustworthy just because everyone on-line is a stalker (if you talk to my mother, anyway), but I promised I'd help. So, I need some ideas here. Anyone have some pratical advice?

Beyond that, however, are other things to talk about. Lol. Life in general is good. Home is good. Not having to use my own money and mooching off the parentals is very good. . . anything more than that? Eh, not really! Miss school a little, but only my friends because I don't miss the work! Heh. And, for not having written in like. . . forever, this is a really short entery. But that's cool!

Well, I'm off!

~Kaze

Part Thirteen: Oh, Lucky Thirteen

Sun, 22 Oct 2006 22:45:35 GMT

So I went on a retreat this weekend with my social club and did my best to forget everything else in the world. Took some homework, and got it done, but it wasn't fratic like normal. That was nice, lemme tell ya. I worked a little on the plots for the Neverwhere series I've got in my head, and it'll hopefully be good. Not sure about it, yet, but I think it has potential. I was considering turning it in, but the second installment already promises to be longer than the first, and I'm sure the third one will be. The fourth will probably be the shortest, thought. (watch this bite me in the butt when it's the longest. . . )

So, life is pretty good. I've got all these stories almost worked out, and when I'm done I'm going to compile them into a novel and go for publishing! Yup, publishing. I think they're good enough, I'd just have to play with them a bit and I'd be set. That and find an editor. Anyone know a good one? And Fuu? YOu know what I'm gonna ask you, right? ^_~ *claps* I'm really excited for these. I truely think they could be something! So, I'm royally excited about that. Like I said, has promise. Heh.

What I need to do is get off my butt and work on some of my other stuff. I need to put together a poetry anthology, because I think I could go places with that, too. And my other novels need some desprate attention. All three. . . four. . . five. . . however many of them. Let me think. . . four. All four of them. Hee hee.

All right, so that's my update! Really short, as of yet, but that can always change! Hee hee.

~Kaze

Part Twelve: So I've Run Away. . .

Thu, 19 Oct 2006 17:21:14 GMT

Okay, I didn't really run away. I've just not posted in a long time. I leave for a few weeks, and then I discover that Fuu's being silly and Settai's in a lurch, and that everything it just all messed up. OKAY, WHEN I GO ON VACATION FROM LJ, BAD THINGS ARE NOT SUPPOSED TO HAPPEN! Are we settled on this? Good, good. I was worried. Anyway, I've mucking about, trying to create a sequal for a story that wasn't going to have a sequal, but I love the characters so much that I had to make a sequal. . . geeze. . .

Anyway, I'm working on a second part for Neverwhere, called Somewhere. Eventually I plan to have a four part story consisting of Neverwhere, Somewhere, Anywhere, and Everywhere. So far it's going well enough. I've having some trouble with a trasitional part in Somewhere, because I have the plot and it doesn't like me! *cries* See, Rei gets kidnapped, and because she's so young her mother can't jsut locate her on the mortal plane. Thus we have the grand mis-adventure of Odin and Charon who can because of their time in Neverwhere. Rei was kidnapped by a cult so they could sacrifice her gain immortaility. They offer it to Odin and Charon, which would save Odin from an eternity in Hell, and Odin must decide whether to live forever, or to take his enternity and save little Rei.

In Anywhere, five years have passed since the kidnapping incident, and Odin and Charon are headed to the nice big city for college. They spent two years at the community college which is why they've started at the Uni. late. Well, there they meet Isis and Persephone (Oh, love intrest! Hee hee!), who are identical twins. Persephone died and Isis entered Neverwhere to bring her back. They do not have the same power as Odin and Charon as that just wouldn't be any fun, but that's okay! I've got their power written down somewhere, but I've currently forgotten what it is. Anyway, the four of them discover the Philospher's stone. Contrary to popular belief it doesn't turn lead to gold. The stone, because of its ability to offer immortality, is threatening to rip the thin veil between Neverwhere and the mortal plane open. Death cannot effect that which mortals have done, so she cannot mess with the stone, and Rei is still to young to even try. So Odin, Charon, Isis, and Persephone must then do it.

The plot of Everywhere is still in the process, but it'll probably be either after they've died, or something. Like I said, I really don't know about that one yet. But it will be the end of the four-part story.

I'm really excited about it all, though. So eventually I'll get it all written. I'm working on Somewhere now, and I'll probably turn it in for my next creative writing assignment, but I'm not positive. It's still got a lot of work left, and I can already tell it's going to be longer than Neverwhere and that was a bit long as it was. I might turn in some poetry and leave it at that. *Sigh* That's okay. I don't care. I'll figure something out.

I've also got my schedule for next year all figured out, which was a pain in the butt, not by choice, of course. I'm almost done with my major, which is good, I guess, but still annoying. It's hard to pick classes as a history major when you've taken all but two of the ones they've offered. That's bad. But oh well. I'll work towards a psyc minor and if I make, I make it, if I don't, I don't. It'll still look good on my transcript. And that is that. As of next semester, if everything goes as planned, I'll have half of what I need to have it, so I think it'll be okay. Heh. Of course, after next semester I'll hopefully have my major classes all done. Which is also good. Heh.

Well, that's really all I have, so I'll head out and work on Somewhere again. Maybe this slight writer's block with LEAVE ME ALONE! ^_^

~Kaze

Part Eleven D: Oh, And One More Thing. . .

Tue, 03 Oct 2006 02:04:28 GMT

I decided to sit down and draw Odin and Charon tonight. Just on whim, kind of, but they came out wonderful! This is shocking, because I have very little talent in the drawing department. But they were Odin and Charon. Granted, I didn't capture them like aneki can, because Fuu is that awesome, but I did manage to draw protraits of them. Nothing special, but I drew them. I am very proud of myself. *grins* I spent FOREVER on them, so I'm just glad they came out as good as they did. Still not Fuu's standard, but that's okay. Aneki is a lot better than me. She also pratices more. . . but that is beside the point! I'm writing here to gloat! So ha! And it's not important that they aren't like. . . living breathing capture the moment type things, I just want them to be like, "This is Odin, and that's Charon." And yes, Charon's a boy. Which is also keep for me, because I have this problem. I don't draw the male end of the species well. I don't draw well at all, but they're my worst subjects. Personally, I'd rather color. I did that, too. Lol. No shading or anything complicated, but I can be like, "This is Odin." Or, "This is Charon." Which is all that matters. *Stokes ego a little more and preens in front of a fake audience*

It's really sad. When I write well, I'm like. . . "yeah, that sucks," because I know I can do better. But when I draw well, I'm like, "Yeah, I rock!" Because I know I can't do better. At least not without a lot of pratice, and I'm honestly not that motivated when it comes to drawing. That's what an illistraitor is for. I'll let them do it. Or I'll hire Fuu. Fuu, will you be my illistrator when I get rich and famous? Hee hee. So, anyway, I drew some pictures that are good for my level (I'm soooo proud of them, you just don't understand!) and I printed off a hardcopy of Neverwhere (completele with all changes. . . it's like, 20 pages long. . . heh.) and I edited another story.

This one doesn't make me want to fall over and die from gagging. Which is good. It has potential. At the current rate, it might not keep the potential, but it's there. That's what counts. At least for now. The last story I edited? Yeah. . . that's a negatory on the potential. If I was someone else, I reccommend the paper shredder. It was that bad. Pathetic, isn't it? But that's over and done with, thank everything. And I drew Odin and Charon.

I know, I know, shut up about it all ready! But I DREW ODIN AND CHARON! *dodges rotten fruit* Sor~ry. Sheesh. You people. I like my pictures. So there. :P Plbbbb! I might show the pictures to aneki, but other than that, I doubt they'll ever see the light of day. But I'm still going to gloat! So there! Then again. . . aneki might read this and groan. She's seen my lame attempts before (Feel bad for her, having to look at my butchered attempts I call drawings. . . I think I've single handedly massacared the thing called "art." Hee hee. I'm so evil!).

Anyway, I'm still so proud, sucky or not. If this was written, I think I'd burn it. . . or something, but it's not! Hahahaha! So there! I can still gloat.

*Glances at soapbox.* Hm. . . I've been on this thing for awhile. I'll get off now. ^_^ And I recommend reading the new version of Neverwhere. I need to know if it's any good.

Thank you!
~Kaze Cougar

Part Eleven C: Just. . . don't ask.

Mon, 02 Oct 2006 19:00:01 GMT

The other 2 parts of Neverwhere Version 2.0

Neverwhere
Part Three
Spring

The room was stuffy and dimly lit, filled with crying people holding handkerchiefs and tissues to their faces. Odin stared numbly at the gleaming, oak coffin that stood before him. Charon was inside, dressed in a soft white shirt and blue and black tie. Charon had never worn either before, and Odin had bought them just for the funeral. Just for Charon.

His long hair, normally pulled back into a ponytail high on his head was left loose and brushed until it shone, falling over his shoulders and the pristine white pillow behind his head, shining like a halo might. His face was set in a stern lines, so different from how he looked while alive. When Charon was alive, he was practically the embodiment of life. He was always smiling, always looking at people as they he could see right through them.

Charon loved people, but he was so shy that it made it rather funny to watch him interact with them. He had never met a stranger, didn't understand the concept of "stranger." There were only friends he had yet to meet. Though he'd only go talk to them if Odin was with him. He wasn't brave enough to go alone. But he still tried to meet everyone he had never meet before.

Now he never would.

Odin forced back his tears. He was the only one there to greet the long line of people waiting to say their final good-byes to his best friend. Charon had been well liked at school and in the neighborhood, except by the football team. Even the local bullies had stopped picking on him some time ago because Charon would smile and ask if they felt better when they were done hurting him.

Odin would have beaten them up, but Charon always stopped him and said they just didn't know any other way to show they needed people as much as everyone else. He had such an amazing ability to love.

Tears burned his eyes, and Odin blinked them back rapidly. He didn't have time to cry. Not then. He still had to greet the long line that was wrapped around the inside of the funeral home and try to explain why Charon's parents weren't there. Telling people they were too busy drinking and had no idea their son was even dead wasn't a good start. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he turned to the next person in line.

It was Charon's favorite teacher from school, Mrs. Veldman. She was an old lady that saw all the students she taught as her grandchildren. She always made cookies for her classes, and thought Charon had been the cutest thing in the world. "Who would do that to him?" She asked, reaching in the casket to touch the cold face, set in a slight frown. Her old, arthritic fingers caressed the down turned lips of a boy that frowned only rarely in life, and she grasped Odin's hand. "I'm sorry, Odin. He was too young."

"I know," Odin knew his voice cracked, but Mrs. Veldman always wormed through his defenses. "I'm sorry too."

The teacher hugged him tightly, allowing him a moment of respite where he could bury his face in her shoulder, taking comfort in the scent of cookies and flowery perfume that made him think of his own grandmother. It gave him a chance to pretend it would be okay, because Charon wasn't dead, and he'd wake up any moment and yell, "Surprise!" But it never happened. It never would.

And when it was time to place the lonely casket in the family plot, Charon's parents weren't even around to say good-bye. They were still passed out on the ratty couch in their living room, thinking Charon was at Odin's. Odin was the one to close the casket, and Odin was the one to throw the flower in after, and to toss the handful of dirt onto the vault. It was Odin that thanked everyone for coming, and it was Odin that was the last to leave the lonely cemetery, wishing it was raining so no one could tell the wetness on his face was his tears.

His parents had gotten the meal ready, and they had asked if he needed anything, but his parents didn't understand. This was Charon, not one of his other friends. This was his best friend. His brother.

And it was his fault that Charon was dead.
<>*<>

Odin groaned and rubbed his head. He had a pounding headache, and his body ached all over. Soft giggling met his ears as his consciencness slowly turned the black of oblivion to the gray of waking. Prying his eyes open, he saw Rei standing over him, poking him with her cat's paw, and giggling. Her long hair was a mess of curls, unlike the brushed neatness it had been before, and it looked like she had just woken from her nap.

"Where did you go?" Odin asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Mommy wanted me for a nap," Rei answered, giggling. "So I had to sneaks out."

"You shouldn't have run from home," Odin scolded lightly, but was grateful for the company in the dead, gray world.

Rei's eyes sparkled as she shook her head, watching Odin sitting up then snuggling into his side. Her small body warmed him, like the sun on a cold winter morning, and he felt his stiff muscles finally begin to loosen and answer his furious demands to get up. Lifting Rei, he turned to look out into the landscape. "Do you know what the flashbacks mean?" He asked.

Rei blinked. "Flashbacks?"

"Yeah. . . I keep. . . remembering things from when Charon died."

"Oh. Means he's closer," Rei nodded, resting her head tiredly on Odin's shoulder and clutching his shirt loosely with that hand that wasn't in her mouth. "Mommy says its good."

"Your mom knows I'm here?" Odin blinked.

"Uh huh." Rei nodded, but didn't say anything when Odin waited for her to explain. He knew better than to ask, Rei was a mystery on her own, and explanations were hard to come by when the little girl was involved. Odin began walking in the direction he'd seen Charon run in, rubbing his head a bit longer. It still felt like it was planning on exploding, and Odin wasn't sure if that was possible in this odd world.

The landscape hadn't changed much, but there were a few more trees and the strange gray rock Odin had been walking on turned to a strange gray swamp. He no longer stirred up dust as he moved, but instead a dull mist wound through the dying landscape, gray creepers hanging from the skeletal trees. Rei snuggled closer, obviously near sleep, and Odin had to wonder where he was.

Surely something like this wasn't normal, right? It was too. . . creepy. . . and too lonely. The caws of the crows and the cries of the vultures grew louder as Odin made his way deeper into the swamp, batting the creepers from his way and carefully watching his footing. If he fell here, he might crush Rei, or they might be swallowed by the swamp. Neither of which sounded like a good, viable option, at the moment.

Ooooodiiiin, a haunting cry made the hair on the back of Odin's neck stand up. Ooooodiiiin. It sounded like Charon's voice! He whirled, seeing nothing but the gray swamp behind him. The wind picked up through the trees, continuing the haunting cry. Odin let out a sigh. Nothing but the wind. Wind that hadn't existed in the past. Wind that probably didn't belong. Wind that sounded just like Charon when he was trying to creep Odin out. He had never been good at it while he was alive, but this wind was terrifying to Odin. Because if might be Charon, ready to blame him for an accident that he knew was his fault all along. The only reason Odin hadn't died yet was because he didn't think Charon would want him too. He didn't think Charon blamed him.

If he lost that, he had nothing left.

Leeeaaaaveeee thiiiis plaaaaceee, The mournful wind pleaded, but Odin shook his head.

"Not until I find Charon!" He snapped, continuing forward. "Not until he's safe."

And it was true. He wouldn't leave Charon here. He couldn't leave Charon here. Charon was better than this. Deserved better than this. Charon was special. Charon was. . . his brother. He clenched his jaw in determination, ice green eyes narrowing in anger at the thought that someone would try to turn him away and determination that it wouldn't work. He need to get to Charon, and beg for forgiveness, even if he couldn't take Charon back. Even if Charon couldn't hear him. He would make Charon understand, somehow.

"Char--!"

Golden eyes locked onto ice green and Charon smiled at his brother, face lighting up like a lamp. He had pulled his long hair up in a tight ponytail, and the small teen knelt at the starting line, waiting for the teacher to blow her whistle and start their race. Odin could remember the blue of the sky, the way the sun hung above them, warming the cool ground.

The whistle sounded, and both teens started to run, laughing and egging each other on even as they ran. Charon was pulling ahead, and Odin knew he couldn't let his friend win this race. But no matter how face Odin ran, Charon was always faster. "Stop!" Odin screamed, forcing himself to go faster and faster.

Charon glanced back at his cry, his golden eyes crinkling as he smiled, and wings sprouted from his back as he flew away leaving Odin behind, staring at the path he had taken. A path that Odin couldn't follow.

"Char--!"

"--on!"

Rei was a warm, heavy weight on his shoulder, heavy black lashes brushing her pale cheeks. She had been very sleepy, it seemed, to curl up to Odin to nap. "Charon!"

Rei didn't stir, her breath still even. Odin smiled. Sometimes he wondered if she was a little spirit here, a mischief-making sprite that had wandered from the realm to find a playmate. It was amusing, for some reason, and Odin couldn't stop a laugh from escaping his lips at the thought of Rei being a little sprite. It was like the time Charon--

"Stop laughing at me, Odin! It's not funny! Mom made me wear the bunny suit!"

