Post by Deleted on Oct 4, 2008 20:14:32 GMT -5
Journal Entry 1# ;;
How do you begin one of these things? With a 'Dear diary'? If you were expecting the usual, then you should probably close this journal, jump on it, throw it in a fire, and discard the ashes into the maw of the ocean. For, as you will soon learn as you proceed further into the depths of my thoughts and views on miniscule aspects of life around me, I stray rather dangerously far from the generally-accepted 'usual'.
My name is Raiden Fray. I've experienced eighteen years in this world as of yet, and, so far, I don't think it's quite as great as it's made out to be. I mean, really, what's the best I've got? A soot-on-your-boot home, a few friends I would sooner call enemies, and a flimsy title of 'Fulsi'? Not exactly a kids dream come true. When I was little, I sure hadn't planned on living in a stupid bubble-encased world filled with cannibalistic freaks and sob-story crackpots. I'd wanted the usual of your average naive child; a home, parents who would shower me in love, a dog, and that stupid neighbor's daughter to stop chasing me in the playground yelling about kissing me. That was about the extent of my 'regularity' as the years progressed. After that day, the one that adorned the 'incident' which shipped me to this hellhole, I began to realize that 'usual' would never apply to me again.
The first time I shifted, it was like the world had split itself in two and, when it was stitched back together, nothing was the same. Someone took the floor, decided it'd be better on the sky, and just flipped my universe to better fit their desires.
Didn't settle too well at first.
I remember, from that very first transition, the burning. I remember the blinding light scorching my open irises. I remember the pull as my entire body rebelled and remade itself. It was over before I could comprehend the sudden explosion that surrounded me, but, when the smoke cleared, let's say it was no better than the assault of light and senses.
But how about we don't get into that right now? The smoke-and-mirrors shabang of shifting is a little too details to explain. Besides, I've been up half the night thinking of what to say in this damned thing and trying to make you understand what the heck changing species entirely is like was not on my agenda.
Not to say I have an agenda. Because I don't. I'm kinda winging it. As you learn more about me, you'll see that I do that a lot. What is life if it's planned, after all? Go with the flow is such a hippie saying, and makes it sound like I'm controlled by a 'flow', and, lemme tell you, no dang 'flow' or anything else is manipulating my actions and thoughts. I do as I wish when I wish of it and let the pieces fall where they may - and if they don't want to fit, I make them.
So, maybe you're wondering what this journal will soon contain. At the moment, the scribbling you've seen above, maybe a few traces of names of people I've met, routes I want to remember, places I've been, and things I recall from my past. But in the future, I hope to record my daily happenings. I don't believe that anyone will give a care about me or what transpired in my life, but maybe this will make some sort of entertainment for a normal child in the future, and maybe that kid will think it's all a fictional story made up to help him sleep. For who could ever believe such freaks, such hybrids, like I and my fellow Shifters could exist? Parents don't want their kids to know about us, for their kids should live in a world that believes perfection can actually happen, and such unsightly blemishes as us would only bring children nightmares.
I kind of like that.
Nightmare.
Aye, you could call me a nightmare. I know my second form could certainly get away with that term. I'm something that stalks the shadows, something that, in the real world, dominates those around it. I'm something humans tremble when they think of, something they see in zoos and stare in awe, scaring themselves by thinking 'What if that thing escaped'? Well, it did escape. It escaped into me. I'm that monster little children want to pet from afar, and then cry when it gets too close. I'm a white tiger, and I'm a nightmare.
But don't worry, I don't bite. I just kill.
And you shouldn't fear death. You should just fear life. Don't fear me. You should just fear your parents. You should just fear every stranger and every friend. You shouldn't fear the shadows and the dark. You should fear the light. Don't be afraid of the alleys. Be afraid of the crowded streets. Don't dread isolation. Dread schools, home, parks, dread the world. Hate churches, for God is not on your side; He would smite you like a spider would a fly.
You are alone. I am alone. Each of us are really alone, locked inside ourselves. Our torn, damaged selves stuffed with two identities, one that we don't feel ourselves as, and another that has us hunted down like dogs.
