Poor Margret

Poor Margret - 2

Esse and Kennen were two minutes early. They waited in the lobby. Kennen flew around the room, picking up falling stars that had fallen from the top of The Meadow of Nimm overnight. Esse created little constellations on the table. After a little while, Sir Anerapell, (directly translated meaning Sun Spirit Guy with the Moonish Nose) flounced into the room. He grinned at Kennen and Esse, his glowing blonde hair and crescent nose almost scaring them out of their wits. “I will be escorrrrting you through the palace!” Sir Anerapell told them in his squeaky high-pitched Decneleb accent. He grinned even wider. “O-kay.” Esse stammered. Kennen was too freaked out to say anything at all. A man came around from behind Sir Anerapell. “This is Sir Neeeeeek the sixtthhhhhhh.” Sir Anerapell hissed at them. (Directly translated, Nek means Great Life, but Lacking Creativity of Death) Sir Nek VI was an old, old, old, old, old, old man, having never died before. Sir Anerapell grinned again. “We shall now begin our tourrrr, shall weeee?” he prompted.

The tour was no fun for Kennen. He had to perch on Sir Anerapell’s finger, while he flounced and gestured wildly around the room. Kennen knew Esse wasn’t having fun either. She had a look of disgust and terror on her face, having been made to let Sir Nek VI escort her down the halls. Finally, they reached the room marked WEASEL WATER LOU, SECRETARY TO MASTER CAMERON AND MISTRESS AMELIA. Flouncing into the room, Sir Anerapell showed Esse the writing on door to the left of the room. On the door it read ESSE IFLANDOONIA, ASSISTANT SECRETARY TO MASTER CAMERON AND MISTRESS AMELIA. Esse’s office was quite nice. The walls were ice-like glass, as well as the floor and ceiling. Non-melting icicles hung from the ceiling. A snow-like rung lay across the floor. That was when something very strange happened. Sir Nek VI lifted Esse off her feet and dropped her on the snow-like rug. This was too much for Esse, who shuddered, rolled her eyes back in her head, and fainted. Kennen shuddered. Sir Anerapell grinned, flouncing toward the door marked KENNEN DAMANEL PASTAMAKER, ASSISTANT TO THE ASSISTANT SECRETARY TO MASTER CAMERON AND MISTRESS AMELIA. Opening the door, Kennen took in his new office. The white walls looked like a small child had scribbled on them, using lots of different colors. The ceiling was green, and had two eyes that were blinking down at Kennen. On the bright yellow floor was a red rug shaped like the letter R, on which Kennen was dropped. And then the tour guides were gone. This was the end of the tour.

Kennen rushed into Esse’s office. She was lying on the snow-rug, still unconscious. “Esse,” Kennen whispered, nudging Esse’s arm. “Wake up! They’re gone!” Esse moaned and rolled over. “Where am I?” Esse asked, sitting up.

“In your new office.” Kennen told her. Esse nodded. “Yeah, I was kind of, um, paralyzed with terror when Sir Nec-m VI brought me in here.” she explained. Kennen nodded. “I noticed.” he said.

“But, I guess we should be going now, so, let’s go.” Esse got up and strolled over to her desk. “Look at this.” she said, picking up a sheet of paper. Kennen flew over. “It’s a map.” he observed. “The tour guides must have dropped it.”

“Look!” Esse said, pointing at the map. “There’s Orderder Gemma’s room!” Kennen looked. In small letters, a sighed read ORDERER GEMMA ELIZABETH, 5TH DAUGHTER TO MASTER CAMERON AND MISTRESS AMELIA. “Let’s go say hello!” Esse said, dashing out of the room. “Wait!” Kennen called, flying after her. They went down many halls until they reached a door marked ROYAL RESIDENCE: IMPORTANT PERSONAL ONLY. “We’re important.” Esse said, pushing open the door and rushing in. “Not until Wednesday.” Kennen muttered, before following Esse.

Weasel Water Lou of the Peace in Carlos - 4

When Esse picked herself up, all was quiet and dark. Not even gunfire could be heard. It was also quite cold. “Luc? Luc?” Esse hissed. Esse felt a furry hand on her arm.