--was forced to dress like a bunny for Halloween the year they were twelve. Apparently his mother was so drunk, she'd forgotten his age. Fortunately the costume had been the right size. But Odin had teased Charon for a month straight about it.

A flash of movement made Odin look up, and he saw Charon, standing in the mist, staring at him. He, like the rest of Neverwhere, was gray His hair was still pulled back like Odin remembered it, high on the top of his head, and he wore the strangest expression Odin had ever seen. "Charon!" He cried, racing towards his best friend. Golden eyes, the only speck of color on the spirit, locker onto Odin. Charon smiled, tilting his head and closing his eyes, his grin just a slight tilt of his lips. He always smiled like that when he was so happy he just didn't have a better way to show it unless he wanted to abandon all dignity and jump up and down, screaming and shouting like a fool.

Charon reached out a hand, and Odin lunged, grabbing for it, even as the wind drifted through the trees and Charon just seemed to blow away, fading from Odin's eyes as his almost corporeal body turned less so, making Odin fall through Charon's insubstantial spirit and nearly tumbling into the swamp below. He turned just as Charon's hand faded completely from view. "Charon?"

Foooorgiiiiiveeeneeeess, the wind seemed to wail as Odin fell to his knees, screaming in rage, careful not to drop the precious burden in his arms. Reeeedeeeemptiiioooon.

Odin cursed and beat the ground with his fists, lashing out at whatever was near-by in his rage, not caring if the trees were old souls, not caring if he was hurting something. His heart was hurting him, the anger and rage pounding in his veins. Tears streamed down his face, dripping onto the ground as he screamed and cried, longing for that which he no longer had.

In her sleep, Rei smiled.
<>*<>

"Do you believe in forgiveness?" Charon asked as Odin bandaged the other's bleeding arm. Charon had been attacked at the school again, by a few of the local bullies, and had hit a locker, cutting his arm pretty badly. He couldn't afford to go to the hospital, so Odin was bandaging his arm for him, hands gentle and sure.

"I never thought about it. Why?" Odin sighed. Only Charon would ask such a question.

"I don't know. You always seem so angry, Odin. Why can't you just let go of the past?"

"I'm not you, Charon. Things make me angry. Especially people that hurt you. I don't see how you can forget it so easily." Odin deftly tied the bandage and stood, patting Charon on the head to let him know they were done with the bandages as he tucked them back into the cabinet.

Charon had a strange look on his face when Odin glanced towards him. "What's wrong?"

"What did you mean, forget?" Charon asked, frowning.

"You just act like nothing ever happened. Like you've forgotten. I don't see how you do it."

"I never forget, Odin," Charon laughed. "But forgiveness is like that, sometimes. Its not about payback, or revenge. Its about being kind to other people. Its about treating them like they haven't done anything. We all make mistakes, Odin. That doesn't mean we have to cling to our anger forever."

"But you're never mad!"

"Why would I be?"

"Because you're dead! And I killed you!"

"I forgave you before I even died, Odin. The only person left to offer you redemption for killing me is yourself. You're hurting me, because you refuse to let go. Its been so long, Odin. Just let. . . it. . . go. . . "
<>*<>

Odin gasped, his eyes snapping open as he sat up, his head colliding with the tree he was leaning against. He groaned, and tried to raise a hand to his head, but found that Rei was blocking it's movement, her eyes still closed and her breathing still even. Despite all his yelling and cursing, she was still fast asleep. He smiled. Children were truly amazing, sometimes.

Odin smiled at her, then looked to the gray sky. "I'm sorry, Charon," He murmured softly, staggering to his feet. "I have been hurting you, haven't I. But holding on to the guilt and the anger. You always hated it when I did that. I'm sorry, Charon. I won't do it anymore."

The wind picked up again, and Charon's smiling image flickered in front of him, holding out a hand. Before Odin could react, the figure was gone. Odin screamed in denial, and the wind picked up again. Charon's image flickered in front of him a second time. Odin lunged towards his best friend, grabbing the outstretched hand. Fingers met, hands collided. Charon's smile grew, and shadows spread from under his feet, coating the area in blackness, taking over Odin's senses until a single golden light in the center of the darkness made him turn.

"Charon?"

Charon was just as Odin remembered him, and with all his coloring intact, with his long brown hair caught up in a high ponytail, spiking from the rubber band, and his golden eyes happily glittering when he looked at Odin. He wasn't the pale ghost that Odin had seen before, but he was a smiling fourteen year old, running towards Odin. Hastily, Odin placed Rei on the ground, opening his arms for his best friend.

But even as Odin's arms closed around the other boy, Charon disappeared in a spray of colored light and mist, like a wave breaking upon a cliff. Odin looked at his empty embrace, and sank to his knees, bowing his head. "Charon. . . You pro--

"I'll be back tomorrow, Odin! I promise!"

--mised." But tomorrow had never come, because Charon was dead. And it was all his fault.

Odin clenched his fists. Except it wasn't his fault. It hadn't been his fault. It was the fault of the people that killed Charon, and even of Charon himself for going into the vacant lot. But mostly it was the fault of those jerks that had first laid a hand on the small teenager. Odin gritted his teeth. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault! "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" The cry echoed through the darkness, even as Odin scooped up Rei again. "DO YOU HEAR ME, CHARON? IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"

Rei smiled.

And Odin felt himself fall.
<>*<>

Neverwhere
Part Four
Summer

Odin knew he was falling, the blackness that had appeared even as Rei smiled, spreading beneath his feet and swallowing him like a giant gaping maw. But he had no memory of falling other than the knowledge that he was. The blackness drifted passed, a reminder of the birth of the stars and the universe and the planet, a million lives condensed into one, single, eternal moment of time. There was everything, and there was nothing. Future, present, and past blurred together into a moment of knowledge too great for any human to comprehend.

Odin knew he was screaming, felt Rei drifting from his arms, but in those moments of overwhelming knowledge that he knew of but couldn't remember, he could do nothing. A grain of sand on the seashore, and a drop of mist in the fog.

"Do you know the price of a soul?"

Innocent black eyes seemed to look through him, passed his delusions, passed his pain.

"Everyone brave enough to enter Neverwhere can leave behind a soul."

Rei's words were said in the passed, at that very moment, and later in the future. They echoed in time and space as Odin watched the blackness turn into nothingness and continue passed. He was being stretched in all directions, his soul being shattered and put back together as someone sought to read his deepest desires and darkest thoughts.

He continued to scream.
<>*<>

He landed on nothing, and stood in nothing. It wasn't light or dark, it simply was. . . and then was not. Odin looked around at the nothingness surrounding him. Rei was going, Charon was gone, and the only thing left was his tortured memories and the sound of his frantically beating heart. He opened his mouth, to call out for Charon and Rei, but sound refused to come forth. Ice green eyes grew wide.

"What business does the living have in the land of the dead?" The voice was that of a woman, but distinctly inhuman. It was a firestorm amid the frozen midwinter, freezing his skin and blistering his soul. He saw no person that could be speaking, and the voice came from everywhere and nowhere at once. It rang in Odin's ears, making his heart skip a beat, and his breathing followed the cadence of the voice. It controlled him without thought, drifting through his veins like frozen fire.

Odin skipped back a step, falling in a fighting stance. The owner of the voice let out a low chuckle, and Odin had the impression that she was circling him, like a vulture circles its next meal. He growled, but his voice was still missing. The voice spoke again, making him jump. "So you seek the friend you thought forever lost. At least, that's what you want to believe you seek. How. . . cute." The voice was laced with sarcasm.

"Show yourself!" Odin tried to demand, but his throat would issue no sound.

The owner of the voice chuckled lowly again, and something hit him, bowling him over, sending him tumbling head over heels. When he landed on his knees, something shoved at his back, forcing him into a kneeling position. "Mortals," The voice scoffed. "So stupid." Odin coughed softly, trying to regain his breath after the fall had knocked it from his body, and stayed there, panting. As he tried to recover, the nothingness around him seemed to shift, somehow, and a woman stepped forward.

Fear and awe made Odin's breath catch in his throat. She was terrifying and beautiful, a demon and an angel. Standing nearly ten feet tall, her hair fell to her hips in a tumble of inky black curls that reminded Odin of innocent little Rei. Her eyes, as black as her daughter's--for Odin had no doubt this was Rei's mother--held none of the child's innocence. This was Death, with a blizzard burning behind her black eyes. She was pale as snow, paler even than Rei, with a black wing and a white wing arching from her body. Her clothes were black and white, a mix of darkness and light, shadows and fog. They flowed around her morning mist. In one pale, slender hand, she held a blazing scythe. To Odin, it was like one of the Greek goddess in his text books coming to life.

"Where is Charon?" Odin demanded, relieved that his voice was working. He wanted answers, and he wanted to know where Charon was.

"The one you seek?" Her voice was the frozen maelstrom that had sounded before. "For what purpose do you seek him?"

"To get him back!" Odin cried, rising to his feet. She looked ready to step forward and send him back to his knees, but he stubbornly held his ground, his eyes narrowing. "So where is he?"

"Charon Amon," The woman mused, looking towards Odin. "You sought him to gain his forgiveness. What more do you need of him? To torture him with the idea that you are living and he is dead? To tell him something he already knows? That it was not your fault? What further use could you possibly have for a spirit?"

"Rei said he could be brought back!" Odin cried, clenching his fists. "She said there was a way, and she would tell me when I found him! I found him, so tell me!"

"I am hardly Rei," The woman sneered, waving a hand. "But if this is what you seek. . ."

Charon appeared, face tilted back to look up at his tall friend. Golden eyes widened as he stepped back, his brown hair fluttering behind him. He wore no hair band, and his hair had the same halo-like sheen to it as it had at the funeral. Odin reached for his best friend, to touch him and see if he was real, but before he could, golden eyes unfocused and the other boy collapsed.

"Charon!" Odin moved to grab him, but found his body frozen as he fell, hitting the ground heavily. Dead eyes stared up at Odin, and all the other teen could see was the mangled, bloodied corpse that his been his best friend the night of his murder. Accusing, not because Odin had let him die, but because Odin had not allowed himself to live.

"That is what you seek," Death told him, looking at the form on the ground. Odin blinked and looked again. It looked like Charon was still sleeping, though with his eyes open. He wasn't mangled or bloodied, just. . . lost in his own soul.

"Charon," Odin moaned, lifting the boy off the ground and rocking his unresponsive body. "Don't leave me."

The nothingness shifted a second time, and he looked up to see a set of black eyes meeting his own. "Don't cry," Rei offered, softly. "You found your forgiveness."

"My forgiveness?" Odin demanded, clutching Charon more tightly. "This wasn't about forgiveness!"

"Then what was it about?" Rei asked softly, placing a hand on the teen's arm.

"Finding Charon!"

Rei offered the teen a confused look. Despite her actual age, she was still only three or four in mind, so she didn't understand that Odin had wanted Charon to come back, not to simply find him and ask for forgiveness. If there hadn't been a way to bring Charon back, he would have accepted to earn the other's forgiveness, but that wasn't what he wanted. "You told me he could come back," Odin reminded the little girl, who nodded and frowned.

"You told him he could take his friend back?" Death looked at her daughter, crossing her arms, a stern frown on his face.

"I didn't tell him how!" Rei protested. "I said he had to find Charon first! I thought that would be enough! I didn't think he would still want to bring him back! I'm sorry, Mommy."

Death heaved a sigh, and held out her arms. Rei ran into them, allowing the terrifying woman to pick her up and resting her head on Death's collarbone. "Why did you tell him? Why did you even allow him entrance to Neverwhere?"

"He was hurting. And I was bored." Rei shrugged. Odin nearly gaped at the child. He never realized he was a game to her! Death seemed to contemplate that, then turned to Odin, studying him.

"Your concern should not be for the mortals, my daughter," Death reprimanded Rei, frowning. "We care not for mortal's pain as we are Death. I should take from him the price of entering this plane."

"No, Mommy!" Rei pleaded. "I brought him! He was hurting! I'm sorry."

"I know, but you must learn not to do that, Rei. It isn't good for the mortal."

"He loves Charon, Mommy."

"Is that so," Death mused, looking back to Odin. He was still cradling the unresponsive form in his arms, stroking Charon's hair and murmuring to him, begging him to wake up. "What is he to you?"

"My best friend. . . and my brother. I would do anything for him."

"Mortals are so dense," Death sighed, frowning. "Even from the beginning, Charon begged me to send you a sign that it wasn't your fault. And you ignored it. If you could not see what was passed your very eyes--"

"A sign?"

"Your hair," Death growled.

"The doctors said it was stress," Odin frowned. "But. . . why white?"

"Purity," Death answered gently. "Charon wanted you to know it wasn't your fault. Begged and pleaded with me to give you a sign. So I gave him one final request and turned your hair white. The color of purity, and the color of forgiveness. So you would know that Charon bore no grudge to you. But you refused to accept the sign. You say you would do everything for him, Odin Sheridan, but you could not live."

Shame colored Odin's features. "No," He answered softly, "I could not."

"And you came to find your brother. Cute." Death's eyes narrowed. "But I grow tired of such things. I gave you the chance of forgiveness you so desired. It is time and passed that you left."

"Not without Charon."

"Fine then. Do you know the price to bring back a soul?" The woman smirked, setting the butt of her scythe on the ground. "Do you know the price for your redemption?"

"No," Odin answered, not looking at her, clutching Charon more tightly.

"The price of a soul," The woman mused, looking Odin over, "is the price of killing it all over again. To take Charon from this plane, you must lead him out of the door you entered. Once he has left this realm, you must take the knife I will give you, and 'kill' his spirit with it so that he will regain his physical body. Then you must offer him some of your own blood, and breathe life back into his body. This will bring him back to life. But at a cost."

"Which is?" Odin's tears had fallen onto Charon's face, a sick parody of Charon crying. Golden eyes fluttered open.

"He will be connected to you. If you die, he will follow within a week. And if you decide you hate him, he will die then, also. But there is one more thing."

"What?"

"Odin, no--"

"You must relive that which you have already done." The woman smiled. "When you kill him, he will relive his death but this time, it will be you killing him; he will know this, and he will not know why. You will be his murderer. It will be your punishment, when you one day die. You will also be forced to relive all the years that he's been dead. With no memory of what has gone on before."

"Don't, Odin." Charon begged, his voice thin and soft. "Please. I have died, just leave me here."

"You don't deserve this place," Odin shook his head. "I can't leave you here. I don't care about the cost."

"The cost is your soul, Odin!"

"Maybe I will redeem it," Odin told Charon softly. "I would rather murder you and spend eternity in hell than leave you here forever and enjoy paradise."

Odin turned to Death, ignoring his brother's soft protests, and met her burning gaze squarely, holding out his hand.

"Give me the knife."
<>*<>

The woman had offered Odin a strange knife with runes of some kind embedded in the gleaming handle and blade. Charon looked mutely at his friend, and Odin took the other's hand, leading the other back to the door he had entered through. He was careful not to loose his grip on Charon's hand since he had to be touching Charon in order to take him back through the door.

It was some time before he spotted it, and pulled Charon after him. Charon hesitated at the door to the next world, looking at Odin uncertainly. "I'm sure." Odin tugged on his hand, making Charon follow him through. Turning to his friend, he bit his lip and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," Odin murmured, wrenching Charon forward and plunging the knife into him where his heart would be.

Charon screamed, an inhuman sound from the spirit, before he turned human and collapsed to the floor, convulsing. He had to wait for the seizures to stop before he could do anything, according to Death, and all he could do was hold Charon as he screamed in pain, begging for Odin to stop hurting him. Begging for Odin not to kill him.

Tears streamed down Odin's face as Charon convulsed, but he did nothing until they stopped. Laying his best friend on the floor, Odin carefully cut his hand, laying it over Charon's heart. The muscles began to beat, the dull rhythm a gentle cadence in Odin's ears. Now all he had to do was give Charon a breath of air.

Just like CPR, right? Odin thought to himself, forcefully shutting out the shudder caused by the thought of having to kiss Charon. Leaning over his brother, Odin carefully tilted the other's head back, breathing life-giving air into his lungs. Charon's eyes shot open, the golden eyes widening at Odin, and the boy leaping back. "Murder!"

