Almost done!

Two or three more posts and I am done with my story. How friggin cool is that? I've never written anything in this length before and even though it sucks big time, I am proud of finishing it. I'm finishing a story!!! *grins*

There's a second part that I'm working on. It's much darker than the first because my heroine has gone through a lot and she isn't the sweet girl she used to be.
I mean, she leaves her man -- cuz she's stupid -- claiming she has to be alone for a little while, to clear her thoughts. She's been having dreams and nightmares and they all end up with Kyp dying if she stays.

Wanting to be safe than sorry, while he's out on a mission, she simply writes him a note and leaves. For the next five years, they hear nothing of each other.

Now I'm guessing if Kyp Durron were in love, he would do almost anything for this person. He would kill for this person, he would die for this person. He's lost so much in his life that he might even cling a little bit too much.
And having Liz leave him this way, would be a blow. And he would be pissed.

Of course he tried to talk out their differences but Liz would never say what was bothering her. She would close up completely, fearing that he would know about the dreams and do something about it. But what if they weren't just dreams? What if they were visions? Because all her dreams that felt real, were real.

Thank you, Force.

So five years later, they meet again. Sexual tension en masse. Inuendo but no touching. Oooh, much fun.
Liz dreams of a young man begging for help. She hears him call and she finds him in the Outer Rim on a ghetto planet. The baddest slums ever. She has to fight her way to him and get him off the planet but she's had plenty of teachers and she knows her way around weapons now. She's a fighting machine with sexy heals. *laughs*

The boy, she knows, is Force sensitive and she feels that he has a destiny to fulfill. So they -- her manly girl-friend Ashaya -- plot a course to Yavin 4. On a stolen ship, though. And since the Jedi and the government work together, sort of, they have to impound the ship and Liz and Ashaya are taken into custody.

And Kyp watches. He stares at her at the ramp. His eyes blaze with anger. Carefully controlled. She can feel he's pissed. And she never keep staring back. Their eyes never leave each other.

This scene is my favorite actually:

Liz is in the brig, a la Star Trek. Forcefield in front and she sits on a cot, waiting. Kyp comes up and he just stands there, watching her. She watches back.

She knows what's on his mind. The questions of why.
A dialogue ensues and then:

"Oh yeah. It's what you do best, isn't it? Leaving." Kyp shrugged. "At least you had the decency to leave a note." Sarcasm leaked from his voice as he smiled begrudgingly and folded his arms in front of his chest.

Liz cleared her throat. Slowly she got up from the cot, walking towards the force field. Her heels clicked on the stone floor with every slow step she took -- a rhythm similiar to her heartbeat. "I didn't want to see the hurt in your eyes when I left. I didn't want to witness what I did to you." She sighed, letting her arms fall to her sides. "I was afraid to face you."

She smirked as she stood only centimeters away from the force field. Had it not been in the way, she would have felt his warm breath tickle her skin. She could have breathed in the spicy scent she remembered so well, the very scent that could arouse her instantly.

"Evidently now," Her eyebrows rose while she stared him down. She wasn't afraid anymore -- she'd left fear in her past. "I am not."

I'm going to have to rewrite this, I suppose. But this are parts of my notes right now and I'm loving it. Giving Liz an edginess, a bitchiness. I want her to fight with Kyp, I want them both to know that they can't leave without each other. God -- the fightscene with be hot, too!

Liz landed on the mat butt first. Her teeth clattered and the fighting stick twirled through the air, skittering across the gym floor. She stared daggers at Kyp, grinding her teeth and narrowing her eyes.

Kyp circled her, twirling the stick in his hands in a figure eight motion. "Get up." He all but snarled at her. "I know I taught you better than this."

And obviously there'll be kissing and stuff. *grins*
So much fun!

And not to forget, Lassiter will be back, too. He's even mean. Not that he wasn't mean before but this is vileness at its best. And he wants her and he'll do everything to get to her. But this time, all he wants is his revenge and he wants her to suffer.

Duh-duh-duh-duuuuuuuuuuuhhhhh.

*sighs* I'm content now.

Ah yes, I forgot about this pic. Me at the toy store! Mel and I were having fun playing with Legos. Grey legos -- Imperial grey, mind you.

Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?

Title: Are you sure you weren't just dreaming?
Author(s): Ceillean
Timeframe: /
Characters: Ben, Luke, Mara
Genre: Humor
Summary: Ben meets a Ghost
Notes: This is for the Professor Literati's Christmas Roulette Challenge.

Somewhere in your vignette or short story you must include a character with the name, Tiny Tim. You must also include a ghost in your story.
The sentence I used was: Again the specter raised a cry and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands

Enjoy.

---

Ben sat against the headrest of his bed and pulled his knees to his chest. He didn’t know what time it was and he didn’t much care – his new game was way more interesting than sleeping. Uncle Han had given him an early Life Day gift, the new Gamer1300! He could hide it anywhere he wanted because it was so small!

Mara and Luke hadn’t been too happy about the gift because they feared it would keep Ben from his school work and Jedi training. He’d promised to keep up his work and so far he had. But his parents didn’t know about his late nights playing “Rebel Alliance vs. The Empire”.

Ben snickered as his holographic figure shot up a Stormtrooper and the white armor exploded into a hundred oddly shaped, glittering pieces. Ben was a really good player – and it was kind of astral getting to play his Dad in a real hologame. The name Luke Skywalker hadn’t come up of course – Ben guessed it had to do with legal reasons; grown-up stuff; boring stuff – but who else would be the hero of the Rebel Alliance? At least Ben had never heard of another Jedi Knight who’d blown up a Death Star.

There had only been one Death Star, hadn’t there?

Ben wrinkled his nose and paused his game. One Death Star or two? He’d been forced to sit through boring history lessons with Master Tionne and the topic had come up but he couldn’t quite recall…

He shrugged and continued to play, his little figure jumping into an open X-Wing.

Ben giggled. “On to blow up the bad guys!” he whispered in the dark of his small room. And just as the X-Wing lifted off towards space, Ben heard something that had nothing to do with the game. He stopped moving, stopped breathing and switched off the Gamer1300, listening intently. At six years old, he’d learned how to focus the Force on his surroundings and as he did so, he felt something was out of the ordinary.

Leaning across towards his nightstand, he flicked on his light and scanned the room with his eyes. His closet was ajar and he saw a few of his shirts in a messy pile – he grimaced. Mara wouldn’t like that too much and the cleaning droid would want to strangle him! Maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to give the droid an emotion chip. She was one moody machine!

A few of his toys lay scattered on the carpeted floor, a plasteel cylinder in the corner showed his collection of stuffed animals. The tidiest place in his room was in fact his desk and only because he hardly ever used it.

Everything looked normal but it didn’t feel normal.

Slowly, Ben kicked the covers off and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. His toes barely touched the floor as he sat there, listening.

A rushing sound and then something rattling…

Ben frowned as he jumped to the floor, narrowing his eyes. With tiny steps, he moved away from his bed towards the open closet doors. He scowled at the mess – yeah, the cleaning droid would have his head for this!

When he turned around, he stopped, gaping at what met his eyes. A shimmering form of a boy his age sat atop his mattress, dressed in rags with disheveled hair. He looked like a mixture between a hologram projection and a Force ghost, the ones he’d seen on the holonet a few times already. And yet something was amiss.

Maybe the fact that this ghost-apparition-thing was holding his Gameer1300! Force ghosts couldn’t hold things could they? And neither could hologram projections!

“Who are you?” Ben asked acidly, folding his arms in front of his chest. “And why are you on my bed playing my game?!” If Mara had been there to see him, she would have been so proud!

The boy looked up and smiled. Ben found it a bit disconcerting that he could look through him and tell the time on his chrono standing on his nightstand.

“You don’t mind, do you? I’ve never seen anything like it.”

Ben glared and hurried forward, snatching his Gamer1300 out of the boys’ hand. “It’s mine! Who are you?”

The boy shrugged his shoulder and jumped off the bed. “Does it matter?”
“It matters to me. How’d you get here anyway?”

“I wander the area at this time of the year.”

Ben arched a brow. “Huh?”

“Life Day!” The boy frowned. “Are you mentally impaired?”

Ben’s eyes widened. “Huh?”

“Everyone knows about Life Day!”

“Yeah, so do I.” He raised his voice just a fraction. “Who are you?”

The boy walked closer and smiled brightly. “The name’s Tim. And who are you?”

Ben wrinkled his nose, as he looked the boy up and down. “Ben. Are you a ghost?”

Tim shrugged. “Looks like it, don’t it?”

“A Force ghost?”

“A what?”

“A Force ghost.”

Tim raised his brows. “What’s that?”

“I’m guessing that’s what you are?”

“Uh-uh.” He shook his head. “Never heard of it before. I’m just a ghost. I visit people on Life Day.”

“Why?”

“Just because.”

“Why?”

Tim turned on him and narrowed his eyes. “Stop saying that!”