Esse snuggled up to Luc. He was usually warm, but even Luc was cold in the little room. Esse heard rats scurrying around in the dark shadows. A cold dark voice sounded nearby. “Which one of you is skilled in the art of nymph stories?” it asked. Esse let go of Luc as he stood up. “It-it was me. I knew the nymph stories.” he said. “You knew the stories of Queen Frida’s Dogs and Jennifer and Clara?” the voice asked.

“My-my parents helped me on Jennifer and Clara.” Luc stammered. All was quiet. A small chuckle sounded from the voice. “Don’t hurt them!” Luc cried. “And don’t hurt Esse either!”

Esse felt her cheeks turn red with embarrassment, but she was glad that Luc had said that. “I see.” the voice said. “Come here.”

“No.” Luc responded. “You are a stubborn little bear, are you not?” the voice chuckled.

“And what are you?” Esse asked, standing up too.

“Me? I am something you have never heard of, something you may one day wish to have, but will deny wanting right now.” the voice said mysteriously.

“And what is that?” Esse asked, crossing her arms defensively.

“I will tell you later, child. Now, let us see what you want.” the voice said.

“We want a way out of The Peace in Carlos. It is shrinking because for the Carlosians.” Esse told the voice.

“Ah, yes. The Running War, as they call it here.” the voice mused. “And how may I help you with that?”

“Can you answer a question?” Luc asked.

“It depends on the question.” the voice sang out.

“Is this house a gateway out of Carlos and The Peace in Carlos?”

The voice chuckled. “I’m glad you asked.” it said. “Look upon the door.” At once a flickering light lit the wall in front of Esse. A door was set into it the wall. It was made of steel and covered in strange symbols that definitely were not nymph writing.

“This, my children,” said the voice. “is the gateway to another world. To reach it, you must answer this question: What is my name?” And then Esse and Luc were no longer in the room. They were both standing under the window to Johnson & Johnson. The window was placed in it’s socket.

“Wow.” Esse said. It certainly was strange. “Did that even happen?”

“Yes.” Luc said certainly. “It must have. We meet tomorrow?”

“Yes.” Esse agreed. And they went their separate ways.

That night, Esse rushed to the museum. With her family asleep, she could go where she pleased. Esse thought back to when she wished she could enter an adventure. And here she was, in an adventure. She had decided to go back to the invisible house and locate the source of the voice. Esse didn’t know where Luc lived, so she couldn’t ask him to come along. Right?

Outside the Johnson & Johnson recreation, Esse took a running leap at the window. It popped out of the frame, and Esse took another running leap to get a hold of the frame to pull herself through the window. It was much harder without Luc.

Rushing to the little room with Weasel Water Lou’s painting in it, she licked her finger and entered Carlos. Once in Carlos, Esse rushed down the stairs to the room with the voice. Gunfire still sounded through the Carlosian streets even though it was late at night. She put her hand on the door. “Lucjusz Yu Iflandoonia and Quer Ty Iflandoonia.” Esse whispered. The door gave way. She stepped slowly into the dark room.

Maybe the voice wouldn’t notice. “Welcome back, Esse.” the voice said. “I’ve been waiting for you.” But the voice heard her anyway.

“I’m here to decode the door.” Esse said bravely. The light illuminated the door again. Esse knelt in front of the door. She ran her fingers along the symbols as if she could read it like braille. And Esse could. The symbols and their meanings blinked and buzzed inside her head. She murmured the meanings out loud. “Max… Nora… Nils… Su-Li… Ursula… Anica… Liesl.”

“Yes.” the voice murmured. “And who wrote that story?” Esse shuddered. But she knew the answer. She had to answer. “No one wrote the story. It is a true story.” Esse answered.

“And what is the title?” the voice asked, almost in a whisper.

“Queen Gretchen’s Choice.” Esse let out in a breath. And then she was no longer in the small room.

Everything was dark. All around was dark. There was no sky or ground. Esse was in dark, and only dark. She was floating in darkness. Suddenly, a movie seemed to play in front of her. A man and a woman at a wedding. The women was Nora. The man was Max. But there was just one thing. Max was a bear.