The world burned white.
<>*<>

Odin sat up in bed, panting and gasping, clutching his heart. The fifteen year old choked and coughed, trying to forget the dream that had plagued him every night for a month. Charon rolled over in his sleeping bag on the floor to eye his best friend with a sigh. "What's wrong, Odin?"

Odin shook his head. How was he supposed to tell Charon that he had died, but Odin had found the door to Neverwhere and brought him back to life? Besides, it was only a dream. There was nothing more to it than it being a silly dream, right? Of course not.

"Odin?" Charon's sleepy voice made the other teen look up.

"Yeah?"

"Why's your hair white?" Charon asked, making Odin touch his head. It had been white in his dream, too.

The teen frowned, shaking his head. He could remember a time it had been brown, but. . . that had been a long time ago, hadn't it? "I don't know, Charon. Maybe it's because. . . I have to remember to forgive, every now and then."

Charon smiled and shrugged. "That's what I'm here for, Odin. Stop being silly."

"I know," Odin admitted, confused as to why he would even say such a thing. "But. . . if you weren't. . ."

Charon tilted his head, looking at Odin with a slight frown on his face, and shrugged, not say anything to Odin's confused babble. The other boy was just delusional, after all. He wasn't going anywhere. Not for a long time. Odin absently played with his hair, trying to put the dream from his mind. It was just a dream, after all. Charon never died.

But in the land of Neverwhere, Rei smiled.
<>*<>

Owari

Grr... and now the whole thing is posted. Read it, tell me how it is, and remind I can't kill the format. . .

Part Eleven B: What was supposed to go with the first entry. . .

Mon, 02 Oct 2006 18:57:41 GMT

All right, now then, I need to put the new copy of Neverwhere in here, and I'd like you to read it and give comments, kk? It's kind of creepy, I know, and it wasn't my orginal intention, but anything involving Odin is probably going to be creepy. Heh.

Neverwhere

". . . For grief is felt not so much for the want of what we have never known, as for the loss of that to which we have long been accustomed." Landmark Thucydides; 117

Neverwhere
Part One
Autumn

Odin Sheridan ducked past the old, boarded up doorway and made his way into the dusty old house. It had to be nearly a hundred years old, Victorian in style, but he wasn't sure if it was an actual Victorian age house or a cheap knockoff. Since it was still standing, he assumed it was the real thing.

Those cheap imitations fell apart decades ago.

Sirens blew passed the house, and Odin smirked from where he was crouched next to the window, watching three police cars shriek passed his hiding place, none the wiser of Odin's deception. He had gotten good at hiding from those crackpot old loons over the passed three years. Probably because they were more interested in eating their doughnuts than actually helping people.

The thought left a bitter taste in Odin's mouth as he remembered. The police might be old crackpots, but he was a traitor. A betrayer. The bitter taste took on a coppery note, and Odin realized he had bitten his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. He sneered, spitting the blood from his mouth, uncaring of the dirty carpet it landed on, uncaring that he was destroying yet another piece of property that didn't, and would never, belong to him.

Charon would have been mad at him. Charon was the sensible one in their odd relationship. Charon knew how to calm down Odin's foul temper, and how to make him regain his patience even when he was dealing with the drunkards Charon had called parents. Charon wouldn't have let him--

"Smile, Odin! I don't want to take your picture like that!"

--do the terrible things he did. Charon was too good for that. Odin sighed and turned to slid down the wall, staring out at the murky darkness of the house he was sitting in. The wooden floors creaked as he shifted his weight, and the dirty old carpet was covered in water and mold. Furniture covered in sheets looked likes ghosts in the dim light of the fading day, and Odin leaned his head against the ugly, moldy wall-paper. He'd nearly been caught that time. Charon would be upset with him.

But Charon wouldn't ever find out.

And it was all Odin's fault.

The eighteen year old clenched his fingers in his long, white hair. It used to be brown, almost the same color as Charon's, but after Charon. . . left--

"Odin! Wait for me! You're going too fast!"

--it had turned a startling snow white. Snow. . . purity. . . something Odin wasn't. Pure. Ice green eyes clenched shut as he remembered Charon telling him to stop getting into so much trouble and concentrate on his studies. Charon was a year younger than Odin, but he had been so studious. Odin would have rather played outside and gotten into trouble, but Charon always made sure they had their homework done first.

It was probably the only reason Odin didn't fail out of high school. In fact, it was probably the only reason Odin had graduated at all, forget in the top half of his two hundred person class. Charon should have been at his graduation, smiling and telling Odin how great he was. Odin shook his head. He had to stop those thoughts before he remem--

"I'm sorry, there's been an accident--"

--bered that Charon would never come back. He couldn't come back. Holding back his tears, Odin tried to remember something else as he curled his knees to his chest. He didn't want to remember. He couldn't remember. It still hurt so much. Charon was gone, and it still hurt so much--

"--it was a prank that went too far. I'm sor--"

He couldn't deal with it yet, couldn't remember that yet. He never wanted to remember it. He wanted to run away. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to be something else, someone else.

He wanted Charon--

"--ry. Mr. Amon is dead."

--back.

Odin threw his head back and howled with the pain pounding in his veins and constricting his heart. Tears streamed down his face as the memory broke free of the shields he had carefully walled in with, as the fear and sense of loneliness that Charon's death had left him with seeped passed the heavy ice walls that Odin hid behind, shattering the mask he had worn ever since his best friend, and his brother, had died.

"It wasn't supposed to end that way!" Odin screamed, pounding the old, wooden floor in his fury. He buried his face in his knees, whimpering. "It wasn't supposed to end that way. . ."
<>*<>

Fifteen year old Odin grinned at his best friend and helped Charon gather his books. The fourteen year old, who had yet to hit his growth spurt, was a head shorter than Odin at five feet two inches. It always amused Odin that Charon was so short, but Charon's entire family was short. His mother was a flat five feet tall, and his father was only five and a half feet tall. Charon would probably always be small, and Odin never passed up the opportunity to tease his best friend for it.

Charon's serious face was creased in a small frown as he pulled his text books from his locker and glared at the heavy books. "It's Friday," Charon sighed. "You'd think the teachers would give us less homework, not more!"

"That's why you leave your books here, you bookworm," Odin teased, nudging Charon playfully in the ribs. Charon stuck his tongue out at his best friend, crossing his arms in irritation.

"Shut up. And you'd better go get your books, Odin. I won't let you leave your homework incomplete and try to copy someone--probably me--on Monday!"

"Aw, come on, Charon. It's Friday, we're supposed to be out having fun!"

"Yeah, having fun studying. Go get your books."

"Calm down, short stuff. I have my books. And if you don't relax, I won't share the information I heard from the football players." Odin grinned as Charon's face paled. The small freshman was always a favored target of the football players because he was so small.

"You wouldn't," Charon gasped, eyes growing wide. "Odin, you know I can't stand up to them all!"

"I know, I know." Odin waved it off. "You know me too well."

"Then what did you hear, you meanie butt?" Charon begged, tugging on Odin's arm.

"They were going to wait for you when you went home from my house tonight," Odin admitted. "Over in the vacant lot where you always cut through. You know the one." Charon nodded, frowning.

"What time?"

"They didn't say. But Charon, I want you to be careful."

"I'm always careful, Odin," Charon waved it off. "That's why I'm still here."

"Still. . ." Odin eyed his best friend doubtfully. He had to trust Charon to take care of himself at some point.
<>*<>

That was the last day Odin had seen Charon alive. Charon had either forgotten the warning, or simply hadn't cared, because he had taken the shortcut home anyway. Three hours later, when the police had finally found Charon's mangled body, it was far too late. They had passed the death off as an accident, ten football players that didn't know their own strength and, against Charon, they really hadn't cared.

Odin had run to where the body was. There had been blood everywhere, and he made it before they had taken Charon away. Had arrive in time to see the limp, lifeless body of his once best friend. He remembered the police officer holding him ba--

"Charon! Charon! Please Charon, wake up!"

--ck when he'd burst into hysterics and tried to run towards the body. It had been Odin who had answered the phone an hour after that when the police had called. The officer had tried to sound sympathetic, had tried to sound kind and--

"There's been an accident. It was a simple teenage prank gone too far, but. . . it seems your son was the victim. He's dead. I'm sorry, Mr. Amon."

--understanding. But the officer couldn't have understood. It was Odin who answered the phone, because Charon's parents weren't sober enough. And it was Odin who made the funeral arrangements because Charon's parents were passed out on the ratty couch in Charon's living room. It had been Odin that told them, three weeks later when they were sober enough to realize that Charon hadn't been home for awhile, that Charon was dead.

They'd drunk themselves into oblivion and forgotten three hours later.

Odin's sobs had quieted, until his body shook from the force of his tears, but no noise could force its way from his mouth. His hands were clutched in his clothing, his breathing heavy and labored. He missed Charon, even now, three years after Charon had died. Charon had been his best friend and his brother, and his heart had never stopped hurting. His parents told him it would be all right, and the shrink had told him it would be all right, but it was never all right. It would never be all right.

And no one could understand.
<>*<>

Odin sighed and kicked at the sidewalk, wandering around the neighborhood. He was bored staying inside, and he didn't have to work for another three days. He was a packer at the corner grocery store, not far from his house. His mother had been so proud of him and Charon when they'd gotten jobs there, about a month before Charon died. Odin never did have the heart to quit. The old man that ran the store had been kind, and he had never told Odin it would be okay. Just patted Odin on the shoulder.

"The greatest sacrifice you can make for your friends isn't always death, Mr. Sheridan," The old man smiled. "Sometimes it is continuing with your life, and living for them."

Odin was beginning to think the man was right. Not that he'd ever said that, but he hadn't quit his job. It had been a start, but it had been the only start. Odin had stopped wanting to live, after that.

The house he had hidden in three nights ago to dodge the police caught Odin's attention. He glanced around the empty streets and slid back into the house, taking the opportunity to look over the house in the daytime. It was a real Victorian, with extensive detail and beautiful woodwork. It reminded Odin of a stale gingerbread house, with the once-bright paint peeling away to show the dark boards underneath. If the place had been clean, the wood probably would have been gleaming.

Odin could imagine it new, standing proud and beautiful, the life of the neighborhood. Touching the banister, Odin jumped as the wood grew warm under his brief touch. It seemed to call to him, to urge him up the stairs. Odin had nothing better to do, really, so he followed the stair way, stopping at the top. "Right or left?" He murmured, feeling stupid since he was talking to himself. The warmth shifted under his touch, almost as though to answer, and he frowned. It shifted left, went back to the center of his hand, then shifted left again. Odin turned left, feeling like a total moron.

Whoever heard of moving warmth, anyway? But he was bored.

Grit fell off the wall at his touch, and the warmth continued down the hall, stopping in front of an old door. Odin reached out to touch it, and felt the warmth shift under his hand. Shoving the door open, Odin stepped into a huge room. It had to have been the master bedroom at one point, but the furniture was gone, dust covering the wooden floor. The cracked, dirty windows were boarded over, but light slid through the large cracks in the boards. It cast the room into sharp relief, illuminating the dark floors and grimy walls.

And the child standing by the door in the corner.

Odin blinked and stared at the little girl, who was standing calmly by the old wooden door. Her clothes were the same brilliant white as his hair, the ratty material ruffling slightly in the thin breeze that slid through the gaps in the boards. She was pale as she could be, with huge, black eyes that stared up at Odin in awe. The little girl had quite a stretch, she was probably just a little over three feet tall, and he was just an inch under six and a half feet. Long, hair fell to her waist in a tumble of jet black curls, and he could see her lips quirk around the thumb she had tucked into her mouth. The other hand was also busy, a stuffed animal clasped in her tiny arm. It was a cat, colored like a gray, black, and white tabby, with green eyes. Looking at it gave Odin chills.

The child continued to stare at him, wide eyed, and still sucking her thumb. Odin blinked. The little girl did not. "Hello," Odin offered, and the little girl continued to stare at him. The only other sound in the room was the soft noise she made as she sucked her thumb. "Have you a name?"

She still didn't say anything, just continued to stare. She still hadn't blinked, and Odin was beginning to get a little freaked out. Normal children didn't stare like that. "Where are your parents?"

Still no reply. Odin knelt in front of the little girl, and held up a hand to touch her. She skipped back, thumb still in place, but her lips quirked into a frown around the object. Standing, Odin reached for the door.

"Don't touch."

Odin looked at the girl again, who had her thumb in her mouth once again, but he had no doubt that it was the child that had just spoken. Her voice was as tiny as she was, and it made Odin smile. He hadn't done that much since Charon died. "Why not?" He tried to look kind and disarming, but the girl refused to speak to him again. Frowning, he reached for the door a second time.

"It goes to Neverwhere," The little girl spoke again, making Odin jump.

"Neverwhere?"

"The land of departed souls," The little girl expounded, smiling at him and putting her thumb back into her mouth. Odin nearly laughed. This little girl was standing in front of what had to be a closet and sucking her thumb, expecting him to believe that the door in an abandoned old house would lead him to the place souls went when a person died?

"That's really not funny," Odin frowned, wishing it was the truth. Then he could find Charon again.

"I'm not laughing." The girl sounded far to old for her appearance. She looked three or four. She sounded like an old, jaded woman. But she was still sucking her thumb and clinging to her toy. Odin laughed out loud at that and reached for the door again.

"You have to die to be a soul," Odin told her, resting his hand on the knob. "And I'm still alive. The dead don't come back."

"They can, if you find them in Neverwhere," The girl giggled. "Didn't your parents teach you anything?"

"Not really," Odin shrugged. "That was Charon's job."

"Charon hurts you." The child sounded confused when she said that. Odin jumped back, as though burned.

"He would never hurt me!" Odin snapped, making the child flinch as her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry for shouting," Odin tried to sooth, calming the child. She held out her arms, so Odin lifted her off the ground.

"Then why do you hurt when you talk about Charon?" The child asked, and Odin sighed.

"Charon died, three years ago. I still miss him."

The little girl tucked her thumb back in her mouth, looking from Odin and back to the door, as though considering something. A smile bloomed on her pale face and she pulled her thumb from her mouth for a moment so she could lean up and kiss Odin on the cheek. "Well, we should find Charon, then, so you stop hurting."

Her childish voice speaking words to large for a four year old made Odin smile in amusement. "All right, we'll go look in Neverwhere. Do you have a name?"

"Uh huh. Rei. Rei Veritas." The girl smiled again, putting her thumb back in her mouth and staring at Odin with those huge, black eyes. Odin carefully turned the knob of the closet, unsure if anything inside it would fall out when he pulled it open. Looking into it, Odin felt his jaw drop.

It wasn't a closet.
<>*<>

Neverwhere
Part Two
Winter

He hadn't expected Rei to be telling the truth about Neverwhere in the closet. But that's all he could think about when he stared into what was supposed to be a small room with moldy old clothes hanging in it. There was supposed to be wood paneled walls and an old, burnt out light bulb hanging on the ceiling with a ratty old pull chain to hit him in the head. There was supposed to be an old, rusted bar that would be ready to fall down, and there was supposed to be nothing surprising.

Rei smiled at his thunderstruck expression, snuggling into his arms a little more. "I tolded you it goed to Neverwhere," She told him, taking on the speech patterns of a child instead of an adult. "I tolded you!"

"So you did," Odin choked, staring at the landscape.

The place he was looking at was made of dull shades of gray The stone ground was dark gray, and the sky over his head was a lighter gray The scraggly trees and the weeds around him were even more shades of gray, and he almost felt the color being pulled from him as he entered the realm that Rei had called Neverwhere.

In the trees, crows and vultures called to one another in gruesome tunes of death and despair. Odin gulped. "Charon is here?"

"He died afore he was 'posed to," Rei explained, nodding. "So he camed here."

"There's more than one Neverworld?"

"No," Rei laughed at him. Now Odin felt really stupid. "There are different parts! We can go to them, but the souls can't. They're not 'llowed."

"Why is that?"

"They're assigned, silly." Rei giggled. "They have to stay where they's put!"

"How can they tell?"

"They's marked, of course," Rei giggled again, this time talking around her thumb instead of actually removing it. "You're silly."

Now Odin felt really stupid. But he'd never even heard of Neverwhere before, so there really wasn't a good way for Odin to have known anything about the place. "I see. So how can I find Charon?"

