Writing Doodle 029 - Oneirataxia

Oneirataxia (n.) - The inability to distinguish between fantasy and reality.

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Everyone told it was it just her imagination. Of course, she didn't believe them. They gave her pills to help with the delusions. The pills were awful, so she never took them. They just didn't understand. No one ever understood.

The world she saw was beautiful, full of color, life, and love. When they forced her to take the pills, it all went away. The world was grey, lonely, and full of hate.

Even if what she saw wasn't real, it's not like it was doing any harm. If anything, it made her a better person, a happier person. Was that really so bad? According to them, it was.

Writing Doodle 028 - Weight

It was impossible to move. The weight was almost too much to bear, and it made it harder and harder to breath. Where it had come from was one of the biggest mysteries, possibly never to be solved. The weight pressed down heavier and heavier. Tears still trickled, but the sobs had stopped due to the lack of air, the inability to breathe. At least the hyperventilating had stopped.

"Why," the word forced it's way out with what little breath was left.

Mirror - Chapter One

You can't see her, but you know she's there, always watching.

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My name is Joanna Katzenellenbogen. I'm nothing special. Just a twenty-something year old girl with a lot on her plate. Like basically my entire life. I started out at school thinking I knew what I wanted, but realized a year in that I was wrong. So I dropped it all and started studying something completely different. To be quite honest, I'm still in school. And it kind of sucks. But I'm studying to be a lab technician, so that's pretty neat, I suppose.

But I'm not writing this to tell you about my boring twenty-something-year-old life. I'm writing this to warn you.

Now, this is very important: don't stare at the mirror. Don't even look at it if you can help it. Just...you need to believe me, okay?

----------

It started out just like any other day. You know the kind: simple, dull...regular. It was February, but I'm not sure that really matters. I was sitting there, on my bed with my laptop open and playing some radio station-- can I just take a minute to say how neat it is that I can play the radio on the internet? Anyways, I was listening to music, working on a project and other various homework tasks (like texting).

As I was sitting there, the door slams open, and I scream. My phone flew out of my hands and, luckily, landed on the bed rather than the floor.

It was my asshole roommate Cynthia. She laughed so hard at my reaction, I thought she was going to need CPR or something. So I kicked her. Not very hard... Okay, kinda hard. It was enough to get her to stop, at least. Mostly.

Still chuckling behind her hand, she glanced at my various (untouched) textbooks, the laptop, and my recently released phone. "C'mon, Jo. You need a night out," she practically whined at me. "You've gotten so boooooring." I rolled my eyes at her as I proceeded back to my comfy nest of a bed and grabbed my phone. No new messages.

"I can't, Cynthia. I've got homework. Besides, we both know that no one actually wants me to hangout."

It was Cynthia's turn to roll her eyes. "That's bullshit, and you know it. We're going out tonight, and that's that."

It went on like that for maybe an hour or two, through dinner. But Cynthia is possibly the only person I know who is more stubborn than I am, so I finally had to give in to her demands. She even insisted that I let her dress me. That was one of the worst decisions I have ever made. Well, not really. Actually, that was a total hyperbole. I made much worse decisions later on.

Anyways, I let Cynthia choose my outfit, do my hair and makeup, and all that other dressy stuff. It's not like I'm bad at it...I just prefer to choose the simplest route, rather than make everything more difficult or something. Whatever. I was dressed to the nines, but I felt like an idiot. It had been years since I'd dressed up and gone out. Especially on a weeknight. I'm not cure Cynthia classified Thursdays as weeknights, but that's not the point. Cynthia looked amazing, as always. She was basically a party princess, a social butterfly. Parties, bars, you name it...it was her domain. She fit in everywhere. Unlike me. I'm like...a hand with twenty sore thumbs. Man, do I stand out.

Cynthia took me to this bar first. It was packed with people. I think I recognized maybe three of them. Maybe. It was dark. I stuck to Cynthia like I was a growth on her arm. It might have been detrimental to her socializing, but she didn't complain. I'm pretty sure she could tell how awkward I was feeling.

We weren't there long before Cynthia started being accosted by people. Some of them already knew her. Some of them wanted to know her. And she dealt with all of them with such grace and suavity, it was enough to make anyone jealous, let alone me, the thumb. I slipped away and found a booth, emptying as I got there, which was perfect timing, honestly. I'd never felt so lucky in my entire life. I practically dove into the booth, claiming it by making myself look as big as I could, which wasn't exactly easy. I was one person in a booth that could easily hold like eight.

Cynthia had finally noticed my disappearance, but I'd been watching her (totally not creepy), and so I waved her over. She seemed to have some people in tow as she moved towards the booth I'd successfully claimed.

One of the people was Finn, who had the biggest damn crush on Cynthia. I swear to God, every time he found her, he would follow her around like a little lost puppy. Kind of cute, I guess. If you're into that sort of thing. Cynthia either didn't notice or didn't care. The other two were some people I didn't know, but that was more than apparent, and Cynthia quickly introduced me to them: Brennan, working on his nutrition PhD; and Alycia, his little sister who was just in town visiting. It was her birthday.

Brennan was the type who always wanted to be the center of attention. He liked to show off and have people be impressed by him. Kind of a dick. His sister seemed nice enough, though. She was probably my age, maybe a little older. She was quiet, like me, but she had this look on her face that said she was not happy to be at a bar on her birthday and not be the center of attention. or maybe she just wanted to kill everyone in the bar. I was kind of torn on that front.

For a while, I pretended to be a part of the conversation, nodding at the right moments and everything. Eventually, I just got bored and zoned out. That's always when plans are made. I don't know who suggested it, but I'll assume Brennan since he seems the type. But the next thing I know, Cynthia is grabbing my arm, telling me to get up. We were apparently going on an adventure.

----------

Next thing I knew, we were standing outside of this old house. It was beautiful, kept in such perfect repair that someone could easily have mistaken it for still being lived in. Yea, it was that nice. But, according to Alycia, it was completely empty. Abandoned. Looking at the pristine windows, the sterile white paint around the windows, I had an uneasy feeling. If this house was abandoned, why didn't it look like a ruin? Who was going through so much trouble to keep this house looking lived-in? And why?

