Shadows and Dust

ramblings of an angst-ridden writer

Fri, 11 Apr 2008 00:58:01 GMT

Writer's block is phenomenally bitchy in the sense that it comes, and then goes, at the most inopportune times.

Like, when I actually HAVE time to write [e.g. during breaks, etc.], it's on me like a cat on tuna.

And when it decides to slink away and leave me brimful of ideas about what to do with the rest of Undercover, I'm in the middle of exam revision mode and hence, should be spending most of my time *studying*, instead of mucking about writing fanfiction.

*sigh*

WB, I will never understand you.

But, at least I managed to twist the plot of Undercover around to something, I believe, much grander and more sophisticated than its humble predecessors. This is now the FIFTH version of the plot that I've thought up, and it is so radically different from every other version that I'd thought up. I'm glad I didn't include too much foreshadowing in the earlier chapters, otherwise I would have royally screwed myself over. Yup

Now, if only Conquest would come along half as easily...

since i doubt i'll ever turn this into a full-length fic...

Fri, 26 Oct 2007 22:30:49 GMT

Something I wrote over the summer, even before I started writing Literary.

I loved writing it at the time but then ran out of steam. Still, I didn't want to waste it, so:

Unfinished Business - the first chapter of an unwritten epic... [geez, I'm modest *eyeroll*]

Summary: Before that night, they were strangers. But after Syaoran rescues a dying Sakura and gives her a new lease on life, they develop a strange bond. Why? Because the same person ruined both of their lives, and now they want revenge. Bound by retribution, their relationship is centred on trust, honesty and support. Is there any room for love, or was it always there to begin with?

Chapter One: Salvation

Blinding. Deafening. Suffocating.

The courtroom with its oaken-panelled walls. The prosecutor, staring at me with accusing eyes. The judge listening, his face impassive and the gavel lying idly by his fingers...

The myriad whirls and gyrates faster. Senses intertwine into one. The judge's voice, echoing in my head. The syringe depressing into my arm, releasing the curiously burning sedative into my veins. A voice I recognize as my own, screaming so loudly I can hear it crack...

And the pain accumulates so much, everything is fading away to nothing. The buzz of electric waves travelling across my chest, in my fingers, down my spine...

They say they're trying to cure me, but deep down, I know he wants me dead. Him, with his silver eyes downcast and his hand on the lever, controlling the voltage. He's not supposed to be here.

He's not my doctor.

And I'm not crazy.

The needle, hovering at eighty-five when it shouldn't have exceeded fifty...

“Sakura Kinomoto has been declared mentally ill. The case will be adjourned until the defendant has been stabilized...”

His merciless hand is still on the lever.

And I loved him so much...

There's too much pain. I think I feel my spine snap.

Oh God, everything's going black.

----

I've been hovering in this blackness for an eternity, it seems. It's restful. Relaxing. I don't feel any pain. I don't have to remember anything. No more jail food or torture or medicine for insane patients. I'll never have to see his face again and remember how I've been betrayed and used and almost killed.

Here, the sun never sets, the day never breaks, and time never passes. It's as if I'm in a standstill, with my mind wiped clean of its ugly thoughts and separated from my beaten, broken body. I don't know where I am. I don't know what's happening outside. I don't even know if I'm alive or dead.

I like this feeling. That is, until I feel my heart beating again. Warming me up.

I never realized how cold it is in here.

Blood is flowing through my veins. Electrical pulses flit through my nerves. Slowly, I can feel things again. My dry, taut skin. My parched, thirsty mouth. My swollen, cracked lips...

This is probably what a vegetable feels like. Alive only enough to sustain itself. To take in water and food. To repair and grow. To breathe.

This is my vegetative, sedimentary life.

And I'm happy with it.

Until my heart starts beating faster.

And it gets too warm in here.

Feelings return. Memories commence to rage. And somewhere, deep within me, a hurt so intense fuels the need to live again.

I've been hovering on the brink of life and death for so long, I've forgotten what it means to live and what it means to die.

But I know what I want. I want liberation. Salvation. Gratification for my ravaged soul.

I can't get this by dying. Because I still have unfinished business.

