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Post by | Midnight Sun | on Apr 23, 2009 10:40:37 GMT -5
Hello [#username],
Your challenge is to write a post as your muse's human self.
Come on [#username]! See if you can test out our writing skills on this one! Just post a reply. |
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Post by Aro on Apr 23, 2009 10:47:07 GMT -5
Challenge One: Human-self
Three thousand years ago in Italy
Hunting Turns into Trouble
Aro had grown up to be a hunter just as his father had. It was a task that he took seriously. He gathered food for his tribe, for his mother and his sister. He knew they relied on him and he took this very seriously. After all one day he would be the chief he would be put in charge. He would be the most powerful person around for miles. He would make sure of that. He had seen his competition Aro wasn't weak but he wasn't exactly the strongest of his kind. He did have intelligence and plotted on how exactly to gain the power that he craved. Of course he did what he was suppose to everyday he would get up hunt and do what he could for the tribe. Always looking at the Chief with a fake smile and being over enthusiastic when he talked to him. He was always trying to figure out what he was thinking what his plans where.
He was young yes, but he would gain the power he wanted. He would make his competition fall he would gain what he wanted. If he wanted something he would take it. Of course right now he couldn't take anything he would have to have patients time would be the key to gaining what he wanted. As young boy he watched the young men fight to be the Chief it was changed so much every few months someone would challenge the current Chief. But with each fight Aro watched he looked for weakness ways he could avoid from being harmed, someway to gain an advantage.
Of course everyone liked Aro he was good boy did what he was told never fussed or complained like he should. He was even good at making tools and such for hunting. Though he was better at hunting than anything and this always brought a smile to his face. Catching the biggest animal being the fastest to find the food. He was praised for that and that he knew would help him gain power. He would trick the animals they weren't very bright, but he always tricked the other hunters. There were accidents during a few hunting trips of course Aro acted horrified. It was their own fault they had gotten in a trap for an animal they should have watched they were going. He was the one that just happen to come across them first. Just one less person to worry about fighting the place of chief for.
Finally the day he had waited for. He wasn't as young as before but he was much stronger and wiser. He could be sneaky and almost know what they would be thinking. He was very good at knowing about someone it was just something he always had. It was an advantage he just knew his opponent more than they knew him. He never really thought anything of it he had always been able to know people better without really talking to them. He had challenged the chief his goal coming ever so closer. He wasn't very bright and used his strength more than anything. And this is just what Aro had hoped for he needed this advantage. He had dodged and avoided from being hit and used simple attacks used words to distract him. It was far to easy but he was at long last the Chief.
Aro was a good chief or so he thought. He had actually taken over another tribe it was rather nice to have more power to have more under his command. He made sure his people where happy of course. He even had several ladies find interest him of course he wasn't really looking for anyone not yet. He had to many plans to focus on lands to take more power to gain. He of course still hunted and as always was able to catch the biggest animals. He was challenged several times, but each time he won he stayed in power for a long time. His sister was close to him as always she was important, but he was more concerned about keeping is power.
He was hunting with a group of men it was getting dark and Aro was on the trial of a large bison there was a herd he knew not to far away. The men told him they should return he wanted to get this animal. He told them to set up camp he would was going to just take a look around. It was getting to dark to return to the village as it was getting dark the moon was hidden from them there was hardly any light.
Aro held a torch following the trail. He heard a noise and looked toward the sound but he saw nothing his eyes were weak of course that might have been why. He hadn't really expected what he saw next a god-like man. He looked strong, but Aro was sure he could take him own. After all he had is intelligence to help him. As they often did help him win fights when he was challenged and he was strong he made sure he grew stronger, but still not the strongest in his tribe. But as long as he was chief he didn't really care.
This person's eyes were solid black as the light from the fire reflected onto him. He took a step back fear filling him he was not like others he didn't even seem human. He saw him smile and before he could react he was by his side. He called out for his men as the god-like man bit into his throat. An old story from long ago rushed to his mind. The story of fast, strong humans that where dead. They traveled at night feeding off human blood. He didn't know what happened next or what was going on. The next thing he remembered was the painful burning that went through his body he wanted death he begged for it, but didn't know if it would come to him.
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Post by Jasper Hale on Apr 23, 2009 13:16:58 GMT -5
Challenge 1: Human Perspective Jasper's Journey "You need to be older to enlist in the army . . . " That is what his mother used to say. Jasper knew that she was right, and that it was also an emotional expression of her hesitancy to see her only son enlist in the war as a soldier. He was young no doubt, but he was also educated. He had just flashed a smile at her, and she could tell with his mere expression that he had a plan to over step that small, less than formidable limitation. His father never doubted him. His sister was angry with him for leaving . . . but Jasper knew that this was where he needed to be. That being a soldier was what he needed to do; he wanted to fight, he wanted that nobility of having a status as a soldier, and more importantly, he believed in the cause that he would fight for. Otherwise, he would not go through all the trouble to lie about how old he really was in order to get in.