"Look." Rei shrugged, resting her head on his shoulder. "Not that big."

"Can I take him back?"

"To humans?" Rei blinked, tilting her head. "No. He's dead."

"But he died to early."

"So? He's dead."

"There's no way to do it? None at all?"

Black eyes regarded Odin with wisdom beyond their years, making Odin shiver at her searching gaze. Rei seemed to look through him, through to his very soul. It was disconcerting to be under such a searching gaze by such a young child. Rei shrugged. "One way," She finally admitted, frowning.

"Let me guess. I have to exchange my soul for his," Odin sighed.

Rei rolled her eyes. "Too easy," She waved a hand. "Everyone brave enough to come to Neverwhere can leave a soul behind."

Odin choked at that. What did Rei mean, that was too easy? He would have been trading his soul! It wasn't like cashing in a car for a better model! He only had one soul, and it wasn't like it could be easily replaced! "So. . . what do I have to do, then?"

Rei shrugged. "Find Charon first. Then I tell."

"Sneaky little brat," Odin muttered semi-affectionately. Rei stuck her tongue out and pouted, wrinkling her nose at him. Odin raised an eyebrow, still not moving. "How do you know all this?"

"My mommy's teaching me," Rei smiled, talking to much to continue sucking her thumb.

"Who's your mother?" Odin was constantly confused by Rei, but he had a feeling everyone else who met the little girl felt the same way.

"Mommy is Death, of course," Rei waved a hand. "She watched over Neverwhere and brings souls here. She's teaching me how. When I grow up and Mommy stops, I'll be Death! And then I'll have a little girl and call her Rei and it will start all overses."

"So are you like a mini grim reaper, then?" Odin still couldn't bring himself to lift his feet and actually start traversing the place called Neverwhere.

"Grim reaper?" Rei pouted in confusion and shook her head. "I don't think so. I'm little death."

"Okay, so when you take over, what does your mother do?"

"I dunno. She just said she'd stop. Retiring, I think. And I'd do it."

"I see." He really didn't. "And what about your father?"

"Daddy? Don't know. Never known him. Mommy said he was mortal. That's all I know. Mommy hated him, but liked his Guntics."

Odin stared at her. What on earth were guntics? Was it some sort of code? Pausing to consider that, he realized that it was just Rei using words that she couldn't pronounce properly. She had meant genetics. Sighing, Odin resisted the urge to rub his temples. "Okay, how old are you, then?"

Rei held up three fingers, and Odin nodded. "Three years old, huh?"

"Uh-uh." Rei laughed a bit louder. "I'd be a baby!"

Odin didn't bother to tell her that she practically still was, and gave her another strange look. "Three what, then?"

"Three thousand of course." Rei giggled as Odin stared at her. "Mommy says you mortals don't ever live long enough to be that old!"

This kid probably had no idea she was a few hundred times older than Odin. Groaning, Odin gave into the urge to rub his forehead and try to ease his headache. This child was out of her mind and completely off her rocker. She needed to be on medication and put in a little room with padded walls. Except he was the one that had just found Neverwhere locked in a closet in an old, abandoned house. The entire idea made his head throb.

"Find Charon," Rei demanded suddenly, bouncing impatiently in his arms. Her impatience was obvious. Odin had been standing long enough, and she wanted him to start moving. Odin sighed and looked around, unsure which was to begin. Rei giggled and snuggled into his arms again, still bouncing slightly. It wasn't like she was a burden, the tiny child couldn't weigh more than fifty pounds--wet--but Odin wished she'd stop bouncing. It was a little irritating.

Dust swirled around his legs as he moved, making him feel like he was in a cheap horror moving where the directors had been unable to afford dry ice, so they'd used dirt instead. Not a pleasant feeling, with the overall atmosphere of Neverwhere. Odin continued to look around, still seeing the same scraggly trees and half-starved vultures spread around the dreary landscape. The heavy sky depressed him, and he glanced at Rei again. "Why is everyone who died early sent here?"

"Not their time," Rei told him, rolling her black eyes. Like he was supposed to know about Neverwhere.

"I know, but not all of them deserve this."

"Shouldn't have died early."

"Some were murdered," Odin pointed out. Rei shrugged and looked at the dim world.

"Not so bad," Rei told him, thoughtfully. "Should see where the murderers go."

Odin frowned, following her gaze towards the sky where it was lit up with a sick orangish glow, like the flames of hell-fire. It was as though he could hear screaming, even though the place had to be quite far from where he stood, since he couldn't even see what was casting the light, only that it existed. Shuddering, Odin looked back at Rei. "I'll pass on that, thanks," He told her, shivering.

She shrugged, tugging on his shirt and whining to be let down. Odin complied, but kept a firm grip on her hand. The last thing he needed was for her to wander off. He had no idea where her mother was, but he didn't need her getting lost and hurt. Especially since he wasn't sure if what happened in Neverwhere would translate over to the real world too. "Are there no other spirits here?" Odin asked, looking around.

"Later," Rei shrugged, leading him further into the dirty plains. "They hide. I'm scary."

"You're scary?"

"Uh-huh." Rei smiled, but didn't explain, and Odin left it alone. He really, really didn't want to know. Odin frowned. If everyone was staying away from them, did that mean Charon would too?

"Charon!" Odin shouted, hoping his friend would hear him. "Charon!"

"He can't hear you," Rei rolled her eyes. "They can't hear anything."

"Can I hear them?"

"No," Rei smiled at Odin again, sticking her thumb back into her mouth, using the same arm she was holding her stuffed cat with. "You're silly," She added, around her thumb.

"Thank you," Odin replied, shaking his head. He continued to watch the land diligently. "Charon!"

It never hurt to try calling, no matter what Rei said, right?
<>*<>

Hours seemed to turn into days as Odin continued to look for his best friend, but so far Charon was nowhere to be seen. And he felt like he had passed the same group of trees three times in a row. Growling, he kicked the nearest tree savagely, making Rei cry out in fright and grab his arm. "Stop it! You're hurting him!"

"What?" Odin stared at her. "It's a tree."

"Yeah," Rei agreed. "But it used to be a soul."

"What?"

"Well, you can't expect them to wander around here forever," Rei snorted. "So after awhile, we turn them into trees."

Odin went white. "Charon!" He screamed, lifting the girl off the ground and breaking into a frantic run. "Charon!" There was still no sign of his best friend, and Odin grew more and more frantic as time passed by, practically unheeded. "Charon?" He finally whispered. Rei smiled.

Tears dripped down Odin's face he was kept trying to find Charon, or any soul that could take him to Charon. "Charon, please," He whimpered, and Rei's smile grew.

The ground seemed to melt away under his feet, and the sky was a dizzying blur to his eyes as he was swept down the path, taken to the furthest reaches of the universe and returned, stars exploded in his vision as the land and sky spun around him in a dizzying array of gray light.

"Charon!" Odin sobbed, and everything went black.
<>*<>

It had to be a dream, or at least a memory, because Odin recognized his house. He and Charon were sitting at the kitchen table, playing chess. Charon had always loved chess, and he had always loved playing with Odin even though Odin was about the worst chess player in the world.

Charon's golden eyes looked carefully over the board, and Odin groaned. "I already know I've lost, Charon. Will you just put me in checkmate?"

"You haven't lost me yet," Charon smiled, his golden eyes crinkling. "You don't lose until you give up."
<>*<>

Rei was missing when Odin woke, still in the same, dirty landscape, but this time with a pounding headache and a twitch in his fingers. Sitting up carefully, he looked around, nearly going crossed eyed as the blood rushed from his head. He groaned in pain. "Rei?"

There was no answer. Odin cursed at his luck and managed to stand, his body feeling like lead. There was no telling where he was, or what was going on. Looking around, he could make out some more trees in the distance, but the creepy orange hell-fire had disappeared. Odin gulped. He had no idea where he was, nor how to get back to the door, and he still hadn't found Charon.

Pounding feet made him turn, and Charon's terrified visage ran through him. Odin screamed as pain overtook his senses.

Panicked heartbeats sounded in his ears as his frantic breathing made a cadence for him to run too. Turning to glance over his shoulder, he could see ten musclebound football players chasing him. Why oh why hadn't he remembered that Odin had warned him not to go through the abandoned lot? He knew the football players were out to get him. He knew it! Odin had warned him at school! Oh, curse his forgetfulness!

"Get back here, you scrawny freak!" The taunts made him run faster, his brown hair flying behind him. He tried to jump the fence, but hit it with his mid-section, falling to the earth with a thud. The breath left his body in a whoosh, and he coughed and gasped as his eyes watered and panic overtook his mind.

He had to get out of there, he was going to get beaten up, again! He couldn't afford anymore bruises, and one of these days he was going to die from their beatings! Trying to get to his feet, he nearly fell again as dizziness overtook his senses. Large hands grabbed his arms and threw him to ground, forcing the air from his lungs a second time.

And then they were on him, punching him, kicking him. Hitting him with sticks and stones and metal pipes. He screamed over and over for them to stop as pain blossomed on his body, trying to get away. He was struggling and lashing out. He heard one of them groan as he kicked him, but there was no respite as they continued their beating.

"Let's see if this teaches you a lesson," One snarled. "Tell that friend of yours to stay away from us."

He continued to struggle, screaming in pain as the beating continued on and on, for what seemed to be an eternity. His vision grew dark as the night blackened his vision and blood leaked into his eyes. "Odin!" He screamed before one crushed his vocal chords, leaving him choking and gasping for air. Even as the world grew blurry and the edges slowly faded away, he managed to reach towards his best friend's house. "Odin. . . " His breath left his body in a soft murmur, and everything turned dark.
<>*<>

Odin fell to his knees, coughing and retching, bringing up what little lunch he had eaten and collapsing the rest of the way to the ground, narrowly missing the vomit that stained the gray dust in front of him. Shuddering, Odin forced himself to lay still. He had just seen the beating that had killed his best friend three years ago. The thought made him retch again, but there was nothing left in his belly.

He had just seen Charon's murder. Ten football players against his little friend and Charon had no hope. He was dead before it had even begun. He was dead when he took that first step into the lot. Odin began to sob, his tears darkening the dusty stone beneath him. "I'm sorry, Charon. I promised to protect you, and I failed so terribly. I'm so, so sorry."

Gathering his wits, he tumbled to his knees and managed to get to his feet, stumbling in the direction he had seen Charon's image run in. His feet felt like lead, and he could hardly breath, but he had to find Charon. He had to save his best friend. He couldn't just leave Charon in such a terrible place, and he couldn't just run away.

Odin Sheridan was no coward. "Charon!" He screamed, gathering his strength. "Charon, answer me!"

But a gritty wind was his only reply. There was nothing more, and nothing less. "Charon!"

But still, there was nothing.
<>*<>

Odin continued to search for the terrified ghost he had seen of Charon, continued to try to find the best friend death had unkindly taken from him three years ago. "Charon!" His voice was horse, but he had to keep calling, as though it would bring Charon to him. He had to continue on. His brother was here. The little brother he had promised to protect. The little brother he had failed.

He couldn't bear the thought of Charon being turned into a tree, and he couldn't bear the thought of just leaving his brother there. The land of Neverwhere was not a welcoming place, as far as he could see. It was dark and terrifying and painful. If Charon had to relive the pain of dying over and over again as punishment for dying outside his time, then Odin would simply have to find a way to save him.

Because if he saved him this time, maybe he could gain some redemption for not saving him the first. Maybe he could earn the forgiveness he had sought for the passed three years. Redemption he could never gain because the one person that could offer it was dead. Odin screamed again, still searching for Charon, and still making his way through the oddly floating dust. He would have called it mist, but his feet stirred if up from the ground.

"Charon!" He shouted again, and fell to the ground with a heavy thud as he tripped over something hidden in the mist. Looking back, he nearly screamed. The mutilated body of his best friend was on the ground, staring at him with dead eyes, blood slowly pooling beneath his mangled corpse.

Odin screamed and collapsed.
<>*<>

Parts One and Two.

^_^

~Kaze Cougar

Part Eleven: Ideas. . .

Mon, 02 Oct 2006 18:47:59 GMT

Okay, so I was like, "Hm. . . haven't updated in a (long) while, I'll post and tell everyone what I've been up to. Nothing good, you can be sure! ^_~ I sat down and finished my short story, Neverwhere. I beta'd it, and fixed parts I was roally unhappy with, and it shaped up a bit. I enjoy the new version, but it's about eight pages longer than what my prof wanted. Unfortuantly, 8-10 pages isn't enough time to characterize the people I created for the story. They're complex characters that are designed to be. . . well, people. Odin's characterization alone takes up a lot of space, and then I have to add in Charon, Rei, and Death (Who is Rei's mother) and the characters increase. Normally I would have kept it to a minimum of two for what was going on, but the storyline didn't allow that. I almost took out Death and made her and Rei the same person, but that simply didn't work either.

Anyway, I don't see how I'm supposed to get a decent story from crappy prompts in the 8-10 pages I'm assigned. So the story went way over, and I'm ging to put in the new version of Neverwhere down a little further, I promise. But, back to my rant, it's still not 8-10 pages, and I honestly don't think I can cut the wretched thing. So if you've got any ideas, read it over and let me know.

Also, Amber, I need a favor! *Puppy eyes* Pleeeeaaaase? I need to know about Halloween in the wiccan religion. Back to the roots! My meeting of history club is right around Halloween and I thought I'd do the history of Halloween, I'd start with it's orginal roots in pegan religion, go to the take over by the catholics, and the talk about how it got to where it is today. Then I thought I'd try to get some pumpkin seeds for a snack, and maybe some halloween cookies or something, and buy those little gourds and some markers and we could decorate pumpkins. So, will you help me and tell me about Holloween? Pleeeaaase? You're the best aneki EVER!!!! (Yes, I'm attempting to butter you up. Is it working?)

Anyway, so that's that idea I had. I think it'll be fun. College kids are just like first graders. Give them some markers/paint and they'll keep themselves entertained for hours. Lol! Not that I have much room to talk. I mean, really. "Shiiiinyyyy. . . " *Drools* Hee hee.

Okay, other than that, I haven't been up to a great deal. Just working on some homework, trying to sleep, trying not to get whatever's going around down here. Nothing serious, of course. Other than the not-catching-virus thing. One of my girls had mono and I'd really like to avoid that. I know it's not supposed to be very contagious, but that's a lie. I have to make sure I don't catch it. I've never had it before, and there's no way I could go home if I did catch it. I'd be a miserable little thing, that's for sure.

~Kaze Cougar

Part Ten: Holy Crap!

Sun, 17 Sep 2006 04:29:01 GMT

We have a crap load of high schoolers and junior high schoolers visint campus this weekend. Oh my goodness, it's a nightmare. Our current number of people on campus is twice the number it usually is. An utter zoo, I tell you all! *Hides under bed*

So I've hid in my room as best I can, being an R.A. and all, and wonder what I was thinking, applying for this job. I like it most of the time, but when this particular weekend rolls around, I never want to come out of my room. There's just too many people. Way too many people. And if they do stupid things, we can't punish them because they don't technically go to school here even if they're our responsibility for the weekend. Not good at all. Nope, nuh-uh. So I ran away for supper, and ate Subway. Not because the food was bad (which is the normal reason) but because I couldn't have fit in the caf if I'd tried. To many people!

But other that that, it wasn't so terrible. I think I just felt the need to. . . run away. Yeah. Run very, very far. *nods* So I've attempted to be anti-social, and escape to the poor reality in my head to avoid the mass amounts of people that make me want to cower. Which is funny, because I usually love people. I enjoy hanging around people. I'm (as weird as this sounds) and introverted extrovert. Yes, I just contradicted myself. Isn't it great? So I was anti-social and I think I looked it, but it really wasn't my problem. (Maybe it was, but I don't care!)

But the weekend was good. I saw my cousin, her husband, and her son (he's soooo cute. Fifteen months old. Awww!) And a red head! (Awwww!)

So that was that. Okay, got to go do room check. Eh heh.

Good night!
~Kaze

Part Nine: Look What I Did!

Thu, 14 Sep 2006 17:48:49 GMT

I sound inordinarily proud of myself, I know. But I can't help it. *Grins* I don't have much "computer savy" really, and so this was a major accomplishment for me. Especially since I haven't had much time to play. But I rather like the new format that I've got, and I really like the colors. (I'd better, since I picked them out). In any case, I'm just really excited about all this.

