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…