Howl’s Moving Castle AMV

Another AMV! Wooh! I’m getting this down. This one is for Howl’s Moving Castle the very awesome Studio Ghibli 2004 movie which I love forever and forever. The song is Cosmic Love by Florence + the Machine, This song has been on my playlist ever since I heard it on another AMV that was for Katanagatari. (Good show BTW)

Without further ado:

First Line #11

Ooh, two posts within a week something interesting is going on. Not really, but I did write this story and I happen to really like it so before I forget I decided to put it up now.

The story is a first line that I did in my creative writing class and is part of the competition hosted by thefirstline.com

I actually decided to put some effort into this one and wrote this in my usual style of randomness. So we got a good story with an extreme twist at the end.

Title: The Visitor

George pressed the call button and said, “Mrs. Whitfield, you have a visitor.”

Though Mrs.Whitfield has no inkling as to who her visitor might be she accepts him none the less with a single buzz as a reply back. The man who wears a pair of khaki’s, held up by black suspenders, and a white button up shirt tucked in (an outfit that is, while stylish, completely out-of-date) slips past George on silent loafered feet.

After the man disappears from his sight George soon forgets that he was ever there to begin with, he only has the faint impression of the bell above the door having been rung as if someone had in fact entered the apartment building, but it’s only faint and he chalks it up to his imagination. He returns to his unending game of solitaire while Mrs. Whitfield receives her visitor.

Mrs. Whitfield is an old lady whose husband had actually died last year, but she had never gotten out of the habit of being a ‘Mrs.’ so the title never changed despite becoming a widow. The apartment that she lives in holds echoes of her previous life, the one before she grew old and alone. Along the mantle our sporting shots of her and her late husband, much younger and holding the arrogance of youth in their eyes as the camera immortalizes them in each daring escapade that they dared to venture on. Nestled in between these old memories are the cherished photos of children, grandchildren, and great children.

While Mrs. Whitfield loves these pictures and the children themselves dearly she held the old fashioned opinion that many of her generation might, that she was perhaps not old enough to have great grandchildren yet, but she’d wave the thought away as soon as it come with a sigh and just murmur to herself: “That’s just the way it is now, I guess.” and she’d turn away from the mantle to go find something else to occupy her time.

The apartment isn’t large. It’s a simple one bedroom, one bathroom, with a small kitchen and living room. Mrs. Whitfield doesn’t require much space especially since it is only just her now. Mrs. Whitfield when not reminiscing on old memories or thinking about her children she can often be found sitting in her chair in the living room with a radio on the small stand beside it playing NPR while she knits various things. Her most recent work happens to be a blue and green baby blanket for one of the aforementioned great grandchildren.

This is where she had been before being told about her visitor. At first Mrs. Whitfield had thought that maybe it was one of her children, but had crossed out the notion upon thinking that one of her children would have called first before in advance so she could be prepared because Mrs. Whitfield did like to be prepared for such matters. Unless of course something had happened and there had been no time to give her advance call. This worried her so to soothe herself she said, “It’s probably just a salesman.” And it if is a salesman she thinks, she hopes that it’s a bible salesman because she is in particular need of a new bible.

When finally the knocking arrives Mrs. Whitfield answers it with what she perceives as a graceful and welcoming smile. Her visitor steps into her living room and while he is doing this Mrs. Whitfield has the impression that she is taking a step back in time for his outfit brings back many memories from her childhood. The years where people dressed respectable and held high regard towards acceptable and fanciful fashion.

The man looks down at the old woman with his own warm smile.

“How do you do?” He asks like a try dapper gentlemen and then continues on without waiting for a reply, “I’m Death and I’m here to take you to see your husband.”

Mrs. Whitfield’s smile fades, “Oh,” she replies in an understandably shocked manner, “I thought you might be a bible salesman.”