Welcome to the game of the Menagerie, where the Keepers hold all the cards.
[/font]How do you begin one of these things? With a 'Dear diary'? If you were expecting the usual, then you should probably close this journal, jump on it, throw it in a fire, and discard the ashes into the maw of the ocean. For, as you will soon learn as you proceed further into the depths of my thoughts and views on miniscule aspects of life around me, I stray rather dangerously far from the generally-accepted 'usual'.
My name is Raiden Fray. I've experienced eighteen years in this world as of yet, and, so far, I don't think it's quite as great as it's made out to be. I mean, really, what's the best I've got? A soot-on-your-boot home, a few friends I would sooner call enemies, and a flimsy title of 'Fulsi'? Not exactly a kids dream come true. When I was little, I sure hadn't planned on living in a stupid bubble-encased world filled with cannibalistic freaks and sob-story crackpots. I'd wanted the usual of your average naive child; a home, parents who would shower me in love, a dog, and that stupid neighbor's daughter to stop chasing me in the playground yelling about kissing me. That was about the extent of my 'regularity' as the years progressed. After that day, the one that adorned the 'incident' which shipped me to this hellhole, I began to realize that 'usual' would never apply to me again.
The first time I shifted, it was like the world had split itself in two and, when it was stitched back together, nothing was the same. Someone took the floor, decided it'd be better on the sky, and just flipped my universe to better fit their desires.
Didn't settle too well at first.
I remember, from that very first transition, the burning. I remember the blinding light scorching my open irises. I remember the pull as my entire body rebelled and remade itself. It was over before I could comprehend the sudden explosion that surrounded me, but, when the smoke cleared, let's say it was no better than the assault of light and senses.
But how about we don't get into that right now? The smoke-and-mirrors shabang of shifting is a little too details to explain. Besides, I've been up half the night thinking of what to say in this damned thing and trying to make you understand what the heck changing species entirely is like was not on my agenda.
Not to say I have an agenda. Because I don't. I'm kinda winging it. As you learn more about me, you'll see that I do that a lot. What is life if it's planned, after all? Go with the flow is such a hippie saying, and makes it sound like I'm controlled by a 'flow', and, lemme tell you, no dang 'flow' or anything else is manipulating my actions and thoughts. I do as I wish when I wish of it and let the pieces fall where they may - and if they don't want to fit, I make them.
So, maybe you're wondering what this journal will soon contain. At the moment, the scribbling you've seen above, maybe a few traces of names of people I've met, routes I want to remember, places I've been, and things I recall from my past. But in the future, I hope to record my daily happenings. I don't believe that anyone will give a care about me or what transpired in my life, but maybe this will make some sort of entertainment for a normal child in the future, and maybe that kid will think it's all a fictional story made up to help him sleep. For who could ever believe such freaks, such hybrids, like I and my fellow Shifters could exist? Parents don't want their kids to know about us, for their kids should live in a world that believes perfection can actually happen, and such unsightly blemishes as us would only bring children nightmares.
I kind of like that.
Nightmare.
Aye, you could call me a nightmare. I know my second form could certainly get away with that term. I'm something that stalks the shadows, something that, in the real world, dominates those around it. I'm something humans tremble when they think of, something they see in zoos and stare in awe, scaring themselves by thinking 'What if that thing escaped'? Well, it did escape. It escaped into me. I'm that monster little children want to pet from afar, and then cry when it gets too close. I'm a white tiger, and I'm a nightmare.
But don't worry, I don't bite. I just kill.
And you shouldn't fear death. You should just fear life. Don't fear me. You should just fear your parents. You should just fear every stranger and every friend. You shouldn't fear the shadows and the dark. You should fear the light. Don't be afraid of the alleys. Be afraid of the crowded streets. Don't dread isolation. Dread schools, home, parks, dread the world. Hate churches, for God is not on your side; He would smite you like a spider would a fly.
You are alone. I am alone. Each of us are really alone, locked inside ourselves. Our torn, damaged selves stuffed with two identities, one that we don't feel ourselves as, and another that has us hunted down like dogs.
Welcome to the game of the Menagerie, where the Keepers hold all the cards.
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