Too bad Cynthia was super pumped to actually do the whole...breaking-and-entering thing, otherwise I might have appealed to her sane side and gotten her to change her mind. As it was, though, I failed miserably and got dragged up the front steps instead.

Turns out, this house was supposedly haunted or something like that, and it was the whole reason that Alycia had come here in the first place. She was big on the whole "ghost hunting" thing. It was kind of strange, to say the least. I don't know how I feel about it. I guess it wouldn't be my first choice of hobby. Then again, I never really believed in any supernatural sort of thing anyways. So I was just...not excited. But it was Alycia's birthday, and I guess the haunted house adventure was supposed to be her birthday present or something. Suckiest birthday gift ever, if you ask me. But seeing as it wasn't my birthday, I guess my opinion didn't really matter.

Alycia was chattering away about this and that ghost sighting and blah blah blah. I basically tuned her out. I thought I'd be better off that way. She was peering into the windows like a kid outside a candy shop. It might have been adorable had the circumstances been entirely different. I got distracted by the fact that one of the windows had a flower box. It wasn't just that it was a flower box-- it was the fact that the flowers were perfectly tended. There was no way in hell this house was actually abandoned. When I tried to point it out to everyone, though, they just talked over me. Whatever. When we all get caught for breaking and entering, I'll claim I was there against my will. Held under duress or something like that. With that Brennan jerk around, it might have even been believable.

I was ready to call it a night and just head back on my own. But that was when things got....well...interesting. Finn, who'd been kind of overshadowed by Brennan's ego, really wanted Cynthia to notice that he was still there. So he put on a brave face and walked right up to the front door. I hadn't noticed before that, but we'd all kind of been avoiding it the whole time, like it was a taboo sort of thing. Finn, though...man, he really wanted Cynthia. It's silly, the things people will do for love. Or whatever you want to call it. Anyways, Finn grabbed the doorknob and turned it without so much as a second of hesitation.

Just like that, the door opened inwards. No squeak, nothing. It just opened wide, gaping at the lot of us.

Finn gaped right back at it, obviously surprised that the door had opened on the first try. No breaking necessary. Alycia let out a sort of excited squeal. Everyone but Finn, who was still gaping at what he'd just done, shushed her quickly.

I had an uneasy feeling about all of this. An abandoned house, kept in perfect condition, with the front door left unlocked. Something just wasn't right about it all.

Alycia pushed Finn out of the way to stand in the center of the doorway. She was jumping up and down with excitement, I shit you not. I don't think I'd ever seen anyone do that before. Not in real life, anyways. It was a bit crazy. Then again, she was obviously crazy. She turned to look at all of us, her back to the gaping mouth of a doorway.  I couldn't get over the way her eyes looked: either she had completely lost it, or this was basically her Christmas. Then again, nothing was stopping it from being both of those things.

"Well?!" Her voice cut through the silence and the dark, and I'm sure I saw Cynthia flinch. I know I jumped. She had been louder than expected. "Are we going in or not?!" She was way too excited about this. It made me....let's go with uncomfortable.

 Brennan glanced around at the lot of us and shrugged. "I'm game." Cynthia raised an eyebrow, intrigued. Of course, having seen her reaction to Brennan's apparent lack of fear, Finn stepped up, too with a timid, "Seems like fun...," clearly not wanting to be shown up by this jock guy in front of Cynthia.

That meant three of them wanted to go in. I looked at Cynthia, mentally begging her to say she was out, that it was late and this was stupid. Instead she said, "Let's do it!" and turned to look at me, as if she were daring me to refuse. Letting out a long sigh, I trudged forward, nodding slowly. "Fine," was all I could muster.

With another squeal of excitement, Alycia turned around and took a step forward. She stopped dead in her tracks, and we all almost ran into her. "Jesus Christ, Alycia! What the hell!?" Brennan didn't seem to like stumbling and looking weak. I tried to peer around everyone to look at Alycia's face, but failed. After what felt like forever, but had really only been about fifteen seconds, Alycia shook her head and glanced back over her shoulder. Something about her face had changed. She offered a totally creepy smile and said, "Sorry, it's nothing. Let's go."

Writing Doodle 027 - Homeless

A sign lay abandoned on the grass unnoticed. Somehow, it wondered where it's person had gone, and why he had left. No one passing seemed to notice or care. The sign, asking for just a little piece of kindness, stared up at the sun, the sidewalk so close, and cars racing by just beyond that. But it was just a sign, unable to do much of anything on its own.

Had the sign been psychic, it would have known that it's man had given up. The voices in his head kept him low, kept him depressed, and it had all finally gotten to him. The sign had slipped from his unwashed, uncared-for fingers to its final resting place in the grass. The man, staring at the ground as he tottered down the sidewalk, found a decent place under a bridge, off the beaten path. Better than the side of the road, he'd figured.

The sign wished for someone to notice it, notice that it was alone, without a person. It wanted someone to help. Someone? Anyone?

It was three days later when someone finally noticed the sign on the ground. Finally! The sign had almost given up hope! But the person simply made a face that clearly exhibited disgust, picked the sign up as though it were dangerous, and muttered something about littering before tossing the sign in the nearest trash.

The sign cried out, but no one heard.

The man's body was found far too much later.

Writing Doodle 026 - Adult

The moment she realized she was actually an adult hit her hard. Not exactly in a bad way, really. But it was hard. Like being slammed by a battering ram, right in the chest. It was a moment of crisis and enlightenment. A moment of joy and terror. She was an adult now. That meant no more homework, but a lot more housework, and a lot of other things she wan't really prepared to think about just yet. It was all new, all terrifyingly and excitingly new.

But it was all in the moment she realized that it had happened. It wasn't when she realized she did the dishes every single evening, or that she made a weekly shopping list. It wasn't even when she paid her taxes on her own for the first time. No, the moment she realized she was really, truly an adult was the moment she realized... she could type without looking at the keyboard in front of her. Never before had she done something like that-- she had always, always, looked at the keys to type. Until that moment when she became an adult.

Writing Doodle 025 - Selenophile

He loved her.

