(August) Prompt #2 - Dazed

[Kiki]

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The second prompt of August is the word, dazed.

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please visit the rules (http://role-player.net/forum/showthread.php?t=63004) thread or PM me (http://role-player.net/forum/member.php?u=42034).

Happy writing!

[Kris]

"Just think of this as a delicate matter", the voice echoed, "One that should be handled with outmost care"

"Fair is your offer", she found herself grinning, the wound in her legs burning, "But I must refuse".

"You are a stubborn one…"

"That's not new".

"Not indeed… and my patience … "

"Is running ever so thin… I know".

There was no pain now, just a sensation of numbness. Will the legs that wished to cover the world, ever pace some distance again?

She stared at the dark hole, dazed as her mind kissing reality goodbye.

She heard the sharpening sound of a blade which was followed with a metal buzzing. She decided to lean back and relax. There was no point in struggling now. One arm was leaning over her forehead, covering her eyes slowly, as the other picked sand.

"So tell me, please… why even bother and going so wide and far?"

"Why not?"

"Why not indeed… and yet, there must be a reason… a specific one… well mentioned, well taught, and well noticed… something which may prolong one's will to achieve… "

"There might have been… at least at first…"

"Oh?"

"But memories now… like shell picked by the wind, carried to shore. From time to time the tide will carry waves, and the voice in your mind will scream with understanding… but it is also fleeting… a moment lost in forever and more…"

"So it seems…"

"So it seems."

"Even now?"

"Especially now…".

The wind picked into the cave's holes like a victory's call of a warrior in his proud horn. A silence followed.

"If I may be so bold…"

The blade sang and her mind responded with a screech.

"You may not!"

"And yet I insist."

"Very well…"

"One may wonder, of course, was it all for naught?"

"For naught?"

"At the end, one's light just sip away, and the bones reaching earth… more or less like you now…"

"It may be so…", the smile faded from her lips, "It may be so indeed".

"So why?"

A pause.

Words have the tendency to strike even more powerful than blade. The pain in her legs was nothing like the pain in her heart. It felt like something was struggling in her throat, a whimper that just so desperately wished to flee. With tears that stuck deep in her eyes that refused to let them pour.

"Hope is a cruel mistress… and so is faith… and stubbornness…".

Reasons. Reasons. Always with the reasons.

When in fact, it is clearly not the case. Not when one so focused on the river and the stream. Not when one is so focused to achieve balance. At the end you find yourself tossed out. Pale and broken. Unable to walk. Or talk. The words stuck there and you can only blame yourself for it.

Was her legs even connected?

That single fear. A thought of survival made something awaken in her mind. A will of self preserving that steadily grow even stronger from the self pity.

"But why bother…?"

That damn voice echoing again. It's sharpening a blade for her blood bath made especially for her.

From her own blood.

More of the whispers are coming… and the wind…

They are passing in the cave holes, given life, form, shape.

And they start to play and giggle like small girls. For a moment they have a face, and then they are nothing but any other gone whispers.

1… 2… 3…

Must you be there to awaken and accept them?

4… 5… 6…

Are you disappearing with them?

7… 8… 9…

You whisper with yet another glass at hand…

And are so dazed… when you finally reach ten…

"Have you come to?", the voice asked.

She leaned on her arms, her upper body arching. She swallowed at first, just to feel if the pile in her throat has decided to give in. It hasn't, but it felt somewhat lighter. So she puked… or at least tries to… or at least imagined how great it will be to do so…

And now…. Her legs…

Still connected they seemed to be… But not responding…

Will alone is not enough… one must remember how to move...

"So let me ask you that", the voice said.

"Why are you so curious?"

"I Just am… for some little heaven's sake…"

"In other words you are bored", she smiles, "Yes, it is a terrible, terrible and horrible feeling. To be bored out of your mind that your head starts to sing… and you are faced with many… and they all respond as one"

"A union?"

"No… nothing so crowded… You know whatever it is; it has TONS of thoughts, but usually only one delegate."

"So it is focused?"

"Not… really…"

"How confusing…"

"I agree…"

Another moment of silence.

"Can you move them?"