The scene changed. Nora and Max were now adopting a child. Two children. Two Earthen children. The African boy was Nils, and the Asian girl was Su-Li. The scene changed. And this time, there was another baby. This was no adoption. This was a real baby, one that Nora had given birth to. But the baby was strange. The baby was half human, and half bear. And then Esse was falling, falling. And everything was dark.

Breton Wager - 3

After Rose returned with the pens, Breton got to work on the posters. He sat on the stage across from Rose, who, despite his previous claim, was not being of much help at all. Nashaadh bustled around backstage, moving boxes and hanging the posters that Breton completed.

“Breton, are you going to the Masquerade Ball on Friday night?” Nashaadh asked after a little while.

“I’m going!” Rose interjected before Breton could even conceive an answer. “I’m going with Nashaadh,” he added.

“You really should come with us, Breton,” Nashaadh invited.

“Aw, Nashaadh, do you have to go and invite your cousin?” Rose pouted.

“Rose, he’s your friend too!” Nashaadh scolded. “It’s a school hosted event, he should go anyway!”

“I know, I was just kidding,” Rose said calmly. “You should definitely come, Breton.”

“How?” Breton asked, not pausing his decoration of Nashaadh’s posters.

“Well, I’m going as a phoenix,” Nashaadh reminisced, setting down a box and plopping down beside Breton and Rose. “All red and yellow and fire . . .”

“And I’m going as a parrot,” Rose shared, scooting closer to Nashaadh. “All color and sleek good looks.”

Rose tossed his wavy, dark red head of hair. Nashaadh laughed.

“You really should go, Breton,” Nashaadh repeated.

“What would I go as?” Breton argued politely. “You guys already took phoenix and parrot.”

“You could be a woodnymph bird,” Nashaadh offered.

“Oo! Yes! You’d look good in purple, Breton!” Rose agreed, clearly enthused.

“You really would, Breton!” Nashaadh exhibited excitement. “There must be a beautiful indigo pattern jacket somewhere we can buy for you!”

“Yes! And I have these wonderful pants that will match gorgeously!” Rose continued.

“Ohmygosh, Breton, we are totally building your costume for you!” Nashaadh squealed. “You are coming on Friday!”

Breton remained silent as Nashaadh and Rose used the previously discarded markers to plan his costume. Silently, he was pleased. Nashaadh and Rose were his two closest friends. And although a Masquerade Ball sounded scary, if he went to one, he would want to go with Nashaadh and Rose.

Besides, with the Christian hanging around, it might be a good idea to live in the moment.

Weasel Water Lou of the Peace in Carlos - 5

Esse awoke in a small room with hard red walls. The walls were thin, and light streamed through them. Esse was lying on a small bed with dirty pink blankets. She got up and looked around. Two more dirty pink beds identical to her’s were each in corners of the room. In the last corner was a door.

Esse lept up and flung herself at the door. It didn’t budge.

Of course it was locked. Why wouldn’t it be? There were symbols on it, but they made no sense. The yellow ceiling was cracked and peeling. Small flakes drifted down periodically. It was very quiet. There was no doubt about it. Esse had been kidnapped.

Spying a ladder by her bed, Esse climbed up it. There was nothing on the second floor of Esse’s prison. Just a yellow floor, cracked and peeling like the first-floor ceiling. The ceiling for the second floor was much better than the first floor’s ceiling. It was red like the walls. Esse sighed.

She went back down the ladder and flopped on her bed. Kidnapped by a creepy nixie-bear. Now what?

Outside Esse’s prison, the voice, or, Ursula Kinns, was waiting patiently for Esse’s rescuer to arrive. And she didn’t wait long. He was coming.

A few minutes later, Luc burst through the door. “Where is she?” he demanded.

“Calm down child.” Ursula Kinns said calmly.

“Where is she!?” Luc repeated, yelling this time.

“Esse is perfectly fine.” Ursula Kinns answered. Luc growled. “Show me.” he demanded.

“Oh, well, you’ll have to open the door first.” Ursula Kinns said playfully. “And what’s more, your little friend here knows my name.”