To those that knew, it was obvious, but to those that didn't, well, they simply didn't see the signs. Really, though, he loved her with his whole heart, with every piece of himself. Everything he did, he did for her.

And yet, they hardly saw one another. It was as though their lives were on complete opposite schedules. Still, he did what he could.

When he looked at her, she was radiant. Always glowing silver and fair, but never obscene in her beauty. She was perfect.

What he didn't realize, though, was that she would only glow beautifully when he could see her. He was the reason she shone. It was his light that caused hers. Perhaps he would never realize it. He was far too much in love to be reasonable, to see the reality.

She was the moon, and he the sun, and still he loved her like no one had ever loved before.

Writing Doodle 024 - Don't Cry

tw: suicide

Hey, I just wanted to let you know that I still care. I wish I was still there to text you "Good morning Girl Scout!" every day.

I'm here for you, even though you can't see me, or hear me, or feel me. I know you miss me... I can hear you all, and it hurts so much, I would almost do it again. I guess sometimes we just don't think things through. This was one of those times.

But don't you worry, 'cause every time you go to Taco Bell after work, I'm right there with you. I'll always be with you, watching over you.

And just because you never told me how important I was to you doesn't mean I don't know. I can still see everything you post, and I know. I know you were my best friend and I let you down, and I'm sorry.

All those texts you want to send me? Yea, I know about them. Of course I think that thing was funny, too. I'm laughing up here, even if you can't hear it at all.

So, I just want to let you know that I'm sorry. I'm so sorry I hurt you like that, but please don't do what I did. Please remember that you are special and there are so many people that love you. I love you, even if I'm not there to show you that I do anymore.

Writing Doodle 023 - Better Than Christmas

At the age of six, most children believe Christmas to be the most magical day of the year. For one little girl by the name of Beverly, though, this was not the case. Rather, Beverly found the most magical day of the year to be a day hardly thought of as magical: St. Patrick's Day.

On St. Patrick's Day, Beverly knew for a fact, that leprechauns would be out and about causing mischief and mayhem. Sure, Santa Claus brought gifts, but leprechauns were just so much more fun.

With a gleam in her eye, Beverly knew what she had to do: she had to catch a leprechaun. It wasn't going to be easy, though. Leprechauns were incredibly clever. She ran to her mother and tugged at her shirt, begging for a box that was big enough for a leprechaun to fit in. Of course, her mother thinks it's all in good fun and helps her find a suitable box.

Box all set up and decorated with aluminum foil and stickers, Beverly lay on the floor, peering beneath the box. Looking up at her mother, she says she needs several things: one of her mother's gold rings, a small cup of milk, and another small cup of Daddy's beer. Oh, and some thumbtacks! Confused, but wanting to kindle Beverly's imagination, her mother obliges the odd request, but keeps a careful eye on Beverly after that-- she didn't want her six-year-old daughter drinking any of Daddy's beer.

Milk, beer, and gold to catch the leprechaun's attention, and thumbtacks to ruin his shoes so he'll be forced to fix them before he can escape. It was perfect. Content with her trap, Beverly went to bed, a smile on her face and dreams of leprechauns in her head.

Writing Doodle 022 - In The Sky

Peering down, a small child stares at the vast burning ocean below with eyes full of terror and wonder. He has only just learned of the history of the earth. Years ago, the land used to be down there, in that burning mess. It was hard to believe. In fact, he wasn't quite sure he believed it. Maybe it was just a story. Another lie the adults told children-- like Santa or the Tooth Fairy. But maybe, just maybe, the story was true. Maybe mankind really had destroyed everything.

He began to wonder if the ground he stood on now was even genuine. Had mankind made these land masses to keep themselves from dying in the destruction they had wrought? After learning about how the world below had been destroyed, he could hardly find a reason to doubt it.

Honestly, he wished he'd never learned the truth.

Writing Doodle 021 - Wind

All I have to do is take one bite. Just one, and I'm gone. I turn over the apricot in my hand. It's skin is smooth, soft, and the fruit is too soft. It's over-ripe. It'll probably be sweet. Maybe too sweet, and I'm sure the juice will be sticky. But I want to get out of here, and this is the simplest way. I have no other choice, and so I bite into the over-ripe apricot.

The juice runs down my chin. It's sticky already, I can feel it. More juice is covering my hand, a small pool of it forming in the crook of my palm. It seems to be the only thing I can concentrate on. The rest of the world is slipping away. I realize I'm falling only just before I crash into the ground. The apricot slips from my grasp and rolls away lopsidedly. I just keep staring at my hand, though, amazed that I can't seem to feel my fingers anymore. Maybe this was a mistake.

* * * * *

I wake up after what feels like hours, maybe even days. There is a strong pain in my head that feels like someone's been hammering on it for a while. Another sharper pain flares to life when I try to sit up. I must have hit my head on something when I fell. I press my palm to my head automatically, as if it could cure the pain I feel. 

Finally, I look around, expecting to see the same place I was in before I took a bite of that apricot. Nothing is familiar. I'm somewhere completely new. There are no buildings, no furniture...nothing I recognize. The ground looks like it is made of precious gems, shining in the ambient light coming from some unseen source, but when I reach out to touch the glittering ground, it transforms before my eyes, turning into dust.

The handful of dust I picked up slips through my fingers, and as it reaches the ground, appears to turn back into shining jewels. I stand with caution, my hand no longer pressed to my head. The pain is the least of my worries.

The land is flat in every direction. There is nothing to see. I turn to the left, surveying the strange dream-like world around me. Nothing. I turn to the right, expecting to see the same nothingness, but as I turn, the world changes around me. I whip back to the left, and everything is gone. I can't help but wonder where I am, what's going on. Why did I take a bite of that fruit?

Slowly, I turn to the right again, the world coming to life around me. I stop when I see something in the distance. I recognize the shape, but I can't put my finger on why. Something about it draws me towards it, and I begin walking slowly, as though something could jump out at me at any moment.

As I walk towards the shape in the distance, the wind starts. At first, I think nothing of it. It's just a little wind. I keep going, but my steps have more conviction behind them now. I know that if I can just reach that shape, I'll have some answers. I don't know how I know this, but I know it's true nonetheless.