"I think I can…"

"Then you know what you must do…"

"I think I know…"

"Good".

And it hurts. It sure hurts.

Like walking on a thousand swords…

And the legs don't respond at first. Not right away. You need balance… but at the same time you must rid yourself of it. Otherwise you are stuck.

"Go on! Go!"

Such a silly entity; to bring down and hurt… to inflict wound, only to encourage the steps… So why harm to begin with?

But you know the answer.

Movement can only be brought forth by another. Was there ever a start? Will there ever be an ending.

The fear fed her heart, and the heart grew from fear. She started to crawl. Pushing herself onward. Soon her feet will kick in and place distance, like swimming…

Only… there was no water… And her tongue reminisced about her thirst. It felt dry now. Even the wind ceased her constant whining.

And a glass was there, "drink me" was the label on it, half torn, with drops of liquid that lost color long ago.

Her hand reached for the cup, feeling its shape.

To grow or not to grow?

That is indeed… the question…

[Kicks]

Talent isn't so simply found. It's a thing to be sought. Yes, it was something that one is born with. But it is not something that one knows immediately. Like careers, like a soulmate... it must be found.

How I found mine was a real thing to behold. It was something that I never thought so highly of myself. Other people used to think they were so good at, that they were better than even the idols of the music industry like Michael Jackson and Mariah. Oh... Mariah. And while she may be a great artist, I find personal preference and inspiration in a figure known as

Leona Lewis.

I didn't know how much her and I actually had in common until years later when her infamous song "Better in Time" had long faded from social trends. But even to this day I still listen to it, listening to the haunting beauty of her voice and marveling at how at the time I never knew I could actually sing with such a natural force like hers.

No. Not until years later did I quench a longing in my chest. I hadn't realized that it could ever be given the liquid of song to loosen it from its chains, to calm it of desire.

And so funny, do I find it now, that I had not realized my own potential until a brunette girl I could have hardly called a friend at the time, had dragged me into an unsuspecting choir room. Oh it would be easy, she had said. Just do it. She didn't want to do it alone. Little did she know that try outs were a solo for ears only of the director.

And while she did not make the list for the choir, I did. I hadn't even wanted it. I had been scared, shaking and choking in the audition room. Solfege? What was that? What was a minor key? What was a major key? Harmonic scale? What was a quarter note?

Even then, days later, I had a natural gift for leadership. I could calm a raging sea of teenage girls screaming at each other by unionizing them with song. I could blur the lines of classes and cliques by uniting the women in music.

I realized, alongside them, that music did more than just raise our souls to new levels. It also taught us teamwork and a beauty unbeknownst to others.

Then, years later, by pure accident... something peculiar happened. I became the assisting director of the choir. It started with a vote. Suddenly, my name was thrown out from the lips of an admirer. There was a candidate already in the run for assisting director. But she never stood a chance... the same girl that had turned me into that choir room years ago was running for the position I would take from her... yet again.

It seemed like she wanted something, always wanted something, that she was never born with. And yet, how ironic it was that I would take these things from her by accident. I suppose now I should thank her for turning me into that audition. Even though she hadn't made the choir, even though she had not become assisting director... I had. And I owed her for that. Even if she loathed me for it.

It was unanimous vote. I was suddenly assisting director. And soon, I was teaching men and women by the dozens how to come together as one voice... one in harmony. It was like a melting display of the sea itself.

I quickly became a voice teacher, a soloist, a director. And I'm not even twenty.

Funny how talent discovers us. For me it came rushing at me. I never saw it coming. I was only a scared freshmen not wanting my friend to suffer alone. I was only an unsuspecting junior when I became an assisting director. I was only a friendly senior when the choirs rose up and chose me to be their "president". A mere sixteen year old young lady when people began to flood to me for voice lessons. I hardly, at the time, knew what the minor scale was.

Oh but the voice is more than just opening your mouth and releasing a belching note. No, there is an actual science to it. And I know, just by hearing, what people are doing wrong when they sing. Because there is a wrong way to do it. And by doing it the wrong way, they are hurting themselves. Their throats will hate them for it.