Eve & Adam by Michael Grant

In creative writing class today I had an assignment that was to create a poem that was also a review. The review could be of anything from past relationships to movies, but I immediately went to book review and I decided to do a little bit of cheating, so instead of doing an actual book review I’m just going to put up this poem.

~

Review of a book

Eve&Adam by Micael Grant

I  found this while searching the library nook

Now listen to this poem turn to a rant

This book failed on all levels

I hated the writing, I hated the plot

Was this even written by Michael Grant or some devils

I saw his name and I thought, “This is going to be top notch!”

But instead I read through and through

And only felt a sense of disappointment

It read like a crappy debut

I didn’t find an ounce of enjoyment

A girl is asked to create a perfect guy

While a bunch of other unrealistic bullshit goes on

There was a love square, my brain hurts, I want to die

This book didn’t have any good points like Gone.

Don’t be tricked by the name

The book was a complete dive

Even though the Gone series went to fame

This book, I rate a two out of five.

~

Noragami AMV #2

So I finally got around to finishing another AMV.

Note I put finishing and not creating, I’ve actually been working on another AMV (one that I started before this) and I just haven’t gotten around to completing it because I realize now that the song I chose is a really bad song for an AMV.

Anyway back to this one: this is my second Noragami AMV, please watch the first one if you haven’t already- literally, please, because it’ll kind of make more sense… to me anyway. If you start off by watching just this one you’ll be kind of confused because I made it as more of part 2 or sequel, they’re meant to be watched together. Okay, now that I got that.

Here’s a link to the first one: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BXohb7afixc

and here’s Noragami AMV #2

Object, Character, Place #6

Haha I’m back if anyone bothered to miss me 🙂

Today I bring you another object character place because my teacher really likes these and so that’s what we’re always doing in her class.

The three things are: An empty cookie jar, in an abandoned house, with a folded, dusty note at the bottom. The edge of the realm between reality and fantasy. An infant who looks 80 years old.

I titled No Names Necessary, one because I couldn’t of a proper name for the piece and two none of the characters here have names, though that’s not too unusual. Anyway, here we are, one of my newest short stories. I think you’ll get a good laugh.

No Names Necessary

Drowning is not fun, almost drowning and ending up on the of the realm between reality and fantasy not very fun either. Forests everywhere. Everywhere. The world is just like one giant forest and then bam! An ocean.

That’s how I got there. I crawled out of the ocean like a bedraggled cat coughing and hacking up seawater as I went. In front of me was… you guessed it, forest. It stretched on for miles and seemed to have no end. I don’t know what happened, I was like “Ah! I’m drowning!” and then I was caught in this janky place. This is not heaven and it doesn’t look like any type of hell either. I always knew I’d end up in purgatory. I now had no doubt that I was about to be eaten up by some awful, creepy monsters.

I didn’t know what to do so after my heart stopped pounding a mile a minute I got up and shook the water off of me. I decided to brave the forests and try to find some type of path. This is the stupidest idea ever, but I was all still jangled up from my near drowning. I just wanted to find my way back home, okay, and I didn’t feel like almost drowning again.

I walked forever, my feet felt like dead bricks by the time I found this abandoned house. Obviously, a haunted house, so obvious. If there were monsters in there or witches like in Hansel and Gretel I would definitely die, but they might have food. The witch from H&G had lots of food. I wanted pizza, okay, don’t judge me.

I went and instead of finding pizza (dammit!) I found instead a cookie jar sitting on a small table right in front of the entrance. Cookies, hell yeah! I hurried over there and opened the jar only to find it empty with only a folded up note inside of it. I reached in and took the note out, when I unfolded it I found out that it was actually a picture of baby.

This baby looked like eighty years old and just as I was thinking this the baby looked up at me and said: “That’s because I am eighty years old.”

The End

Valentine’s Day Poem

It’s this time of year again. To help commemorate it I made this poem. The theme is about being alone on Valentine’s Day. My only stipulation with writing this poem was that it had to be twenty lines. Haha, this poem really describes me pretty well. Enjoy.

