Every Day Life

I got home past eleven pm tonight. Tomorrow is a german holiday and I think people thought that the world was going to end over the weekend. Why do people do this? They trampled the store! Bought EVERYTHING. I swear the store was empty. Which means double work for me on Monday, by the way. *sighs*

Obviously I'm tired. But I started reading "Covet" this morning and I really want to see where JR Ward takes us in this book. It's really good. If I weren't so tired, I'd actually write an update of my own. Dear Diary is still waiting. Can't keep Kat drooling over Kyp's shoulder forever, now can I?

Otherwise things are quiet. I've been thinking about NanoWrimo but I still haven't come up with something decent to write. I'd like to stick with contemporary romance this year but being the writing perfectionist that I am, I want to spice it up with something. Question is, with what? The problem I have is that I do have enough ideas and some of these ideas are really good but they're huge ideas. HUGE. Which would mean research and I'm too lazy to do research. I could, of course, make things up along the way. Have the story play out in some unknown fantasy world. But that would end up epic, as I've seen with all the notes I've already scribbled down.

I wonder who the authors do it. How do authors stick with one idea? With one story? I admire this. And I think it's my biggest flaw when it comes to writing. I can't stick with it because I bore myself. If I bore myself, how the heck is the reader supposed to find it interesting?

That's where I think fanfiction comes in quite handy. It's a learning expierience.

I remember one time I wrote a little passage in which two characters were travelling from A to B. And obi commented about how it read as if they'd more or less teleported to B. I will never forget that. It's stuck with me ever since and ever since, I've taken great care not to repeat that mistake. Constructive criticism really isn't all that bad.

I received quite a compliment today. A customer came up to me and said I looked prettier every day. How nice is that? I was stunned into silence of course. I don't see myself as overly pretty. I'm an average looking girl, imo. Besides the skin color. You don't see a lot of mixed people around here. They're either really, really dark or Indian or Turkish but not like me. So I do make heads turn now and then but I still I was stunned. It was definately a very nice thing to day and no doubt I blushed.

I think the way you see yourself is always different than others see you. I might even be too strict with myself sometimes. I'm not skinny. Not anymore anyway. *sighs* Back before all the meds I could go shopping without having to sort through all the sizes just to find something that would fit. It's horrible! I couldn't even find a decent looking jacket because most the girls around here seem to be anorexic. But thank God htere's the internet and thank God there are tons of Goth sites out there. I want a simple black jacket. Easy, yes?

I suppose because of the weight I've gained, I don't feel as comfortable with myself as I used to. So when someone compliments me, my first thought is that they're lying or they don't mean me at all. How messed up is that?

I need to change my personal perception, seriously.

Off to reading my book.

Good night!

Official Indexer in the Beyond The Saga Forums

I am no the Indexer for the Beyond Forums. LillyHobbitJedi stopped in August so I have a lot to catch up on. I already started last night and DANG there are a whole lot of new stories on the boards from August 8th until now. *sighs* I officially start today. Or rather tonight since it's still September 30th in most parts of the USA. October 1st over here already.

Ha! I live in the future.

I woke up this morning listening to the rain peltering on the ground. I don't like the smell of rain on asphalt though, so I got up and closed the window. Still it's cold inside. Brrr.

I have to work today. From two pm until ten pm tonight. Seven long hours sitting at the cas register and pretending to be happy and nice to customers. I hate having to do that, especially towards those customers you just want to pop upside the head.

I've come up with an idea for an Original Novel. I'll start in November once NanoWrimo gets going. I wonder if I can stick with it this year? Last year was easy. I only used snippets of all sorts of stuff and I didn't delete ANYTHING. Hence, I made the 50.000 words.

I think it was the dream of the guy without the eyes that made me come up with the idea. Contemporary Romance I suppose, unless I get carried away and I start writing in supernatural stuff. Which I'm sure is bound to happen so I have to put a leash on myself.

I got paid yesterday. So did my husband. It is awful to know that in about a week, we'll be broke again. I have so many bills to pay from five or six years ago. It's insane. I was young and stupid and basically put, now I have to face the consequences. But foremost my daughter needs a bed so the bills will have to wait another month.

I have to clean. My Mom will be over soon to watch my daughter. *sighs*
But Saturday's a holiday so yay!

Ceillean

Yes, new music. I bought Breaking Benjamin's new album called "Dear Agony". Let's just say the Emo kids will love it.
I liked "Phobia" much better. It wasn't so dark and gloomy as the new album. The new songs are good too but it's nothing I could listen to 24/7, unlike the Phobia songs.

Still there are a few text passages that have already stuck with me and no doubt will appear in a story or two. ^^

I had a crazy dream last night. It's a recurring dream in which nothing happens besides a young man sitting beneath a tree in full bloom. It's a beautiful tree, and the man is gorgeous too. At least in the dream I think so. But he has no eyes. Which freaks me out. I've lost count how many times I've had this dream.

Oh wow! I completely lost it at work yesterday. And I shouldn't do that because I have a heart problem and once I've hit that point where I want to bust open some heads, my heart starts acting up. That was so not cool.