And it was such a simple thing to do indeed. They were either really desperate for soldiers, or he was very good at convincing people. He knew he had an undeniable gift for charming others into doing what he wanted . . . but Jasper did not see himself as a selfish person. In fact, he saw himself as using it to benefit others . . . sometimes. Would this particular instant be considered selfish for he was doing it against his family's will? It was all about intentions, and it was all about what one prioritized. This is how Jasper felt he could help the world instead of staying in his small, safe, sheltered cocoon awaiting for another opportunity to present itself.
Jasper was on his way to where the newly enlisted soldiers were meeting. He was riding on his horse, contemplating what he was doing, and ensuring that he had no last minute doubts because if he did . . . now was the time to remedy them. If he was not one hundred and ten percent sure that he wanted to do this, he would not. He was a bit of a perfectionist in that sense: he wanted to give everything his utmost effort and did not want the feeling of regret. He had made mistakes in his past -- as any human does -- but right now, he felt so sure about this. He felt like he was at the right place in his life, and each step he was taking closer to his goal, was closer to where he was meant to be.
And then, the thought hit him. He had waved it out before, pushing it to the back of his mind so that he would not have to think about it . . . but now, riding on his horse in solitude and silence his mind was covering everything. One of those things, was the thought of never seeing his family again. He had said goodbye in such a dramatic way -- though it was his mother and sister who had made it such a dramatic exit -- but he did not actually consider the very likely possibility that he would die. Was this the last time he would ever see his family? He was not one of those men who went out searching for the glory in death. He was rather close to his family and leaving them was perhaps one of the hardest things he ever had to do, and would ever need to do. He was still a young lad . . . his mother would say that he had his whole future ahead of him, but she also understood why he was going. Jasper could feel that from her, even if she did not say it in so many words.
He brushed away a few tears that threatened to form in his eyes. He could not face the other potential soldiers, crying like a baby. They would miss their families too . . . maybe that was one of the things that made all soldiers so close; the fact that they had so much in common, that it was only a fellow soldier who truly understood what the other was going through. Jasper would not rely on them to keep him calm . . . he would have to use all his strength to do that. He was often level headed and going into battle would force him to use every ounce of it. He had to remember to remain logical in the way he fights: rational in the way he thinks: and calm in the every day horrors that he would soon surround himself with. |
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Post by Maria Verdugo on Apr 23, 2009 13:33:57 GMT -5
Galveston, Texas; In The Year 2009
Maria was at a late art show, cruising for her next meal. Hmmmm. Which delicious little human suited her mood tonight? The tall African man was very well built. Hmm. Perhaps she would save him for her next army? Or many he would be more fun to play with before she sank her teeth into his dark and tasty looking body.
The man was looking at a painting, and Maria strolled ever so slowly up next to him not bothering to look over at it. "Hello, there dearest." She spoke, "I could not help but to notice you looking so lonely over here all by your ownness. I thought I should, perhaps rescue you from your self. You seemed very intense while looking at this painting by---"
Maria froze when she finally looked at the painting. She didn't blink, didn't breath, didn't think for a full half moment while she stared at it. When her mind started working again, she gave the man a saucy smile. "Come now pet, shouldn't we find something to drink?"
The man stammered and blushed and hooked his arm with hers. Maria lead him over closer to the table with the drinks on it, and the door. Vampire memories were perfect, however she could not help to take one last look over at the painting. The little card before the slightly faded and yellow painting said: The Final Painting By Nicolao Verdugo, 1843; Titled Todavía sueño con ella, or in English still dreaming of her; Worth: Eleven Thousand American Dollars
Monterrey to Mexico City, Spanish Colonies or what would soon be Mexico In The Year Of 1810
Nicolao Verdugo was an artist in Monterrey. While not famous then, he was known, and while not rich, he made by. In modern day times, his works would hand in galleries, but in 1810, he was a struggling painter. One of his favorite things to draw was the young daughter of the man who owned a ranch near by, and was very rich. She would beg him to draw her, and paint her, and Nicolao would would find he loved having her sit for him. She was charming, happy, and after sitting for him for hours she would crawl over to him and proceed in distracting him from doing more work.