I know whether or not someone is taking high or fat breaths. I know whether or not someone is using their lower muscles to sing instead of forcing their chest to push out those notes. I know whether or not they have an open threat, or if they're soft palette is raised. I know whether or not their tongue is flat.

I can teach people how to sing. I can teach them how to do it so they don't ruin their voices. Because they will do it if they do not know how to sing correctly.

I can teach people music... how to read it... how to write it.

Step by step I can show someone anything from beats in a measure to the solfege of the piece whether it be on a major scale or a harmonic scale.

While I love the talent of singing... I love being able to teach people about it more.

And now I sit here, dazed, at the thought that years ago I never would have guessed I'd be able to do these things. And how disappointed I am that I will not be able to do these things in a school setting. But that is fine. For teaching music and teaching voice is not the only talent I have.

Though it is the one that I love most.

I will continue my private instructions. I will continue to direct at a volunteer level, the community choirs. I will continue to assist high school or middle school students when they need someone to teach them their part for their choir. I will continue to attend community events featuring talented vocalists. I will continue to assist the church when they need a vocalist to sub.

And maybe one day, I might be able to lead little children in song for a Sunday school class. That would be the dream. To see all their cute little faces light up in song. To know that maybe I am helping them on the unsuspecting path of music too. And maybe I will become that ironic piece of their life like my friend had been for mine.

[~N~]

You're standing there, a slight breeze kissing its way down over your cheek, whispering into your ear, lightly brushing down your neck over your shoulder and back through a few errant strands of your hair. You're staring off in the distance...


... at nothing.

Dazed by those thoughts tickling your mind--you know the ones. Slipped in before you even knew they were there, picking through your memories as easily as they picked the locks of your safe little world.

Everything is in its place there. Neat. Orderly.


As it should be.

Now the breeze is under your skin. Go ahead, rub your arms gently, brush along them and feel those bumps you know are waiting for your intimate, personal touch. Did it get warm in here? Where's that breeze? Did you pass your hand over your heart? No, you don't need to take your pulse--you already know exactly what's going on.

Like that tingling warmth spreading lower... or is it rising? Breathe, girl, control yourself. These are just words on a page, and you...

...well, you're all by yourself, aren't you?


You should be.

When was the last moment your lips were still together? Do you know? Can you remember? They're a touch drier now, aren't they. Mmmm. That's it, lick them. Give them just enough attention to make them moist again. A polite, peeking little pink tongue sliding over moist, warm lips.

Did you just... you did, didn't you. Tightened up a bit? Squeezed a bit? Maybe you should get something to drink, before you start thinking about my warm, large, smooth, strong hands sliding down over your body in the best massage you can ever imagine, paying exquisite attention to every little surge of electricity and heat that tingles right down to your pretty little toes.

Sweet, curling little toes. Oh don't uncurl them now! I'm not watching, I promise. But you wish I was, don't you?

You wish you could feel the warmth, the slow, deliberate, sucking passion tugging at your ear between two rows of teeth that will... not... let... you... go... lighting up every single nerve like the Vegas strip right down to your feet. Are you shuddering yet? Your teeth are grazing over your plush lower lip, aren't they?

Why don't you just close your eyes and bite down. Suck it in and apply just enough pressure to take the edge off while those electric tingles send every hair left on your arms standing helplessly at attention.

It's like sinking into a nice warm bath, isn't it. Heart pounding, skin flushed fourteen shades of pink, eyes glazed over, half-lidded with uncontrollable desire. Fuck. A single thought, slipping past the clenching gates of your teeth and lips, whispered hotly into the cool air.


Fuck because it feels so good.


Fuck because you can't stop it.

Fuck because right now? You can't even be sure you really want to.

Fuck because it doesn't even matter anymore.

Your hands are already moving, aren't they. Lower. Caressing. Pinching. Gripping. Needing. Wanting. Lower still. Goddamn it. You need this. You need this and that's that.

Go ahead. Indulge. Reach down and feel how warm and ready you really are. Let your eyes widen as you realize... how much... how sensitive... how wet and ready...

Oh, there go those lips again. Parted and ready for your eyelids to lower like the blinds to your room and your eyes settling back into that hot steamy bath that you need to work yourself deeper into right now. Sweat glistening off your rosy body. Everything tingles now.