“Why?”

“Because I’ll hurt you if you don’t!”

Ben’s lips quirked up into a little half smile. “I’d really, really like to see a ghost try and hurt me.”

“Well – “ The boy huffed out a breath. “I could curse you!”

“Curse me how?”

Tim took a step back and plopped back down on the bed. He seemed sad, Ben thought. Alone, maybe? “All ghosts can curse the living. I’ve never done it before.” His voice was quiet. “But you’re annoying so you might be my first!”

“What would you have to do?”

“Say a few words and wave my hands around.”

“Well, then say the words.”

Tim frowned. “You do know what a curse is, right?”

“I’m not stupid!” Ben said indignantly.

“Fine! But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

“I’m not scared.”

Tim grinned and then shook his head. “Again the specter raised a cry and shook its chain and wrung its shadowy hands.”

Ben arched a brow. “That doesn’t sound like a curse.”

“But it is!” Tim’s voice sounded squeaky to Ben’s ears.

“What does it do?”

“What does what do?”

“The curse, you stupid ghost!” Ben shouted, feeling exasperated with him. He could hardly believe it! He was arguing with a ghost!

Tim shrugged. “I dunno. I just read the line in a book last time I was here. Can we forget about it?” He asked, trailing his finger along the covers of the bed. “Can’t we just play? I’ve been bored for so long.”

“How long?”

“A few hundred years.”

“Seriously?”

Tim nodded. “Yeah. You’re the first boy I’ve visited in a long time. Can we play or not?”

Ben shrugged and sighed. “Fine.” He gestured for the ghost to join him on the floor while he sat down cross-legged.

“My friends used to call me Tiny Tim, by the way.” The ghost said with a wistful smile.

“Because you’re short?”

He nodded. “Yeah.”

“I’m short, too. Who cares?”




Luke stretched tired muscles – wincing at the audible pops – and leaned back in his chair. Mara sat opposite him at the table, sipping at a cup of caf while skimming through the latest news on her data pad.

He jumped suddenly, as he heard Ben pounding down the hall like a crazy-boy, “I saw a ghost last night!” He exclaimed with a bright smile as he hurried to take his usual seat at the breakfast table.

Mara arched a brow and gave him a peculiar look. “A ghost?”

“Yeah! He was a Life Day ghost! He tried to curse me but it wouldn’t work. We played the Gamer together! It was astral!” Ben grabbed a box of cereal and poured it into his already waiting bowl, which had small pictures of roaring Wookies all around it. “He promised to come back tomorrow night! He could be my very first best friend!” He poured milk over his breakfast, oblivious to his parents’ amused yet concerned glances.

“Are you sure you weren’t just dreaming sweetheart?”

“Uh-uh.” Ben shook his head. “Because he told me everything I wanted to know. Including the gifts you’re getting me!” He smiled brightly.

“You peeked?” Luke asked with raised brows.

“No! I swear! Tiny Tim told me!”

“Tiny Tim?” Mara echoed, placing her data pad on the table.

Ben nodded vigorously while stuffing a spoon full of cereal into his mouth. “And thanks for getting me a game for the Gamer1300!” He exclaimed before taking a drink from his juice and jumping up off his chair. “I need to get dressed. Master Tionne will be so mad if I’m late!”

He gave his parents a quick kiss on the cheek and ran back into his room, closing the door behind him.

Mara frowned at Luke and cleared her throat. “Where’s our son?”

Luke smiled. “Seems he had a lively dream.”

“I’ll say.”

“And he peeked.”

Mara shrugged, taking another sip from her caf and directing her attention back to her data pad.

Upside Down

Title: Upside Down
Author: Ceillean -- the Kyp-crazed crazy woman
Genre: Humor
Characters: Wes Janson, Corran Horn, Garik Loran, Kell Tainer
Notes: Second Annual Winter Holiday Fic-Gift Exchange Fic-gift for Miraluka Jedi. Merry Christmas! I really do hope you like this. It was hard to write -- it's been years since last I read a Rogue Squadron book so I mixed them up with the Wraiths. Enjoy!

The fic-gift you are writing is for: MiralukaJedi

They requested:
1.Wes Janson trying to set up a really elaborate prank
2. Light-hearted fun
3. Who it is played on though, I leave up to whoever gets this in the end

I don't want: Drama (it wouldn't work with this one I think)

Characters: Janson (obviously), a member of Rogue Squadron or two

---

“How much longer?” Kell Tainer asked while making a face. His voice was laced with ultimate whininess, like a kid wanting a lollypop and being denied one.

Wes rolled his eyes. “Stop being a baby!”

“Well, if you’d at least give me something to blow up!”

It grew quiet for a moment and the way Wes creased his forehead and pursed his lips, Kell could see that he was actually contemplating his suggestion. A small grin spread over Kell’s face and his eyes twinkled with mischief. “I get to blow something up!”

“Well, not exactly.” Wes jumped from the ladder, eyeing his greatest work to date. “When’s Corran due back anyway?” He asked, smiling slightly as he shifted his attention to Kell.

Kell stood leaning against the wall, looking bored and yet he managed to pull off the stance of a man ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. In this case planting a bomb in Corran Horn’s quarters. Although it was hard to imagine Corran finding it amusing if a part of his quarters were to blow up into a few hundred itty-bitty pieces. The look on the man’s face would be worth it, though.

“Depends on how long Face needs to get him as drunk as we need him. Could be a few more hours.”

Wes nodded once then rubbed his hands together with a bright, evil smile on his face. This was the sort of smile Kell knew meant trouble, the sort of smile where you backed away from Wes Janson while holding up your hands – palms up – pleading your innocence. “Did you bring it?” He asked in a dark, sinister voice. Only thing missing was the matching laugh – the one where the bad guy would throw his head back and exaggerate like a crazy man over and over again.

Ha ha ha ha ha ha – Ha ha ha ha ha ha…

At least in Kell’s mind Wes could pull it off.

“Yeah. It’s lying in the back waiting to be mauled, as usual.”

“Well then plant a confetti bomb in his stomach.”

Kell wrinkled his nose. “That’s not even remotely the same!”

“It’s all you’re gonna get! Now help me finish this up before Corran gets here.”

Grumbling something incoherent under his breath, Kell pushed away from the wall. Wes scrambled back up the ladder, grabbing a hydrospanner from his tool belt and reaching up to tighten another bolt that would hold the sofa in its designated place.

This place being the ceiling.

An old, stained caf table, the bookshelf (the little reading material Corran owned was glued onto the wood with reversible adhesive), two lamps, Corran’s small one-man bed (the poor sod) and now the sofa found their new homes to be quite fascinating. Kell had pulled out the ugly grey carpet, rolled it up and carried it into the small makeshift kitchen while Wes had laid out a large piece of Inolia, to make it look like the ceiling. A small grey lamp, which would usually give off an ugly dingy yellow glow, was attached to the middle of the floor.

Corran would love it!

Wes had already planted a few holocams all around the room so he wouldn’t miss a single second of his friends’ reaction.

This would so be worth it.






“You need to stand in order to walk.”

Corran ripped his eyes open and smiled – at least the lift of his lips was supposed to look like a smile, as far as Garik Loran was concerned. And even though Corran was short compared to him, he had to weigh at least a ton! His feet barely touched the ground as Garik held him up by his shoulders, pulling him along the corridor towards his quarters.

“You know…” Corran hiccupped while trying to stand up straight. If Garik’s sight had been impaired by an angle of about forty-five degrees, it might have seemed like Corran was actually standing. “I watched a movie the other night.”

“Did you now?” Garik asked, dragging Corran along the corridor. Overall it would have been easier to hoist the man over his shoulder but he would leave alone what little dignity still remained.

“Mhm.” When Corran started to giggle like a young girl, Garik knew Corran was far beyond drunk. This was completely, utterly and devastatingly wasted. “You, my friend, were one of those guys.”

Garik blew out a breath and counted the last few steps until he’d finally reached the entrance to Corran’s small quarters. “I was, huh?”

“Yep.” He smacked his lips. “You were so funny.” Corran threw his head back and laughed while Garik shook his head and wondered if he was like this when he was drunk. Force, he hoped not!

Just as he was about to touch his fingers to the controls of the door, Corran’s knees gave away and he slumped to the ground like a wet sack of…well, Corran. Garik couldn’t help but laugh at the scene that met his eye. Here lay one of Rogue Squadron’s best and fiercest pilots, passed out and drooling all over the floor.

Garik dug through his overalls and extracted a tiny holocam, one he’d used countless times while spying on people he wasn’t supposed to be spying on. It was almost ridiculous how much information he’d gathered on certain individuals – including his colleagues – to blackmail them. Who knew, maybe the pictures would come in handy some day. The thought made him grin like an idiot.

He snapped a few shots of the drooling wet sack of Corran, stuck the holocam back into his inner pockets and palmed the lock of the door. It hissed aside, revealing a brightly lit upside-down room. Garik laughed as he dragged Corran inside by the hem of his collar.