“Wait, what?” Luc said. “My name. The one that opens that door.”

Ursula Kinns flicked her wrist. The door was illuminated by light. “How does she know? Did you tell her? Why her?” Luc had many questions. “Yes, told her. In a way.” Ursula Kinns smiled. “But why would I tell you? You are not the nixie. You can’t go through the door until she does.”

“I can’t?” Luc asked. He was really confused. “I will explain it to you.” Ursula Kinns said. “Come closer.”

Esse was going to get out. She had to. So when she heard Luc outside, she devised a plan. Esse was not about to let some bear come and save her. Though she did like Luc, she could get out herself.

Spells. That must be the key. The bear-lady was definitely using magic of some kind. Esse only knew one spell. It was actually a rather advanced spell. It was turning things into strawberries. Sometimes it was useful. It usually wasn’t.

But hey, maybe it would come in handy now. She was hungry, after all. Esse walked over to the ugliest pink bed and cleaned it the best she could. Then she recited the chant.

Blueberry, Sweet Pea, and White Rose,

Wanted a strawberry and SO DO I!

The bed churned as if it were a liquid. It turned into a pinecone. “Ugh.” Esse said. She didn’t think eating a pinecone would be very delightful. Even if she wasn’t fed, or wasn’t able to get out, a little magic practice could be useful. So she decided to change up the strawberry spell to a new chant.

Mushroom, Chanterelle, and Bumblebee,

Wanted a ladybug and I DO NOT!

The second pink bed turned into a butterfly. It flapped around. “Hello.” it said. “I didn’t like being a dirty pink bed.”

“What were you before a dirty pink bed?” Esse asked. “Oh, I’ve always been a dirty pink bed.” the butterfly replied. “But what I am now is a big improvement.” “You’re a butterfly.” Esse told it.

“Ah, now that’s a pretty name.” the butterfly said, flying around the room. “Oh, what’s up here?” it said, spying the ladder. “Nothing.” Esse answered. “I checked. It’s like this room, just with no beds.”

“What’s this?” the butterfly asked, landing on the pinecone. “It’s a pinecone.” Esse said. “What’s your name?” “Well, ever since I got here, I’ve been called Dirty Pink Bed, but I had a different name when I was young. It was something like…..Kennen. I really think it was Kennen, actually.” the butterfly said.

“My name is Esse.” Esse told Kennen. “Kennen is an interesting name. I like it.” “Thank you.” said Kennen. There was an awkward silence.

“So, um, Kennen, I’m sort of trying to escape.” Esse said. “Do you know a way out?” “No,” Kennen said. “But I can still help.” “There are these symbols on the door.” Esse said, walking over to the door and crouching down. “I have no idea what they mean.” “Me neither.” Kennen said, flying over. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know.” Esse sighed. “My friend Luc is outside the door, and he’ll probably save me. I was hoping to save myself.” “Hey!” Kennen suddenly exclaimed. “I know a way we can get you out! There has to be a way the person who trapped you here opened this door, right? Well, I bet I can fly under the door crack, and then see how to get you out. Then, I’ll tell you, and you can escape!”

“Good idea!” Esse agreed, standing up. “Let’s do it!” Kennen crawled under the door crack. So Esse was left to wait.

Nashaadh Sonjan

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

The Christian

Illustration courtesy of Teepi Guest

Breton Wager - 4

Breton went home that day on the bus with Rose. Rose sat on Breton’s lunch twice, and then he sat on Tony’s lunch, and by that point they were home and there were no more lunches to sit on.

Breton entered his house and was pleased. He could hear his mother in the kitchen and his father in the parlor. He had little homework, and he would complete it in the kitchen beside his mother, with his father in view. It would be a good ending to his Wednesday.

Breton took a seat at the kitchen table. His mother was making soup.

“Welcome home, Breton, how was school?” she asked, tossing carrots with a flourish.

“Indeed, Breton! How was you day?” echoed his father from his seat in the parlor.

“May I go to the Masquerade Ball on Friday?” Breton asked his parental unit.

“By yourself?” his mother asked, adding beets to the supper stew.