With each step I take, the wind blows more and more, harder and harder. Against me. It's as though the wind doesn't want me to get to that shape. Can the wind even have a mind of it's own, I wonder. I figure it's impossible, but I seem to be in an impossible place. Everything I knew about the world seems to be a lie here, so maybe, just maybe, the wind really does have thoughts and secrets like the rest of us.

I push forward against the wind. I have to lift my arm up to shield my eyes against it now, though. It's vicious, this wind, and it wants me gone. The shape in the distance doesn't seem to be getting any closer, but I don't trust my eyes anymore. Perhaps it is just the wind playing with my perception. I clench my teeth, duck my head, and push onward.

The wind is incredible. It's at least ten times as strong as anything I've ever experienced before, and I can hardly keep going. But I have to. I can't just give up now, I can't. Each step seems to take an hour as I struggle against the wind. I try to glance up, to see if I'm any closer to the shape I've been so desperately trying to reach, but the wind strings my face and forces me to keep my eyes shut tight. I feel like I've been walking against the wind for days now, so I have to be close. I must be close. If I'm not close, I don't know what I'll do. I pick up my foot to take another step forward and the wind seems intent on destroying me. It's strength is like nothing I ever could have imagined, and before I know it, I can no longer feel the ground beneath my feet. I'm being blown away. I suppose this is what leaves must feel like being tossed about by the wind. Still, I cannot open my eyes, and I have no idea where the wind might be taking me.

* * * * *

There is nothing I can do. I belong to the wind now. I can't even open my eyes. All I know is that I have been sailing in this wind forever. I am lost. Why did I ever bite into that apricot? I hope the wind will stop some day, that I'll be free, but I'm beginning to doubt. I am the wind's, and there is no escape.

Character Development - Bellatrix Lestrange

Bellatrix Lestrange is from the Harry Potter series created by J.K. Rowling.

*This character development post assumes the year is 1979 and Bellatrix is approximately 26 years old*

I should have been a boy.

A thought that frequents Bellatrix's mind. Being a born a boy would have made everything so much easier. For everyone. If only she had been born a boy. Maybe she wouldn't have been a disappointment to her father. Maybe she wouldn't have hated her mother. Maybe she would have had the absolute perfect life. Not that she really had anything to complain about seeing as how she lived an almost charmed life as the daughter of Druella and Cygnus. She was a pureblood, after all. At least she had done that much right.

The firstborn, Bellatrix was the trial. And what a trial she was. While the upbringing had been left to Druella, Bellatrix had always craved Daddy's attention, always strived to make her father proud. Yet Cygnus always seemed blind to her efforts. Her mother was so very determined to make Bella into a perfect lady. Bella wanted none of it. She tested her mother, pushed her mother's limits, pushed her mother to wit's end, if she could. All with a perfect, innocent smile on her face and a gleam of crazed hatred in her eyes. Bella was only two years old when her first sister, Andromeda, was born. People assume that two years olds are innocent beings-- terrible, but innocent, generally speaking. Bella was no such thing. If ever left alone with the baby, she would poke it, terrorize it, until it began to wail uncontrollably. The sound of Andromeda crying always seemed to put a sadistic smile on Bella's young face. It was all well and good, torturing the poor little creature until it cried. Until she was caught. Druella had been more than slightly peeved that it was her own child, her own daughter, causes so much unnecessary stress, making the baby cry every ten minutes. That was the very first time Bella was reprimanded by her father. At first, the two-year-old Bella had thought she had done something right, something to win her father's affection. Then she realized how wrong she had been. While the memory was only fuzzy, it stuck with Bella for years and years, only finally disappearing once she joined the Death Eaters.

After her father's reprimand of her behavior, Bella treated her sister a bit differently. While Andromeda was still very much a plaything, Bella made sure to take her little sister under her wing. There was a certain power in being an elder sibling, Bella found, and loved it, craved it, even. She treated her sister with a false kindness just to hold that power over the child. Of course, there was some underlying love, but Bella hardly noticed. It was the power that drove her then. Power and the thirst for her father's acceptance.

I should have been a boy.

Druella always tried with Bellatrix, but Bella never made it easy. Rather, she thought her mother tried too hard. All Bella really wanted was the acceptance of her father-- some indication that she wasn't a complete and utter disappointment. The desire to do right by him drove her mad some days. She was seven years old when she lost it entirely. Neither of her parents were there to witness it, but poor little Andromeda was. Bellatrix was so longing for any notice from her father, so fed up with her mother pushing andpushing her to be a proper lady. Bellatrix grabbed her younger sister by the upper arms as tightly as she could, tighter possibly, and screamed at her, told Andromeda she, Andromeda, wasn't good enough, that she would never be good enough because she should have been born a boy, and it was all. Her. Fault! Bella told her little sister that because Andromeda wasn't born a boy, their father hated them. Both of them. It was all her fault. That rage, that desperation for her father's love and approval, brought on Bella's first bout of magic. A rosebush standing nearby to the two girls caught flame. It burned brightly, drawing Bella's attention away from Andromeda, a smirk on her lips.

I should have been a boy.

As she grew, Bella acted out against her mother's wishes. She had a fiery temperament that could hardly be reigned in. There were a number of times she deliberately did exactly the opposite of what her mother demanded, times she acted out with unnecessary violence or unruly behavior. All of it to see her father. The father that hated her for being a girl. Such a disgusting word, really. Every time she was punished by her father, she liked it a little bit more. Of course, she always put on the face of agony and despair while it was happening, but as soon as she was out of sight, she was grinning like the maniac she was becoming.

Nine years old and a terror. Bella hardly cared to be ladylike, but could easily put on the facade and play along. That much she had learned from her mother. Druella seemed to find enjoyment in dressing her eldest in hideous colors-- pinks and purples that complemented her dark complexion. Bellatrix hated every second of it, but always seemed the proper little lady when they went to family gatherings, to parties, to play dates. Of course, when the adults' backs were turned, she found a particular enjoyment in prodding little Sirius with her boot, watching him fall to the ground, just as he was learning to walk on his own. He was her cousin, so she was obligated to tolerate him, but she hoped she wouldn't be arranged to marry this child one day. She hated him for being a boy, for being the one who would carry on the Black family name-- the name that should have been hers to carry on.