“You’ve overdone yourself this time.” Garik commented, dropping Corran as he surveyed Wes’s fantastic work of art. An upside down room – who would have guessed.

“How long will he be passed out?” Wes asked, coming forward with his hands stuck into the pockets of his pants. He seemed so nice and innocent the way he stood there, as if he were the nicest guy in the entire galaxy.

Yeah, right.

“Definitely a few hours. Where do you want him?” This time Garik did hoist Corran onto his shoulder.

“Right underneath the bed, of course.” He inclined his head towards the nearest corner. “We can watch him from next door. The holocams are all on and running, including four separate motion detectors to let us know when he’s finally awake. Kell’s already at his station keeping watch. ”

“Sounds like a mission to me.”

“Yeah, well.” Wes rubbed his hands together. “Look up.”

Garik drew his brow into a suspicious frown. Still, he tilted his head upward and couldn’t help but chuckle. “What happened to his face?”
Wes scratched at his head. “He had an unfortunate accident with Kell. He’s a menace by the way.”

Garik snapped his head around. “Look who’s talking.”

They laid Corran onto the floor and draped a blanket over him. Slowly and grinning wickedly, they left him in his alcohol induced slumber, eagerly awaiting the time Corran woke up. And they would tape everything – oh the joy!




Corran hoped he was only dreaming. One part of his brain was trying to wake him while the other was still sluggish, dealing with the fact that he’d had way too much to drink. Strangely, he remembered being with Garik and normally Garik was the one to pass out… Had he been awake, he would have realized that there was something out of the ordinary and he would have gotten suspicious.

Instead, he blinked away the remnants of the hazy dream (being gobbled up by a zoo animal) and turned onto his back. He didn’t dare open his eyes yet even though he wondered why in the world his bed was suddenly so hard. He tapped his fingers on the mattress and then realized it wasn’t a mattress at all.

Slowly, slow motion slowly, he opened just one eye. Minutes passed by and he didn’t move a muscle. He had to think this through and it was hard. So Corran was lying on the floor while his bed was up there? No, wait… that wasn’t right, was it? It didn’t make sense.

Grunting, he turned back onto his side and closed his eyes. Yeah, he’d had too much to drink and now he was hallucinating. He’d kill Garik for it later, once he was sober. Wouldn’t take more than a day or two, he supposed. And so Corran slept on, oblivious to the fact that Wes, Garik and Kell were watching him and laughing their asses off.



Five hours later Corran’s brain was at least half way functional. Or so he thought until he sat up and came face-to-face with a mauled Ewok. Its face was slashed in various places, showing white foam sliding down its dark brown fur. Corran’s eyes widened and he jumped back with a loud screech that could have shattered the windows.

The Ewok’s eyes blazed with anger as it stared at him, its face contorted into a mask of – wait a minute…

Corran inched closer and reached out with a finger. He pushed at the Ewok hanging from the ceiling and watched as it swung back and forth, back and forth. “Yub, yub.” It said with a very mechanical voice and although Corran’s brain worked slowly, still even he could figure this one out. “Kettch.” He said to no one in particular.

But then came the part of the “Why” and “What the kriff?”. He tilted his head upward and his jaw dropped. He had to be hallucinating! Why was he laying on the ceiling? How was he laying on the ceiling? Why was his stuff up there?

What the hell had Garik put into his drink?

Knowing it would make no sense to think about it any further, he decided to lie back down. But as he did so, he noticed the ceiling lamp not too far away from him…

He wasn’t hallucinating. This was real.

It took him a very long moment to piece everything together – Kettch, furniture on the ceiling, lamps on the floor… wow… Wes had done a perfect job this time!

Corran sat up and pursed his lips. From a distance, he heard wicked, evil sounding laughter. So they were watching him, were they?

Already his mind went into overdrive -- oh sweet payback.

Before he was able to scramble up though, Kettch made the most peculiar sound. A slight pop and then a hiss – and then the Ewok’s insides spread all over Corran. Some kind of sweet smelling red goo stuck to his hair and skin, running into his mouth, underneath his shirt and down his arms.

Oh yeah.

They were so gonna pay.

The One With The Chicken Suit and The Heels

So another year is almost over. Tomorrow's Christmas Eve. And my Mom's in the hospital. Wonderful, isn't it?

I can't pack up Lilly's gift because I have no more tape. So I have to do that tomorrow morning, as well.
And still go buy some food for the holidays. I have to cook! Ugh.
Christmas is one of those holidays when I wish I won the lottery and I could just take off until January. Somewhere far away where it's moderately warm.

I'm too tired to write anything decent tonight so I thought I'd post the last sillyness I wrote for the boards the other day:

---------

Agamar, Calna Muun



The view from the office balcony was spectacular. Contrary to prejudiced opinions across the galaxy, the Agamarians had turned out to be a very hospitable and friendly people, welcoming their Jedi friends warmly.

Jedi Master Kyp Durron leaned against the balustrade with his arms folded in front of his chest. The warm sea wind tickled his skin and he breathed in deeply, reminded of his own home Deyer. Calna Muun, the capitol of Agamar, was located on the coast and from where Kyp stood, he could watch tourists as well as locals gather around the harbor to catch one of the submersibles that would take them to the floor of the Bil Da’Gari Ocean.

One of the Senators had suggested they do this as well and no doubt, it would have been an interesting venture, but Kyp was glad the mission was over and he was more than ready to head back home.

“Ready to go?”

He turned around halfway and nodded towards Jag Fel. The younger man stood with a straight back, his military training evident in his stance. He wore a simple flight suit without insignia, much like Kyp. The only thing differing was the fact that Kyp’s lightsaber dangled from his hip.

“Yeah.”

“We might have a little problem though.”

Kyp heaved a sigh and closed his eyes. He tried remembering the last time a simple mission ended as easy as it had begun. Had there even ever been one?

“Please define a little problem.”

Jag shrugged. “The way to the space port is blocked. The main street is crowded with a mob of people. Carnival festivities.”

“That’s no good.”

“No.”

“When do the celebrations end?”

“Four days.”

“Damn.”

The mission had been a secret one. Settling a simple dispute with a noble man and two Senators from neighboring worlds, the Agamarian Council had asked the Jedi for assistance. No one was to know of the Jedi’s involvement, so walking about the crowd dressed as they were, was not an option.

“I mean, we could blend in.” Jag offered with the slightest lift of his lips, a roguish grin that made females gasp and swoon all over the galaxy. “All of them are wearing costumes. We dress up and head to the spaceport as one of them. Simple.”

Kyp chuckled. “I’ve learned that simple does not exist.”

“What’s not simple about this? There’s a shop in the market quarter. We go there, borrow costumes, send them back once we get home and no one will be the wiser that we were here.”

“Besides the shop owner?”

Jag scratched at his head, giving Kyp a sheepish look. “I suppose you should take care of that then.”

“Aw, great. I’ve been degraded to erasing people’s memories.”

“Well, according to Jaina, it’s what you do best.” Jag’s voice was laced with amusement.

Kyp pursed his lips but held back a retort. He was tired and moody as it was and he wanted to go home. Jaina had a big mouth, he already knew this, so he’d have a talk with her once he felt up to it.

“Don’t listen to everything she says.”

“Sir, yes Sir!” Jag clicked his heels together and gave Kyp a mock salute.

“Stop that, you dope.” He sighed and ran a hand across his face. “Let’s go find that shop.”



“Will she be alright?” Jag asked, while waving his hand in front of the shop owner’s face. Her eyes seemed completely empty, her face blank as she stared into nothingness.

“She’ll be fine. I’ll release her once we leave.”

“What about surveillance cameras?”

“Already taken care of.”

Jag wrinkled his nose as he stepped away from the front counter and followed Kyp into the back where a dozen or more empty racks stood filed in even rows. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

Kyp gave him a droll stare. “Of course I know what I’m doing. I am the Jedi Master here, after all.”

Jag snorted and shook his head at the other man’s arrogant tone of voice. “And I will shoot this Jedi Master someday, you just wait and see.”

“I dare you to do so. You’d never catch me.”

“You are very sure of yourself, aren’t you?” Jag scanned the chamber with his eyes, only now noticing the emptiness. He supposed the racks would have usually been hanging full with clothes and accessories but due to the festivities going on outside, the store was literally empty.

“Now what?” He mumbled under his breath, walking down a short flight of stairs into yet another empty chamber.

“Now we have to improvise.” He heard Kyp’s voice from the left. Jag turned around just in time to catch a large bag of… fluff?

“What’s this?”

“The last of the costumes left. Here, hold this.” Kyp thrust another zipped up garment bag into his arms.

Annoyed with the older man, Jag opened his arms and let everything fall to the floor. “I’m not your servant, Durron.”

Kyp laughed. “Could have fooled me.”

Jag cleared his throat. “Yes. I will shoot you. When you least expect it.”