Anyway, I come to work and take a look at the schedule for this week. My stupid ass boss wanted me to work through the entire work and then up to ten hours a day.

Bluntly put: fuck that.

I think he doesn't care that I actually have a family. And it's always me. Always me and two other colleagues. What the hell?
So here I am in the office (my boss is on vacation of course. He's having fun in Greece), trying to contain all this built up anger because this has been going on for weeks. But then I reach this point when I have to cry.

When I'm really really pissed, I can't help the tears. When I stop crying -- take cover, seriously.

I did get a day off though. But still it's messed up. I do have a private life as well and I am not married to the damned store.
I was so pissed! And then I come home and I remembered i'd forgotten my meds and obviously I feel like my heart is spasming.

*sighs* So I'm taking it easy today. I was hoping to go get my hair cut again. Way too long.
And my book should be arriving today. I ordered "Covet -- A novel of the fallen angels" by J.R. Ward. I adore all her books. I mean black leather clad Vampires in biker boots? With an attitude? What's not to like? LOL

This is a new series though. She's a great and funny writer so I'm pretty sure the new book will be good too. Although I'm really looking forward to the next installment of the Black Dagger Brotherhood. She left us fans hanging in midair with the last book, seriously.

A Place Of Death

The desert is a place of death.

The sun burns the skin while the wind picks up grains of sand that inflict more pain. Thirst is the worst of all ailments. Finding water on the planet Idria is nearly impossible. As is finding hope to ever depart the world that had once flourished with yellow grass and tall trees, that had once been a metropolis of busy streets and alleys, crowded spaceports and markets. Idria had been splendor and magnificence, enchantment and beauty – until they set foot upon the land.

Until the Empire had sent out their legions of white armored murderers to clean Idria’s surface of aliens and humans alike. Only few survived the first wave of the attack and only few ever dared to fight back. No one had come to help.

Whatever for?

Idria is an unknown planet in the far reaches of space. There is nothing important, nothing special – besides three young lives perhaps.

Idria.

A desert.

A place of death.

+++

A ball of white hot flame engulfed the young Idrians as they ran for their lives. Just not fast enough. Within seconds their pale golden skin blistered along their long bones, melting into a thick mold of indistinguishable biological mass. The scent of singed hair and cooked flesh permeated the air. Cries were drowned out by the deafening roar of the explosion behind them.

What had once been an underground weapons cache was now nothing more than yet another hole in the ground.

Bodies flayed as they were hurled through the air by the shockwave. With sickening crunches and painful thuds, they landed on the desert floor in a heap of limbs. Out of the group of six, two survived.

It took several long moments for Natal to get her bearings. The bright purple sky above her hurt her violet eyes but she didn’t have the strength to turn away. Moving hurt.

“We have to hurry.” Tusir’s distorted voice sounded odd along with the ringing in her ears. Of course, Natal knew that he was right. The strike team had effectively eradicated the weapons cache but they still had a job to do. But getting to her feet would force her to face the carnage. Already she could smell the blood, the gore mixing with the warm sand.

Her stomach heaved while she let the faces of her friends pass through her mind. They were all dead, their lifeless bodies broken and scattered all around her. Natal turned onto her side and emptied her stomach, crying milky tears for those who had died for a cause that had already been lost from the beginning.

“If we find the Essence user, he will help us.”

“You believe so fiercely, Tusir.” Natal hissed between clenched teeth while she wiped her mouth with her sleeve. “Blind faith will ultimately get you killed.”

“I hope –“

“There is no such thing as hope!” She snapped, her voice dripping with purest venom while she stared at him and shook her head, black feathery hair falling to her shoulders. At least, what was left of it.

“They will have died in vain if we give up now. The white armored men will not hunt us while they try and save their precious weapons.”

Natal nodded slowly, feeling lightheaded as the scene before her finally settled in.

Death. All around them.

“Let’s go.” Without so much as a backward glance, Natal got to her feet and began walking a straight line, ignoring the pain in her arms and legs, the stinging of her charred flesh, the smell of scorched clothing. She dared not look back for fear of wanting to be with her friends, of wanting to embrace death rather than fight for her homeworld the way the revolutionists had taught her.

But it was hard. With every step she took, she felt like a traitor to her people.

They had died.

She had lived.

The desert was a place of death.

+++



The prison cell, if one could actually call it such, smelled dank and musky. It might have been used as an old shed back when the Idrians had grown as a community. In the dim light, the Jedi recognized wooden shelves along the walls, some still stacked with cans of food and bottled water. Although, going by the thick carpet of grey dust covering each surface, he supposed no one had really ventured into the shed for several years.

Not until he had stumbled onto the surface purely by accident. On his way home from a mission gone awry, his ship had developed a slight glitch, forcing him to land on the desert world. He had estimated a day or two for repairs and hadn’t expected white armored Stormtroopers to appear out of seemingly nowhere, leveling odd-looking blasters in his direction. More than a dozen had surrounded his ship and realizing he had nowhere to go, he had not resisted when they had taken him away in utter silence.

He’d counted seventy-eight days so far.