That was the year Narcissa was born. From the way her mother had acted, Bella knew it had been a miracle she was even having another child, and, just like her father, Bella hoped and hoped for a little boy. Much to her disappointment, it was another girl. Another girl. Peering down into the cradle, Bella sneered at her new baby sister, hissed at her that the baby that it was a disappointment, that it was supposed to have been a boy, a miracle. The baby cried and Bella slipped out of the room unnoticed. The baby had such fine hair, so very different from her own and Andromeda's. It almost made Bella curious how the baby would turn out. Almost. But nine-year-olds didn't really care about that sort of thing.

I should have been a boy.

Getting her Hogwarts letter was the happiest Bella had ever been-- aside from punishments by her father, of course. There was absolutely no doubt in her mind that she would be sorted into Slytherin house. It was, after all, the best house. She could hardly wait to attend, but seeing as she was born on such a dark day in January, she would have to wait. When the day finally came that she was to be sent off to Hogwarts, Bella was overwhelmed with glee. It was strange to her, feeling so joyful without causing something pain or being punished by her father. Yet she felt it all the same. In two years time, Andromeda would join her at Hogwarts, but glancing at the blonde two-year-old before leaving on the train, Bella would never be at Hogwarts with her youngest disappointment of a sister, Narcissa. At least this one looked like the princess their mother had always wanted. Bella was only sorry that she wouldn't be there to counteract their mother's joy with her terrorism. But Cissa was her sister-- baby sister-- and she felt a certain affection for the fair thing.

Hogwarts was everything Bella had ever dreamed it would be. Being one of the first on the list, she was sorted into Slytherin, as expected, without any deliberation on the Hat's part. A crazed grin on her face, she joined the table and her fellow housemates. It wasn't long before she got a reputation for being ruthless, and it wasn't uncommon for students to call her crazy behind her back as she embraced everything that it meant to be a Slytherin. She openly disliked muggle-borns and looked down on half-bloods. Generally speaking, students outside of Slytherin were, at best, ignored. Of course, when a professor happened to be around, Bella acted the perfect lady she'd been raised to be, a twisted smile on her lips.

Second year. That was when Rodolphus joined the ranks of Slytherin. Bellatrix recalled her mother informing her of an arranged marriage that was to take place between the two of them. Bella had felt nothing at the news-- well, perhaps a slight tint of joy that she wasn't being made to marry that baby of a cousin of hers Sirius Black. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she tried to imagine the scandal of keeping her last name, ofinsisting that her husband-to-be take the Black family name, as well. It was, clearly, the better of the two names, so why shouldn't anyone want to have it? But since she couldn't do that, couldn't keep the Black family name, she had to bebetter. She had to be the best. She was already a girl, which made it difficult to be as outstanding as she knew she should have been, but it didn't hold her back. She constantly held it over Rodolphus's head that she was ahead of him, that she knewmore than him. Clearly, she was the better of the two. If she could have gotten her way, she wouldn't be marrying anyone.

I should have been a boy.

It was her third when when Andromeda came to Hogwarts as a first year. There was a part of Bellatrix that was excited. Excited to have her sister here with her, to be able to point out the mudbloods to avoid. There was so much expectation riding on Andromeda that Bella had never outright mentioned, but it was there nonetheless. When Andromeda was called up to the Sorting Hat, Bella sat up straight, tall, expectant...proud, even. When the Sorting Hat didn't place Andromeda in Slytherin immediately, Bella grew worried, skeptical, as she stared with a white-hot intensity at her sister sitting before the entirely of the great hall. Finally, the Hat declared Andromeda placed in Slytherin, and no one, not a single person, cheered louder than Bellatrix did as her sister took her rightful place at Bella's side.

I should have been a boy.

As the years went by, Bellatrix grew to be more and more ruthless, more and more violent, more and more angry, more and more crazy. Everyone could see it. Yet she still somehow managed to climb to the top of the social ladder in Slytherin. The best of the best, as if Bellatrix Black would ever consider settling for less. She walked the corridors with her head held high, a sneer on her face, and a threat for any mudbloods that happened to cross her path. If Bellatix was grateful to her mother for one thing, it was the skills to fake everything and be a proper socialite. Andromeda was growing into a bigger and bigger disappointment. It was almost as though, and the thought made Bella laugh like a crazed hermit, Andromeda didn'tcare about blood purity. Then Andromeda started to actually spend time with that one mudblood-- not even worthy of Bellatrix forgetting his name, let alone remembering it-- and the disappointment climbed ever higher. Bella could only hope that Andromeda hadn't influenced baby Cissa into being accepting of mudbloods. Hatred for Andromeda had started then and would only grow and grow the more time she spent with the mudblood. On that fateful day when Andromeda actuallymarried the filthy mudblood, though, was the day she ceased to exist. Andromeda was no better than the other mudbloods, for all Bella cared. It was a betrayal, and should she ever encounter Andromeda again, Bellatrix was certain she would kill her sister without a question, without hesitation.

I should have been a boy.

After graduation from Hogwarts had come and gone, Bellatrix had only one thing on her mind: Lord Voldemort. He had grown to be ever-present in her mind as she learned more and more about him, about his Death Eaters. It was everything she ever wanted, as as soon as she was able, she went to join the ranks of her fellow purists. It wasn't simple adoration Bellatrix felt when she first came upon Voldemort, oh no. It was love, the strongest she'd ever felt, and yet it was still a corruption of the emotion, far from pure. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him, nothing she wouldn't do to proveherself to him. Killing was easy, torture was even easier, perhaps because it was just so enjoyable. Everything she did, she did for him. She had to be the best, had to prove she was the most devoted, the most loyal. Being a girl would not hold her back, not this time.

Voldemort had become everything. The Death Eaters were her life. As a married woman, she had no need of an occupation, and so all of her time was spent working for Voldemort. She found herself craving him, craving his attention, his acceptance, the way she had once craved her father's love and acceptance. While she still wanted to make her father proud of her, he had been replaced by Voldemort, the only man she would ever really love.