They crouched down beside the bags and zipped them open. Jag wrinkled his nose while Kyp scratched at his chin.

“I’m not wearing this.” They said in unison, shaking their heads.

Kyp was the first to laugh.

“Can’t you just hide us in the Force?” Jag asked, poking the strange orange furry thing in the bag with his finger.

“It would take too long to get to the space port. Hiding me is exerting enough.”

“And you call yourself a great Jedi Master?” Jag raised his brows, smirking.

“Shut up and put this on.” He shoved the furry thing towards Jag while he dug through the other garment bag and grimaced as if he’d hurt himself. When he pulled out a long, white cloak with a matching gown, Jag couldn’t help himself. His laughter bubbled out and he found himself sitting on the cold floor, holding his stomach.

“I swear to the Force, if you ever breathe a word of this, you’re a dead man.” Kyp said in a dangerously low tone. Jag wasn’t listening – he was too busy laughing.

When Kyp pulled out a pair of matching white heels, Jag peeled over with a red face. Several minutes passed by while Jag’s stomach convulsed from laughing too hard and Kyp glowered at him. “I can kick your ass in heels, Jag. Don’t think that I won’t.”

“You could style your hair to match the outfit. It’s definitely long enough.” Jag said in between gasps and threw his hands over his head as Kyp tossed one of the shoes in his direction.

“Put this on and let’s get going.” Kyp pushed the fluffy-whatever-it was towards Jag, while getting to his feet and slipping out of his robes. Jag sat up, ogling the orange fluff in front of him. He grabbed it out of the bag and frowned. The middle piece was round and soft, whereas the legs attached to it were rather skinny – hardly enough space to fit inside. When he grabbed the second part of the costume, he started to laugh again.

“So you have to dress up like a woman and I’ll be walking around in a Chicken suit?”

“Seems so.” Kyp finished up with his rather petite gown and slung the matching cloak around his shoulders. A thin white shall completed the outfit. He let his hair down and took a deep breath – and another one, and another one – before he slipped his feet into the heels. And they actually fit.

Jag whistled. “Master Durron. You look positively sexy.”

Jag ducked as Kyp flung one of his boots towards him by using the Force. “Get dressed so we can leave.”



They eventually made it to the ship and even in one piece. Both had had laughing fits while mingling in with the crowd. Kyp had lost count how often Jag had tripped over his huge, flattened chicken feet. And every time Jag looked at Kyp in his pretty white gown, he couldn’t help but giggle like a little girl.

They definitely made an interesting pair.

“And I was serious. You breathe a word to anyone about this and I will skin you alive.” Kyp said as he kicked off the heels and began to slip out of the costume. Jag twisted off the head of the Chicken suit and grinned. “My lips are sealed.”

Kyp narrowed his eyes. “I’m not kidding.”

“I won’t tell!”

“Fel…I swear, if I hear a word of this from Jaina…”

Jag fell back against the wall and laughed with all he was worth, holding his stomach. “I hadn’t even thought about that!” He grinned. “I have something to blackmail you with!”

Kyp groaned and rubbed at his forehead. He grabbed his own clothes and headed to the back of the ship to get dressed.

None of them said a single word about their costumes on their way home.

*yawns*

It's Sunday. And Sunday's are annoyingly boring. But see this pic? Isn't it awesome? I wish I could draw like this. This is the one an donly Jagged Fel, a perfect and beautiful drawing by the one and only FalconFan. I know why he's my second favorite characters. *swoons* The Jag FanGirls have turned me into one of their own, seriously! Look at him! I could jump into this pic and run my hands through his hair! *grins like a damned idiot* But still, my favorite will always be Kyp Durron. He's the man. And he's hot.


He's MINE! I claim him! *laughs*
Meet Master Durron. I don't know why I'm infatuated with a character that doesn't exist. ^^

Well, it's not as bad as it sounds. All my fanfics include him. I don't know, he's the one Jedi in the entire Order who seems to always know what's going on and he knows how to deal with the situation, unlike Luke Skywalker and his followers.

I like him being a little aggressive. On the battlefield and elsewhere. LOL
Okay, I'm getting my mind out of the gutter. For the next few seconds that is.

I've always got my main fanfic done. Woot for me! My first lenghtly fic ever. I'm up to almost three hundred pages. That's most definately a first for me.

Anyway, enough fangirling! Off to bed with me!

*hopes to dream of Kyp*

Dark Hunters

I totally and completely love this picture. It's mysterious and he has beautiful lips, a straight perfect nose. All in all, a chiseled face. I imagine he has beautiful eyes as well and a wonderful body to go with it.

My imagination is running off with me. Still, he's a gorgeous guy, who ever he is. I found this pic on Photobucket. Amongst the other Dark Hunter pics. I'm guessing he's supposed to portray Talon, because of the Celtic armband. If it is indeed Celtic.

Dark Hunter and the Black Dagger Brotherhood. My drug. In the words of Edward Cullen "My personal brand of Heroine". Yeah, I finally watched Twilight. The book was so much better but I expected as much.

They cut out all the cute scenes between Bella and Edward. I honestly missed Bella's obsession with "Wuthering Heights". I might read the book again, once I get all my Star Wars books finished. I just bought a book this morning, called "Jedi Healer -- Med Star". I think it would be really interesting to read about a Jedi Healer, especially concerning fanfic.

I got done with an update just now. My ass hurts, I'm serious! It took me about four hours to get done, including notes. I'm almost finished with it -- my very first long story. Almost three hundred pages and a little over 130.000 words. I'm good, aren't I?

Now all I have to do is try and develop my own world. It's harder than it seems, specially if you don't want to steal or borrow from other genre's.

Anyway, I'm off to bed.
Good night world.

Friends -- The One With The Shorts

32 Leaves -- Way Beyond

Pic of the Day. The new Star Trek movie. Holy Crap, I am soooooooooooooo looking forward to this movie! Watch it, I'll turn into a Treckie again. You just wait and see. ^^


My head hurts. My tooth hurts. I'm a wreck today.
It's amazing how much a single tooth can annoy the hell out of you during the day.

How nice I feel no pain while sleeping.
I'll be heading to bed in the next few minutes. Listening to music and thinking over the last bits of my story before I fall asleep.

I wrote down some notes this afternoon. Six or seven pages worth of notes, I think. The end is near! FINALLY!!!!! I started this in April and hopefully I'll get it done my the end of December. Not necessarily posted but definately finished writing.

Next year begins the Dear Diary Challenge. I have this funny idea. I can hardly wait to start. ^^
And then the second part to "An Unlocked Soul". The strange part is, when I started the story, the title didn't make much sense. And now it really does.
I'll be really proud of myself if I finish this story and it'll all still make sense as a whole.

I want to call my Dad tomorrow or Sunday. I think I should make it into a once a week call. I think he might like that. And I really need to call Natica. I miss talking to her -- she always makes me laugh.

I sent out Jay's package today. I hope she likes her gift! A glas caligraphy pen, dark red ink and parchment. It might help with her RPG.

So...who's going to bake me some Kyp cookies? *smiles*
Or better yet, beam the real deal over like right now? ^^ Yeah, just kidding. Being stupid in the head, as ususal.

Good Night World.

Oh Well

It's early in the morning and I have yet to fall asleep. I feel like crap. I suppose it's just one of those days again.

Or maybe my yearly Christmas depression has kicked in a little earlier. *laughs*
You know how people usually ignore you throughout the year and when the Holiday Season begins, it's like you've been best friends your entire life? Maybe it's just me but it's overly annoying.

And majorly hypocricial, especially when it comes down to people you know for a fact can't stand your guts. Yeah, believe it or not -- there are people our there that don't like me!

Me! I'm the nicest person on the face of the planet and they don't like me!
Not that I mind. Since school I've been teased and rediculed because I think differently, because I dress differently, because I have a general different oppinion concerning a whole lot of things.
I don't need people to like me. Especially not by those people who claim to be something of a friend.

Seems they have a different definition of friendship than I do.

Isn't it strange? I'd rather "hang out" with my online friends than spend real life time with idiots from back home.

I can only stress the fact how glad I am that we moved.
If you want to become something more, if you want to grow in your life, you have to take a step. You have to a chance and use this chance for the better. You have to move upward to leave where you are.
It's sad how many people can't understand this. It really is.

Then there's New Year's Eve.
I've never been much of a party person. I hardly ever drink. Beer I find so disgusting that a single drop of the brew can make me vomit the entire night. If I do drink, I like the harder stuff. Tequila, Hennesey, Southern Comfort, various Alkopops as we Germans tend to say. A few Vodka mix drinks are okay, as well. I've tried a lot but I've never been drunk. Comes from the fact that I only try the stuff and never really drink it.

I think I'll stay home with my daughter this year. I didn't go out last year either, or the year before that. I'd be interested in going to our local castle and see what's going on up there but it supposed to be very crowded and dangerous, too. With fireworks going on, people don't pay attention.