Seventy-eight days in which he had been certain his friends would find and rescue him, sixty-one days in which he had hoped that the search was still ongoing; forty-three days in which he had been tortured and asked questions he could not begin to answer. Twenty-eight days in which his hope had slowly dwindled. Ten days in which he knew his time was up.

The entrance to his prison opened with a loud creak, spilling purple light into the enclosed space from above. Sand pooled down through cracks from the wooden trapdoor as it was pulled upward and with an all too familiar thundering thump, it was laid aside before booted feet came down a flight of old stairs.

The Jedi drew on the Force to calm himself. In the beginning he had fought off the Stormtroopers, had undid the binds holding his wrists and ankles tied in place to an old wooden chair and on occasion he had made it to the surface. Only to be caught and dragged back. The punishment had been worse than he could have ever imagined.

Being a Jedi, being able to use the Force – it got him absolutely no where.

Pain was his constant companion now. Pain and more than dozen faceless soldiers he had thought all but extinct.

One man came to him every day. It seemed he was the commanding officer and as such it seemed he had privileges the others did not. He did not wear the armor, nor the mask.

He wore a hideous face of an old human male.

“Ready to talk?” He grumbled, his voice deep and scratchy.

The Jedi merely smiled. On the forty-first day of his incarceration, he had realized that talking, answering questions was equal to staying silent. The outcome was always the same.

At one point, the Jedi had hoped for a quick death. He hadn’t expected medications, certain drugs to help him regain consciousness; drugs to make him hallucinate and babble incoherently while he saw scenes from his nightmares play out in front of him.

They had broken him.

“I will let you go, if you talk.”

The Jedi shifted his gaze towards the tall man who stood flanked by three armored guards, two beside him and one at his back. He’d never suggested letting him go.

Never.

Which meant it was a trick.

The Force had always been his ally. The Force had forsaken him. He was completely alone, trapped beneath the hot desert floor, waiting for peace to find him.

The Jedi smiled. And yet he spoke nothing.

“Don’t you want to leave? Take back your ship and return to your own life? I’m giving you that chance.”

There was no doubt in the Jedi’s mind that the man was lying. There was no need for being truthful. All he wanted were answers he could not possibly give. Questions about the Empire, the fall of the Empire, the Remnant – he was far too young. At twenty-seven, the Imperial Era was ancient History to him.

Minutes ticked by while the Jedi closed his eyes and prayed to the Force that his soul would rise to become one with the essence of life once his body lost all its functions.

“One more chance. Tell me what I want to know and you’re free.”

The Jedi threw his head back and laughed. The tall human male balled his hand into a tight fist and shattered the Jedi’s nose.

Still he laughed.

He finally understood.

The desert was a place of death.

+++

“Do you see it?”

Natal crouched behind a great boulder, holding magnifying lenses in her hands. “Four guards.”

“Four?” Tusir whispered incredulously. “We can’t take on four guards at once.”

“We’ve dealt with worse odds. We can do this, Tusir.” She paused while the wind whipped around them, singing the song of a crying planet. Her tears fell during the night as she wept for her slaughtered children, her screams echoed through the air when it rained and thundered. Idria wept. “Either way, we have nothing more to lose.”

Natal set the magnifying lenses aside and laid a hand on Tusir’s arm. “We have lost everything in this war. You’ve lost your family as have I. We have one chance to save the Essence user while we make sure the armored men never again breathe a single breath of our sweet air.”

Tusir closed his beautiful turquoise eyes and nodded once. “If we die –“

“We won’t, Tusir. Have faith that the Goddess protects us and our cause.”

He took a deep breath and forced a smile onto his pale, golden face. Perhaps, if things had gone differently, Tusir might have become a scholar. He loved to read and to learn, he loved history and asking questions. He wasn’t a fighter, unlike Natal and it saddened her that he had been dragged into this like the rest of their people – dragged into a war started by a species they had never even heard of before. “I would have loved to study these humans.” Tusir muttered.

“Perhaps you still can.” Natal took a deep breath and squeezed his arm briefly. “Let us hurry.”

They closed their eyes and spoke a quick prayer to their Goddess before unhooking their own weapons from their belts and stepping around the boulder.

In plain sight of the white armored murderers, they began firing yellow shots at those that would see them harmed.

After all, the desert was a place of death.

+++

The taste of blood is nauseating. The sound of breaking bones equally so. The knowledge that rescue is no longer an option is flooring.

The Jedi coughed and squeezed his eyes closed. He had no choice but to listen to his assailants muttered curses while he beat him.

“How stupid are you, boy?” The man snarled, throwing yet another punch to the Jedi’s gut. “I gave you a chance!” Another punch. And another. And another.

Yet in between the sound of fist against skin, there was the distinct hum of blaster fire from above. The Jedi smiled a toothy, bloody smile and again he laughed. Perhaps not all was lost. Perhaps his rescue had finally come.

Rescue after seventy-eight days.

Could he dare hope?

“Take a look what’s going on up there.” The male said in a dark, sinister voice while he glanced over his shoulder and spoke to his guards. He grew quiet, pensive almost, while they ascended the stairs. Quietness reigned for a long moment and then more blaster fire. The human male growled obscenities under his breath and grabbing his blaster, he turned around and walked up the steps that would lead to freedom.