“I was planning on attending with Nashaadh and Rose,” Breton explained.

“Oh, Nashaadh! How is she?” his father asked. “You know, I haven’t called Ashley in quite a while.”

“And Rose,” his mother added. “When’s the last time we saw Rose? What’s his real name again?”

“Roosevelt,” Breton answered, assuming that this meant his masquerade attendance was approved.

“Ah, yes, named after that old president we had all that time ago!” Breton’s mother continued on.

“I think I shall call Ashley right now,” Breton’s father mused from the parlor.

Breton quietly slipped out of time.

It had been a rewarding but long day, and Breton had gotten about half an hour closer to bedtime when he heard a familiar voice.

“Breton! Breton! Are those your parents?” the Christian floated in through a wall, floppy arm dangling exasperatedly.

“Yeah,” Breton said. He wasn’t certain why, but once again, he found himself stopping his forward progression to wait for the Christian.

“They are adults, you know. Awfully so. Well above the age of eighteen. I shall approve of one parent at a time, please,” the Christian commanded boastfully.

Breton began to continue forward towards bedtime. He felt the Christian’s arms bumping against his head as he walked.

“Your father is the brother in law of Ashley Sonjan, correct?” the Christian asked forcefully.

“Yes,” Breton answered, really only half paying attention to the loud puppet. It really did remind him of the real Christian.

“Nikodemus Bauerbecken, brother of Ashley Sonjan. Patterson and Ashley Sonjan. Two daughters: Nashaadh Sonjan and Naulii Sonjan,” the Christian recited, as if this memorization of facts was even at all worth showing off.

“Interesting,” Breton mumbled distractedly.

“Ashley Sonjan invented the equation for time travel,” the Christian continued. “Are you special, Breton? Or is your aunt the real hero of the story?”

Breton jumped back into time with a smack, hitting his bed with much more force than he meant to. He didn’t sleep well that night.

Weasel Water Lou of the Peace in Carlos - 10

December 2nd was a day of mourning for Luc. They had his funeral and made a grave. They filled a coffin with lots of things to represent him and then buried it deep into the ground. Esse told about their adventure. Kennen told of Luc’s death. Everyone understood that after Luc was dead,Kennen of course could not help him. Luc’s parents and siblings were given gifts. It was safe to say that Luc would never be forgotten. He helped Esse find out how to open the painting. He saved Esse when Ursula Kinns kidnapped her. Luc did lots of other wonderful deeds before Esse even knew him. Luc was truly a wonderful bear. Esse cried through most of it. But Kennen comforted her by gently landing on her shoulder. “Thanks, Kennen.” she whispered in his ear. “Throughout my whole adventure, I’ve had friends. I’m glad you’re here now that Luc is gone.” And that is how Esse survived the funeral of her best friend. With a friend, who will always be there for her. And she will return the favor, and always be there for him.

THE END

Breton Wager - 2

After the Christian’s declaration, Breton lost control of the time and was yanked back to Math class. He hit the chair with an, “Oof!” A girl behind him gave him a look, and then continued punching numbers into her calculator. The bell rang, and it was time to pay attention.

Breton turned to the front of the room to watch the teacher. Mr. Brown crossed to the center of the room with great purpose.

“Today! We shall be learning the equation to time travel! Singular One! Let us begin!” Mr. Brown executed every word with a flourish.

Breton decided he no longer wanted to sit through this and with a wink of his eye, slipped out of time.

Breton began to walk towards 9:08, when free period began. He made it halfway down the hallway when he felt the pain hit his head again. What was he doing in Math class? Well, he would know soon enough. He began making his way to the auditorium.

“I suppose you think you’re too good for Math class, then,” the Christian’s voice floated to Breton’s ears, the Christian floating behind it. “You’re such a special time walker, you don’t need to sit through time travel equations.”

Breton wasn’t sure why, but he found himself waiting for the Christian to catch up with him.

“Well?” the Christian asked, reaching Breton’s shoulder. “Are we feeling special this morning?”

“I already know the equation for time travel,” Breton explained as be continued to progress to 9:08.