Now you're working. Now you're giving yourself over to that heat, the flash fire, that pleasurable rhythm you know so well. Bite that poor lower lip again. Suck it in and bite down. This needs to happen.

No going back. Deeper. Faster. Harder. It doesn't matter now, you're well on your way and there's nothing but the tightening in your stomach, the growing fire within you, the way you arch back and give yourself a few more inches of room between your legs. Go on. You're all poetry in motion now -- primal, furious, determined, single-minded. This is going to happen.

Your gasps are natural at this point. Like vents of steam when the molten core of Mother Earth roils just beneath her surface; when it just becomes too hot to keep it all in any more. Harder... faster... you know how to move those fingers... you know exactly how.


Closer. Closer.

God. Everything is on fire now. Electricity tingles down every inch of your skin. Almost there. Your fingertips are so full of tingling sensations that they're practically going numb. Those pretty little toes are definitely fucking curling now, aren't they? Don't let anything keep you from it. Close your eyes.


Almost there.

Fuck.

You can feel the shivers and shudders coming more frequently now. You can feel them... almost there. Tightening... pulsing, tightening, like a deep bass beat thrumming away right at the center of your being and you can almost, almost feel everything just the way it should be with fireworks going off under and over every inch of your glistening body until...

A cry and gasp. Bucking. Uncontrollable, doubling forward, shutting your eyes and opening them wide, oh my god it's all coming, shuddering through you, from the top of your scalp all the way down to your tense, curled pretty little toes, oh my god, oh my god that shuddering, shivering heaven streaming right through you like the best inferno in the world.

Clench.


Clench.


Clench.


Uncontrollable... warmth.

Wet, warm pleasure...

Pull your legs up... just hold on and ride this out.

You're O.K. I won't tell anyone. I promise. Our little secret. Just enjoy it.

I'll be gone by the time you open your eyes, but you can still taste me on your fingertips. They'll never know.

[Skeletor]

“August Part I. & II.”

Part I.

It's August again.
Two steps from October. And everyone knows after October, I lie dormant in the stony fortress of my soul like a dragon until a tiny flicker of secondary passion is ignited in me when February comes bearing roses.
And here I am, counting down the days before I consider the year gone and it hurts to look back on everything I've seen.
This year, it could be argued that my dignity was taken from me. But I don't care about that. Something much more precious was stolen from me; it was my breath and bones and flesh and blood....all broken, stolen, and lying on their doorstep for scrap after everything that happened. I only just now got those things back and the mending, oh god, the mending...putting everything back in one piece was easy. Getting everything to stay together?
Someone just find me some glue made of words that are kind. And careful hugs that won't break me, to help squeeze me back together.
It's a favor I can just barely repay, with some work and the opportunity to do so.

Here I am in August, writing about December. I have to prepare myself every year. It's the only way I survive. Sweet time, sweep me from the pavement and send me up high, to fly beyond tomorrow and skip the months to come. I know I never had wings, but I remember what it's like to fly. Fly me over December because I'm disillusioned and dazed in this midsummer haze where time is false and truth is off by two hours.
Two steps from October and the horrors don't even lie in Halloween.

Here I am in August. I know my friends are worried. The letters I never write them come addressed in the thankful look in my eyes when they feed me, or warm me with their words. Silent letters addressed to them in the way I say their names and hug them close. I'm thinking about the end of the year and I know I should probably go home for the holidays. But home is wherever I am. And wherever they are. So here is where I'll be.

My friends are my family. Leave the rest behind. The others before? They still have a couple of my bones for ransom and my skin is branded with their hate, but they're only angry now to be left as memories cleansed by the pure snow that will fall outside the home we'll build for ourselves. Inside the home, I see us laughing, drinking hot coco and opening presents. We are a family. Small, but tethered together by some unspoken, sacred pact of the brotherhood to which we all belong. I know there were more in the circle before. A couple went their separate ways and one of the best things about our family now lies in the ground. “Does it help to know I haven't forgiven myself for that? That I wish it were me instead of him? I hope so. I just want you all to know.” Do they know?