The Jedi slumped in the chair and closed his eyes. Hope truly prolonged the suffering of man. He had thought he’d given up but hearing blaster fire up above… it opened a valve within him and the urge to die drifted away.

He wanted to live.

He heard a menacing scream, like a warrior’s call followed by an ugly gurgling sound that told him everything he needed to know. Silence reigned for a very long time. Unending and daunting.

The soft fall of footsteps made the Jedi raise his battered face to the purple light. Where once had stood a Stormtrooper with a rifle pointed at his chest, now stood a beautiful native of the planet Idria. Her golden face was expressionless, her slanted violet eyes hard with mistrust and hurt. She was tall even for her species, long and gangly yet strong.

“Tusir!” She whispered in her native tongue. “He’s alive.”

He could not put into words how grateful, how indebted he felt to these people.

The woman hurried to his side and undid his binds in hectic, yet graceful motions. The man behind her beckoned for them to hurry and so she did. She wound an arm around his waist and carried him out of the shed, out of his prison, up the wooden stairs and towards freedom, into an unknown future.

Perhaps the desert was not only a place of death.

Perhaps the desert was indeed a place of hope.

Involuntarily Uncooperative

“You call it madness”, Jag shrugged, “but I call it love.”

And I swear by the Force I could see little pink hearts popping out of the man’s eyes. Everyone had known about Jag and Jaina besides Jag and Jaina. You could have thrown a ten pound brick at their heads with inscribed words YOU’RE IN LOVE and they wouldn’t have grasped it.

Talk about dense.

Jag and I sat together in the Southern Underground, a bar/café/funhouse (call it what you will) in the seedier parts of Coruscant-down-below. A motley crew of thugs, smugglers, drug dealers, you name it came here to lay low for a while, enjoy the view and all that and while at it, drink their minds into oblivion. The place had the best ale credits could buy.

It was a hive of busyness, which was one of the main reasons we came down here in the first place. Too many people, too many different faces – no one paid attention. Here you could put your feet up and enjoy your drink like any other average being. No one would come up to pester you, ask you questions, demand answers.

Here you were normal.

People like us, we don’t get normal very often.

But in between all the crap we have to take, we do have to deal with normal problems once in a while.
Jag, for instance. A drunk fool in love.

There was no way in the nine Corellian hells that I could drink Jaggy-boy under the table. So while he sat staring into his ale with a big fat grin on his face, I knew he was getting to that certain stage where walking out of the bar on his own was going to be a problem.

And me? I could barely sit up straight. But even down here I told myself I had a reputation to uphold. I was not going to fall off my chair. The good thing was that no one would give a damn if I did but my ego wouldn’t like that, now would it?
I gripped the table to steady the moving room around me. Until the waitress returned with another round – courtesy of Jag Fel in that lovey-dovey mood of his.

The waitress was a looker, I have to admit. She swayed those hips back and forth, smiled and batted her eyelashes, flung her long blond hair over her shoulder. Which male in his right mind would not take a good hard look at such a beautiful woman?
The answer?

Jag Fel in love. He kept staring into his ale as if answers to all questions of the universe lay right there, just a swallow away.
“She’s perfect, you know.” He called over the music, leaning forward so I could hear him better. I really couldn’t understand a word but it didn’t much matter. Not only could I read his lips but he kept repeating himself over and over again. I lost count how many times I had to listen to how perfect Jaina Solo was.

“Yeah, I know. You’ve told me ten times already.”

He glanced up, his eyes almost black in the dimly lit club. “Your speech is impaired.”

Can you believe it? Even in a drunken state, the man still uses big words!

I rolled my eyes. “Shut up, you mad man.”

“Mad?”

“All men in love are mad.”

“What about women?”

I took a gulp of my ale and chuckled. “They’re always mad.”

I have to admit I was rather glad my significant other wasn’t anywhere in the vicinity. So you see, I do know what Jag was going through. I am older than he is and therefore much wiser – the man should listen to my words.

He doesn’t though. Much too stubborn for that, which is a good thing actually. I tend to have reckless ideas at times. Understating the fact, really but who cares?

The waitress came by a second time and brought us another round on the house. Jag drained his glass, I nipped at mine feeling sick to my stomach. I knew this night wasn’t going to be kind to me and I had promised Jaina to bring Jag home safely.

How, I ask you?

How?


It looked like it was going to be the other way around. There was an intimate revolt going on in my innards – I swear a war broke loose. The food was discussing with the alcohol: should we stay or should we go?

Jag decided that we leave the moment I knew that if I moved, I’d throw up halfway across the table. I closed my eyes and took care while shaking my head. I didn’t even need to say anything – Jag sat back and laughed at me. Then the idiot punched me in the arm.
“You don’t look too well.”

“Shut up.”

“Do I need to drag your sorry butt home?”

Isn’t it unfair? Here sits Jagged Fel, having drunk double the amount I had – it wouldn’t have surprised me if it had been half the damned bar – and he spoke clearly, he sat straight and he grinned at me.

At that moment, I hated him.

“Leave me alone.”