I should have been a boy.

Upon marrying Rodolphus, Bellatrix was reminded of her wifely duties-- that she was meant to produce an heir, to carry on the bloodlines. The idea sickened her. If only she had been born a boy, everything would have been perfect. She would have carried on the Black family name, would have been the best son any pureblood family could have asked for. But she had been born a female, meant to bring some other man's child into this world. She was not meant to be a brood bitch, giving birth to whelps every few years. Besides, were she to have children, they would be carrying on the Lestrange name-- a name far inferior to Black, and which she refused to pass on. So she did what any sane woman would do and cursed herself until she was barren, no longer able to produce children. The scandal of it being found out did not bother her in the slightest. She refused to be used for breeding, plain and simple.

As time wore on, she decided Rodolphus was the best possible match she could have been made. He was similar to her, if less devoted. But at least he shared her ideals and goals and was a pureblood. What more could she have asked for? Not to mention the fact that he didn't tell a single soul about her inability to bare him children. There was no divorce, so scandal. While he wasn't the Dark Lord, he was...alright. In fact, she almostappreciated him. Almost.

I should have been a boy.

The thought still haunts Bella's every moment, every step. She was denied her rightful place as the heir of the Black family name, and, of course, she blames her mother. Things have gotten better, though, since the days of her childhood when she was nothing but a mere disappointment. She has proven herself a capable dark wizard, ever loyal to the Dark Lord, nearly to the point of obsession. Enjoyment comes from the killing, maiming, and torturing of mudbloods and those nasty Order members. But she knows, in her heart of hearts-- even though it is black as pitch and, generally speaking, quite shriveled-- the Dark Lord will have his way, and she will be there at his side when it happens.

Writing Doodle 020 - Who Are They

Pressed against the cold hard metal, she tries so hard to stay silent. They are coming for her.

Fear leaks from her body in the form of sweat, giving her turquoise skin a glistening look. They are so close, and she is terrified of what they might do to her. Kicking herself mentally, she tries not to think about it. Instead, she tries to think of a way off the damn ship.

She can't just walk off the ship, not now that they've already left the port. It would be certain death. Then again, maybe it would be better than waiting for them to find her. Maybe she could get in an escape pod-- all she'd have to do is give them the slip and make a run for it, hope that none of them are watching the escape pods from the control room.

The clatter of metal on metal comes from down the corridor and she gasps. Her hand rushes to cover her mouth as the sound escapes. Time is running out, and she knows it all too well. It's time to run again. She can only hope she can outrun them one more time.

Dialogue - Diablo 3 Units

Characters based on Diablo universe by Blizzard.

Banter (female wizard & scoundrel)

Takes place during Act I of Diablo III

Female Wizard and Scoundrel walk past pile of corpses

Scoundrel: You don’t suppose any of these corpses have wine on them, do you? I could go for a drink.

Female Wizard: I don’t think you’d want to consume anything these corpses have on them.

Female Wizard and Scoundrel have just killed a group of demons

      Scoundrel: Leah’s going to fall so hard for me when I tell her how many demons I’ve killed.

      Female Wizard: I don’t think you killing anything will impress Leah.

Female Wizard and Scoundrel find a chest full of loot

      Scoundrel: That looks heavy. Why don’t I carry it for you.

      Female Wizard: Don’t try to fool me, you’re no gentleman.

Female Wizard and Scoundrel encounter a group of looters

      Scoundrel: The world could do with more lady looters.

      Female Wizard: The world could do with less of your talking. (jokingly)

      Scoundrel: And here I thought we had something special.

Scripted Scene

Takes place during Act I of Diablo III

1.    Hero must fill vile with blood from an unrisen corpse.

2.    Talk to Mad Hermit

3.    Hero must fill a vile with blood from a Risen corpse.

4.    Talk to Mad Hermit

5.    Help Mad Hermit perform ritual

Female Wizard and follower find a mad hermit.

      Mad Hermit: You there, Wizard! Come here. I need your help!

      Female Wizard: What is it you want, Old Man?

      Mad Hermit: I am plagued by demons, Wizard! They ravage my brain with their lies! There is only one way to stop them now!

      Female Wizard: What would you have me do, Hermit?

      Mad Hermit: Bring me blood! I need blood! Blood from an unrisen corpse!

      Female Wizard: I better get fair payment for this.

Mad Hermit laughs manically as Female Wizard and follower walk away.

* * *

Female Wizard and follower return to the Mad Hermit with the vile of clean blood.

      Female Wizard: Here is the blood you asked for, Hermit.

      Mad Hermit: Good, good. Need more. Bring me tainted blood! Bring me blood of the newly Risen! So close, so close!

      Female Wizard: This is the last thing I fetch for you, Old Man.

Mad Hermit is muttering to himself about demons as Female Wizard and follower leave.

* * *

Female Wizard and follower return to the Mad Hermit with the vile of tainted blood.

      Female Wizard: Hermit, take your vile and be on your way.

      Mad Hermit: No! There is one thing more! You must help me, Wizard!

      Female Wizard: Why should I? What is this last thing you need help with?

      Mad Hermit: The ritual! The blood ritual! An exorcism that will rid me of these demons forever!

Female Wizard and follower stand near Mad Hermit as he begins to chant in Latin.

      Mad Hermit: Exorcizámos te, ómnis immúnde spíritus, ómnis satánic potéstas!

Demon fully possesses after Mad Hermit something went wrong with the ritual and takes off.

Interstitial

Female Wizard and follower have just performed the ritual in which the Mad Hermit came to be fully possessed by a demon.

      Female Wizard: An old man, a hermit thought to be mad. Who would have guessed he was actually plagued with demons.

Female Wizard: We collected the blood of the Risen and unrisen alike to perform the exorcism. Something went terribly wrong.

Female Wizard: Now the demons have taken him over, and I intend to stop them.

Unit VO 

Character chosen: Auriel, Archangel of Hope

Auriel is ordered to move

      Auriel: Hope guides me.

      Auriel: I will be swift.

      Auriel: We are making good headway.

Auriel is ordered to move somewhere she cannot path to

      Auriel: That is not possible.

      Auriel: Blasphemy.