I don't know how much life I have in me to continue this. I need to change myself. There's no room for the old Sakura in the life I choose for myself.

With this thought reigning in my mind, and the thirst for revenge consuming my entire being, I open my eyes.

And I thank God that his face is the first thing I see.

----

I reflect on this irony as I blink and stare, solemn amber eyes slowly coming into focus.

One man, responsible for my destruction. His face was the last thing I saw before I died.

And another, responsible for my resurrection. His face, the first thing I see as I am reborn.

Thoughts connect to senses. I am conscious, aware of my surroundings. Like an infant, I see, but I do not understand. But as a child is drawn to its mother, the first face it recognizes, likewise I form an instant attraction to this face.

He has a nice face, I decide instantly. I'm especially drawn to his eyes. Those liquid pools of amber. They're alluring, trustworthy...staring deep into mine, as if searching for a soul amidst my twin emerald orbs. They're the first part of his face that I recognize and I know deep within me, these eyes will never lie to me.

The rest of his face is just as...oh God, there's no word to describe it. Beautiful? No, that makes him sound like a painting. Angelic? But he's no angel, he's definitely human.

Strong. Everything about his appearance speaks of strength. This man is strong. I see it in his chiselled features: the straight nose, the firm-set mouth, the strong jaw...

I don't think I have the capacity to love anymore. I've lost too much of myself struggling for life amidst death. But if I could, I think I would love that face. Those eyes...

Oh, I know he's not my mother. Or my father. So I don't regard him as a parent.

He's a shelter, I realize. My shelter. My protector.

He's no stranger. He is my saviour.

----

The world comes back into view. I learn faster than any child born. Within minutes, I can recall all that I had learned in my previous life. My mouth opens and closes, gasping for air. A small distance away, I see those amber eyes grow alert. One of my hands is enclosed in his. He's so warm...

I'm trying to find my voice. Trying to say something. Anything.

“Who...?” I manage to force out. My voice is weak. Hoarse. A scarce wisp of sound that barely carries to my own ears.

But he hears me. His head snaps to attention as he peers into my face, seeing awareness in my eyes. He tightens his grip on my hand.

I try to speak again.

“Who...are you?” I stutter, my voice coming stronger but still hoarse. Maybe it's because I'm so thirsty, or because I haven't spoken for such a long time, or because that day I died I screamed so loudly I cracked a vocal chord. I don't know.

His face relaxes and then his hands let go of mine.

“A friend,” he says, and I love the sound of his voice. Deep and warm, and so comforting...

I'm satisfied with his answer. For now. I can't process any more information at the moment, otherwise my head just might explode.

“Your spine nearly fractured,” he speaks. “But other than that, you're more or less intact.”

I would snort if I had enough strength. Intact? This is intact?

He sees the sceptical look in my eyes and immediately corrects himself.

“Physically,” he amends, his eyes softening as I feel less lost and more calm. “I can only imagine what you must be going through internally.”

His voice is gentle. I can feel my eyes burning. After spending such a long time in hell, where no one, not even my would-be husband, treated me like something human...this abrupt return to kindness and compassion is enough to bring tears to my eyes.

But I don't cry. I won't cry. Tears are a thing of the past. And my past is nothing more than a bad memory. I'm reborn. Rejuvenated. I'm not the same person I was before I died.

And I'm not going to cry. Because I'm strong and because I don't have anything left to cry over.

My amber-eyed angel leaves my bedside for a moment as a doctor comes and alters my medication. I wince slightly as he jiggles the IV. It's only a needle embedded halfway up my arm. How painful can it be?

The anasthaesia is losing its effect too. I don't want it, at any rate. I want the pain to overwhelm me again. Because it feels good, to remember how all the people I loved in my past had betrayed me and tried to kill me, and then know that I had survived. It makes me feel strong.

And as long as I have wounds on my soul, I want to keep scratching them. Keep feeling them bleed. I want to savour this pain because it enrages me and makes me strong. I want to anger myself to the point of retaliation. I want to strengthen myself to the point where I return to those people in my past every token of pain and humiliation that they bestowed upon me.