When she ran to him one day, with bruises on her cheeks telling him her father had found them out, and was furious since she was with child, Nicolao sold his few paintings, married her and left with his new wife from Monterrey, vowing to work his way to Mexico City.
Nicolao would never make it to Mexico City. Shortly after after his marriage she would discover her betrayal. She was not with child. Her father had not found them out. She was not, the rich man's daughter. She had been a maid in the household, and had lied to him. Nicolao left her fifty miles from Mexico City, in disgust and returned home.
Maria Verdugo, daughter of an abusive drunk and a maid, continued on to Mexico City, and quickly went from poor maid, to socialite. Upon arriving in the grand city, she set up accounts in his name, and started building his reputation. Spreading gossip, that was all false, Maria built his name up to heights that everyone who was anyone, now wanted paintings by the man who refused to ever paint again.
Since Maria was there to enjoy her new found power as his wife, that would not do at all. Seducing younger artists into her web, Maria soon had 'false' Nicolao paintings selling for high dollar. Life was grand, and wonderful. Maria had power, beauty, wealth. Everything a girl could ask for and it had taken her less then a year to earn. Maria was going to sell six more paintings before moving to a place no one, had heard of, and living the life of a wealthy widow.
Monterrey to Mexico City, What would soon be Mexico On The Date Of September 22, 1810
It would not be so. That night, at dusk, an angry man broke into her upper class home, furious for her misbehavior. He was violently angry, for he had just come to find his wife, and work on a life together only find her up to her old tricks. Nicolao found Maria in bed with another woman's husband, and dragged her out of the house. She begged him over and over, to be gentle and she was sorry. They only made him angrier and he went from one simple back hand to another and another. He started shaking her, and beating her. He swore he had loved her, and she was done using him.
It was the sounds of soldiers fighting that stopped his actions. Six days prior to Nicolao finding his wife in bed with another, Father Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, made a rousing speech, in the town of Dolores, then lead an uprising calling for independence from the Spanish crown. They were marching on Mexico City, and Nicolao had come to take her home and forgotten him self in him emotions.
Maria begged him, "¡Por favor, Nicolao! ¡Los soldados! ¡Debemos conseguir lejos!" They needed to get away from the city, for it was going to bloody and dangerous very fast. Nicolao grabbed her, and they ran together to get away. Maria, barefoot and in nothing but her under dress, had trouble keeping up with him, but he slowed down for her, and forced her to keep up, to keep moving.
"¡Nuestras vidas dependen de él, Maria! ¡Usted debe guardar el ir! ¡Levántese, maldígale! ¡Funcione!" He told her, when she would fall. Between his beating, her falling Maria was lightly covered in her own blood. Her feet were bleeding from the misuse, and her once white gown was black, mud brown and red with her blood. "¡Lastima! ¡No puedo encenderme! ¡Va Nicolao!" She told him on her last fall. "¡No le dejaré, Maria! Vine aquí para usted." He told her and ran to help her up.
The soldiers grabbed him before he could reach her. Maria screamed for him, but then had her too. Forcing her to stand, they pushed her to each other, taunting her with crude stories of what they would do to her as Nicolao was dragged away yelling her for, and badly attempting to get free and run to her. "¡Lo siento, Nicolao! ¡Lo siento tan!" She yelled to him, moments before he was out of sight, and any reply he might have made was lost her.
This would not be the end of Maria. It was dark now, and more evil things aside of soldiers caught up in battle. The men had started dragging her against the wall. She screamed and tried to fight them. One moment, the smell of unwashed bodies and heat was all she could think of, and the next a pale burred blob moved so fast, and dragged the men away.
Maria feel to the ground and felt sick. When she could finally bring her self to look up she found the bodies of the men near by, pale white as if they had been dead for hours and not the seconds she had been down. Looking up she could a very pale white man. He looked so old. Features sharp and angular, and hair as wild as his red eyes looked but he was just as pale as the bodies around her. "¿Quién--¿Quién son usted?". "Me llaman Albersnagelspillum" Then it changed into a language Maria did not know. "I had followed your scent in hopes of a meal, but I can something like your self is not meant to be wasted."
Maria wasn't sure what that meant but she wasn't going to sit there and find out. She pushed her feet and gritted her teeth to hold back the cry of pain that wanted to come on from her actions and tried to run. She made it three steps before it grabbed her hair and pulled her back. She let out a scream, as she felt it's coldness press into her back and then she let out another blood curling scream as it's teeth sank into her exposed shoulder. . . .