The Christian followed him closely. “You know, other people would know it too if they were born with special abilities like you, Breton!” he replied derisively.

“I could tell them if they asked,” Breton offered.

“I could tell them if they asked,” the Christian mocked.

Breton reached 9:08 and snapped back into time. The smack of his return caused him to stumble somewhat down the auditorium stairs.

“Breton!”

Two children Breton’s age, his two friends, were the only people in the otherwise empty auditorium. Nashaadh and Rose waved as Breton made his way towards them.

“There you are!” Rose exclaimed. “We were going to start without you!”

“Rose was going to start without you,” Nashaadh clarified. “I would have waited.”

“What were you going to start without me?” Breton asked.

“We’re making posters with things like, Don’t Touch the Lighting Equipment and stuff like that,” Rose answered.

“Since I’m the Backstage Manager and no one else does anything useful around here,” Nashaadh sighed resignedly, picking up a stack of poster paper.

“Hey! I help!” Rose complained. “Look! I brought markers!”

“I know you help, Rosie. And Breton does, too,” Nashaadh quelled Rose. “Thanks, by the way, both of you. Neither of you are even on stage crew.”

“We were hoping you could do the drawings,” Rose said to Breton. “‘Cause you’re good at that kinda thing.”

Rose handed Breton the markers and placed the poster paper in his hands. Nashaadh headed backstage.

“I only draw with pens and ink,” Breton spoke.

“Oh! Well! Mr. Special over here!” Rose cried out. “Only draws with pens!”

Breton was reminded of something.

“Rose! Calm down!” Nashaadh said orderly, returning from backstage with a box full of costumery. “Breton, I’m sure there are some pens in the Art room I can go find for you.”

“The equation for time travel is ((0 − 273.15) × 95 + 32)K + T over 1s(D) times SE,” Breton declared. Nashaadh and Rose stopped what they were doing and looked at him.

“Um, thank you, Breton, but . . . why, I mean, we already know that . . . I can get you some pens, if you want,” Nashaadh spoke uncertainty, placing the box of costumes on the floor of the stage.

“Yeah, because Nashaadh’s mother invented the equation for time travel,” Rose shared loudly.

“Rose, hush,” Nashaadh muttered, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Why don’t you go get Breton some pens from the Art room.”

“What? Why me?” Rose whined. “It just started getting interesting!”

“Rose, please,” Nashaadh asked of him.

“Fine, fine, I’m going,” Rose gave in, jumping off the stage and making his way up the auditorium stairs. “But you guys better not start without me!”

The auditorium door slammed behind Rose as he exited the room.

Nashaadh took a seat on the edge of stage and gestured for Breton to sit beside her. He did.

“Breton,” she stated. “Are you alright?”

“I’m being haunted by a B- Art project,” Breton shared with his cousin. There was a pause as Nashaadh looked off into the distance.

“Out of time?” she asked.

Breton nodded.

“Do you want to talk to my mother about it?”

There was another pause as Breton looked off into the distance.

“Not yet,” Breton decided.

“Okay,” Nashaadh finished.

There was a silence.

The auditorium door slammed. “I’m back!” Rose announced. “And I brought lots of pens!”

Heyy, new writeblr! ^̮^ Pls REBLOG so I can follow you!

(and poetblr.)

—my writeblr and poetblr introduction—

To start off, my name is Ashiya. I am an infp and I am sixteen (and probably bisexual and genderfluid🌈). I like writing as a means to relax…and when I say writing it’s mosty WIP’s. I start but I never finish. Like the water cycle. It never ends. Unless you wield magic powers to control elements(waterbending)- which is kind of how I am hoping this blog will be to me. Break this vicious cylce that is bringing me closer and closer to self destruction…ok so maybe it’s not that dramatic but I hope I’ve gotten my point across?

As I’ve mentioned: I am new here and I’m (obviously) looking for some blogs to follow so I am just going to shamelessly ask if you guys could reblog this so I can know who you are!

Also, just a heads up. My actual writing is definitely not like this ^^^

I’m just super tired at the moment so my grammar is all over the place. And I sometimes use lower case in my poems for aesthetic purposes  😅 😋

Sooo, see ya!