And here I am August. On the brink of red hot delirium in preparation for the winter I can't stand. I know it's all very unsettling. My friend's are not responsible for me. Or shouldn't be. And I know they care but they can't tug at my sleeve if I'm nestled in December. I'd have to thaw before they could really reach me. I think that's why I'm lamenting the end of summer and the undoubtedly short autumn that's coming up and plunging myself into the most heated parts of living now. I know it won't be enough to keep me warm forever.
So sometimes I just want someone to please let me write like I am dead without telling me it's wrong, but there's also a weird, sick part of me that still hopes at least one person is worried about what I write when I'm like that.

But I'm okay. I just can't stand still for too long.

Here I am in August and I think I'm really going to try and savor fall this year.


Part II.

I met a boy this week. He's golden and real and something fiercely passionate in existence. I knew from the moment we locked eyes that I couldn't stand too close to him or I'd burn. That's what I told myself.
But I never could take my own advice.

Here I am in August, burning away to nothing for a boy who has snatched the breath out of my lungs and I'm choking on the smoke its been replaced with. I'm thinking, “Isn't it stupid that I thought I'd reached the zenith of my perfectly planned ways of self-destruction, and now I've gone and found another kind of awful addiction?” But all that comes out of my mouth is, “You're a fucking rock star.”

Two bewildering nights spent in one another's arms as not-so-unfamiliar strangers, and I found myself uttering that I felt like I'd known you my whole life. Something in the ways of kindred spirits, I think, but I'm punching my lungs now to get the smoke out because I know I deserve the pain for thinking it was alright to come so close to someone like myself. I know what kind of mess I am and what I can do to people. For the life of me, I can't think of a single reason why I thought you wouldn't be the same way.

Here I am in August, and I'm waiting at the top of this downward spiral to see if you'll help me fly to February just fine or if you'll drop me before then so I can make my glorious swan dive into winter's oblivion a little earlier than usual this year. I'm not needy, I swear it. I just wonder if it's possible that I need you just for right now, though. I swear I can take care of myself otherwise. But you stole a piece of my soul and now I'm hounding you to get it back. Surely you can imagine what it's like...I think I've stolen a piece of yours, too.

He startled my soul into combustion but now all that's left is embers as he walks away.

It wasn't even the harshest pain of this year, but I'm watching the leaves fall outside already and my lips have curled into a frown. Everything about this year keeps reminding me that I should be through with fire for good.

Someone please just help me fill my lungs with water and lead me to an icy river in December to drown.

[m139]

My life has bee a whirlwind of activities recently. By recently, I pretty much mean since the beginning of the year. Really, looking back, I cannot believed I actually did it all. In fact, I think if someone told me I was going to do all that, and I did not doubt them, I would just stare at them dazed.

How shall I begin my story? Or shall I even tell you it all? Can I even tell you it all? Even if I was to write down every stinking detail of the last year, it would only be a portion of my life story, and would be a bit empty of the background necessary to truly understand it. Does it matter what I tell you? Maybe. Who knows? But this is a little about me, about my life, about what I have done.

I think- actually, I have decided- I will not tell you it all. After all, all could probably not fit on my hardrive. And I do not really want to get a bunch of flashdrives, nor do I want to write a complete autobiography. And I doubt you want to hear of all the times I woke up in the middle of the night and went back to sleep. Or did not.

I doubt all of you really care about the minute details of my year. You do not want to know what I ate everyday- let me just say, the number of times I would say potatoes, be they boiled, in french fry form, or prepared some other way, would be numerous- but may be interested in a few of them- such as this giant cream cheese pastry, as big as my face, which coast me less than half a US dollar. Perhaps you may even want to know of the entire meal- vegetables included- I had fried in bacon grease. You do not want to hear the number of times I brushed my teeth, although the story of how I bought a specific tube of toothpaste is kind of strange. I bought the tube of toothpaste with baking soda in it, because I could not read what fancy ingredient the others had in them, nor did I have any friends who could. In addition, there are a number of events that affected me, but did not include me. For example, one of my younger sisters met pseudo-dated and broke up with a guy, all while I was not around. I do not know if you really want to hear that one either. It is very detail sparse, considering I was not present.