      Auriel: I cannot allow myself to do that.

Auriel is ordered to attack something

      Auriel: Hope for the best- prepare for the worst.

      Auriel: Without fear, there is no hope. I hope you are afraid.

      Auriel: You look cold. Allow me to warm you with righteous fire.

Auriel has died

      Auriel: Do not let despair darken your heart.

      Auriel: Hope will rise again.

      Auriel: My light is gone.

Auriel has respawned and is ready for battle

      Auriel: Hope rises.

      Auriel: Hope is eternal.

      Auriel: Heaven shall not despair! My light has rekindled!

Auriel is taking damage

      Auriel: My light is fading.

      Auriel: Hope stays with me even if life does not.

      Auriel: My fate is…uncertain.

Auriel has been clicked on multiple times

      Auriel: What are you hoping to do?

      Auriel: Don’t make me take out Al’maiesh.

      Auriel: Who do you think you are!? Mephisto?

Auriel encounters Diablo in battle and taunts him.

      Auriel: You think you can rid the world of hope?!

      Auriel: Without hope, there cannot be fear, cannot be terror. You are nothing without me!

      Auriel: You’re looking a bit more ladylike than usual, Diablo.

Character Development - Zytarriel

Character developed based upon lore of the Dragon Age series by Bioware prior to DA:I release.

For a very long time, elves have been treated as lesser beings by humans. That was what Zytarriel was born into. Slavery. Her mother had been pregnant when she had been captured and sold. Zytarriel was a miracle. The way her mother had been struck so many times, it was a wonder that Zytarriel hadn't been a miscarriage. When the child was born, her mother tried to keep her a secret. It was only a few months later when the child was found. Thankfully, the child had been found by the master's wife, a very motherly woman, who wanted to keep the child. Her husband was disgusted but allowed it as long as the child was never told she was an elf.

At the age of five, Zytarriel was beginning to look very different than her brothers and sister, all of whom were older than she was. Her brothers, aged seven and eleven, made fun of her all the time. But now, they were getting mean. They told her she was a slave, an elf, made her do things for them. They called her "knife ears" and laughed at her. The teasing brought her to the point of tears more often than not. She was certain she wasn't an elf, but her ears... Her ears were so pointy. Maybe if she cut off the tips, they would stop making fun of her. So that was exactly what the child did. She took a knife from the kitchen and sat in the pantry. The knife sliced through her skin so easily, but when the blood began to run down her hands, she screamed. There was so much pain. One of the kitchen workers found her and rushed her to her parents. Eventually, her ear healed, but she would forever be missing the tip of her right ear.

After that incident, her "mother" told her everything. "Yes, Zytarriel, you are an elf." The five year old couldn't understand. She refused to believe the truth. She was human, she had to be. Elves were slaves, hated. Zytarriel did not want to be hated. Zytarriel simply couldn't believe the truth, no matter how many times her "mother" tried to tell her. Once word had gotten to her "father" that she had been told the truth, everything got worse. That had been the one condition he had given, and it had been broken. He would no longer allow the child to live in his house as anything more than a slave.

Zytarriel became the personal servant of the girl she had once called sister. For the most part, she was treated well. There were times, though, when she did not do something perfectly and the man who had once been called her father would make an example of her poor work by taking the whip to her back. He seemed to enjoy the pain it caused the elves. Zytarriel had never truly been able to grasp the truth. Even though she was made to wait on her "siblings" and would regularly be flogged by her "father." She loved her family.

Several years later, when Zytarriel was seventeen years old, her real mother came looking for her. Years earlier, she had been sold to someone else for an exorbitant amount of money. The man treated Zytarriel's birth mother with much kindness and love and set her free. With her freedom, she came back for her child. Zytarriel refused to see the woman as her birth mother. She was human, why couldn't everyone see that?! Zytarriel pushed the woman away. There was such a commotion from the small scuffle that the master of the house came to see what was going on. When Zytarriel's birth mother stood straight and asked for her daughter back, the man struck her across the face, laughing as he did so. He overpowered the woman, and with Zytarriel right there, watching he raped the woman before binding her hands and whipping her until she could no longer stand. Her screams ripped through the house, the countryside. Zytarriel stood watching in horror, the screams piercing her mind. It wans't long before her birth mother bled out and died right there at Zytarriel's feet.

Everything in the house reminded Zytarriel of that woman, the one who had said she had been Zytarriel's mother. Every night, the screams would wake her. Zytarriel had to leave. In the middle of the night Zytarriel dressed herself in black, covering her silvery-white hair so as not to be seen, and snuck out, away from the house, away from everything. She wandered for days until she stumbled upon a group of Dalish elves. They took her in, fed her, cleaned her up, helped her get rid of the nightmares. She stayed with the elves for a long time. It was with them that she came to Sundermount.

While living with the Sabrae clan, Zytarriel was given proper Dalish markings on her hands and feet. She was happy with the clan, but never truly felt as though she belonged there. At the age of twenty-two, she left the clan and made her way to Kirkwall. There, she found that she was discriminated against for being an elf, but it wasn't nearly as bad as being a slave. She took to crafting blades and set up a shop. She would sell blades along with other trinkets like jewelry, healing salves, and even the occasional gift item. Of course, she also sold things people sold to her. Finally, she was someplace she enjoyed. Kirkwall was a lovely city--usually-- and she loved it there. Of course, there would be times when her mind would slip and she would cower, hearing the screams of her birth mother in her head. These episodes would pass after a couple of hours and she wouldn't remember a thing. Other than those moments, though, Zytarriel lives a pretty decent life now in Kirkwall.

Writing Doodle 019 - Alone

Being alone was never something I enjoyed. As a matter of fact, I actually always hated it. Being alone was the absolute worst thing that could ever happen to me. No one ever seemed to understand that, though. They figured that because I'm introverted, I always wanted to be alone. No, I don't. I get lonely, too. I get scared...

People would tell me there's nothing to be afraid of, y'know? I was just hearing things, or imagining something. I did my best to believe them. That was when it got bad.

I had convinced myself that there was nothing there, that the weird noises, the dark shapes were all in my head. I had an overactive imagination, and it was trying to bleed into reality. It's not like I was anywhere dangerous, either. I was just sitting at home, watching a movie. Alone.