So yeah, I'll stay home and work on my book that has yet to be written. I don't even have notes. Yay.
Great book, huh?!

I'll get it done, though. Once I finally have an idea that I want to stick with, once I've finally fallen in love with my own characters -- I'll get it done.

It's so much easier writing fanfiction. I write Star Wars fanfic mainly and my favorite character is Kyp Durron. I love this non-existing, sexy, yummy, hot Jedi Master so I adore writing about him. I can invent OC's like Nikk Vox and want him as my own for eternity! So how come it's so hard to create something completely new?

Pic of the Day:

It's my Desktop Pic. I love it. It's beautiful. Even though it's bloody but maybe that's the reason why I like it so much. Who knows?

My brain works in mysterious ways.

I'm about to burst...

Favorite pic of the day; look at those kissable lips! My personal favorite pic for Jag Fel, by the way. *swoons*



I ate way too much this evening. Asya cooked tonight and damned that woman can cook! You eat and eat and eat and even though your brain is telling your stomach that it's about to explode, you can't stop eating!
Yeah, so ugh.

I'm exhausted today. I slept about three hours last night. I watched a stupid German movie on TV, then read a little, listened to Star Wars audiobooks before falling asleep.

I got paid today so Christmas is saved. I already got André his gift and we're going to buy Lilly's presents tomorrow. Asya still needs something small and cute. I got Malika a book for Christmas. I used my personal birthday gift certificate to buy her the book. Am I not nice?

I have a few things to update tonight. And two more fics to read before I get to bed. *yawns* I haven't been this tired in a very, very long time.

Unknown to the World

André and I watched "The Day the Earth stood still" last night. He didn't like it too much but I enjoyed it. Although I have to admit, I'd really like to see a movie where mankind DOES NOT win or get what it wants. It would have served us right to be taught a lesson, even if it meant all out destruction. It is just a movie, after all.

All in all, the film was okay. I loved Keanu Reeve's role. I adore him as an actor anyway -- I like the mysteriousness he carries along with himself in almost every role. And that robot? Where can I get one?!

Because then, anyone who annoys me could get a yummy red blast of personal über-dimensional robot.

Today is Sunday so today will be boring. My downstairs neighbor annoyed the hell out of me yesterday. Why is it so hard to speak in a normal day-to-day volume? Especially with your kids. She yells a lot. My Mom did that too, when we were growing up hence my averstion to yelling and screaming.
And the name-calling! It's such a mediocre thing to do -- it shows me the person has no clue how to argue and resolves to primitive name calling to get her point over. Or not.
Not for the life of me would I EVER call my daughter names. EVER EVER.
It seems to be normal with them, though.

The Stalker hasn't been back! Great news, right?

I suppose I'll do some cleaning today. Maybe even find the will to write a few lines other than my blog. I need to get my stories done and finally plot out my own. I can't become the next famous writer without a decent story, right?
I have so many ideas in my head and I guess that's the problem. Because I don't where to start.
With the fanfics, it's easy. I've grown up with these characters and I love these characters. But starting off from the very beginning, creating everything new... it's harder than expected.
But I'll get it done. Eventually. ^^

And here -- my very favorite picture at the moment because it completely shows a scene from one my fics. *grins like a mad woman*

Meet Kyp and Liz. *laughs*
I borrowed the pic from "Blood Ties". I think I might need to watch a few more episodes of Henry Fitzroy biting necks and sucking blood. He is a cutie. *smiles*

Every Day Life -- the Non Stressful parts

It's cold outside. Brrrr! But isn't she cute? I'm amazed at how fast my little baby is growing.

See the ears? There's a little pink bow on one of them.

Little Sweetheart caught a cold, though. *sighs* She keeps getting sick. It doesn't surprise me with the weather and all but still, it makes me worry. The past two months have been hectic enough and I was really feeling like crap (still am actually) with a fever and one hell of a cough.
But that's life for you, isn't it? Nothing's ever easy and it always gets harder. Oh well. Suck it up and live with it. ^^

Lilly's discovered the wonder in drawing. She loves to draw and "write". Sometimes she comes up to me with a magazine and she "reads" to me. She sees me with a book almost every day and I think it's really important for kids to be reading. I love it when she talks! I could listen to her all day long. And Daddy loves to draw with her, too. They can lay on the floor for almost an hour playing around and talking to one another. It's soooo astounding how much she learns in such a short time.





Daddy with new ears! Lilly's socks. I was bored and I wanted to annoy him while he played XBox. Isn't he cute?

He's so much fun since he's been home.

Otherwise, life hasn't been too kind lately. In between the times I was healthy, André got sick. He lost 40 pounds in under four weeks and the Doctor's still haven't found a reason as to why. Now it's sit back and wait.
He might need an operation on his hand, too. Everytime he bumps it, it swells double the size. Again, it's wait and see.

And then with this strange kid Stalker Dude...*sighs* The Restraining Order is out so the Idiot can't come near the house anymore. And I am fed up with the topic in general. My neighbors keep bringing it up over and over and over again. Ugh!

Anyway, I feel like writing another vig. And I actually have an idea too! *smiles*

Memoirs of a Killer

Excerpt from The Memoirs Of Jedi Master Kyp Durron – the younger years

My first real memory is of my mother dragging me to see a Doctor. I might have been three or four years old at the time and I remember quite vividly that I did not want to see a Doctor.

Simply put, the man was scary. He was taller than my mother was, with a spotty baldhead and bushy white eyebrows. I think he meant his smile to seem reassuring but with yellow teeth and dry, cracked lips all he ever really accomplished was scare the crap out of me.

That day, I woke up with my ears itching and my throat burning like crazy. My mother had made my favorite breakfast and I was very angry that I could hardly swallow, let alone chew. I tried not to let it show but my mother had always been rather perceptive. She always knew when I lied to her, she always knew when my brother and I had done something we weren’t supposed to be doing.

This time she knew I wasn’t feeling too well. She shoved me into my room and helped me get dressed. I was a stubborn little kid at my age and every time she turned her back towards me, I would shrug off the last piece of clothing she had made me put on. Of course, she wasn’t happy with my behavior but I didn’t care. She was the one who wanted me to see the creepy Doctor!

In the end, I lost.

The waiting room was packed with coughing children and worried parents. I grabbed my mother’s hand while I looked at a little girl, whose face was puffy red. Maybe she was afraid of the Doctor, too. Who wouldn’t be, for that matter?

I don’t remember how long we had to wait – a few minutes, maybe even a few hours. When the nurse came in and called my name, I remember my heart acting up. It was the very first time in my life that I was truly afraid.

My mother grabbed my hand and literally pulled me into the Doctor’s office. I think I started to wail and scream, scratching at her hand for her to let go. Of course, she ignored my tantrum; she perfected ignoring me every time I behaved out of line.

The Doctor sat behind his desk and smiled when he saw me. Now, if my mother thought I was having a tantrum in the waiting room, this was a full-scale hurricane blowing in her face. I tried ripping free of her hold, screaming at the top of my lungs. She wouldn’t let me go of course so I let myself fall to my knees and crawled underneath her legs to get to freedom.

The idiot Doctor grabbed my ankles and yanked me back and I remember my fingers scratching along the tiled floor. I really didn’t like this man.
I gave up after a few more minutes of fighting. They sat me down on an exam table, a few machines flashing on at once, beeping at me. The colors were interesting but the sounds annoyed me. All I wanted to do was go home.

The Doctor brought out his instruments to look at me and every so often, he made a “hmpf” sound and nodded to himself. I kept looking to my mother and then back to the Doctor with the bushy eyebrows, wondering if he was speaking in a new language only grown-ups could understand.

“There’s a virus going around. Nothing serious.” The Doctor smiled at me and my eyes widened. How could a human have teeth so yellow? Then I noticed that his teeth had black spots and I vowed to always listen to my mother when she told me to brush my teeth.

“We’re just going to give you some medication and then you can go home.”

Well, wasn’t that a happy thought? But something told me not to trust the creepy Doctor, especially when he smiled like that.
The nurse left the room and came back a few minutes later with a small tray in her hands. I looked from her face to the tray and back again, wondering if she was serious.
All I saw was a needle. They’d lost their minds. There was no way I was going to let them stick me with a needle! I felt like I was zapped into one of those old holo movies. Where were the hyposprays?

“I need you to lie down on your tummy.” The Doctor said, snapping gloves onto his spotty hands. I jumped at the sound and swallowed when he took the syringe in his hand.
“Sweetheart, lay down.” My mom whispered.

“No.” I shook my head, “Uh-uh.”

“Honey –“

“You lay down! No!”

My mother knelt down before me and took my hands in hers, “I promise when this is over, you get to eat sweets all day long.”
It was a tempting offer but compared with a needle being shot through my skin she needed to offer a whole lot more. “I get to play with Zeth all day, too. And no school work today. And I get to watch a movie. And play holo games, too!”