The urge to sleep overcame me then. I couldn’t help it. My muscles went slack, my head felt ten times heavier than usual – I remember a thud and then I was out.

Can you believe it? I passed out on the kriffing table.

***

I wandered back into the land of the living hearing voices all around me. Some whispered, some spoke loudly, others laughed and some yelled at each other and all this in a multitude of different languages. I tried opening my eyes but that was harder than expected.

My body wasn’t obeying. Not really.

I managed to breathe.

Good, yes?

After what seemed like a lifetime of listening to these odd sounding voices, I realized I wasn’t standing.

See, using the Force while drunk out of your mind doesn’t work. To all those people out there who consider us Jedi to be almighty and unbeatable – it’s not true. Just lies being fed to make us seem perfect.

Well, to hell with that.

Perfect is something else all together.

A soft bed and silence – now that’s perfect.

I felt a slithering of dull pain in my right shoulder. It felt like it’d grown a pair of feet and now walked around my arm and right into my wrist. That’s when I used all the strength I still possessed in my state of utter drunkenness and ripped my eyes open.

I groaned when I realized where all the voices came from. Jag had dragged my sorry butt onto a public transport back topside. People didn’t pay too much attention – there were a few teens who pointed at us and one of the girls waved. I couldn’t help the stupid grin on my face then – or the drool collecting at the side of my mouth.

“I see you’re awake.” I heard Jag’s amused voice.

My arm was slung over his shoulder and since he’d literally dragged me all the way, that’s why my arm hurt. And this little fact made me think about my boots. I paid a fortune for these things and silently, I swore to Jag I’d kick him in the butt if my boots had a single scratch.

“And you’re heavy. Can I drop you now?”

It took a long while for me to process what Jag was saying. Drop me? That didn’t sound good at all. Too late did I realize that he’d already let me go. I found myself sprawled on the floor of the transport, with people staring and pointing.

Yeah, we were definitely on our way back top-side.

Coruscant-upper-levels don’t know how to have fun.

A small glint of satisfaction glistened in my eyes, though. Jag swayed on his legs, even if only a little. He held on to a pole with one hand, looking down at me. I lay on my back with my hands on my belly, grinning like the idiot I can be all too often.

“This view doesn’t do you credit, sweetheart.” I drawled and laughed. I could hardly recognize my voice. Dark and scratchy.
Don’t chicks dig the dark and scratchy, though?

The thought made me grin again.

I felt the tip of Jag’s boot dig into my side. “Get up, old man.”

I managed to sit up. But I didn’t really have a choice in the matter. I had to get up because the transport arrived at our stop. I looked through the windows, recognizing tall spires and buildings – you could even see the Jedi temple from this altitude.
Beautiful, stupid, annoying Jedi temple.

Nowhere near my home.

“Where are we?” I asked with a frown.

“On our way home. Up with you.” He about yanked my arm out of my socket, I swear.

“Do you get kicks out of almost breaking my arm?”

Jag’s lips curved into a grin. “The great Kyp Durron is worried I could break his arm?”

I tore away from him, stubborn to the last. Screw him, I could go on without his help. I didn’t want or need his help in the first place.

So I stood on wobbly legs. The doors opened when the transport set down on the landing pad. I walked out, breathed in cool night air.

I took a step out.

And then tripped over my feet and fell flat on my face.

Wonderful.

***

I scratched my left cheek. It burned like a [insert various curse words here].

At least I was back on my feet, glaring at Jag because he laughed at me. He does that a lot when he’s drunk.
So anyway, we were on our way to his place. And all I wanted to do was go home because my bed was calling for me and I yearned for it. But Jag wasn’t having any of it.

“I’ll have you picked up.” He said but at the time I wasn’t listening. I was concentrating on not tripping or falling. I did my best to seem like an average human being on a night out. I think I was doing too much, though.

Jag did a double take, then frowned. “Wipe that idiotic grin off your face, Durron. You’re scaring people.”

Maybe he was right.

I did not wipe the grin off my face. I made it worse.

It got me into a good mood, that should count for something.

I realized that we were only a few minutes away from Jaina’s private domain. Nothing fancy, just a small remote apartment near the Jedi temple. On a normal day, we would have been there in under five minutes but this day wasn’t normal at all.

My stomach heaved. I stopped in my tracks, counted backwards from ten and calmed myself. Force, I felt sick. It made me vow never to go drinking with Jag again. But I’ve said this before and what did I do? I went out drinking with Jag.

From a certain point of view, it’s all his fault really. It was his suggestion, he wanted out for a while. So did I but that’s beside the point.

Jag grabbed my arm and pulled me forward. I started to whine like a kriffing baby.

I’m not embarrassed. Uh-uh. Nope.

Maybe a little.

What a picture the two of us must have made. We were dressed casually, so recognizing us (unshaved and disheveled, smelly no doubt) wasn’t going to be a big deal. Hopefully. Still, the short man dragging me along because I felt like crap – hopefully no one had a holocamera on us.

The press would have field day.

When we finally made it to the building in question, some eighty stories high, I slumped with relief. My legs wouldn’t have carried me much further anyway. Jag opened the front door of the building and I glanced down the hall.