You see, that's when they strike. The things that hide when other people are around. They make those weird noises, they're the dark shapes you think you see out of the corner of your eye. Once you've lulled yourself into a false sense of safety, they get you.

They got me.

Now I'm one of them. I'm sitting in the shadows, watching and waiting. When you least expect it, we'll be coming for you.

Writing Doodle 018 - All My Fault

She squeezes her eyes shut as if it could keep out the guilt.

It's clear before her, the accident. And it's all her fault, too. She asked him to drive her to work. It would have been just as easy for her to take the bus like she normally did, but no, she had to go and ask for a ride.

Now they were dead.

Not her and him-- no. Him and their friend who'd come along. The ride to work was uneventful, really. A few jokes here, laughs there. Normal. It was after they had dropped her off that it had all happened.

That damn intersection.

It was a confusing intersection, to say the very least. Not safe, really. Five-way intersection, no lights, just stop signs. No one ever really seems to know who's turn it is. The intersection has always been an accident waiting to happen. Well, it happened.

He was turning, and someone else decided to go at the same time and smashed into the side of his car. Their friend died on impact. He didn't die until the ambulance got there.

If it hadn't been for her, they'd both be alive right now. Now she'd never get the chance to tell him how she really felt. Now their friend would never be the godparent of her child.

She inhaled deeply, trying to keep back tears she didn't want everyone on the bus to see.

There was a vibration in her pocket. Must be her phone. A text, maybe. Opening her eyes, she pulls out the phone and looks at the message.

It's him. Of course it's him. He must have been really busy to not text her back after so many hours. She checks her messages and sees that their friend just read the last text she sent to him. She want to laugh, cry tears of relief, but knows the people on the bus would think she's crazy. It was all in her head.

That's what she gets for having an over-active imagination, though.

Opinionated Game Review - The Reason I (Personally) Don't Like Dragon Age: Inquisition

**Before you read any of this, I would like to point out that this is far from a decent game review as it is very personal and very opinionated.**

I have always been a huge fan of the Dragon Age franchise. I loved Origins, I even really loved DA2. So when Dragon Age: Inquisition was  announced, you can bet that I was more than a little excited about it. Of course, I had to wait for Christmas to get it, but that was only about a month where I had to watch all of my friends commenting about how great it was on Facebook.

Then I got the game.

It could barely run on my laptop. I figured that would be the case. Oh well, just a few more days until I got home from visiting family to my desktop where it would run at least a little better. I was wrong. It ran even worse on my desktop. Granted, it's a pretty old computer, I was still pretty upset. I might have been able to handle it if the game had at least connected to the server, but it wouldn't. I had to log into three different computers before I was able to start a character with my save from the Dragon Age Keep.

Once I finally got my character-- with my world state, which was really important to me, you know-- I started playing. I fought through the slow gameplay, cutscenes, everything. Only to find that Dragon Age: Inquisition was not what I had expected. In fact, it wasn't what I wanted. I had wanted another Dragon Age game. This was not what a Dragon Age was to me.

Now, I'm not very far in at all, honestly, but I had my heart so set on something spectacular, that I haven't really enjoyed any of the game I've played.

I miss my auto attack. I don't like that I can't have my character attacking while I make decisions or use my special attacks. And with the duel-wielding rogue, which is what I've always played before, I have to move to the enemies. I move so freaking slow, too. I hate it. In fact, I have half a mind to just sit back and watch combat instead because I feel so inefficient and it's awful and cumbersome. Of course, for the first few combat sequences I kept jumping around like an idiot because I was trying to pause the game like I would in the first two games, but, for whatever reason, now I jump.

That's another thing I dislike: the jump. First of all, I can't jump in Dragon Age. It's a fact of like. Second, my jump animation is terrible looking. My character looks like a fool every time she jumps.

Now, I know jump was added because of the traversal of the terrain, but running around a giant world is not the reason I play Dragon Age. If I wanted to spend all my time travelling from place to place, I'd be playing an MMO. I don't want to have an open world. Personally, I hate open worlds in games. I get lost, confused, and eventually just stop playing because I can't find anything I'm looking for when I want it. But really, the whole forcing me to run from place to place just annoys me. I want my fast travel back-- not fast travel like in the game right now, no. I want the small, easy to navigate levels where I can fight without massive tree branches blocking my view; I want to go from area to area to complete quests without having to search for this, that, and the other.

I think, aside from the open world and travel, my absolute least favorite part is that I can't hold down tab to see the names of things. I see an enemy in the distance, I press tab to see what it's called. Now, I sort of select the enemy and things start happening. I don't want that. I want to go back to being able to hold tab and see the names of everything interactable. It allowed be to assess the situation, the enemies I was about to fight and focus on the ones I knew for sure I needed to take down first. Now I'm in the middle of a cluster-fuck of I-don't-know-what's-going-on-in-this-fight. So I just hold down the attack button and wave the mouse around in hopes of surviving. It also really doesn't help that the attack button is now left click instead of right click. I'm having trouble thinking of a game I can remember playing that wasn't a shooter where I attacked with left click.

I'm not sure I need to mention it, but I also really dislike the fact that I can't right-click on an object and move to it to interact with it. This goes for looting, opening doors, talking to people... the whole lot of actions I used to be able to do. I haven't tried it yet since I hardly ever used it in previous games, but I'm not sure I can even tell my characters to move with right click.

Now, this might be a bug or something, but I found that I was becoming very greatly annoyed with the people that just stood around and talked with one another. There were several times were I was walking and came across two people talking and could not walk between them. It was as if there was a wall there, just because there were talking. I actually got really angry and yelled at the NPC's to move. It didn't work, of course, but I tried.

I have heard great things about the story over and over again, but the gameplay is nothing I ever wanted. In fact, gameplay may be the reason I don't finish this game because there is simply too much time where I'm not interacting with other characters now.

These are my thoughts on my I'm disappointed in this game after playing only for a few hours. I'm hoping I'll be able to suck it up and keep going because I want to love this game the way I loved the first two. I just wish this game was more like them.