Alone on Valentine’s day

I’ll just go to my bed and do nothing but lay

Clearly there is no better way

To keep all those ooey-gooey lovers at bay

I’ll open my laptop and a tub of ice cream

It’s not as depressing as it seems

This is the life, this is the dream

If I get one more love note I’ll just scream

Yes, my soul was sucked out long ago

Every girl dresses up like a hoe

And all these cupids are my foe

Valentine’s day was invented to make people feel low

Girls weep when they don’t get a card

I’ll just stay tucked in, safe away from the bards

Even if I go out I’ll have to keep up my guard

It’s safer if I get my flowers from the yard

But what is this

These two anime characters just shared a kiss

Like stone turning to gravel

My heart begins to unravel.

Sonnet

This week in my creative writing class we strayed away from our short stories and worked on poetry. One of the poems we did was a type of shakespearean sonnet where you insult your lover.
It’s an interesting concept to make a poem list the faults you have with someone. Of course, the ending makes up for it by giving them a lovey dove couplet.

I, of course, made my sonnet for my one and only true love haha.

So on to the prompt: Make a poem that makes fun of someone or something and follow this rhyme scheme- ababcdcdefefegg while the last stanza (the gg) begins with “And yet,.”

For your enjoyment: Lelouch vi Brtiannia

I honestly don’t remember how we met
Our meeting so unmemorable it seems
I think I was surfing youtube on the internet
I didn’t know that you’d drive my sanity to the extremes

It’s because of you I lost so much sleep
Some many times you left me hanging there
The seeds of despair were sowed and I had to reap
This relationship wasn’t even close to fair

I cried all night when the curtain closed
After you for a week I couldn’t eat
I was left completely indisposed
How did you manage this feat?

And yet, for so many reasons I’ll love you always
You’ll be in my heart for the rest of my days

Tell This Story

On the board of my creative writing class a close-up picture of a figure wearing a pink dress and holding a large axe. In this picture you can only get the side view and only from neck down to to the hips. Next to this image are the words “Tell this Story.”

The prompt: Write a story about this figure.

For your enjoyment: The Pink Gown

A cow’s skull stares at me from the darkness of the forest. It has to be the creepiest thing I’ve ever seen. Below the skull is the body of a girl in a white dress. She’s holding a humongous axe, it looks heavy as hell, I’m not even sure how she’s able to hold it one handed.
The black eyes of the cow skull stare deep into my soul and I’m frozen in place. I watch in almost slow motion as the axe rises above the strangers head and then comes down onto my chest.
My blood flies grotesquely all over the pristine white gown, staining the pearly material pink. I collapse onto the ground in a sudden heap, time seems to speed up now.
My breath comes out in ragged gasps. I watch as my blood flows freely over the ground, too fast, too fast. My heart pounds like a hammer in my cavernous chest. I cling to myself desperately as if that will somehow bring my life back, but then in seconds I’m dead.
The girl in the pink stained gown watches the man’s final moments of desperation with a serene indifference. She has no heart and no soul, all of her being had been consumed by the gods long ago. Now she is nothing more than an empty shell.
She wretches off the cow skull that served no purpose other than to scare her victims and then kneels down on the ground next to the dead man. Like an animal she rips the flesh off his bones with her bare teeth and chews it savagely, letting the blood drip down her chin onto her already ruined dress. She’s apathetic though to her appearance and everything around her. The girl is methodical and almost clinical as she eats and chews her food. She finishes the meal and then puts the cow skull back on. There is nothing but scraps left of the man. She isn’t hungry, she never is, but would still kill and eat anyone who chanced upon her wandering form.

Three Things

I’m back from a five month hibernation and I bring with me more of my creative writing stories.

Since Halloween has just come and gone I’ve decided to post one of my more creepier (*fucked up) stories.