I would have to walk the entire distance to the turbo lifts.

That was definitely going to be a real mission for me, let me tell you. Because in between the stomach flip flopping around, my head buzzing and my legs feeling like jelly, the whole walking thing was going to be a problem.

And I had promised Jaina to get Jag home safely?!

What the heck had I been thinking?

As if from far away, as in really far away, I heard Jag say something about someone picking me up again. Even though my brain was all fuzzy, there was only one person Jag could call to pick me up. And she’d make fun of me until my dying day. My significant
other.

My Liz.

Force help me.

***

Eventually, we actually made it to the apartment. There was a lot of yelling, dragging and I do believe kicking involved. On Jag’s part. I was involuntarily uncooperative.

I wasn’t feeling well at all. It was like falling into this big black hole and inventing new curse words as I went.
Bluntly put, I felt like shavit.

And here was Jag still standing, his normal quiet self. I invented curse words for him, too.
He’d gotten me back onto my feet when we reached Jaina’s front door. She stood with raised brows and one hand perched on her hip, smiling a little. I tried to wave.

It didn’t really work out too well. I actually tried to say hello, too.
I think that did work, though.

“Hey, Kyp. You look like hell.”

“I feel like hell, too.” I answered when Jag dropped me – again! I lay behind the sofa, in a heap of nausea and the smell of alcohol. I wanted to sleep. Sleep sounded insanely good.

I closed my eyes and wished I hadn’t. Even then, everything started to spin. My stomach revolted again so I forced myself into a sitting position, pulling my knees to my chest and laying my head atop my knees. I sat there for a long while.
A very long while.

I heard Jag and Jaina smootching. That was odd, to say the least. They whispered and laughed, giggled.
Dammit, he should have been even more wasted than I was!

The bastard.

“You okay?” Jaina knelt before me with a glass of water in her hand.

“Do I look okay?” I asked in that scratchy voice again.

“No. But you smell worse. Drink?”

I shook my head and closed my eyes. Drinking or eating didn’t sound good at this point.

Not good at all.

How much time passed? I have no idea. I heard the holonet running in the background. A news coverage, I believe. Jag was talking in hushed tones, on his comlink. Jaina was in the kitchen. She brought a damp cloth and smashed it into my face.

Sweet Jaina. Gotta love her.

“You know, you don’t have to stay on the floor.” She said and I detected real worry in her voice. It warmed me, to tell the truth.
“Moving is not good.” I breathed. I started to hiccup and that was a very bad sign. “I think I need to use the fresher.”
Even through my personal hazy hell, I saw Jaina grin.

It was like she and Jag were in this together, I swear! A conspiracy theory!

Distantly, I heard the door chime. I debated whether or not to get up and drag myself to the fresher. It might have been a good idea because my dinner from earlier didn’t want to stay put.

I squeezed my eyes shut, took deep breaths and just counted. To distract myself, I suppose. And then I felt cool hands grasping mine and I looked up.

I smiled. “Hi, Beautiful.” I whispered.

The smile Liz shot me would have knocked me off my feet, had I not already been sitting on my butt. She cleared her throat and shot me a typical Liz look. The one that told me she was doing her best not to giggle or some such.

“Hey there, Handsome.”

“Not so much.”

“I think we should get you home.”

I nodded then shook my head. “I don’t wanna move.”

“You’re going to have to.”

“I’ll stay right here. On the floor.”

“The couch is more comfortable.” I heard Jag. I looked up and there he was, leaning over the couch and smiling down at me. I wanted to punch him.

So. Un-kriffing-fair.

They talked some more. I wasn’t listening. I was losing the fight with my stomach.

I grabbed Liz’ hands and squeezed. “You love me, right?” I asked, trying to smile, hoping my smile didn’t look like something out of a horror flick.

“Of course.” She said, her brow crinkled.

“Whatever happens, you’ll still love me, right?”

She narrowed chocolate brown eyes. “Don’t you even dare thi—“

Too late.

As I said, I lost the fight with my stomach.

Sorry sweetheart.

The Secret

I burn inside. My skin is aflame from the hurt I carry in my heart. The need to do something about this never-ending pain is so great that I am paralyzed, confused as to what I can do to end all this.

I am torn.

I am alone.

I am held within the tender blanket of a beautiful secret. It holds me close and keeps me warm and yet coldness seeps through the seams and into my very bones. I shiver and I close my eyes, wishing the darkness would grasp me and put an end to my misery.

For I fear there is no other way for the agony to pass…

There was a time when I enjoyed my life. I laughed, I cried, I yelled in anger and leapt for joy.

I am the daughter of an average farmer. I am nothing special.

I am just me. I am not tall and I am not of slender built. I am not beautiful, not in the grand sense, as some perceive.

I am smart.

I am foolish.

The secret begins many moons ago. I hear a pained groan from our shed, where my father keeps his machines for the farm. It is so small; I have to kneel to open the door. Moonlight pools around my feet as I step aside and peer into the shed. I am expecting an animal but what I see astounds me.