Had creative writing this morning, and we critiqued one girl's story. It made me cringe. It was the girl that wrote about Mable Matilda Morris *shudder* and this time she wrote about this girl who fell in love with this guy in college when she was 13 and his fiancee convinetly dies and all this other cliched stuff. I wanted to cry. Melodrama isn't my favorite genre anyway, but this was like, the perfect guy and he's realized she is the PERFECT woman when's she's all grown up and oh, let's go get married.

Not exactly rocket science. More like a cheap romance. . . without the sex. Ugh. What a story. My inner writer hid under the bed and wouldn't come out. I think she's still cowering. And I can't say that I'm the best writing in the world, but it has to take talent to be that cliched. Either that or immersing oneself in the realm of poor literature has more adverse side-effects than we could have ever imagined. And I still can't figure out, for the life of me, what her prompt was. Whenever I figure that out, I'll let everyone know.

Aside from all that, my roomate, who was sick, is feeling lots better, so kudos to that! She slept like, all day Tuesday and Wednesday and she is now up and about and feeling pretty darn good. I was thrilled. I have my short story finished--which is great, even if I think it sucks--and it's not due for awhile, so I'm hoping for feedback.

All right, off to class with me! w00T! not. Heh.
~Kaze

Part Eight and A Half: Ugh. . . Editing.

Thu, 14 Sep 2006 03:04:37 GMT

So my story was supposed to be 8-10 pages, and with the "proper" story formatting, it's fourteen. But 8-10 pages? I fart out chapters longer than that! I fart out essays longer than that. What am I supposed to do with a bunch of cliches in 8-10 pages? Write another cliche, but honestly, that's the last thing we need! *CoughMarySueCoughCough* So I'm kinda wondering if it'll be a problem, and I'm not fond of the story anyway (It turned out as cliche as possible, considering not too many people enter the land of the dead, and when they do it's not to find their brother. . .). Still, I was really, really disappointed.

I considered adding a kissing scene, to be funny, because, as I said, most people go to save their lovers and they have to wake them with a kiss. So Rei was going to be like, "Now you have to kiss him!"

To which Odin would say, "What? He's my brother! That's gross! It's. . . I don't know, incest!"

"Yeah, but most people go after their lovers and this amused Mom, so we just wrote it into the 'rules of waking the dead.' Which doesn't work well in your case, since he is your brother, but we don't have an alternitive option. Never got around to doing it."

But that didn't really fit the theme, since it's really not a funny story. Just something from my strange mind. I mean, it's not that I hate it, I just don't like it. So almost anything would be an improvement! Argh! What a day! It makes me want to scream. . . or something. Gah! But what can I do? When the chliches are that bad, there's really so little hope. I'll offer a few of my favorites. And a few of my own sarcastic remarks on them.

Your character married Steve before she realized his mother had controlled him by withholding love. Consequently, he had a love/hate relationship for all women. His behavior fluctuated between wanting to please and wanting to punish. Does anyone else see the crappy romance novel within? I mean, really. "Oh Steve! Your mother was so terrible! But I'm here now, it'll all be okay!" Gag me with a spork, people!

Betty Lou and Bonnie Sue, fourty-five year old twins, had started in high school as part-time checkers at the super-market. They were still there, scanning in parallel lanes, carrying on a running dialogue with each other, not their customers. They dyed their straggly hair coal black, had big horse teeth, and were skinny as broom-sticks. At home, they shared a room, dressed exactly alike--in teenager garb--wore identical rings--that looked as if they had been Crackerjack prizes--on each finger. Behind their backs, people said shopping at the store was like going to a double-feature Halloween movie. Then one day the bread man's wife died. He had three children to raise. On his run, he had known the twins for twenty years. He asked one of them--he thought it was Bonnie Sue, but she was wearing a smock over her nameplate--to go to McDonald's for supper. Okay, so which twin? The right one or the wrong one? I'm just dying to know. And if they're still sharing a room, you gotta start wondering about their relationship. Really. That's just wrong on so many levels. And who on earth would want someone like that within twenty miles of their kids?

The doctor said Cathy and Cindy were identical twins. Cindy, your character, knew he had lied. So they looked alike, but if they were identical, wouldn't she be as intelligent as Cathy instead of making C's while her sister pulled down A's with no effort? Now it was time for college. On the basis of their SAT scores, Cathy could go to Harvard and Cindy to the local junior college. That's the whole plot. . . and there's not much after it. Really. And are we sensing a twin theme yet, because. . .well. . . *looks at previous prompt* or is it just me?

When Brad, your chatacter, went to the divorce lawyer, he said it's this unusual twin thing. When her sister, who lives 600 miles away, cuts her finger, my wife feels it and jumps in the car before the blood starts to flow. She doesn't need me. Even when we make love, I have this awful feeling her sister knows what we're doing and is judging my preformance. Once again, is it just me, or is there something wrong with the twin relationship here? And, not only that, it's the twins, back from the not-so-dead! But wait, there's more!

Dana, your cahracter, and David didn't go to a progressive elementary school, so no one throught of splitting them up. When Dana said she couldn't breathe if they made her eat lunch on the girl's side or take PE with them, they just let her follow David's schedule. It was easier, and the school was shorthanded. The twins (Look! More twins!) moved to a large city when they started highschool. No amount of pleading would convince the administraition to allow Dana to have the same schedule as David. Once again, I really have to wonder about their relationship if she can't be more than twenty feet from her brother. And who splits up PE in a public school, anyway? Or Lunch? I sat with loads of boys and never had a schedule change. But wait! There's more!

Allen, your character, had always hated his twin brother. He had a plan to kill him and assume his perfect brother's identity. Now there's an orginal idea if ever I heard one. Not.

Covering the . . . war, your character, a foreign correspondent, falls in love with someone from the other side. Okay, that's the cheesiest yet, in my opinion. And it's the basis for a lot of the cheap (and not so cheap but still crappy) romance novels. Um, did orginality run away or what?

In a desk drawer, yoiur character finds a single sheet of engraved stationary from neverbe, the house he has tried so unsucessfully to forget. Sounds like Rebecca to me, folks, just a bit crappier. I rather liked Rebecca.

Your character inherited five hundred acres of rich farmland in Kansas. One of the girls in my class was playing with this one. She named the main character Mable Matilda Morris. My inner writer hid under the bed. And wouldn't come out. *CoughMarySueCoughCough*

It had started out as a squat, but your character and a child, who had been abadoned like the building, turned it into a home. Okay, that alone says it all.

Your character left a note: "I've had it. Don't try to find me." He went to Ireland, rented a tinker's wagon, and kept on the move. Once again, need I say more?

Your character remembers every time she had worn the red, velvet dress. I will admit, I had an idea for that one that was a little out of the norm. I'm still considering writing it. It involves a ghost. Hee hee.

Your Character remembers the phone call. "There has been an accident, a teenage prank that went too far," the officer has said. I ended up using this one. So we'll see how that works out.

Your character remembers another life she led centuries ago when she was one of many other wives in a harem. This sounds like the prompt for a cheap love story with too many sex scenes. Really.

So this is some of the crap I had to work with. It's bad, ne? I was desprate for something that didn't suck. I think I read through them all twenty times before I could shut my jaw and actually pick something to attempt. Just, ew!

So my roommate just told me that the 10th annual messy meeting has just been usurped by another club. Okay, that's the third or fourth time someone has copied my club this year. We're really laid back people, but we also like our creative ideas! I'm really, really peeved about this. We have a movie festival that we have for charity that we do every spring that got ripped so another club could better their funds, our meeting time, place, and theme for the first meeting of the year got ripped by a brand new club, and since we've done this every year for ten years they knew we were going to do it, so they ripped the name, and one of the freshman asked if my club was so out of ideas we had to rip from the new club. Um, excuse me? That's our idea. Hello, plagerism?

I'm really steamed about this, because it's not like we do anything to get people mad at us. We're about the most laid back people ever. We just sort of go with the flow. Most of the other clubs have rivalries, but we don't, because we're just sorta like, "Hey, you're cool," and are pretty good sports about a lot of stuff. But we have some pride! And ripping off other people just isn't cool. In fact, I'm pretty P.O.ed at the moment. Grr!

Part Eight: Shoot Me Now

Wed, 13 Sep 2006 20:50:19 GMT

So I was working on the story for the characters and the idea I posted, like yesterday or the day before, or whenever, and I think I've actually got something. I re-read it, and it turned out better than I thought it would, but I'm really not all that fond. But I've decided that I don't care. The story starters I was given made it impossible to be creative, and I'll stick to my own ideas, thanks. Mary Sue is not my idea of a good time. So Plbbb! (That's a raspberry, by the way.)

But I'll post the story here so everyone that reads this and saw the poor things I had to work with can tell me how crappy the story turned out. Because I'm really diappointed with it. The idea wasn't bad, but it just turned cliche, and I had other things I would much have rather been working on. Its not due soon, I think, but it still makes me want to gag. And, unless I get other ideas, this is about as good as it gets. And that alone makes me want to cry.

On the other hand, its a short story, and at 52 KB on my wordpad, its shorter than some chapters I've written. *Pats self on back* It might be a little long, but poop on them. I can't cut it shorter, because then I'd loose a lot of flashbacks that I think are necessary.

Neverwhere

". . . For grief is felt not so much for the want of what we have never known, as for the loss of that to which we have long been accustomed." Landmark Thucydides; 117

Neverwhere
Part One
Autumn

Odin Sheridan ducked past the old, boarded up doorway and made his way into the dusty old house. It had to be nearly a hundred years old, victorian in style, but he wasn't sure if it was an actual victorian age house or a cheap knockoff. Since it was still standing, he assumed it was the real thing.

Those cheap imitations fell apart decades ago.

Sirens blew passed the house, and Odin smirked from where he was crouched next to the window, watching the police cars shriek passed his hiding place, none the wiser of Odin's deception. He had gotten good at hiding from those crackpot old loons over the passed three years. Probably because they were more interested in eating their doughnuts than actually helping people.

The thought left a bitter taste in Odin's mouth as he remembered. The police might be old crackpots, but he was a traitor. A betrayer. The bitter taste took on a coppery note, and Odin realized he had bitten his cheek hard enough to make it bleed. He sneered, spitting the blood from his mouth, uncaring of the dirty carpet it landed on, uncaring that he was destroying yet another piece of property that didn't, and would never, belong to him.

Charon would have been mad at him. Charon was the sensible one in their odd relationship. Charon knew how to calm down Odin's foul temper, and how to make him regain his patience even when he was dealing with the drunkards Charon had called parents. Charon wouldn't have let him--

"Smile, Odin! I don't want to take your picture like that!"

--do the terrible things he did. Charon was too good for that. Odin sighed and turned to slid down the wall, staring out at the murky darkness of the house he was sitting in. The wooden floors creaked as he shifted his weight, and the dirty old carpet was covered in water and mold. Furniture covered in sheets looked likes ghosts in the dim light of the fading day, and Odin leaned his head against the ugly, moldy wall-paper. He'd nearly been caught that time. Charon would be upset with him.

But Charon wouldn't ever find out.

And it was all Odin's fault.

The eighteen year old clenched his fingers in his long, white hair. It used to be brown, almost the same color as Charon's, but after Charon. . . left--

"Odin! Wait for me! You're going too fast!"

--it had turned a startling snow white. Snow. . . purity. . . something Odin wasn't. Pure. Ice green eyes clenched shut as he remembered Charon telling him to stop getting into so much trouble and concentrait on his studies. Charon was a year younger than Odin, but he had been so studious. Odin would have rather played outside and gotten into trouble, but Charon always made sure they had their homework done first.

It was probably the only reason Odin didn't fail out of high school. In fact, it was probably the only reason Odin had graduated at all, forget in the top half of his two hundred person class. Charon should have been at his graduation, smiling and telling Odin how great he was. Odin shook his head. He had to stop those thoughts before he remem--

"I'm sorry, there's been an accident--"

--bered that Charon would never come back. He couldn't come back. Holding back his tears, Odin tried to remember something else as he curled his knees to his chest. He didn't want to remember. He couldn't remember. It still hurt so much. Charon was gone, and it still hurt so much--

"--it was a prank that went too far. I'm sor--"

He couldn't deal with it yet, couldn't remember that yet. He never wanted to remember it. He wanted to run away. He wanted to disappear. He wanted to be something else, someone else.

He wanted Charon--

"--ry. Mr. Amon is dead."

--back.

Odin threw his head back and howled with the pain pounding in his veins and constricting his heart. Tears streamed down his face as the memory broke free of the shields he had carefully walled in with, as the fear and sense of lonliness that Charon's death had left him with seeped passed the heavy ice walls that Odin hid behind, shattering the mask he had worn ever since his best friend, and his brother, had died.

"It wasn't supposed to end that way!" Odin screamed, pounding the old, wooden floor in his fury. He buried his face in his knees, whimpering. "It wasn't supposed to end that way. . ."
<>*<>

Fifteen year old Odin grinned at his best friend and helped Charon gather his books. The fourteen year old, who had yet to hit his growth spurt, was a head shorter than Odin at five feet two inches. It always amused Odin that Charon was so short, but Charon's entire family was short. His mother was a flat five feet tall, and his father was only five and a half feet tall. Charon would probably always be small, and Odin never passed up the opportunity to tease his best friend for it.

Charon's serious face was creased in a small frown as he pulled his text books from his locker and glared at the heavy books. "It's Friday," Charon sighed. "You'd think the teachers would give us less homework, not more!"

"That's why you leave your books here, you bookworm," Odin teased, nudging Charon playfully in the ribs. Charon stuck his tongue out at his best friend, crossing his arms in irritation.

"Shut up. And you'd better go get your books, Odin. I won't let you leave your homework imcomplete and try to copy someone--probably me--on Monday!"

"Aw, come on, Charon. It's Friday, we're supposed to be out having fun!"

"Yeah, having fun studying. Go get your books."

"Calm down, short stuff. I have my books. And if you don't relax, I won't share the information I heard from the football players." Odin grinned as Charon's face paled. The small freshman was always a favored target of the football players because he was so small.

"You wouldn't," Charon gasped, eyes growing wide. "Odin, you know I can't stand up to them all!"

"I know, I know." Odin waved it off. "You know me too well."

"Then what did you hear, you meanie butt?" Charon begged, tugging on Odin's arm.

"They were going to wait for you when you went home from my house tonight," Odin admitted. "Over in the vacent lot where you always cut through. You know the one." Charon nodded, frowning.

"What time?"

"They didn't say. But Charon, I want you to be careful."

"I'm always careful, Odin," Charon waved it off. "That's why I'm still here."

"Still. . ." Odin eyed his best friend doubtfully. He had to trust Charon to take care of himself at some point.

That was the last day Odin had seen Charon alive. Charon had either forgotten the warning, or simply hadn't cared, because he had taken the shortcut home anyway. Three hours later, when the police had finally found Charon's mangled body, it was far too late. They had passed the death off as an accident, ten football players that didn't know their own strength and, against Charon, they really hadn't cared.

Odin had run to where the body was. There had been blood everywhere, and he made it before they had taken Charon away. Had arrive in time to see the limp, lifeless body of his once best friend. He remembered the police officer holding him ba--

"Charon! Charon! Please Charon, wake up!"

--ck when he'd burst into hysterics and tried to run towards the body. It had been Odin who had answered the phone an hour after that when the police had called. The officer had tried to sound sympathetic, had tried to sound kind and--

"There's been an accident. It was a simple teenage prank gone too far, but. . . it seems your son was the victim. He's dead. I'm sorry, Mr. Amon."

--understanding. But the officer couldn't have understood. It was Odin who answered the phone, because Charon's parents weren't sober enough. And it was Odin who made the funeral arragnements because Charon's parents were passed out on the ratty couch in Charon's living room. It had been Odin that told them, three weeks later when they were sober enough to realize that Charon hadn't been home for awhile, that Charon was dead.

They'd drunk themselves into oblivion and forgotten three hours later.

Odin's sobs had quieted, until his body shook from the force of his tears, but no noise could force its way from his mouth. His hands were clutched in his clothing, his breathing heavy and labored. He missed Charon, even now, three years after Charon had died. Charon had been his best friend and his brother, and his heart had never stopped hurting. His parents told him it would be all right, and the shrink had told him it would be all right, but it was never all right. It would never be all right.