My prompt: Write about these three things- An Adam’s apple, an orange dolphin with spikes, and an abandoned car.

You will not believe how incredibly twisted this short three hundred word story is. I couldn’t even read it aloud for my class because I was laughing so much, I had to get my sister to do it and even she had problems reading it.

For your enjoyment: The Orange Dolphin’s Obsession

It was all because of his adam’s apple. It entranced me, the way it would bob up and down. Of course I could not expect get too close to this magnificent thing that filled my imagination. The man it belonged to lived in a broke down car, I in the ocean. We were worlds apart, he had two legs and I had fins. Even when he came into the water I could not get close, I was a dolphin that had orange skin. There were a few other orange dolphins with me but none were as enthralled as me by this man. But I tell you I was hypnotized by that adam’s apple, I wanted to see it closer, I wanted to watch the muscles and veins around it contract and expand as he swallowed and drowned on salt water. I was a freaky fish.

One day after he’d spent hours in the water I was driven into a frenzy. I could contain myself no more, that adam’s apple would be mine. As he swam out of the ocean I followed at a discreet distance, hiding myself in the sunset’s reflection. His car was parked close to the beach and after he’d walked to it and gotten inside I made my move.

I, with my powerful fins, leapt from the water to car. In a crunch of metal and glass finally did I get to see that adam’s apple move. My gods did it move. The man was screaming hysterically while I, all the while, laughed at the sight of him. It was great fun. The glass and metal of the car cut through me, all in my fins and eyes, but I didn’t car about those scraps of spikes. I had all eyes to the man and his wide open, shrieking mouth and the oh so hypnotic adam’s apple.

Rainy Weather

My prompt on this one had to follow strict guide lines, three characters, an animal, and rainy weather. Seemed easy enough to turn into a weird, messed-up story.

Once upon a time there was a sweater. On the sweater lived a creature, he was a black and white penguin who had been stitched with love and care on the sweater by a machine.
The machine had been the first of it’s kind and in fact the penguin was the first penguin it had stitched on a sweater, it was also its last. Upon finishing the very last stitch for the black and white penguin the machine mysteriously stopped working. No matter how many mechanics came and looked at it, declaring it in perfect working order, it refused to make any more handsome penguins.
Unbeknownst to the owner of the machine, the machine silently thought that it could never make a sweater as beautiful as it had that first time, and the machine didn’t want it’s first penguin to feel cheapened by creating a thousand more in exact likeness, and so it had decided that it would simply never make another.
A year later, after the perfectly working, but stubborn machine had been scrapped for parts (it regretted nothing), the penguin had it’s first thought. The thought was this, “Ow!” The penguin thought this because at that very moment the little girl who owned him had folded him up uncomfortably, right down the middle, and shoved him in her dresser, preferring instead to wear the unthinking, but more colorful giraffe sweater for the cold and rainy day.
This did not upset the penguin, being disregarded for the giraffe, because he had another miraculous thought that giraffe was better looking then him, as the girl also thought.
So the pretty penguin laid there in the dark and thought upon things which he had never been able to think upon before. At first his thoughts were small, and inconsequential to anything. The penguin was like a child trying to discover what the world meant the very first time it opened its eyes. Steadily, though, the penguin’s mind began to age and grow as any persons would under deep reflection. Within an hour the black and white penguin had developed from a child’s mind to a full grown and philosophical mind. After reaching this state of being the penguin took to depression, because even though an hour earlier he hadn’t minded the giraffe being chosen over him, but now it caused him great pains knowing that he was not as good as the giraffe sweater and could do nothing to change this.
Three hours later when the little girl came home, and discarded the brightly colored giraffe sweater into her dresser the penguin committed suicide by spontaneous combustion and burned down the entire house killing everyone inside, including the little girl and her mother and father and destroying the sweater.
Coincidentally the giraffe sweater was created by a machine that was hated by the machine that had stitched the penguin, why the machine hated the other was a mystery.