It is a human man and he is badly wounded. I see blood on his face, on his arms and hands. In the near complete darkness, I see his fingers are burned; his nails are a dirty russet color. A few nails are missing.

His lip is split. Drops of blood run down his chin. His eyes are swollen, his face bruised beyond recognition.

His hair is matted with his own blood and dirt. He is shaking. I feel his fear and I feel his pain.

“Dear Gods.” I whisper as I inch closer. He shies away from me, afraid for his life. My heart reaches out to this poor thing. Who could ever do something like this? It is beyond me.

“I wish to help you.” I whisper softly and I smile. “Please. You will die if you do not let me tend your wounds.”

He says nothing. I do not know if he is able to speak. His breathing is labored, his hands shake uncontrollably. I drop to my knees and I reach for him. The cold around me bites into my skin, the hard dirt underneath my knees scratches but I ignore it.

He is the important one and he needs my help.

“Please. I cannot bear the thought of you dying. Let me help you.”

He is young. Perhaps a little older than I and it hurts me to see him this way. “I will not hurt you. You are safe.”

There is a slight moan and then a gasp. I realize that he is sobbing, crying because of the pain. And I feel that he is not accustomed to kindness and he cries because he feels he can trust me.

I reach out my hand and after a very long while, he finally grasps it. I help him out of the shed and he leans into me, while I help him to the house.

To his haven.

To safety.

To the beginning of a secret.




It takes a full moon cycle for him to recover. I bathe him, I feed him and I talk to him. My father is not happy that I have brought a stranger into the house but I do not care. It feels right.

I watch the stranger sleep. I wish that he would open his eyes and tell me his name. But he is forever quiet.

He wakes up from nightmares. He shakes and quivers, he is afraid. His eyes are wide with fright when he wakes up. I never leave his side while he lies in my bed. I tend to him as best I can because…

…it feels right.




I read from old children’s books to soothe him. I realize that he relaxes when he hears my voice. It thrills me that I can help him with such simplicity.

It is the story of a lost young boy trying to find his family that seems to rattle him from his stupor. He turns his head and his blue eyes are…old.
“Stop.” He breathes and I am startled for he has so far not spoken to me.

I lay the tattered book aside and kneel by the bed. “You are awake.”

“Do not read that story to me again.” He says harshly, his jaw set firmly. I am at a loss for words.

The story hurts him I realize. He never tells me why.




Two days pass in which he will not eat. He will not speak. He is sleeping and yet I feel that he is awake. I talk to him and I read to him but never again the story about the boy trying to find his family.

His wounds are completely healed. The bruises are gone, his nails are growing and his skin is healthy. He seems healthy.

He is ill.

Ill at heart.

“Thank you.”

I glance up from my book and I smile. He is awake yet he stares at the ceiling, refusing to meet my eyes. “You are welcome.”

“Why?”

I am surprised by his question. I put the book aside and draw my knees to my chest. He is beautiful. Any woman would want him. His hair is as blond as the sun is golden, his eyes as blue as a vast ocean and he has the body of a warrior, a fighter.

I am nothing compared to him. I feel ashamed.

A farmer’s daughter has no business being near the likes of such beauty.

“I do not understand your inquiry.” I whisper, turning my gaze away.

He sits up and I look at him from the corner of my eye. Golden strands touch his broad shoulders. There is no warmth in his face. There is no happiness.

There are no emotions at all.

He seems like a programmed droid. Just a hull of a human being.

“Why did you help me?”

I shift my eyes to the floor at my feet. “Because you were hurt. You were bleeding badly. I thought you might die.”

“Why did you not leave me to die?”

I am surprised by his words and surprised by the harshness of his tone.

“I could not.” I lift my head and I stare at him, my vision blurry because of an onslaught of tears I cannot hold back.

Silence.

All I hear for a very long time is our breathing and the echo of my heart.

Silence.

He slides off the bed and kneels before me. I am shocked and I cannot speak. He grasps both my hands and suddenly leans forward and kisses each of my knuckles in succession. “I thank you for granting me a second chance to live.” He whispers against my skin, his warm lips brushing along my fingers.

I am stunned.

I am not worthy.

I pull my hands away. “You are welcome.” I whisper, avoiding his eyes.

He reaches up and touches my face, his fingers trembling. I am confused. He is a force of nature, a powerful male and yet he trembles and shakes.

“Never avert your gaze with me.” He whispers suddenly. I stare at him, shivering from the look in his eyes.

Hope.

Despair.

Desire.

Longing.

“What is your name?” I ask him slowly. He pulls away from me and gets to his feet in a single fluid movement.

“I have no name. I am no one.”




Another moon cycle passes and he talks only when he needs to. He helps on the farm and my father is pleased with his work.

I am intrigued by him and intimidated at the same time.

He has yet to tell me his name.

I see him watching me sometimes. When I work in the field with the droids, I feel he is watching me.

I like when he watches me.

No one else sees me at all.





“Ianus.”

I turn around swiftly, startled by the voice behind me. The night is cool as I stand outside with a thick shawl around my shoulders, breathing in the cold air.

He stands at the door of the house, wearing my father’s old clothes. They barely fit him for he is tall and broad.

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name. I am called Ianus.”