And no one could understand.
<>*<>

Odin sighed and kicked at the sidewalk, wandering around the neighborhood. He was bored staying inside, and he didn't have to work for another three days. He was a packer at the corner grocery store, not far from his house. His mother had been so proud of him and Charon when they'd gotten jobs there, about a month before Charon died. Odin never did have the heart to quit. The old man that ran the store had been kind, and he had never told Odin it would be okay. Just patted Odin on the shoulder.

"The greatest sacrifice you can make for your friends isn't death, Mr. Sheridan," The old man smiled. "It is continuing with your life, and living for them."

Odin was beginning to think the man was right. Not that he'd ever said that, but he hadn't quit his job. It had been a start, but it had been the only start. Odin had stopped wanting to live, after that.

The house he had hidden in three nights ago to dodge the police caught Odin's attention. He glanced around the empty streets and slid back into the house, taking the opportunity to look over the house in the daytime. It was a real victorian, with extensive detail and beautiful woodwork. If the place had been clean, the wood probably would have been gleaming.

Odin could imagine it new, standing proud and beautiful, the life of the neighborhood. Touching the bansiter, Odin jumped as the wood grew warm under his brief touch. It seemed to call to him, to urge him up the stairs. Odin had nothing better to do, really, so he followed the stair way, stopping at the top. "Right or left?" He murmured, feeling stupid since he was talking to himself. The warmth shifted under his touch, almost as though to answer, and he frowned. It shifted left, went back to the center of his hand, then shifted left again. Odin turned left, feeling like a total moron.

Whoever heard of moving warmth, anyway? But he was bored.

Grit fell off the wall at his touch, and the warmth continued down the hall, stopping in front of an old door. Odin reached out to touch it, and felt the warmth shift under his hand. Shoving the door open, Odin stepped into a huge room. It had to have been the master bedroom at one point, but the furniture was gone, dust covering the floor. The windows were boarded over, but light slid through the large cracks in the boards. It cast the room into sharp relief, illuminating the dark floors and grimy walls.

And the child standing by the door in the corner.

Odin blinked and stared at the little girl, who was standing calmly by the old wooden door. Her clothes were the same brilliant white as his hair, the ratty material ruffling slightly in the thin breeze that slid through the gaps in the boards. She was pale as she could be, with huge, black eyes that stared up at Odin in awe. The little girl had quite a stretch, she was probably just a little over three feet tall, and he was just an inch under six and a half feet. Long, hair fell to her waist in a tumble of jet black curls, and he could see her lips quirk around the thumb she had tucked into her mouth. The other hand was also busy, a stuffed animal clasped in her tiny arm. It was a cat, colored like a grey, black, and white tabby, with green eyes. Looking at it gave Odin chills.

The child continued to stare at him, wide eyed, and still sucking her thumb. Odin blinked. The little girl did not. "Hello," Odin offered, and the little girl continued to stare at him. The only other sound in the room was the soft noise she made as she sucked her thumb. "Have you a name?"

She still didn't say anything, just continued to stare. She still hadn't blinked, and Odin was beginning to get a little freaked out. Normal children didn't stare like that. "Where are your parents?"

Still no reply. Odin knelt in front of the little girl, and held up a hand to touch her. She skipped back, thumb still in place, but her lips quirked into a frown around the object. Standing, Odin reached for the door.

"Don't touch."

Odin looked at the girl again, who had her thumb in her mouth once again, but he had no doubt that it was the child that had just spoken. Her voice was as tiny as she was, and it made Odin smile. He hadn't done that much since Charon died. "Why not?" He tried to look kind and disarming, but the girl refused to speak to him again. Frowning, he reached for the door a second time.

"It goes to Neverwhere," The little girl spoke again, making Odin jump.

"Neverwhere?"

"The land of departed souls," The little girl expounded, smiling at him and putting her thumb back into her mouth. Odin nearly laughed. This little girl was standing in front of what had to be a closet and sucking her thumb, expecting him to believe that the door in an abadoned old house would lead him to the place souls went when a person died?

"That's really not funny," Odin frowned, wishing it was the truth. Then he could find Charon again.

"I'm not laughing." The girl sounded far to old for her appearence. She looked three or four. She sounded like an old, jaded woman. But she was still sucking her thumb and clinging to her toy. Odin laughed out loud at that and reached for the door again.

"You have to die to be a soul," Odin told her, resting his hand on the knob. "And I'm still alive. The dead don't come back."

"They can, if you find them in Neverwhere," The girl giggled. "Didn't your parents teach you anything?"

"Not really," Odin shrugged. "That was Charon's job."

"Charon hurts you." The child sounded confused when she said that. Odin jumped back, as though burned.

"He would never hurt me!" Odin snapped, making the child flinch as her eyes filled with tears. "I'm sorry for shouting," Odin tried to sooth, calming the child. She held out her arms, so Odin lifted her off the ground.

"Then why do you hurt when you talk about Charon?" The child asked, and Odin sighed.

"Charon died, three years ago. I still miss him."

The little girl tucked her thumb back in her mouth, looking from Odin and back to the door, as though considering something. A smile bloomed on her pale face and she leaned up to kiss Odin on the cheek. "Well, we should find Charon, then, so you stop hurting."

Her childish voice speaking words to large for a four year old made Odin smile in amusement. "All right, we'll go look in Neverwhere. Do you have a name?"

"Uh huh. Rei. Rei Veritas." The girl smiled again, putting her thumb back in her mouth and staring at Odin with those huge, black eyes. Odin carefully turned the knob of the closet, unsure if anything inside it would fall out when he pulled it open. Looking into it, Odin felt his jaw drop.

It wasn't a closet.
<>*<>

Neverwhere
Part Two
Winter

He hadn't expected Rei to be telling the truth about Neverwhere in the closet. But that's all he could think about when he stared into what was supposed to be a small room with moldy old clothes hanging in it. There was supposed to be wood paneled walls and an old, burnt out lightbulb hanging on the ceiling with a ratty old pull chain to hit him in the head. There was supposed to be an old, rusted bar that would be ready to fall down, and there was supposed to be nothing surprising.

Rei smiled at his thunderstruck expression, snuggling into his arms a little more. "I tolded you it goed to Neverwhere," She told him, taking on the speech patterns of a child instead of an adult. "I tolded you!"

"So you did," Odin choked, staring at the landscape.

The place he was looking at was made of dull shades of grey. The stone was dark grey, and the sky over his head was a lighter grey. The trees and the weeds around him were even more shades of grey, and he almost felt the color being pulled from him as he entered the realm that Rei had called Neverwhere.

In the trees, crows and vultures called to one another in grusome tunes of death and dispaire. Odin gulped. "Charon is here?"

"He died afore he was 'posed to," Rei explained, nodding. "So he camed here."

"There's more than one Neverworld?"

"No," Rei laughed at him. Now Odin felt really stupid. "There are different parts! We can go to them, but the souls can't. They're not 'llowed."

"Why is that?"

"They're assigned, silly." Rei giggled. "They have to stay where they's put!"

"How can they tell?"

"They's marked, of course," Rei giggled again, this time talking around her thumb instead of actually removing it. "You're silly."

Now Odin felt really stupid. But he'd never even heard of Neverwhere before, so there really wasn't a good way for Odin to have known anything about the place. "I see. So how can I find Charon?"

"Look." Rei shrugged, resting her head on his shoulder. "Not that big."

"Can I take him back?"

"To humans?" Rei blinked, tilting her head. "No. He's dead."

"But he died to early."

"So? He's dead."

"There's no way to do it? None at all?"

Black eyes regarded Odin with wisdom beyond their years, making Odin shiver at her searching gaze. Rei seemed to look through him, through to his very soul. It was disconcerting to be under such a searching gaze by such a young child. Rei shrugged. "One way," She finally admitted, frowning.

"Let me guess. I have to exchange my soul for his," Odin sighed.

Rei rolled her eyes. "Too easy," She waved a hand. "Everyone brave enough to come to Neverwhere can leave a soul behind."

Odin choked at that. What did Rei mean, that was too easy? He would have been trading his soul! It wasn't like cashing in a car for a better model! He only had one soul, and it wasn't like it could be easily replaced! "So. . . what do I have to do, then?"

Rei shrugged. "Find Charon first. Then I tell."

"Sneaky little brat," Odin muttered semi-affactionately. Rei stuck her tongue out and pouted, wrinkling her nose at him. Odin raised an eyebrow, still not moving.

"Find Charon," Rei demanded, bouncing impatiently in his arms. Odin sighed and looked around, unsure which was to begin. Rei giggled and snuggled into his arms again, still bouncing slightly. It wasn't like she was a burden, the tiny child couldn't weigh more than fifty pounds--wet--but Odin wished she'd stop bouncing. It was a little irritating.

Dust swirled around his legs as he moved, making him feel like he was in a cheap horror moving where the directors had been unable to afford dry ice, so they'd used dirt instead. Not a pleasent feeling, with the overall atmosphere of Neverwhere. Odin continued to look around, still seeing the same scraggly trees and half-starved vultures spread around the dreary landscape. The heavy sky depressed him, and he glanced at Rei again. "Why is everyone who died early sent here?"

"Not their time," Rei told him.

"I know, but not all of them deserve this."

"Shouldn't have died early."

"Some were murdered," Odin pointed out. Rei shrugged and looked at the dim world.

"Not so bad," Rei told him. "Should see where the murderers go."

Odin frowned, following her gaze towards the sky where it was lit up with a sick orangish glow, like the flames of hell-fire. It was as though he could hear screaming, even though the place had to be quite far from where he stood, since he couldn't even see what was casting the light, only that it existed. Shuddering, Odin looked back at Rei. "I'll pass on that, thanks," He told her, shivering.

She shrugged, tugging on his shirt and whining to be let down. Odin complied, but kept a firm grip on her hand. The last thing he needed was for her to wander off. He had no idea if she had parents or anything, but he didn't need her getting lost and hurt. Especially since he wasn't sure if what happened in Neverwhere would traslate over to the real world too. "Are there no other spirits here?" Odin asked, looking around.

"Later," Rei shrugged, leading him further into the dirty plains. "They hide. I'm scary."

"You're scary?"

"Uh-huh." Rei smiled, but didn't explain, and Odin left it alone. He really, really didn't want to know. Odin frowned. If everyone was staying away from them, did that mean Charon would too?

"Charon!" Odin shouted, hoping his friend would hear him. "Charon!"

"He can't hear you," Rei rolled her eyes. "They can't hear anything."

"Can I hear them?"

"No," Rei smiled at Odin again, sticking her thumb back into her mouth, using the same arm she was holding her stuffed cat with. "You're silly," She added, around her thumb.

"Thank you," Odin replied, shaking his head. He continued to watch the land diligently. "Charon!"

It never hurt to try calling, no matter what Rei said, right?
<>*<>

Hours seemed to turn into days as Odin continued to look for his best friend, but so far, Charon was nowhere to be seen. And he felt like he had passed the same group of trees three times in a row. Growling, he kicked the nearest tree savagely, making Rei cry out in fright and grab his arm. "Stop it! You're hurting him!"

"What?" Odin stared at her. "It's a tree."

"Yeah," Rei agreed. "But it used to be a soul."

"What?"

"Well, you can't expect them to wander around here forever," Rei snorted. "So after awhile, we turn them into trees."

Odin went white. "Charon!" He screamed, lifting the girl off the ground and breaking into a frantic run. "Charon!" There was still no sign of his best friend, and Odin grew more and more frantic as time passed by, pratically unheeded. "Charon?" He finally whispered. Rei smiled.

Tears dripped down Odin's face he was kept trying to find Charon, or any soul that could take him to Charon. "Charon, please," He whimpered, and Rei's smile grew.

The ground seemed to melt away under his feet, and the sky was a dizzying blur to his eyes as he was swept down the path, taken to the furthest reaches of the universe and returned, stars exploded in his vision as the land and sky spun around him in a dizzying array of grey light.

"Charon!" Odin sobbed, and everything went black.
<>*<>

Rei was missing when Odin woke, still in the same, dirty landscape, but this time with a pounding headache and a twitch in his fingers. Sitting up carefully, he looked around, nearly going crossed eyed as the blood rushed from his head. He groaned in pain. "Rei?"

There was no answer. Odin cursed at his luck and managed to stand, his body feeling like lead. There was no telling where he was, or what was going on. Looking around, he could make out some more trees in the distance, but the creepy orange hell-fire had disappeared. Odin gulped. He had no idea where he was, nor how to get back to the door, and he still hadn't found Charon.

Pounding feet made him turn, and Charon's terrified visage ran through him. Odin screamed as pain overtook his senses.

Pounding footsteps sounded in his ears as his frantic breathing made a cadence for him to run too. Turning to glance over his shoulder, he could see ten musclebound football players chasing him. Why oh why hadn't he remembered that Odin had warned him not to go through the abandoned lot? He knew the football players were out to get him. He knew it! Odin had warned him at school! Oh, curse his forgetfulness!

"Get back here, you scrany freak!" The taunts made him run faster, his brown hair flying behind him. He tried to jump the fence, but hit it with his mid-section, falling to the earth with a thud. The breath left his body in a woosh, and he coughed and gasped as his eyes watered and panic overtook his mind.

He had to get out of there, he was going to get beaten up, again! He couldn't afford anymore bruises, and one of these days he was going to die from their beatings! Trying to get to his feet, he nearly fell again as dizzyness overtook his senses. Large hands grabbed his arms and threw him to ground, forcing the air from his lungs a second time.

And then they were on him, punching him, kicking him. Hitting him with sticks and stones and metal pipes. He screamed over and over for them to stop as pain blossomed on his body, trying to get away. He was struggling and lashing out. He heard one of them groan as he kicked him, but there was no respite as they continued their beating.

"Let's see if this teaches you a lesson," One snarled. "Tell that friend of yours to stay away from us."

He continued to struggle, screaming in pain as the beating continued on and on, for what seemed to be an eternity. His vision grew dark as the night blackened his vision and blood leaked into his eyes. "Odin!" He screamed before one crushed his vocal chords and everything went black.
<>*<>

Odin fell to his knees, coughing and retching, bringing up what little lunch he had eaten and collapsing the rest of the way to the ground, narrowly missing the vomit that stained the grey dust in front of him. Shuddering, Odin forced himself to lay still. He had just seen the beating that had killed his best friend three years ago. The thought made him retch again, but there was nothing left in his belly.

He had just seen Charon's murder. Ten football players against his little friend and Charon had no hope. He was dead before it had even begun. He was dead when he took that first step into the lot. Odin began to sob, his tears darkening the dusty stone beneath him. "I'm sorry, Charon. I promised to protect you, and I failed so terribly. I'm so, so sorry."

Gathering his wits, he tumbled to his knees and managed to get to his feet, stumbling in the direction he had seen Charon's image run in. His feet felt like lead, and he could hardly breath, but he had to find Charon. He had to save his best friend. He couldn't just leave Charon in such a terrible place, and he couldn't just run away.

Odin Sheridan was no coward. "Charon!" He screamed, gathering his strength. "Charon, answer me!"

But a gritty wind was his only reply. There was nothing more, and nothing less. "Charon!"

But still, there was nothing.
<>*<>

Odin continued to search for the terrified ghost he had seen of Charon, continued to try to find the best friend death had unkindly taken from him three years ago. "Charon!" His voice was horse, but he had to keep calling, as though it would bring Charon to him. He had to continue on. His brother was here. The little brother he had promised to protect. The little brother he had failed.

He couldn't bear the thought of Charon being turned into a tree, and he couldn't bear the thought of just leaving his brother there. The land of Neverwhere was not a welcomig place, as far as he could see. It was dark and terrifying and painful. If Charon had to relive the pain of dying over and over again as punishment for dying outside his time, then Odin would simply have to find a way to save him.

Because if he saved him this time, maybe he could gain some redemption for not saving him the first. Maybe he could earn the forgiveness he had sought for the passed three years. Redemption he could never gain because the one person that could offer it was dead. Odin screamed again, still searching for Charon, and still making his way through the oddly floating dust. He would have called it mist, but his feet stirred if up from the ground.

"Charon!" He shouted again, and fell to the ground with a heavy thud as he tripped over something hidden in the mist. Looking back, he nearly screamed. The mutilated body of his best friend was on the ground, staring at him with dead eyes, blood slowly pooling beanth his body.