Across the room, my saviour is staring into my eyes, and I'm staring into his. Not a word passes from his lips, and not a twitch changes the expression on my face. Yet...we read each other. Understand each other. I know that he knows about every single feeling running through my veins. I know he understands that my thirst for revenge needs quenching.

I also know that he wants to help me sate this desire. But how, I have no idea...

[/drabble]

I liked the story idea for it a lot, but somehow, the plot never seemed to develop much. Plus, whatever little I had, I kind of recycled into Undercover's reposting. So right now, I have a first chapter with no story. -_-"

My attempts at writing the next chapter of Undercover seem to be marred by my growing obsession with French music and the approach of NaNoWriMo. Hum. Maybe I'll just change the names of the characters and continue writing Undercover? Or maybe start something new altogether? Either way I have no hope or interest in finishing the challenge this year, considering I already proved it to myself last year. Maybe I'll prove something else to myself, that as a writer, I can finish something that I started years ago? Or more recently?

Oh, for want of time! :O

literary

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 21:11:57 GMT

Part II of the Prologue [as it was too large to be posted under one entry]

Prologue...Part II

She managed to save her tears until she reached her bedroom. Once she locked herself safely behind her door and closed the drapes around her windows, she flung herself onto her bed and sobbed uncontrollably into her pillow.

Kero watched Sakura sadly.

“Do you want to talk?” he asked, uncharacteristically serious as her sobs subsided into hesitant little sniffles.

She shook her head, wiping her eyes with the back of her palm.

“Not really,” she said, pulling a face. She swung herself into a sitting position and glanced around her room. It already felt so boring without Syaoran here!

“Maybe you should do something to take your mind off of Sy – him,” Kero suggested innocently.

“Like what?” she asked, tilting her head back to stare at the ceiling.

“Um -” Kero paused, trying to think of something. “Do something ridiculous like...uh...” Skinny dipping? No. Singing karaoke? ...definitely not. Movie making? No, Tomoyo's camera isn't with her...

“Writing fanfiction!” he burst out.

His words hovered on the air.

Where'd that come from? Kero asked himself, scratching his head with his right paw.

Sakura's blank look transformed into an incredulous stare.

“Yeah right!” she snorted. “Thanks for the idea though.”

“No, no!” Kero said desperately, trying to convince her although he didn't really know what he was talking about. “Writing fanfiction is...awesome. You get to borrow your favourite characters from your favourite books and movies and stuff, and then you get to make them do funny things, and change around the endings, and even just change the whole storyline altogether! Plus, random people all over the world can read your stories and they even leave you reviews and -”

He paused in mid-rant as Sakura gazed at him, goggle-eyed.

“I'm not making this sound very appealling, am I?” he asked dryly.

Sakura shook her head, giggling a little.

“No, but you cheered me up,” she said with a small smile. “Thanks, Kero.”

“Ah...no problem,” Kero said, relieved. He didn't know what was getting into him lately. Fanfiction writing. He couldn't imagine Sakura being one of those crazed, obsessive, cyberspace authors. Just the thought of it made him laugh. Fanfiction. What a truly ridiculous pastime.

“Maybe you could get the Cards out,” he suggested. “I'm sure some of them are getting bored, being locked up all day. Why don't you take one of them out for a walk or something?”

Sakura gave him a stern glare.

“The Cards aren't my pets, Kero,” she said reproachfully. “You know that.”

“Ah...” Kero said, wincing a little When Sakura was depressed, it threw him off. He didn't know what to say or think anymore...

I know! He thought, eyes lighting up. I'll make her a nice big cake. That'll cheer her up for sure! Forget karaoke and movie making and fanfiction and all that crazy stuff. Chocolate's the way to go!

“I'll be right back,” Kero said, getting up and making his way to the door. “Oh, and don't do anything ridiculous while I'm gone.”

“Like write fanfiction?” Sakura teased, and Kero disappeared with a nervous giggle.

Sakura shook her head, smiling to herself. Kero and his ideas! Okay, sometimes he got a little bit farfetched, but fanfiction?

...

Actually, she thought to herself, I don't think that's too bad at all.