For a moment, I thought my mother would say no but she smiled then and nodded, “Alright. But you have to lay down now.”
Reluctantly I did so, rolling onto my stomach and heaving a sigh. But then the creepy Doctor said the words every Doctor should be incarcerated for, “Don’t you worry, Kyp. This won’t hurt a bit.”

He rammed the needle into my left butt cheek – and he said it wouldn’t hurt? He not only scared me, he was a liar too.
This won’t hurt a bit, huh?

Yeah, well, it did.



When I turned six years old, my parents told us we would be moving to the capitol because the both of them had found better jobs. I didn’t really care. I didn’t have many friends – most children my age thought I was strange and usually left me to myself.

Zeth, on the other hand, threw one hell of a fit. Zeth was popular among his peers, leading on a group of young boys who got into trouble a whole lot. Our father wouldn’t have it though – he always knew when to say something and how to say it. There was no arguing with him when he was angry – Dad always got his way.
We started a new life with a new home, a new school and new friends. At least for Zeth. We had new neighbors as well. They seemed the average type but it was their daughter that caught my attention. It was the first time in my life that I developed a crush. She was beautiful.

The first time I saw her I was playing on the beach. I had gathered a few sticks and bound them together with leather cord, pretending to be flying an X-Wing. I ran up and down the shore, the water splashing my feet and legs. And then there was the little girl, sitting alone and staring out to sea.

I remember wanting to speak to her but usually when I befriended someone, after a while, they would just leave. Back then, I had no idea about the Force and I didn’t know that my gift was not an abomination. I don’t think I will ever forget the old man who once ran down the street, threatening to shove a stick up somewhere painful… That’s really not something you say to a kid.

I stood watching the little girl and when she turned her head and smiled, all I could do was gape at her. Her parents came and got her eventually and she waved at me before she entered her home.

The next few days I ran to the beach after school, always hoping to see her there. And there she was, sitting on the same spot every day. I knew she was waiting for me and I liked that.

This went on for weeks until they moved again. And throughout all this time, we never once spoke a word. To this day, I don’t even know her name.



There was a junkyard about an hour away from our house. After school – while my parents were still working – Zeth and I would hang out there. We would talk and play games until it grew dark and then we’d run home like crazy, hoping to get there before our parents arrived.

A few days after my seventh birthday, Zeth took me there saying he had a late gift for me. I was happy, of course. I loved receiving presents. My Mom had gotten a Rebel action figure for me, which I carried around with me for weeks until Zeth tore off its head.

Suffice it to say, I wasn’t happy.

The junkyard was eerily quiet when we arrived and I was anxious to know what Zeth had gotten for me. Every time I asked, he would simply smile. The strange glint in his dark eyes made me wary, though. Even though I loved my brother to death, there were times I didn’t trust him at all.

I knew he was up to something but curiosity overruled my common sense and I followed him.

He stopped at a large, silver dumpster and grinned at me. I remember vividly how he thrust his hands into his pockets and cleared his throat, “You’re present’s in there.”
“Nuh-uh.”

“It is. I swear it.”

“You’re lying again.”

“Why would I lie to you?”

“’Cuz you’re an idiot.”

Zeth shushed me and shook his head, “Trust me, alright? Now come here and jump in.”

He had to be crazy! There was no way I would jump into a garbage dumpster with my crazy brother standing next to it.
“It’s another one of those action figures.”

I gasped and dropped my schoolbag, running the next few meters before I really did jump into the dumpster. And he hadn’t been lying! There was the newest Rebel action figure.

“Thanks Ze –“

But then my stupid brother closed the top of the dumpster and locked me in for over three hours. The smell was disgusting – I kept gagging and tried my best to hold my nose and not breathe too much. Yelling for the idiot to let me out did me no good at all. All I heard was him laughing at me, taunting me because I had fallen for his trick yet again.

And why not? He was my older brother. You usually get to trust your siblings.

When Zeth let me out, it was already dark outside and I stunk. I thought about taking a dip in the ocean but then I’d have to explain to my Mom why I was wet. Glaring at Zeth, we made our way home, awaiting the storm when we entered the front door.

But there was no storm. In fact, our parents sat at the dinner table, huddled over data pads and talking in hush tones. They didn’t even look up when we entered and I made a silent escape to the fresher and then hurried to bed.

I look back to the first few years of my life with a smile, with laughter. My family means the world to me and wherever they are now, I hope they know this.
One year later, everything changed. The Empire came and took away everything I had ever cared for, I had ever loved.
My personal hellhole began the moment white armored Stormtroopers busted into our home…

End Excerpt

Blinded

Coruscant.
Like an animal hive, the planet is alive – Individuals, creatures of the dark, foliage surrounding broken buildings in the lower regions far below the market zone. Yet Coruscant feels strangely cold, like an icy wind piercing through bare skin. The planet is loud in his mind, a cacophony of voices and screams, shouts and laughter. He feels emotions that are not his own; love, hatred, fear, joy, pain.

Lassiter stands among the creatures that walk the surface. They ignore him for he is ordinary. To their untrained eyes, he is human. However, in reality, he is far from ever being human – from ever being humane.

Born as an unwanted soul, Lassiter changed into his enemy. He changed into the race of beings that had come to his planet and used his people for their own good, experimenting on their bodies to create soldiers bending to their will.

The experiments had not worked but left Lassiter and his brothers with powers no one had ever foreseen. Neither had anyone foreseen the scars. Running along his skin, running into his body, crossing his soul and penetrating his very being. Lassiter will never forget what humans have done to him.

In fact, Lassiter has left his home, has left everything he has ever known to seek out humans. However, to do so, he had to become one of them. Taut, pale skin with a touch of gold; silver hair shimmering in the sun; large, slightly slanted eyes the color of a vast ocean – an alien race condemned by a single act of violence by an institution called the Empire. Lassiter has given up his natural appearance to fit in – now, he is an attractive young man. Already he can feel women eying him curiously.

Depending on where they were, he can hear their thoughts. They sicken him. How dare they ogle him when it was their fault he was in this position in the first place? Lassiter closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He composes himself, forcing rage back into the dark pit within his soul. When the time was right, he would know and then he would strike.

He has no one particular in mind. The Empire is long gone, the men who had done this to him long dead. No one would ever notice but Lassiter is almost one hundred standard years old. Throughout all this time, the anger against the human race simmered until the need to break out was too great to be ignored.

Lassiter turns around and smiles at his reflection in a shop window. An inconspicuous blond man with a warming smile and laughing eyes. He still feels a woman watching him, intent on every move he makes.

If only she knew that soon she would be his reason for laughing.

Close My Eyes

Kyp braced both his hands against the balustrade, rivulets of sweat running down his bare torso. The sun sent warmth down upon his skin and yet he shivered, overcome by a coldness that the hottest fires of hell could not chase away.

His breathing eased as he concentrated on his surroundings, the Force showing him life in the nearby forests and within the Jedi temple. He could almost hear the younglings below in their classrooms, he could almost hear their groans at having to run another lap on the field – he could hear an exasperated Mara Jade cursing her ship in the hangar bay.

If he concentrated hard enough, everything seemed so clear to him. There was no grey, only black and white – a yes or not, a good and evil. Everything seemed so simple and yet, in the end, nothing ever was.

Kyp straightened up and took a deep breath, while gazing out to the green landscape that made up part of the planet Ossus. Mid day was beautiful – green grass with flowers blooming in wonderful bright colors; a cool breeze swept the treetops back and forth and he heard the rushing sound of water coming from the nearby river.
“Master Durron?” He turned to the small voice, surprised to see a young girl standing behind him. The doors towards the atrium were opened to just a slit – large enough for her to have squeezed through. She was tiny, barely reaching his hip but if his memory served him well, she was ten years old. A gifted Force adept, her specialty lay in telepathy and with that mouth of hers, she could talk anyone into giving up voluntarily. “You look sad.”

Kyp smiled at her worried look, wondering what he’d done to deserve this little one’s kindness. “I’m not.” He lied. “I was thinking, that’s all.”
She wrinkled his nose at him and her eyes hardened just a little. “You aren’t a very good liar, Master Durron.”

Kyp wondered what drove this girl to such assumptions – correct assumptions at that. She seemed to be an avid observer, the first to ever speak to him of his own emotions. Kyp took care that no one knew of his true thoughts; at a young age, he’d learned that keeping to himself was the safest path if he didn’t want to get hurt. It was a habit not easily shed.

“Shana, was there something you wanted?” Kyp asked in an even, low tone. He wasn’t in the mood to argue with a child that reminded him so much of himself. He hadn’t been tall when he was her age, a short scrawny little boy who had fought to live in the most dire of circumstances and situations. And while Shana had her Jedi family, he had had no one but himself.