---------------------- Want to know what Nicolao and Maria said to each other in their final moments? Might I suggest: babelfish.yahoo.com |
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Post by medusa on Apr 24, 2009 8:57:32 GMT -5
Esme back when she was a human
He is in a bad mood again. I make sure the house is clean and that his food is ready on the table. Still he is mad. Often I wonder why I let me parents enrol me in this marriage. They know he is violent yet mother tells me to be a good wife. So I am. I don’t want to feel this anymore but I know I have to. A wife has to be good to her husband no matter what. No time for tears. I’ll keep those for later on.
He sits in front of me and doesn’t talk to me. It’s almost as if I don’t exist. We eat our food in complete silence. When he is done he gets up and walk past me, he gives me a quick kiss on the lips before going to do whatever it is he does.
I clean the table, wash the dishes and I feel tired. Is this all life as to offer to me? I sit down at the kitchen table with the sweater I’m knitting. A few tears escape my blue eyes. I never wanted this. What I wanted was a happy family, a loving husband, kids. A home . Now this is just a house.
I know he will leave for the war soon. Most of the women in town are feeling depressed to see their husbands go. I’m not. I’m relived, for the time he will be away I will be able to finally really live and be you knows? Happy.
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Post by Alice Cullen on Apr 25, 2009 9:30:05 GMT -5
CHALLENGE #1
Four Reasons To Loose Your Mind [/font][/size] Biloxi 1911 to 1920 --Mary--Alice--Brandon--[/center] Mr. Brandon took his oldest daughter on horse back with him, he didn't tell her where they were going though. But before they left, her mother had told her goodbye over sincerily. Her eyes were so sad, but no tears feel down her determinded face as she held her youngest daughter closely by the hand.
The horse came to a halt in front a large building that looked way ahead of it's time. The father took his daughter off the horse and pulled her by the hand, leading her into the building. After a short discution between Mr. Brandon and the man dehind the desk, an other man took the little wating girl's hand as she watched her father walk away a second glance back at her. The little girl called after her father calmly, but he never turned around; he just mounted his horse once more and was soon out of sight. Alice started to yell after him as the man pulled her along with him with little to no effort as she struggled to get out of his grip.
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"Do you know where you are?" A doctor asked the little girl. She shook her head as she was sitting on an bed in a bleak, gray, muky and very dark -- no light entered the enclosed space -- room. The doctor mumbled to himself as Mary Alice's crying came to a near end. "Well dear, you are in a hospital. We are going to try to make your mind work properly and get rid of those pictures you think you see."
"My visions?" She asked, looking up at him. "You can not do that!" She refused defiently. "We are going to get rid of them, dear. It has been decided and you can't change that." He replied with a voice of authority before he got up and left the room. Alice was still screaming after him; she didn't want to loose her visions. They were like a best firend to her, they made her feel special and they were useful as well -- she could see the future. But everyone was against her and they told her she was wrong. That she wasn't normal, that they had to go. Mary Alice Brandon was ten when she was placed in this mental hospital, and was never to leave.
Sitting on a hay bed, arms wrapped around her knees, her head against the wall; Alice stared blankly at the rock walls around her. It had been nine years since she saw sunlight, saw the sky and the grass. Nine years since her father left her in the hospital. The whole reason for her being there, her visions, were fading; she was getting less and less of them everyday. It scared the nineteen year old, it angered her. She was ready to die. The doctors had done so many tests, done so much emotional, mental and physical damage to her, trying to get rid of her unnatural visions. It sickened her. She had enough. She was no longer eating, she stopped pleeding the nurses to stay, just stay there, with her just so she wouldn't be alone and everything else.
Alice had probably actually become insane from being in the room for nine years, alone. Four main things caused this: the first was that no matter how much she begged, the doctors didn't stop experamenting on her. Two was because she hadn't left this room once since the day she got there, the four walls sometimes seemed to cave in on her. The third was her lonliness and her vision losses; her visions used to keep her feeling like she was never alone. And the forth was that there was a small part of her that truely believed her parents had left her here because they were concerned for her safety -- some people still conducted witch hunts. This last point was a huge internal battle.
If her parents really cared for her, why had they never come to visit her? Why did they never write to her or send her any packages and anyhting on the holidays? Why would they abandon her like this; leave her to wallow in pain and misery. What if they really didn't care? Why did they bother bringing her to this place when they could of left her get killed by a group of witch hunters or abandon her somewhere? This debate drove Mary Alice wild. But all four of these reasons just lead her to a final solution that would cure this all: death. She waited despritely for it to come as she sat motionlessly, eyes pouring tears constantly.
Some wishes didn't come true, or at least not the way you thought it would turn out. One day an unfamiliar man walked into her room -- she only glanced at him for a second -- an spoke one simple sentence that would change everything. "Mary Alice, I am taking you out of here."
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