She glanced sadly at the framed picture propped upright on her bedstand. It was of her and Syaoran, taken just two weeks ago. Syaoran had invited them over to his mansion, and he, Sakura, Tomoyo, Eriol and Meiling spent the entire afternoon in his giant basement watching movies on his enormous home theatre. Tomoyo had snapped a picture of the two right in the middle of the first Lord of the Rings movie. A giant troll had just appeared out of nowhere, and Sakura had screamed and grabbed the closest thing to her, which in that case happened to be Syaoran. Seconds later...snap! Bright white flashing lights.

Sakura smiled wistfully at the identical shocked expressions on her and Syaoran. What a happy time. The best part had been when Tomoyo had snapped a picture of them laughing together after recovering from the double shock of the big ugly troll, and then Tomoyo's camera. Sakura loved that picture. Syaoran had kept that one. Maybe he'd keep it by his bedstand in Hong Kong and stare at it every night, wishing he was in Tomoeda...

Kero's right, she thought to herself suddenly. You need to do something. How about fanfiction? It's probably ridiculous enough to get my mind off of all this.

With that thought in her mind, she got out of her bed and seated herself in front of the desktop in her room. She was glad that she had closed the drapes, because her window had a perfect view of the mansion where Syaoran used to live. She giggled, remembering the times she'd be awake in the middle of the night and so would Syaoran, and they'd communicate by flicking their light switches on and off -

She abruptly opened up an Internet browser, and got to a search engine.

Now, she thought to herself, where's a good fanfiction site?

She typed in her query and her mouse found thousands of results. She scanned the page, her eyes hitting a number.

804 567 results found.

Wow, Sakura thought to herself. A lot of people out there write fanfiction. I guess I'm not the only crazy one here for wanting to write.

She began to search through the pages, not knowing what she was looking for, but searching nonetheless.

A homely looking site loaded onto her screen. The header read, The Fanfiction Corner.

There were nearly 6 million authors registered on that site, writing under almost a million different works. Sakura's jaw dropped as she saw the titles of familiar books, movies, TV shows, video games...

This is insane, she thought to herself. There must be a fanfiction out for every media piece released!

And curious words jumped out at her. Canon, fanon, fluff, ship, AU, Mary Sue, OC, R&R...

Okay, Sakura told herself. Fanfiction is crazier than I am.

It was like learning a different language. Being part of a completely different world. And she welcomed the change. It was in fact, as Kero had suggested, enough to get her mind off of her previous depression.

Sakura didn't have to think twice before opening up an empty Word document and typing away at something. She didn't care if it was badly written or not. All she knew was that the pain inside of her needed to come out, and this was an excellent way of doing it. She wrote about partings and endings and friends who could never see each other again. She wrote it entirely in the first person perspective. And of course, she chose to write in the Lord of the Rings fandom, simply because of the memories the movies brought her. As she finished her first chapter (barely five hundred words long), she turned around to face the picture of herself and Syaoran, and gave it a very small smile.

“Wish me luck,” she said to the terrified-looking Syaoran in the picture before signing up for an account at Fanfiction Corner. She chose her penname as Cherry Blossom, the English translation of her name. Her account was made, she uploaded her first chapter onto the site and set about making her first story.

She titled it The Parting of Ways and within moments, it was published. One of the forty thousand fanfictions based on Lord of the Rings. She wondered if anyone would read it or post a review.

To her annoyance, she saw that, in her hurry to create an account, she had typoed her penname. She was not Cherry Blossom. Instead, she was Cheery Blossom.

She groaned, burying her head into her arms. Well, Cheery Blossom was better than nothing at all. Besides, penname Cherry Blossom was already taken, she observed.

...she still couldn't believe she'd followed Kero's advice and gotten into fanfiction. And what was worse, she was actually enjoying herself.

This was getting addicting.

“Ta-da!” Kero sang, pushing the door open. “Feast your eyes on this!”

Sakura whirled around in her chair. Her eyes went perfectly round as she saw the gigantic, three-tiered cake he had baked for her. A masterpiece of chocolate, whipped cream and glazed strawberries. Piped icing spelled the words, Feel better soon, Sakura.

Sakura's face split into a grin as she ran from her desk to grab the cake, placed it carefully on her desk, and then grab Kero in her arms.

“Aww,” she said, squeezing him tightly. “You're so sweet. Did you know that?”