I was a wayward child
With the weight of the world
That I held deep inside

Shana shook her head, golden locks jumping around her slender shoulders. “You looked sad and I wanted to cheer you up. That’s all.” With a little smile and a wave, she squeezed back through the glass doors. Before entering the atrium though, she turned back towards him and pressed her face against the cool, transparent surface. Her nose and mouth flattened against the glass – Kyp laughed at her quirkiness. She stuck her head through the slit and grinned at him. “See, I cheered you up.” She waved again before she left him with his thoughts.

Shana was truly a precious child. It seemed there was nothing in the world that could catch her off guard; to every situation she had a come-back remark and she loved to banter with the grown-ups, saying she needed to teach them how it’s like to be a kid. Because, unlike grown-ups, kids laughed, played and had fun.
Kyp leaned against the balustrade, staring at the stains Shana had left behind on the glass. She had so much to reach for, so many possibilities to grasp. He hoped that she would have an easy and simple life.

Lifting his dark eyes to the light blue sky, he took a deep breath. Thirty-five years to the day, his life had changed so drastically that even now, he sometimes awoke from nightmares. He had hoped that along the road, he’d find closure when it came to Kessel – by the Force, he’d seen more in his lifetime than anyone should ever see. Death and destruction, fighting an almost hopeless war, losing close friends he considered family…

The dreams revolved around Kessel. Sometimes he would see familiar faces, like Miko and Wurth, alongside him in the mines but he saw himself as a child. Always a helpless child trying to find its way out of the hell that had become his life.


Life was a winding road
And I learned many things
Little ones shouldn't know


Kyp pushed away from the balustrade and headed down a flight of stairs towards the training grounds. He heard the youngsters while they played a game on the field, watched as the older students went through a course of meditation. They looked like statues from where he stood, the majority of them not moving a single inch.
Except a young boy who, instead of listening to his instructions, sat down on the ground and made faces. Kyp smiled as he shook his head – there was always a troublemaker in each generation. It made teaching so much more fun and challenging.

Kyp hurried through the training course towards his own small quarters inside the temple. He could do with a long, warm shower and a decent meal before the council meeting that night. He grimaced at the thought – he just loved sitting around a table and talking politics with his fellow Jedi Knights. The best recreational activity he could think of!

He rolled his eyes as he entered the temple and hurried down the corridor towards the turbolift. His boots clicked lightly on the cold stone floor, the only sound in the hall. Stepping onto the lift, he leaned back and breathed a few times until the doors opened onto the level where his quarters were located. He greeted a few familiar faces on his way to his private sanctuary. Sparsely decorated, he felt comfortable here. There was nothing to distract him from his work, although sometimes he really didn’t know if this was a good thing or not.

Constantly being reminded that he was a Jedi Master, a fighter – a warrior – wasn’t always the best course of action, especially when he was in such a foul mood as he was now.

He’d hardly ever owned anything that meant something to him. If he had, someone would take it away from him. It started with a token of affection from an inmate or just a stone that resembled a figure from a fairy tale – the guards had taken everything from him, leaving him stripped from trinkets that might have brought a smile to his face.

Funny how one can learn
To grow numb to the madness
And block it away

Shrugging out of his clothes, Kyp walked into the fresher and started the shower. He stepped inside, reveling in the feel of cold pellets running down his back.
He hated this anniversary. Every year he forced himself to look back to what had happened, saddened that his life had began the way it had but joyful at what he’d become over the years.

He remembered bloodshed in the mines, remembered how a few inmates disappeared. Some had hoped they had found a way to escape and in the end they had – they had died, an escape that Kyp had found unacceptable, even as a young boy.

I left the worst unsaid
Let it all dissipate
And I try to forget

No matter what, Kyp would never give up. He wasn’t that kind of person. Sometimes he wished he could forget. But wasn’t that the same as giving up? Trying to eradicate the memories that make you what you are?

Life would have been nicer if things had gone differently, there was no doubt about it. And so life would go on, with these anniversaries hanging over his head every year, making him remember. Maybe remembering wasn’t even so bad.

After a long half hour, Kyp turned off the stream of water and grabbed a towel from a rack on the opposite wall. Tying it around his waist, he walked back into his rooms and lay down on his bed. He wished it were night. The dark was soothing to him. Even while still on Deyer, he loved the dark. He had loved staring at the star speckled sky, watching as clouds passed before the bright white moon.

But I closed my eyes
Steadied my feet on the ground
Raised my head to the sky
And though time's rolled by
Still I feel like that child
As I look at the moon
Maybe I grew up a little too soon

Sighing, Kyp toweled himself dry before slipping into his clothes. He left his hair open, after manhandling the strands with his white, fluffy towel and carelessly throwing it aside. Food was next on his agenda – he was starving. After a ten mile run through the undergrowth of Ossus, he usually always felt like he could eat half the food in the mess hall. Problem was, most of the stuff was hardly edible. He was picky when it came to his food, one habit he did not want to shed. Thankfully, when he arrived in the mess, he was mostly alone.

“You smell good.”

Kyp jumped as he felt someone poke him in the ribs. He whirled around and glared at Jaina Solo whose smile lit up her entire face. “Don’t do that.”
“Oh, come on. Be happy for a change. You’ve been brooding all day and it doesn’t suit you at all.” She pointed at his forehead. “You get wrinkles in all the wrong places, hence you look old.”

“Thank you for that compliment.”

“Seriously. Will you smile for me? Just for a second?”

He scowled and shoved past her, his stomach growling to be fed.

“For a micro second then?” Jaina said, catching up with him. “Just a tiny little lift of the lips. Like this.” She grinned at him, exaggerating her point, which made her look like she could eat a banana sideways.

Kyp rubbed at his brow and for the life of him, he didn’t know why the muscles around his mouth moved on their own accord. He found himself smiling at his long time friend, at the daughter of the man who had saved his life.

Nearing the edge
Oblivious, I almost
Fell right over

“See how easy that was?” Jaina asked, grabbing his arm. “You should do that more often – it’ll make you feel better.”
Kyp rolled his eyes and shrugged her hand off. “I feel just fine. Thanks.”

A part of me
Will never be quite able
To feel stable

“Liar.” Jaina scoffed. “But I will leave you in your delusional state of mind.” Again, she grabbed his arm and pulled him towards the buffet at the end of the mess hall. As he’d suspected, the food looked poisonous to him, rather than enjoyable.

“Will you stop killing the food with that look? It’s already dead. It wants to be eaten.”
“Poor food then, huh?” Kyp chuckled at Jaina’s perturbed look but in the end, he settled for a simple dish with a few fruits on the side. He followed Jaina to a table and sat down opposite her, watching as she stuffed her mouth with cake.

“Hungry, are we?” He asked with a raised brow. She smiled at him, while she chewed.
“Always. Especially with this cake. You should try it.”

“I’m fine. Thanks.”

Kyp laughed at her narrowed eyes. Her face lit up though as her mind finally realized her friend had laughed. He never laughed on this day! It would usually take her stupid remark after silly deed after stupid remark to at least get him to crack a tiny smile.

“Eat, you stupid man.” She said after swallowing, pretending her fork to be a weapon as she waved it in front of his face.
“Yes, Goddess. As you wish.” He winked at her, leaning back in his chair. Although life was never simple, although life always pushed at you and laid stones in your way, there was always a bright spot somewhere. Be it a person making you smile or a simple, unconditional act of kindness – anything to brighten up a dark, gloomy day – in the end, it seemed, everything did turn out alright.

As I close my eyes
Steady my feet on the ground
Raise my head to the sky
And though time rolls by
Still I feel like a child
As I look at the moon
Maybe I grew up a little too soon

The Shadow (2nd POV Exercise)