Odin screamed and collapsed.
<>*<>

Neverwhere
Part Three
Spring

The room was stuffy and dimly lit, filled with crying people holding hankerchiefs to their faces. Odin stared numbly at the coffin that stood before him, the only one there to greet the long line of people waiting to say their final good-byes to his best friend. Charon had been well liked at school and in the neighborhood, except by the football team. Even the local bullies had stopped picking on him some time ago because Charon would smile and ask if they felt better when they were done hurting him.

Odin would have beaten them up, but Charon always stopped him and said they just didn't know any other way to show they needed people as much as everyone else.

Tears burned his eyes, and Odin blinked them back rapidly. He didn't have time to cry. Not then. He still had to greet the long line that was wrapped around the inside of the funeral home and try to explain why Charon's parents were there. Telling people they were too busy drinking and had no idea their son was dead wasn't a good start. Wiping his eyes on his sleeve, he turned to the next person in line.

It was Charon's favorite teacher from school, Mrs. Veldman. She was an old lady that saw all the students she taught as her grandchildren. She always made cookies for her classes, and thought Charon had been the cutest thing in the world. "Who would do that to him?" She aked, reaching in the casket to touch the cold face, set in a slight frown. Her old fingers caressed the downturned lips of a boy that frowned only rarely in life, and she grasped Odin's hand. "I'm sorry, Odin. He was too young."

"I know," Odin knew his voice cracked, but Mrs. Veldman always wormed through his defenses. "I'm sorry too."

The teacher hugged him tightly, allowing him a moment of respite where he could bury his face in her shoulder and pretend it would be okay, because Charon wasn't dead, and he'd wake up any moment and yell, "Surprise!" But it never happened. It never would.

And when it was time to place the lonely casket in the family plot, Charon's parents weren't even around to say good-bye. They were still passed out on the ratty couch in their living room, thinking Charon was at Odin's. Odin was the one to close the casket, and Odin was the one to throw the flower in after, and to toss the handful of dirt onto the vault. It was Odin that thanked everyone for coming, and it was Odin that was the last to leave the lonely cemetary, wishing it was raining so no one could tell the wetness on his face was his tears.

His parents had gotten the meal ready, and they had asked if he needed anything, but his parents didn't understand. This was Charon, not one of his other friends. This was his best friend. His brother.

And it was his fault that Charon was dead.
<>*<>

Odin groaned and rubbed his head. He had a pounding headache, and his body ached all over. Soft giggling met his ears as his consciencness slowly turned the black of oblivion to the grey of waking. Prying his eyes open, he saw Rei standing over him, poking him with her cat's paw, and giggling. Her long hair was a mess of curls, unlike the brushed neatness it had been before, and it looked like she had just woken from her nap.

"Where did you go?" Odin asked, rubbing his eyes.

"Mommy wanted me for a nap," Rei answered, giggling. "So I had to sneaks out."

"You shouldn't have run from home," Odin scolded lightly, but was greatful for the company in this dead, grey world.

Rei's eyes sparkled as she shook her head, watching Odin sitting up then snuggling into his side. Her small body warmed him, like the sun on a cold winter morning, and he felt his stiff muscles finally begin to loosen and answer his furious demands to get up. Lifting Rei, he turned to look out into the landscape. "Do you know what the flashbacks mean?" He asked.

Rei blinked. "Flashbacks?"

"Yeah. . . I keep. . . remembering things from when Charon died."

"Oh. Means he's closer," Rei nodded, resting her head tiredly on Odin's shoulder and clutching his shirt loosely with that hand that wasn't in her mouth. "Mommy says its good."

"Your mom knows I'm here?" Odin blinked.

"Uh huh." Rei nodded, but didn't say anything when Odin waited for her to explain. He knew better than to ask, Rei was a mystery on her own, and explanations were hard to come by when the little girl was involved. Odin began walking in the direction he'd seen Charon run in, rubbing his head a bit longer. It still felt like it was planning on exploding, and Odin wasn't sure if that was possible in this odd world.

The landscape hadn't changed much, but there were a few more trees and the strange grey rock Odin had been walking on turned to a strange grey swamp. He no longer stirred up dust as he moved, but instead a dull mist wound through the dying landscape, grey creepers hangin from the skeletal trees. Rei snuggled closer, obviously near sleep, and Odin had to wonder where he was.

Surely something like this wasn't normal, right? It was too. . . creepy. . . and too lonely. The caws of the crows and the crys of the vultures grew louder as Odin made his way deeper into the swamp, batting the creepers from his way and carefully watching his footing. If he fell here, he might crush Rei, or they might be swollowed by the swamp. Neither of which sounded like a good, viable option, at the moment.

Ooooodiiiin, a haunting cry made the hair on the back of Odin's neck stand up. Ooooodiiiin. He whirled, seeing nothing but the grey swamp behind him. The wind picked up through the trees, continuing the haunting cry. Odin let out a sigh of relief. Nothing but the wind. Wind that hadn't exsisted in the past. Wind that probably didn't belong.

Leeeaaaaveeee thiiiis plaaaaceee, The mournful cry pleaded, but Odin shook his head.

"Not until I find Charon!" He snapped, continuing forward. "Not until he's safe."

And it was true. He wouldn't leave Charon here. He couldn't leave Charon here. Charon was better than this. Deserved better than this. Charon was special. Charon was. . . his brother. He clenched his jaw in determination, eyes narrowing in anger at the thought that someone would try to turn him away. He need to get to Charon, and beg for forgiveness, even if he couldn't take Charon back. Even if Charon couldn't hear him. He would make Charon understand, somehow.

"Charon!"

Rei was a warm, heavy weight on his shoulder, heavy black lashed brushing her pale cheek. She had been very sleepy, it seemed, to curl up to Odin to nap. "Charon!"

Rei didn't stir, her breath still even. Odin smiled. Sometimes he wondered if she was a little spirit here, a mischief-making sprite that had wandered from the realm to find a playmate. It was amusing, for some reason, and Odin couldn't stop a laugh from escaping his lips at the thought of Rei being a little sprite. It was like the time Charon--

"Stop laughing at me, Odin! It's not funny! Mom made me wear the bunny suit!"

--was forced to dress like a bunny for holloween the year they were twelve. Apparently his mother was so drunk, she'd forgotten his age. Fortuantely the costume had been the right size. But Odin had teased Charon for a month straight about it.

A flash of movement made Odin look up, and he saw Charon, standing in the mist, staring at him. "Charon!" He cried, racing towards his best friend. Charon smiled, tilting his head and closing his eyes, like he did when he was so happy he just didn't have a better way to show it unless he wanted to abondon all dignity and jump up and down, screaming and shouting like a fool.

Charon reached out a hand, and Odin lunged, grabbing for it, even as the wind drifted through the trees and Charon just seemed to blow away, fading from Odin's eyes as his almost corpreal body turned less so, making Odin fall through Charon's insubstanial spirit and nearly tumbling into the swamp below. He turned just as Charon's hand faded completely from view. "Charon?"

Foooorgiiiiiveeeneeeess, the wind seemed to wail as Odin fell to his knees, scream in rage, careful not to drop the burden in his arms. Reeeedeeeemptiiioooon.

Odin cursed and beat the ground with his fists, lashing out at whatever was near-by in his rage, not careing if the trees were old souls, not careing if he was hurting something. His heart was hurting him, the anger and rage pounding in his veins. Tears streamed down his face, dripping onto the ground as he screamed and cried, longing for that which he no longer had.

In her sleep, Rei smiled.
<>*<>

"Do you believe in forgiveness?" Charon asked as Odin bandaged the other's bleeding arm. Charon had been attacked at the school again, by a few of the local bullies, and had hit a locker, cutting his arm pretty badly. He couldn't afford to go to the hospital, so Odin was bandaging his arm for him, hands gentle and sure.

"I never thought about it. Why?" Odin sighed. Only Charon would ask such a question.

"I don't know. You always seem so angry, Odin. Why can't you just let go of the past?"

"I'm not you, Charon. Things make me angry. Especially people that hurt you. I don't see how you can forget it so easily." Odin deftly tied the bandage and stood, patting Charon on the head to let him know they were done with the bandages as he tucked them back into the cabinet.

Charon had a strange look on his face when Odin glanced towards him. "What's wrong?"

"What did you mean, forget?" Charon asked, frowning.

"You just act like nothing ever happened. Like you've forgotten. I don't see how you do it."

"I never forget, Odin," Charon laughed. "But forgiveness is like that, sometimes. Its not about payback, or revenge. Its about being kind to other people. Its about treating them like they haven't done anything. We all make mistakes, Odin. That doesn't mean we have to cling to our anger forever."

"But you're never mad!"

"Why would I be?"

"Because you're dead! And I killed you!"

"I forgave you before I even died, Odin. The only person left to offer you redeption for killing me is yourself.You're hurting me, because you refuse to let go. Its been so long, Odin. Just let. . . it. . . go. . . "
<>*<>

Odin gasped, his eyes snaping open as he sat up, his head colliding with the tree he was leaning against. He groaned, and tried to raise a hand to his head, but found that Rei was blocking it's movement, her eyes still closed and her breathing still even. Despite all his yelling and cursing, she was still fast asleep. He smiled. Children were truely amazing, sometimes.

Odin smiled at her, then looked to the grey sky. "I'm sorry, Charon," He murmured softly, staggering to his feet. "I have been hurting you, haven't I. But holding on to the guilt and the anger. You always hated it when I did that. I'm sorry, Charon. I won't do it anymore."

The wind picked up again, and Charon's smiling image flickered in front of him, holding out a hand. Odin jumped towards his best friend, grabbing the outstretched hand. Fingers met, hands collided. Charon's smile grew, and shadows spread from under his feet, coating the area in blackness, taking over Odin's senses until a single light in the center of the darkness made him turn.

"Charon?"

Charon was just as Odin remembered him, with his long hair caught up in a high ponytail, spiking from the rubber band, and his golden eyes happily glittering when he looked at Odin. He wasn't the pale ghost that Odin had seen before, but he was a smiling fourteen year old, running towards Odin. Hastily, Odin placed Rei on the ground, opening his arms for his best friend.

But even as Odin's arms closed around the other boy, Charon dissappeared in a spray of colored light and mist. Odin looked at his empty embrace, and sank to his knees, bowing his head. "Charon. . . You pro--

"I'll be back tomorrow, Odin! I promise!"

--mised." But tomorrow had never come, because Charon was dead. And it was all his fault.

Odin clentched his fists. Excpet it wasn't his fault. It hadn't been his fault. It was the fault of the people that killed Charon, and even of Charon himself for going into the vacent lot. But mostly it was the fault of those jerks that had first laid a hand on the small teenager. Odin gritted his teeth. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault. It wasn't his fault! "IT'S NOT MY FAULT!" The cry echoed through the darkness, even as Odin scooped up Rei again. "DO YOU HEAR ME, CHARON? IT'S NOT MY FAULT!"

And Odin felt himself fall.
<>*<>

Neverwhere
Part Four
Summer

When Odin woke, there was nothing. It wasn't light, it wasn't dark, but he couldn't describe it as grey, either. It was simply, nothing. There was nothing, it was nothing, and Odin couldn't figure out, for the life of him, what he was doing there. Rei was missing too, and he called her name, hesitantly, trying to find her.

Nothing came out. Panicked, Odin tried several more times, but sound refused to pass his lips. He whirled, trying to figure out where he was and how to leave, but there was no way in or out. It was simply. . . nothing.

"What business does the living have in the land of the dead?" The voice was cold and harsh, a firestorm in midwinter, freezing his skin and blistering his soul. But it came from nowhere and everywhere at once. Odin crouched, ready to defend himself, but nothing more came for several moments.

"To find the friend that you thought forever lost, is your reason. How. . . cute." The voice seemed to be sarcastic as it said that, but Odin didn't find it amusing.

"Show yourself!" He tried to shout, but still no sound would come. Instead something hit him, knocking him to whatever he was standing on and sending him head over heels for a few feet. When he stopped, he had to catch his breath, panting, before he could rise. All the same, the nothingness around him shifted and shivered, and a woman stepped from its center.

She was terrifying and beautiful, a demon and an angel. The woman stood nearly ten feet tall, with hair and eyes the same black as Rei's. Her skin was the same creamy pale, too, but this woman couldn't have been Rei. Her black eyes seemed to burn through him, but unlike Rei's sweet, childish gaze, one burned with fire and the other with ice. She had wings arcing from her back, one black, and one white. It was like a greek goddess from one of his textbooks had come to life. In one pale, slender hand, she held a blazing scyth.

Odin gulped, scrabbling back, but refused to run away. "Where's Charon?"

"The one you seek?" Her voice boomed, delicate and deadly all at once. "For what purpose do you seek him?"

"Rei said he could some back!" Odin shouted.

The woman paused, twisting to get a better look at the insignificant bug before her. "Rei told you?"

Odin said nothing. His voice had returned, but he wouldn't give her the satisfaction of her answer. The woman swung the scyth, but not at Odin. Instead she cut through the nothingness and gave a low growl. Rei stepped through the tear, and smiled at the woman. "Run Rei!" Odin cried, trying to dash forward, to find his feet held fast.

"What, Mommy?" Rei asked, her smile enough to light up even a room of nothing. The woman frowned.

"What have you brought mortals here for?" The woman demanded, raising an eyebrow.

"He was hurt," Rei explained, her black eyes filling with tears. "He was hurt so much!"

"That is not of our concern, daughter! We do not care for the mortal's pain! We are death! You have brought him to the realm of the dead, and you know he must pay the price!" The woman readied her scyth, but Rei jumped in front of Odin, opening her arms wide. Rei didn't fall, however. Black shadows roiled around her small form, holding her aloft. Black wings spread wide as Rei shook her head, her ratty dress being tugged to and fro by an invisible wind.

"No, Mommy!" Rei breaced herself for a blow that never came. "His friend died too early! He came here to find him! He loves him!"

The woman raised on black brow, turning to look at Odin. "Is this so?"

"Yes," Odin nodded firmly. "He is my best friend. My brother. I'd do anything for him."

"Even enter Neverwhere, child? Or did you do that for yourself?" The woman smirked. "You have fooled even your heart, but death cannot be fooled by mortal sentiments. You came here because you couldn't forgive yourself. You came here to find peace in his death. And you have found it. Now go."

"I came here for Charon." Odin replied, crossing his arms. "I might be deluded, but I came here for Charon. And I won't leave without him."

"So you came here for his soul? Tell me, Odin Sheridan, how much do you love Charon?"

"I would die for him!"

"But you couldn't live."

Shame colored Odin's features. "No," He asnwered softly, "I could not."

"Fine then. Do you know the price to bring back a soul?" The woman smirked, setting the butt of her scyth on the ground. "Do you know the price for your redemption?"

"No," Odin answered, not looking at her.

"The price of a soul," The woman mused, looking Odin over, "is the price of killing it all over again. To take Charon from this plane, you must lead him out of the door you entered, where he will become alive again. Once he has left this realm, you must take the knife I will give you, and kill him with it. Then you must offer him some of your own blood, and breathe life back into his body. This will bring him back to life. But at a cost."

"What's that?"

"He will be connected to you. If you die, he will follow within a week. And if you decide you hate him, he will die then, also. But there is one more thing."

"What?"

"You must relive that which you have already done." The woman smiled. "When you kill him, he will relive his death but this time, it wil be you killing him; he will know this, and he will not know why. You will be his murderer. It will be your punishment, when you one day die. You will also be forced to relive all the years that he's been dead. With no memory of what has gone on before."

Odin met her burning gaze squarely, holding out his hand.

"Give me the knife."
<>*<>

The woman had offered Odin a strange knife with runes of some kind embedded in the gleaming handle and blade, and sent him to the place Charon stood. The spirit of his friend smiled at him, holding out his hand. Odin took it, leading the other back to the door he had entered through, careful not to loose his grip on Charon's hand. He had to be touching Charon in order to take him back through the door.

It was some time before he spotted it, and pulled Charon after him. Charon hesitated at the door to the next world, looking at Odin uncertainly. Odin tugged on his hand, making Charon follow him through. Turning to his friend, he bit his lip and closed his eyes. "I'm sorry," Odin murmured, wrentching Charon forward and plunging the knife into him where his heart would be.