Kero felt himself turning purple.

“That's – that's nice -” he gasped, choking. “You can let go of me now!”

Sakura promptly let go of him with an “oh! Right!” and a murmured stream of apologies. The two of them then proceeded to work their way through the giant cake, which was absolutely delicious.

“Oh yum,” Sakura said happily. “I'm going to be so sick tomorrow...”

“It's worth every bite,” Kero said dramatically, popping a giant slice into his mouth and chewing slowly with his eyes closed.

“Anyway,” he said after swallowing, “what were you doing all this time? You're in such a good mood now.”

Sakura grinned at him.

“Writing fanfiction,” she said brightly.

Kero fell onto the ground in disbelief.

The next day, Sakura scrambled to her computer and checked her story on the Fanfiction Corner. Her eyes flitted across her stats.

17 hits. 1 review.

Sakura's face lit up.

“Hey Kero!” she said, her face splitting into a wide grin. “Someone actually reviewed!”

Kero grunted before perching on her shoulder.

“I still can't believe you actually started writing -” he began, but Sakura cut him off with an innocent blink.

“I think the only reason I did it was because you told me not to,” she replied and chuckled to herself.

Kero opened his mouth to retort and then realized what he was seeing. Here was Sakura, smiling and laughing to herself. Being her normal cheery self. And if it was all because of this fanfiction stuff, then maybe it couldn't be too bad that she'd started writing.

As long as it kept her mind off the Syaoran kid...

“Ha ha, very funny,” Kero grunted noncommitally. “So what did your reviewer write?”

Sakura clicked on the button and the review appeared. It was posted by Leader of Plums, whoever that was.

She read it eagerly.

Overall it was good. You need to check your grammar at times. But I liked your characters, they were really realistic.

Not bad for a first attempt though. If you keep writing, I think you can become a really good author.

Kero read the comments over Sakura's shoulder.

“That wasn't too bad,” he said. “They said you could be a really good author.”

“Yeah...” Sakura trailed off, eyes scanning the review as if trying to memorize it. It was nice of Leader of Plums to give criticism. Even if it hurt a bit.

“Well, I guess I'll have to work more on my grammar,” she said lightly, closing the browser. She got up from her desk and flopped back onto her bed, staring at the picture of her and Syaoran.

He'd sent her a quick email the night before, true to his word. And she'd sent a reply. Now she was just waiting for him to write back. She didn't know when he'd send another one back. He said that he was already so busy with training, he barely had time to write to her.

Sakura sighed. What was a girl to do in the meantime?

She gazed at her computer screen. A small smile flitted across her face.

Time to start chapter two...

[/prologue]

Cheers!

-Celestiana

literary!

Tue, 10 Jul 2007 21:10:05 GMT

Published on FF.Net the 10th of July, 2007.

Prologue...[part I]

It was a warm summer afternoon in Tomoeda, Japan. It would have been a perfect day to go out and buy ice creams, ten-year-old Sakura thought to herself sadly.

But no. Instead, she was at the airport, watching teary-eyed as a boy of about her age hauled his last suitcase onto the conveyor belt. He turned around to face her tear-stained face, an apologetic look on his face.

“Look, don't cry -” he began, but that just set her off. She began to bawl and sob and hiccup in that little-girl way of hers, and he winced as people looked at her curiously.

“Sakura-chan,” he muttered, his face going red. “People are staring at you like you're weird. Please don't cry.”

Sakura sniffed once or twice before obediently falling silent.

“I just can't believe it...” she said, her voice shaking. “You're leaving me and going away.”

“I'm not leaving you!” Syaoran's hands shot out to grab her shoulders. His wide amber eyes, too big on his childish pudding of a face, were intense as he stared at her. “I'm going to Hong Kong to train. For a few years.”

“Years?!” Sakura was taken aback. Such a long time?

“They'll go by like that.” Syaoran snapped his fingers to prove his point. “Trust me.”

She sniffled again.

“It's too long,” she said, her bottom lip trembling alarmingly again. “I don't want to never see you again -”

A fresh bout of tears escaped from her eyes. She wrapped her arms around her best friend and cried into his shoulder. He stood there looking stunned for a moment before he patted the top of her head awkwardly.