As for me? What did I do? Well, I sort of changed, and sort of stayed the same. I would describe myself as being deepened.

How? Well, I got to know myself better, for one thing, in how I acted. I realized that I have a very good sense of direction, and some of my friends do not. I discovered that I get very annoyed when these same friends try to lead and tell me to go the wrong way. I am usually a very patient person, but let me say, it was not just one of my other friends who heard me rant about it. Also, I discovered I was most likely to get up in the mornings at the time agreed upon. Unlike others... I also have decided tardiness annoys me. Especially when there is only a limited amount of time before the current place must be left for forever... or at least a very long time.

But on the more positive side, I have discovered that I really like long walks in the cool morning. I do not get to do it often now, but I shall always remember. I also discovered that it is possible to sleep through anything. Before, I really preferred absolute darkness and silence. I still prefer these things. But I have discovered I can sleep through snoring, rustling in the morning, lights on 24/7, and even through my alarm. Yeah, do not want to do that one again.

But even then, it was okay. I have, through the course of the year, become more willing to accept happenings as they are. It is not as if I will not try to change things, as I will still certainly try to change the world in my small way. Rather, if bad things happen, then I let them happen, and accept that they happened to me without anger. Then, I try to create a solution.

For example, a small disaster struck when three of my friends were mountain biking on an old railroad turned trail. About one or two miles from the nearest town, one of my friends fell and bloodied herself. Luckily, we were able to get to the next town, where the locals administered first aid to her, after arguing about how much alcohol to use. They ended up dumping the bottle. .It was a little hard for us to communicate, given the language barrier- I knew the most of the language, which was still a small bit- but I was busy outside fixing a bike tire my other friend had busted. But, luckily people can understand what a bloody knee needs just by the sight of it. We got to our destination by bus, instead of bike. Luckily, I had printed out the bus station times just in case something happened. We had to adjust our plans for that day, and the next, but everything still turned out basically alright. No one twisted an ankle (my worst fear), and we still got to see all the sites. It was a good trip, despite the problems.

As stated, there were many other things that happened as well. But, that was the past, and this is the present. And the present says I am close to one thousand words, and that is all I need for this prompt. I still have one prompt left and only seven days. Plus, I need to gain (for my own satisfaction, of course) the top spot on the leaderboard for entries. So I have a lot of writing left and I'm ending this thing now.

Thanks for reading this blog-like entry. I leave you with one wish that probably should have been stated at the beginning: I hope your reading of this did not leave you in a daze.

[Omac]