Charon screamed, an inhuman sound from the spirit, before he turned human and collapsed to the floor, convulsing. He had to wait for the seizures to stop before he could do anything, according to the woman, and all he could do was hold Charon as he screamed in pain, begging for Odin to stop hurting him. Begging for Odin not to kill him.

Tears streamed down Odin's face as Charon convulsed, but he did nothing until they stopped. Laying his best friend on the floor, Odin carefully cut his hand, laying it over Charon's heart. The muscles began to beat, the dull rythm a gentle cadence in Odin's ears. Now all he had to do was give Charon a breath of air.

Just like CPR, right? Odin thought to himself, forcefully shutting out the shudder caused by the thought of having to kiss Charon. Leaning over his brother, Odin carefully tilted the other's head back, breathing life-giving air into his lungs. Charon's eyes shot open, the golden eyes widening at Odin, and the boy leaping back. "Murder!"
<>*<>

Odin sat up in bed, panting and gasping, clutching his heart. The fifteen year old choked and coughed, trying to forget the dream that had plauged him every night for a month. Charon rolled over in his sleeping bag on the floor to eyes his best friend with a sigh. "What's wrong, Odin?"

Odin shook his head. How was he supposed to tell Charon that he had died, but Odin had found the door to Neverwhere and brought him back to life? Besides, it was only a dream. There was nothing more to it than it being a silly dream, right? Of course not.

"Odin?" Charon's sleepy voice made the other teen look up.

"Yeah?"

"Why's your hair white?" Charon asked, making Odin touch his head. It had been white in his dream, too.

The teen frowned, shaking his head. "I don't know, Charon. Maybe it's because. . . I have to remember to forgive, every now and then."

Charon smiled and shrugged. "That's what I'm here for, Odin. Stop being silly."

"I know," Odin admitted, confused as to why he would even say such a thing. "But. . . if you weren't. . ."

Charon tilted his head, looking at Odin with a slight frown on his face, and shrugged, not say anything to Odin's confused babble. The other boy was just dillusional, after all. He wasn't going anywhere. Not for a long time. Odin absently played with his hair, trying to put the dream from his mind. It was just a dream, after all. Charon never died.

But in the land of Neverwhere, Rei smiled.
<>*<>

Finis

So I'm hoping someone will have something to say to this, other than its completel crap (which I already know) because the cliche monster bit, but really. That's not my fault. My teacher gave us the prompts. No wonder I wanted to run away!

Part Seven: Run away! The cliches are coming!

Wed, 13 Sep 2006 00:58:42 GMT

No, really. My teacher in creative writing gave us this huge list of story starters. . . and I've seen better stuff in the cheap, plotless melodramas that cost fifty cents a book. They're really bad. And I'm supposed to pull something out of my rear to give her.

So I think I've got something. I think. I've got my fingers crossed.

I've chosen the prompt that says, "Your character remembers the phone call. 'There had been an accident, a teenage prank that went too far,' the officer had said."

So, here's what I've got.

Characters:

Name: Odin Sheridan
Age: 18
Eyes/Hair: Green eyes; longish white hair in a shaggy cut.
Height: 6'5"
Weight: 190ish lbs.
D.O.B.: March 15

Name: Charon Amon
Age: 14 at death, would be 17
Eyes/Hair: Gold eyes, long brown hair in a high ponytail.
Height: 5'2"
Weight: 120 lbs
D.O.B.: September 27

Name: Rei Veritas
Age: 3,000 but appears 3 or 4
Eyes/Hair: Black eyes; long, curly black hair.
Height: 3'2"
Weight: 50 lbs wet
D.O.B.: ? She's not telling.

Odin had never been one to let fate decide his life. He adn his best friend, Charon, were going to be great. Have great lives, and have great families. They'd live next door to each other, and be best friends and brothers forever.

Except Charon died three years ago at the age of fourteen. Charon was beaten to death in a prank gone wrong. A prank Odin had known about, warned Charon about, but didn't stop. Odin never got over the death of his best friend; his brother.

Odin, at 18, is a delinquet. He's failing school, and lost in his own grief and pain because of Charon's death three years ago. He's destructive because he's trying to forget something he can't help but want to remember. Trying to get rid of the pain, Odin constantly makes trouble around the neighborhood. Hiding in an abandoned house to didge the police, he discovers a child guarding a door that leads to a place called Neverwhere. Neverwhere: The place of departed souls.

If Odin can't forgive himself, how could he ask Charon to do so? Going to Neverwhere, the bonds of their friendship is tested, and the lover of two brothers is tried.

But Odin would do anything for Charon: Kill. . . die. . . and live.

He would even brave Neverwhere.
<>*<>

I'm hoping I can actually make it great. Make it something worthwhile. I think it might do. Hopefully!

Part Six: Oh, I had this Idea. . .

Wed, 06 Sep 2006 18:55:22 GMT

Yeah. . . not the best title, I know, but that's mostly why I'm writing. See, I was trying to come up with a character sketch for creative writing and I got this cute little red-head out of it. Then I was like, okay, what's she doing? Well, she's a historian. . . okay, that's not bad. What's she a historian for? Hey, what if I base this story in the future?

So Astraea was born. Figuratively, of course. Astraea is a four foot eleven (and a half, thank you very much!) inchs, twenty-six year old with fire red hair, leaf green eyes, and glasses. About a thousand years in the future, Astraea is a historian in the United American Democracy (I figure that North, South, and Central Americas would evetuanlly merge, with a thousand years, and I can do that because it's my idea!). Her specialty is the age of technology, in the 20th and 21st centuries. Because of the nature of the age, a lot of information is lost because it was digital with no hard copies. Trying to find a research topic, Astraea comes across a diary written by a man in between 1996 and 2016. Spanning twenty years, the diary is the most important find in ceturies about the technological age.

During the stock market rise (and subesquent crash) three billion dollars went missing. No one ever figured it out where it went, but the author of the diary speculated that it disappeared into gentic research to create soldiers. Following the diary, Astraea finds the abandoned lab, with someone still trapped in it, stuck in stasis for the past mellnia.

Astraea frees him, not wanting to leave him there, and nearly gets killed since she's not supposed to know about the lab in the first place. The man, of course, has no idea its been nearly a thousand years since he was last put into the stasis in 2060. He was born in 1985 and was in and out of stasis since he's been twenty, so he looks about thirty years old. Astraea takes him home with her, introducing him to a world he's never seen, and trying to keep him out of government sight.

Unfortunately, the reason Makaze, which is the man, survived for a thousand years is because someone else knows about the lab. They discovered Makaze missing, and now they're out to get him back, which throws Astraea and Makaze into a thousand year old conspiriacy between what was formerly the United States and another country (I haven't decided which yet). I've also got to figure out what, precisely, the conspiracy is. . . which makes my brain hurt.

Makaze is six feet four inches, a major comparison to tiny Astraea. Because he's been in stasis for so long, his jet black hair is down to his hips. His eyes are this pale, electric blue. He's pale, too, from being in stasis and out of the sun, but the chemicals in the stasis prevented his muscles from breaking down, so he's still in fairly good condition (considering he's been in there for about a thousand years). I thought the comparison of the two of them was interesting. I almost made Makaze shorter, but. . . I dunno. . . his character is rather imposing, so I thought I'd make it part of his actual stature.

I thought it would be an interesting storyline, just because I've never seen something like it before, science fiction with flashbacks to our time, and things that could, possibly, happen in the next several years if such research was possible. I doubt they're happening now, but I thought it was fun to make him born when he was because of the market crash and stuff. I might change that, and make him a little. . . er. . . younger? Born later, probably closer to year 2000. I can change that once I work out the bugs. .. hmm. . .

I wasn't going to turn it into an actual story, but I fell in love with Astraea and Makaze. Makaze (which means evil wind in Japanese) is an assassin. I guess we'd consider him a cold sort of guy, but really he just as his own agenda, and his own set of morals. He doesn't mind killing people, but he won't just kill them because he can. He has to have a better reason than that, but human life really doesn't hold much value to him. That might be the result of sleeping a thousand years, that might be the assassin in him, but Makaze really marches to the beat of his own drum.

Astraea is little, and rather uncertain about herself. The last few relationships she's been in haven't been good for her already low ego, and people have a tendancy to overlook her because she's so small. She loves history, and is, therefore, a geek, but she also loves people, which is why she went into history. Study the people around you, and you can connect history with the present. I could have a lot of fun with that, really.

Anyway, Astraea and Makaze are the Odd Couple, truth be told, and I haven't actually decided if they're going to have a romantic rlationship or not. That's currently the direction they're headed, but I don't know if I'll leave it that way.

But I just had to write that down, and hopefully get feedback, because it's just so great. I have a hardcopy of it, of course, but still! I just love the idea of this story!

~Kaze Cougar

Part Five: Allergies

Mon, 04 Sep 2006 06:24:50 GMT

Sorry about the long wait, but I've been so busy with school and stuff. I've also had terrible allergies for the past few days, so I'm coughing up a lung, and have a runny nose, and I sound like I'm going to keel over at any moment. That and I'm losing my voice, which I hate. I like my voice, and being sick doesn't help much.

Anyway, I've been tired because I've been on Benadryl and Sudafed like it was candy to try and keep everything under control to, hopefully, be better when school starts on Tuesday. I've been enjoying my classes a lot, too.

I have two history classes, which is great. One is a low level class, so it'll be very easy, which makes me happy. Mom told me I shouldn't get too complacent, so I'll try not too, but it'll be very hard since I've already taken a more difficult class on similar material. I'm also in a psychology class, which excites me becase I'm a history major, and we work with lots of people. . . they're just all dead. . . Lol. I have a bible class and a swimming class, and then, my personal favorite, creative writing!

I'm so excited for it, and I really like to write, since that's like. . . breathing, really. I would sooner suffocate than give up writing. Which is partly why I want to be a historian. That and I think research is great fun. Which is weird, I know. So I'll settle for that.

It's rather late, so I'm going to go get some more medicine and then go to bed for some much needed sleep.

Good night!

~Kaze Cougar

Part Four: Finally!

Tue, 22 Aug 2006 14:03:54 GMT

Well, it's been a hard few days. I've been going nuts trying to get all my people moved in and all my friends coming back and everyone being here. I've not gotten to sleep passed nine-thirty in a week or so, and I'm exhausted because I haven't been to been before one or one thirty in most of that time. Which is just exhausting. Especially since I'm also suffering from jet lag that never quite fixed itself. The time zone is only an hour difference, but man, that hour is killer! My eating and sleeping times are royally screwed up, and there's really nothing for it!

Anyway, I'm whining, and I know it, so I'll move on. My freshman all got here all right, and moved in all right. I've got a great bunch this year and they're all really excited to be away at school (at long last). I'm excited to be back away from home, because its tough to go home when you go back to all the rules and stuff. Mom was much cooller about it this year than last year, which was great, and I was getting ready to start screaming about how irritating being home was! So the dorm is great, I love my job, as always, though sometimes I seriously wonder about my boss. But that's okay too. It's only for another year, and then I'll hopefully be over in the apartments, and it won't be an issue.

Other than that, we (meaning my friends and I) have just kinda been getting re-aquainted with one another. We stayed in touch over the summer by phone and e-mail, but its just not the same as seeing them in person. So it was great. We're planning an outing today, I think, and that'll be fun, but we have some little things about registraition to clear up before we can do that. But I can't wait to just spend some time together. We always enjoy that.

My friends here are mostly a group of six of us. Four girls and two boys. We've been running together almost since we started school here. One of the guys joined because he's my roommate's boyfriend, but he's cool, so we don't mind. He and my roommate were both officers in a club while they were dating, and the teasing for that wsa great. So much ammunition. Especially since the boyfriend was president. Hee hee.

The other guy is one of my best friends, and everyone things were going out. It's so weird to have to correct that rumor, since it was about five seconds from happening. I know he still likes me a lot, but I've just got no intrest in a relationship. That and I truely do see him as a good friend right now. I just can't picture him in "that way" so it's kind of strange to have him crushing on me, but me not returning it. I keep telling him to let it go, but I'm not sure he's doing it.

My other three friends are my roommate and a set of twins. My roomie is the absolute best, she's great and we get along so well. The school assigned us together, which was great, because almost no one the school assigns gets on, but this'll be our fifth semester roomming together and we're really excited.

The last two are a set of twins, though we're not sure if they fraternal or identical. Even they don't know! For some reason, the doctors never got around to preforming the test, and they look just enough alike and just enough different to go either way, I think. Maybe someday we'll know.

All right, I'm off because I've got other things to do (ick, registraition) but it'll all be okay!

Ta for now!
~Kaze Cougar

Part Three: Moving

Sun, 20 Aug 2006 02:52:52 GMT

So the freshmen arrived today, all cute and full of hope and nervousness for the new school year. Yeah, it was pretty good. I was running my butt off all day, trying to get them settled and all their paperwork done. So yeah, it was pretty good. Hetic, but good.

I think I've got a good group of girls this year, so I'm really a bit excited, and I have some really good classes, too. I have to admit, I like college a lot better than high school. The kids are better, the classes are better, and, quite frankly, I don't have to deal with a bunch of morons around me. Ugh. Stupid people should have their own contenient becuase they're irritating! But, once again, I digress.

I still have a bulletin board to finish, because I haven't had time to get it done, but that's okay, because I know what I'm doing, I just haven't had time to do the grunt work and do it! I might hold off another day and volunteer one of my friends because she's a lot better at this stuff than I am, but I might not. It's hard to think, because I'm getting hungry again. Today's meals were so screwed up. I had breakfast at nine, some milk at eleven, lunch at three, and I never ate supper, because I wasn't hungry earlier, and I have done any shopping yet, so I haven't got anything in my room to eat. I might get some change and hit up the vending machine, which is sounding pretty tasty, but I haven't decided yet.

Anyway, I'm half staring stupidly at my computer screen, so I think I'll go ahead and end part three here. I know I'll be too busy to post much over the next couple of days, but so what? This is my journal, here, and I don't have an audience to please. I'm sure some people read this, but this is more for myself, so who cares?

Anyway, I'm off, with that in mind.
~Kaze Cougar

Part Two : Hard Days

Fri, 18 Aug 2006 21:23:59 GMT

I am so tired. I was working all day today, getting moved in, and getting rid of the locker I rented for the summer, and attempting to unpack, and finishing my inventory, and trying to finish my last bulliten board. I'm sort of stressed, and I'm like, Eeek! But that's okay! I'm getting better now! Ha ha!

I was glad to see my roommate yesterday, so despite the stress I'm in a really good mood. After tomorrow it'll be smooth sailing for a few days. My freshmen'll be moved in, and two of my best friends are moving in Sunday, and the cafeteria will be open so I won't have to buy my own food, and I'll be out of grungy clothing.

Not that I'm in grung now. I'm going out to dinner with the other RA's because our dorm supervisor is taking us out, so I'm actually dressed up. I was so tired of grung I figured I would look nice and I didn't care if we were going to McDonalds! Good for us, I'm going to look nice doing it!

So I'm feeling pretty good. I'll have to finish this entry later, or I'll be late, but I'll add how everything went.

I had so much fun tonight. Well, mostly. I had steak for supper, and it was filet mingion. Which I love. Yum, steak! I could never be vegitarian. I love meat too much. And yes, I know what happens when they kill them and all. My family farms and raise some cattle, mostly for eating. So Bessie made my first burger. And boy, was she good!

Anyway, I digress again. I'm rather tired, and I really should go to bed, but I need to shower and stuff. I might leave that until morning, though, because if my hair is wet, my head'll be cooller. And my school is in the South, so it's really hot here, and I've got to help people move in and run around and deal with sobbing parents and the whole, "take care of my baby" stuff. I really hate to tell them, but I'm not paid enough to be a twenty four seven sitter for their kid. I will if they add to my paycheck, but seriously, do they think I have no life? Junk, I'd get paid more as a baby sitter for all these kids than I do right now. That's good money, babysitting.

So we finished some prep work, and I finally finished unpacking my room, and it looks nice. I've still got some crap to deal with, but it's unpacked, and all the shelves are put together, and the kids'll be able to see it an admire it and I won't look like a retard with dozens of boxes scattered about.

All right. Now all I have to do is move people in. Oh, boy. Well, here's to tomorrow!

~Kaze Cougar