“Stop acting like a baby,” he said, which made her cry even harder. “You're going to have plenty to do in the next few years. You have to take care of Kero. You have to watch after the Sakura Cards. You're going to have to study like mad so that when I get back here, you can beat me in our next maths test.”

He grinned at her, pulling her off of him and holding her at arms' length.

“Come on, stop crying,” he said, more gently. “For me. Please?”

And Sakura could never refuse him. Because though they had only known each other for a little over a year, they were best friends. Friends in a way that even she and Tomoyo couldn't match. It was a glorious giving and taking of childhood innocence that gave birth to a relationship unable to be described in words.

She took a good look at him, trying to memorize every last detail. The round face, already starting to mature, though he was only ten years old. She could see the jaw and cheekbones growing more prominent. His nose, still too small for his face. His tiny mouth. His cheeks, which were now dusted with a faint red blush. God, he looked adorable when he blushed like that. And his eyes. His giant amber eyes that seemed far too big for his face. Amber, warm, lined with curiously effeminate eyelashes...

What would he look like when she saw him next, she wondered?

He scrutinized her carefully too, making a picture of her in his mind. Even though he didn't have to, because there was a picture of the two of them safely tucked away in his suitcase. But still, he made sure he remembered the pale white face, the soft dusting of freckles, the full pink lips...Her fine hair the shade of honey, cropped boyishly short. Her sparkling green eyes.

He didn't even want to think about what she would look like in a few years. He couldn't imagine her different. He didn't want her to be different. He wanted her to stay as the Sakura he'd befriended. Always cheerful, always carefree, always ready to pull a reluctant smile from his shy face.

Syaoran's guardian, Wei, interrupted them by gently placing a hand on Syaoran's shoulder.

“My apologies, young master,” he said in his deep voice, “but it is time we boarded.”

Syaoran's face darkened as he nodded quickly. Sakura had begun to tremble, though her eyes were thankfully dry. She hugged him to her in a last goodbye embrace.

“You'll write to me, right?” she asked quickly, to stop herself from crying again.

“Of course,” Syaoran assured her. “You gave me your address and phone number, I have it written down. We'll keep in touch. Phone calls, letters, emails...it'll be as though I haven't gone anywhere.”

“Write to me when you get there,” Sakura pleaded, not wanting to let him go.

“The moment I set foot into my house,” Syaoran said, fighting a grin. “Sakura, I really have to go or I'll miss my flight!”

Sakura was tempted to keep Syaoran by her side so that he would miss his flight. Then he wouldn't have to go to Hong Kong and leave her alone. But that wouldn't work, she thought with a frown. His mother in Hong Kong would probably get mad at him and at her, and just send Syaoran another plane ticket.

Feeling a part of her go numb, she let go of Syaoran. Face falling, he turned around and followed Wei to the door on the other side of the room. He was getting smaller and smaller...she could barely see him...

“Wait!” she cried, slipping and dashing to where Syaoran stood, just about to cross into the other room. She grabbed her knees and panted, while Syaoran looked at her, pain in his eyes.

Sakura ran her fingers through her hair and pulled one of her hairclips out. It was a pretty amber comb, with a curiously real-looking fabric blossom attached to it.

She pressed it into Syaoran's hand.

He glanced at it, dumbfounded.

“It's a cherry blossom,” he said.

“To remember me by,” she said simply.

They stared into each other's eyes for a moment. Neither of them pointed out the sheer and utter uselessness of her giving Syaoran a woman's hairclip.

“I'll come back,” Syaoran said decisively, his fist closing tightly around Sakura's keepsake. “For you. I promise.”

Sakura nodded, her eyes brimming once again.

“And I'll wait for you,” she whispered. “No matter how long you take.”

Syaoran felt his own eyes prickle dangerously before turning around for the last time. Sakura stood there, tears streaming down her cheeks, watching the back of Syaoran's head grow smaller and smaller into the distance. Until he disappeared and she couldn't see him at all.

[/prologue]

Click here to go to part II of the Prologue.

Cheers!

-Celestiana

literary - another preview

Sat, 07 Jul 2007 16:41:57 GMT

Excerpts from the Prologue...