You look into a large marble basin of water, wanting to fling it across the room to let go of your rage for just a little while. And you ask yourself: What the hell am I doing here?
The answer is quite simple. You are forced to live the life of a nobleman because your father wills it so. Are you not man enough to stand up to your creator? Can you not show him who you really are? You feel the need to knock him around for once in your life; you feel the need to let your father know that there is more to you than just his woman-devouring son.
Yet you stare at your reflection with anger clouding your eyes and you fear him. Even after all these years, even after beginning your training as a Jedi Knight – you fear your father.
Now isn’t that kriffed up?
You step away from the basin and rake your hands through your hair, closing your eyes and fighting for a breath that will calm your nerves. The more you breathe, the more pictures assault your mind. You see yourself as a little boy wanting comfort from your parents. You’ve hurt your arm and you’re gushing blood on your fathers’ precious white stones in the foyer of their villa. Your nanny droid fetches the nurse but you don’t want the nurse’s comfort – you want your parents. Either one of them will do, you tell yourself. Yet deep down in your warm heart, you know that neither one of them will come.
The nurse tells you that your father is in a meeting and your mother has taken ill. Your mother is ill often in your young life and at one point you thought it was your fault because your father kept telling you what a naughty little boy you’ve been.
You stand in the foyer, screaming and crying because the pain is so great. You can barely feel your arm, barely feel your tears streaming down your chubby little face. You remember the crimson pool beneath your feet and you remember walking through it, conjuring up bloody footprints. The nurse forces you to hold still as she quickly examines your arm and then you’re heralded to the medical bay.
You remember your father coming to visit you while your arm still hurts. You expect him to smile, you expect him to hold you and comfort you but instead your dearest ever-loving father sneers at you. He complains about the mess you’ve made, he complains that the cleaning crew – including two new droids – are still busy cleaning up the blood you so carelessly spilled.
And this is the father you want to look up to? This is the man you are afraid of?
What the hell is wrong with you?
You leave the ancient fresher in the villa you’ve come back to visit. Your mother is ill again and she has asked for your presence. You love your mother – she means the universe to you because, even when you were scolded with your father’s so-called love, when your mother was well, she held you. Your mother sang to you and read you stories when you were a little boy. She drove back nightmares with a kind word and a loving gesture. Your mother is a kind soul at heart and she deserves nothing more than your complete loyalty and kindness in return.
Your mother’s chambers lay on the other end of the grand villa. You walk through the carpeted corridors, staring at the ancient paintings of your family heritage, at the large statuettes flanking the doors to your father’s study.
You stare at the large double doors and ask yourself if you should enter. He sits only a few feet away, the man that has managed to break you on so many levels. You have the chance to tell him what you think of him, to tell him how you feel. You have a choice to make.
Which will it be?
Which decision will you make? Will you turn your back on him again and let his shadow rule you for the rest of your life or will you finally be the man you think you are and pass through those doors to give the man calling himself your father a piece of your mind?
You listen to your heartbeat, counting in your mind, debating what to do. Why do you let fear cloud your judgment? Have the Jedi taught you nothing?
You remember the last time you came face to face with your father. The day he banned you from your home – the first time you ever had the guts to face him. You remember barging into the meeting room with a bloody torso and back. You had ventured to the village, after spending hours and hours in the ancient archives, skimming through old papers and heavy books. Treasures to your people. You remember an old leather bound volume with an ancient language you could hardly decipher. The symbols are beautiful to your eyes. You sully the book by ripping out a page about demons and you hurry into the village to find someone who would be willing to permanently ink your skin with the demon symbols.
When it was done, you sought your father. You showed him and his followers the son he had bred. A rebel Jedi trainee scarred with dark red demonic symbols. And why? Because you felt like it. Because in the height of juvenile stupidity you marred your body only to annoy your father. You remember laughing at him as he called his guards to escort his own son from the villa. And you never came back. Not until your mother begged for your presence because she had lost hope of ever recovering.
So what will it be? Will you face him?
You take a deep, quivering breath and step forward. Your sweaty palms touch the doorknobs and you push the double doors open. The study is dark and smells musty. A large desk stands in front of you, a small candle lit. Your father is not present.
You finally show courage and he messes it up by not being there to see it…tsk tsk…poor you.
You turn on your heel, your Jedi robe flapping in the air as you hurry down the corridor. You ignore the stares of your father’s working personnel as you hurry to your mother’s private chambers. You are angry with yourself and this anger fuels your need to see your father – you want to hurt him but you know that you can’t. Because you are not your father. You do not take pride in knowing that others cower before your feet. You are a decent human being and you are proud of being so.
But your father’s shadow will haunt you for the rest of your life if you do not face him.

Way Beyond

Panting, he felt free. As if he had finally broken the waters’ surface after diving for far too long, drowning in a murkiness of hatred and lies.

“Stay away from me.” His voice was hoarse as he spoke, shaking his head while leaning against the cold wall within the cell.

“I’m here to help you.”

“Stay away from me!” He bellowed, reaching up to grip at his hair. He hurt, everything hurt and it was his own fault. Because he had trusted the wrong person, believed the wrong person and what had it gotten him? An endless road of despair. No one trusted him; no one even believed his claims that the Jedi Master was indeed no Jedi at all. He was darkness incarnate, evil thousands of years old.

An evil the people had forgotten and so it was easy for him to resurface and begin anew what had failed so many decades and generations ago.

“Please…you must leave. I am unclean.” He leaned his head back and squeezed his eyes shut. His own voice whispered within his head, clear words meaning to wake him up and show him the way to salvation. It kept telling him not to give up, to grasp hope and grasp the hands of those who wanted to help him; those who wanted to show him the path he needed to tread to become the person he once was.

Did he even want to be that person again? He had learned so much in the past year, he had gained so much potential – would he really be able to relinquish all this after tasting what it was like to have power?

You must look back to who you are. The boy from Dantooine – the man from Coruscant.

“I am unclean. I do not deserve help.”

Suddenly it all occurred to me
Lost as I am
There’s breathing room
On both sides me

He felt a feather light touch on his knee and he jerked away, afraid that his dark soul might sully the person claiming to help him. Could he even trust her? The last time he had trusted, he had killed.

And you liked it. You enjoyed every second of it – you enjoyed watching life seep from your victims’ eyes, you enjoyed watching the blood spill from wounds you inflicted. You enjoy killing.

“No.” He whispered, shaking his head. “No. I am not a murderer.”

You pretend to be a good and decent person. You are not.

“He tricked me.” He hissed between clenched teeth, pressing his palms to his eyes. He wished only that the voices would stop.

“Who tricked you?” the woman asked, gently stroking his knee with her thumb. Her kindness baffled him. He was dirty, unworthy of her help!

Suddenly I came to be lost in my head
A victim of anxiety

“He claimed to be my Master. He claimed he would show me the way to enlightenment.”

“What Master are you talking about?”

He narrowed his eyes, “The Jedi Master.”

She cleared her throat and it was obvious she did not believe him. Who would? After everything the Master had done to him, who would ever dare believe him?

“Tell me about this Master of yours.”

“He is no longer.” He snarled at her, for the first time consciously looking at her. She was an elderly woman, with blond hair pulled from her a wrinkly yet kind face. Her dark eyes shone with sympathy and an understanding he could not begin to fathom. “He showed me great things.” He let himself smile but it quickly faded. “He showed me a world beyond my wildest dreams.”

Guide me way beyond this
Way beyond this world
Thought you would
Guide me way beyond this
Way beyond this world

He chuckled and ran a hand through his long blond hair. “It’s hard to explain in common words. The Force –“

“The Force?” the woman asked softly, arching her perfect brows.

“Surely you know of the Force. It is what gives a Jedi his power.”

“Of course I’ve heard of it. It is legendary.”

He scowled at the words. “The Force is not a legend. It is real. I can feel it coursing through my veins as we speak.”

The woman cleared her throat and he saw doubt in her face now, an unspeakable truth that he was indeed insane. Surely he wasn’t! Not all this could have only been a dream!

“Tell me more about your Master.”

“He showed me evil and he showed me good. Things that I had not dreamed of before. I wanted to believe that I was doing good, cleansing the universe of demons and vile monsters. He taught me to use my anger and hatred to fuel the power within me.” His voice grew quiet as he closed his eyes, remembering the rampage and the blood. The needless killings…

“He lied to me. He damaged me.”

You taught me to face what I’ve never seen
Then you let me lie (It’s all been a game)
You taught me to hate above everything
Then you sold me lies (You’re not what you seem)
I’m trying to erase what you’ve done to me

The woman smiled sadly. “Damaged you how?”

“I have nightmares of killing the innocents. He said they were evil, they were following the Dark Side. He played with my mind and he used me because he couldn’t do it himself.”

“Why couldn’t he do it himself?”

“Because he doesn’t exist as flesh and blood.”

The woman looked away but not fast enough – he saw in her eyes what everyone else thought of him. That he was crazy. But he wasn’t crazy! “He came to me and he recruited me. And now he’s out to find someone else.”

“Does this Master have a name?”

He shook his head. “He never told me his name.”

The woman sighed and got to her feet, grabbing a chart from the floor. “I am sorry.” She whispered. “I am not the only one who must evaluate your case. There will be a hearing in two days time. Your fate will be decided then.”

He lowered his head between his knees and held his peace. What other choice did he have but to wait? Wait while others, who believed nothing of his story, decided if he were to live or die.

He had killed in the name of his Master – but no one had ever seen his Master. Nor had it been proven that he could indeed wield this Force.

The Force and the Jedi were a myth told to children before they were tucked into bed. Had the Jedi ever existed, they were extinct – so was the common knowledge of them.

His crimes could never be forgiven. His hands were red with innocent blood.

“You must not give up hope.” The woman whispered. “There are some of us who still believe in the old ways. Never give up hope.”

She turned on her heel and rapped on the cold, metal door. It swung open loudly, slamming closed and echoing within the enclosed space that he had called his home for the past few months. How long he would be locked up in this small cell, he didn’t know.

It might only be days, maybe weeks, maybe months – perhaps even years.

The common government did not care for the crazed. Lock them up and throw away the key, that was their overall motto.

So he sat back against the cold wall and waited.

If he were lucky, perhaps his Master would return and show him the way…