I am speechless. After two moons, he has finally told me his name.

Ianus.

A beautiful name.

For a beautiful man.





The fire burns brightly, flickers in red and orange colors. I sit before it and warm my hands. My father is out for the night and only Ianus is there to keep me company.

He does not speak. He hardly ever does.

I sit and I read until the shuffling of his feet surprise me. He sits down in front of the fireplace to my side. “Read to me.” He says softly.

“What would you like to hear?”

“What are you reading?”

“A story about forgiveness.”

Ianus turns his head and closes his eyes. “Read to me.”




Hours pass while I read. I feel his presence near me; I feel his warmth even through the crackling flames in the fireplace.

I feel nervous. My voice falters while I read. The words blur and I must stop.

I look up from my book and stare into the flames. Dangerous, life threatening and yet the giver of life.

“How were you hurt?” I ask into the darkness. I feel Ianus stiffen. Minutes pass without a word. He does not answer.

I read to him.




“I must leave soon.”

His words shatter my world. I can only nod because words fail me. I do not want him to leave for I have come to care for him.

I am not worthy.

“I will see that you have clothing and food for your journey.” I want to pass him but he grabs my arm and turns me around.

His gaze is chilling. Cold.

“I do not know how to thank you.”

“Do not.”

He will not let me go. Ianus simply stares and then he smiles and my world tips to the side.

He is beyond beautiful and he is leaving.

“You saved my life.” Ianus whispers and he touches my hair, coiling strands around his long fingers. “I was badly injured and you cared for me. You fed and bathed me. You let me stay in your home. And you do not want anything in return?”

“How were you hurt?” I want to know the truth.

That is all I want in return.

Ianus sighs, lets go of my arm. I wish he had not. I like his touch, the warmth and the gentleness.

“I am a Jedi Knight.” He says and I gasp. I had never suspected! He is one of the legendary warriors, a fighter for peace, honor and freedom. A wielder of the magic power they call The Force.

I am truly unworthy.

I avert my gaze but his harsh hiss makes me look up. “Never turn your eyes away like that.” He says and I frown.

“You are a Jedi. I am nothing. It is not in my place to look upon you.” I stare at the floor.

His fingers lift up my chin and he smiles. “You are everything.” He whispers. “You are a life saver. You are generous. You are loving and caring. You are a worthy woman and any man should be lucky to have you.”

I want Ianus.

Does he want me?

“How were you hurt, Ianus?”

He swallows but he does not step back. He strokes my cheek and inclines his head, golden curls falling over his shoulder. “I was hurt on a mission. My friends died. I was captured and tortured for information. I was freed by a friend and I escaped.”

“Your friend did not?”

“He was killed.”

I nod. “And now you must leave to be with your kind again.”

“I must leave because it is my calling.”

He does not move as he speaks. He stares at me and I hold my breath as he comes closer. Ianus kisses me and I melt.

No man has ever touched me. For I am not beautiful.

I am nothing.

I am…me.





He stays one more night. My Jedi Knight stays with me for one night before he must leave. His memory will haunt me for the rest of my life. He is perfection and I am the opposite.

His good-bye to me is not hasty and I feel that he is saddened. Ianus’ eyes are glazed while he whispers words in such a beautiful language; they bring tears to my eyes. I have never before heard anything as beautiful.

I do not want him to leave.

He is my secret and I want to keep him.

His life awaits him. The life I have given him.

“Good-bye.” Ianus whispers before he turns away from me and walks down the path of his destiny.

My secret. Our secret.

It grows within me.

I would never see Ianus again.

What's doing?

Nothing. Same shit, different day. Ring a bell?

I still have a damned cold. Or, better yet, I can't get rid of this friggin cough. This has been going on for two months. Cold -- getting better -- getting sick again -- getting a bacterial infections -- another cold and now it's a cough.

Yay. Don't I feel peachy?

I wrote my very first book. Can't do anything with it but at least I have my first book standing on my shelf.



I am completely and utterly proud of myself. Only problem is the story sucks big time. But I can always re-write, which I won't because it's fanfic anway.
I've started on the second part which is WAY better.

But since I now know that I am capable of actually finishing a story, I think I might just try and come up with something on my own. Which is harder than you'd expect because you don't want to steal from the authors you love. You want it to be your own. So I have to do a whole lot of research. Because I won't be satisfied with a normal, typical, cute lovestory. I need something more. Something fantastically dark . I'd love to include fangs but hey -- too many books out there right now.

But I will definately invent one hell of a hawt guy. Betcha ass on it.

Today I realized that I feel like going out again. To an average club with average music. No ska or punk stuff, no goth or metal or alternative rock. Just every day normal kiddie music. Pop shit.
I really feel like doing that some time. I just need to find someone to go with me. And bring along a camera. You never know if eye-candy is out there or not, right?

I tortured myself at the gym today. Exquisite pain. Sounds sick, I know but it feels good, especially if you've been locked in the house for weeks. I feel so much better after the gym. Just a little tired. I'll be going back tomorrow, again.
I have to get used to it, after doing nothing for three months.

Anyway -- I'm headed to bed.
Night all.