Back to the room of doors I needed an entrance to the area where I would battle Pip. I knew I needed to find a way up, or at least thought say depending on the last dungeon I was in. I had my flute back from Nat so I felt I was prepared to fight the fire elemental. I gripped my staff, poking it at a door with a snowflake symbol on it as it was pushed open. I could see a row of snow blow out of the room right away and could feel the cold temperature.
I heard a scream of anger come from behind me as Nat came into view, I turned around to face her. She had a huge handprint on her face from where the Punisher had fell on her. I couldn’t help, but to laugh at her tense facial expression. She came running at me with her hand in front of her like she was a charging bull. I quickly spun around and ran into the cold room I figured would be my best bet of escape.
Then suddenly something hit my back. I knew it must have been some sort of magical spell by Nat as I heard her utter some words. I was thrown across through the room, spinning through the air until I hit the cold, ice like ground. I looked up to the reflection of the frozen floor as a ceiling, seeing myself very clearly, and looking at my singed cape.
The room was spinning and upon attempting to stand again I just slid on the ice back to the ground. I just kept squirming, but kept wobbling on my back uselessly. I was stuck like a turtle. Trapped on my back. Unable to fight back from the coming danger. With the room spinning and the urge to vomit I felt scared. I was damaged. Hurt. Dazed.
Nat slid across the floor to my position, standing above me with a small dagger in her hands. She was ready to end me. I quickly pulled out my flute, playing the first song that came to mind. I only knew a couple. At that moment I heard the scurries of tiny claws scratching across the ice. Nat was pulled to the ground and dragged away by the rats. I made sure to grab ahold of her shoe as she was dragged away so I could get dragged along as well. They took her out of the ice box room and back into the hall. From there I was able to pull myself up, but still felt like I could fall back down at any minute.
I quickly pulled out my staff and aimed it at the fallen Nat while the rats slowly faded away. “Alright, it’s time for you to stop chasing me and tell me how to get to your master, Pip. I have well earned the right to a fight.”
She rolled her eyes, “I suppose you’re right. And, to think I kissed you… I was hoping to trick you into a corner and slit your throat. But, things don’t work out the way we plan,” she slowly stood up, but I kept my staff ready, “Fine. If you take the ice room and find a way to melt to ice a passageway will open up. This dungeon is all about irony. Melt the ice to find the heart of the fire,”
“Good,” I said pushing my staff forward forcing her to step back, “Now, don’t come after me and we won’t have any problems. Got me?”
She nodded turning around to take the only known exit, the door I came through in the first place. I hopped she wouldn’t change her mind and chase me down. I needed to fight Pip as fast as possible so I could get back to JJ. Poor, JJ… what has happened to him? I shook my head, I couldn’t think of him now as I needed to move forward. I stepped back into the ice door, sliding across the floor to the farthest wall from the door.
I knew I had an idea for how to melt the ice, but I wasn’t sure if it would work. I reached into my backpack and pulled out a small gold coin with a little fire symbol carved into it. I flicked it into the air and down onto the ice. Right away the ice around the coin started to melt away and I leaped into the air with joy. That was quickly taken away from me when a small ball of snow appeared in the middle of the room, then another on top of that one, and then another. In moments there was a full-blown snowman with demon, red eyes staring back at me. It’s carrot nose had a sharp point. It’s stick arms covered in thorns. It meant business.
As the snowman slid towards me, it was forced to stop due to the large melted hole in front of me now. I could see stairs leading downwards underneath. If it just got a little larger I might be able to slip through. I tried smashing the ice faster with my feet, but it didn’t hurry up the process. The snowman then did something shocking to me as it leap over the hole and right next to me.
It attacked with a “Rarr!”
First it threw its thorn covered hands into my shoulder causing me to flash a bright red as I pulled back. Then it plucked it’s nose down into my chest forcing me to the ground. It was now above me with it’s eyes dead shot on ending me. So I didn’t even question it for a second and thrust my staff in between it’s two body snowballs and it collapsed into a pile of snow. I stood up, but upon turning around came to a terrible realization.
Instead of a pile of snow there now was two snowman in it’s place. Now each of them held a sword made of ice. They slid towards me, but I slid away, having to jump over the ever-getting-bigger hole. They followed and led me into a corner where I swung with all my power until they were in a million pieces. I quickly slid out of the way, turning back to find four snowman following after me. This was a serious problem.
I looked to the hole and it still wasn’t big enough to fit me so I had to play with some time until it grew in size. The four snowman got a bright idea and slid to the four corners of the room, with me in the middle and all slid at me at once. I didn’t know what to do so I started spinning around in a circle with my staff pointed out. As they came running they got smacked into oblivion. Bad idea. Now I was trapped with eight snowman around me.
I needed a way to beat them without creating more of them or at least a way to melt them permanently. I couldn’t think of anything so I just kept jabbing and slashing as more and more snowman started to surround me. Now they were grabbing at me and stabbing with their not-so-pointy swords. I felt no pain, but a numb cold as I kept flashing red. I was going to die if I didn’t do something quickly…
That’s when my starfish gem and my tee-shirt started to glow a dark blue shade of color. Then the snowman’s eyes turned into the shape of hearts and they folded their arms like they were heartstruck. They moved out of the way for me. I think I’d call this power Beauty because it causes my enemies to fall in love with me temporally. It makes me wonder if that’s why Nat was so inclined to kiss me earlier?
I didn’t take any more time to think as I slid out of the way to the hole and leap into it. I was tosses down a small row of stairs. After picking myself up I was taken to one last door that lead into the boss’s room. I wasn’t sure if I was ready, but I needed to move forward in order to get back to my body and JJ. So I pushed open the door and into the inferno.