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Ballad of a Thin Man, Chapter3Chapter 3
Morning had come again, and it was about time she had left the hermit to go back to daily life. A little sad that he still wasn't living, she was about to walk out the door, only to be taken by the hand by Zimmerman to an unmarked grave, or at least, it looked unmarked. She ran her hand over the marker, revealing a name after the dust cleared. It was Jaden's grave. She didn't want to look at it anymore, instead, she had placed both journals, the one from the orphanage and the one he kept in his later days, ontop of of the where he would be buried. Zimmerman just looked down at the ground, as if it was some memorial service. The grey in his beard was actually fading, odd for an old man to revert from grey to another color. Ikaharu seemed to notice, and she wanted to ask him a few personal questions before she went back to her apartment.
"So how old ARE you, Zimmerman?", she stammered.
"Oh..let's see, I'll be turning twenty next week", he replied.
"Twenty...and you have grey ha
Ballad of a Thin Man, Chapter2Chapter 2
Ikaharu woke up the next morning with a bad headache. It was one of the worst nights she had ever slept in recent memory. Zimmerman was already up, cooking some fish oven an open fire. She knew because she could smell it from the room. Rolling out of the bed, Ikaharu hit her foot on a chest. She turned around to see if the crafty older man was behind her. When she saw that he wasn't, she opened up the chest and began to look through it. From what Ikaharu could see, it was filled with stuff she could remember ever so slightly from the orphanage, stuff she had used to play with. There was her old yo-yo, some marbles, and a pack of crayons, among other things. At the very bottom of the chest there was a container of playing cards, the outside had Jaden's name written on it. She had felt her body tense up, now realizing that Jaden had collected things she had used. While it seemed rude at first, she understood the idea that he had indeed loved her. Ikaharu closed the chest and wa
Ballad of a Thin Man, Chapter1Chapter 1
It was a hot summer day in the month of July, typical weather in Sumatra. Ikaharu was trudging through some sandy plains, carrying the journal that was now three years old and a picture of Jaden, which was equally as dated. She had asked around the town if anyone had seen him, but they all pointed towards the hermit who lived in a cave far away. After about fifteen minutes of walking, she had reached the cave. Balling her hand up into a fist, she knocked her hand up against the cave, which had, through years of erosion, turned out to look like a small cottage. A man with a full beard and tanned skin walked over to the door, opened it up, took a look at Ikaharu, and just shut the door on her face. A little upset, Ikaharu began to whine.
"Mister, pleeeeeeeeeeeeeease open up. Everyone says you are the only person who knows where a guy I'm looking for is!", she screamed.
The man opened the door and pulled her inside, he wanted her out extremely quick, for he did not want to be bo
Ballad of a Thin ManCharacters
Jaden: Orphan who lives with the other orphans at the Sumatra Orphanage Center. At sixteen, he is the oldest one there, but he is extremely shy and not much of a leader.
Ikaharu: Another orphan at the Sumatra Orphanage Center. Fifteen years old, she dislikes men because her father beat her as a child. Possesses witch-like abilities.
It was another day at the Sumatra Orphanage Center, the typical activities occuring throughout the day. A middle heighted teenager sat in the corner holding a pack of playing cards. He had long, dark hair, blue-green eyes, and was fairly skinny. His skin was a good shade, not too light, and not excessively dark. His shirt was button-down and open, exposing his chest and stomach, while his pants were particularly loose fitting, although they were kept up with a belt. He was eyeing a girl, about the same age, across the room. She was pale, had fresh snow-white hair, and wore a sort of silk robe, a light shade of grey in color. The b
Is This Love?Chapter One, Is This Love?
It's your typical day in Kisruke, your average barmaid is working, and her male acquaintance is there as well. The barmaid is lean, a bit short, and has icy blue-grey hair. The man is young, about the age of seventeen, average height and weight with his muscles evenly spread out across his body. He isn't super buff, but a punch from him would obviously hurt. A moppy hairdo, leather vest, jeans, and some messed up Converse Chuck Taylors completes his look. The story mainly centers around this man. The barmaid is done her daily duties, and decides to take a walk, the man follows her outside. It wasn't before long they ran into a girl about the same age as the man. The barmaid decides to inquire the girl, who isn't exactly there at that moment.
"Are you lost?", the barmaid started.
"No...I'm in school, Mrs. Lily.", replied the girl.
"This isn't a school, it's an open area near the Kisruke Inn, what's your name?"
"Miyami, Mrs. Lily, I'm in your English cla
Another Day, Wherever Ch. 1Chapter 1: Cool People Play Poker and Have Water Balloon Fights!
It was your typical day in the neighborhood(Mister Rogers reference for the win)...anyways, nothing seemed to be going on in what else, the awesomely awesome Brood Star Tavern! Our group of young heroes (and heroine) seemed to be playing a very heated match of Poker.
"Full House...", started the modest Remus.
"Four of a Kind", said Walter, who was sipping a rather expensive wine.
"Nothing..." came from the rest of them, which consisted of Roy, Contra, and Kyra.
"Wait...Walter, you have four clubs...that's nothing!" everyone but Walter shouted in unison.
"Oh...", Walter looked down at the table with a frown.
Roy looked up, he was obviously the most badass of the group. He had flaming red hair and a sword he never gave Remus. That bastard.
Remus, had purple hair and like...awesome clothes. Walter was a bartender, so he was forced in that really spiffy uniform, and some ungroomed hair. Kyra kind of...wore a
five hour energyi suppose
last week was only an aftershock
of the earthquake you were before.
this place used to vibrate
with metal strings and melodic,
testimonies to life,
emitting coffee-scented moods
and the burn of it too.
i had memorized the
sounds of silence,
i couldn't help but relish it.
no longer had i known
the sounds of folk
and scent of mocha-
you became nothing more
than an echo of the laughter
i so desperately needed to hear again.
then the echoes got louder,
bouncing ferociously off the walls
to be made manifest
i walked into your room
expecting exactly what i found-
an unmade bed,
and an empty beer
(the one that you insisted you needed
just days ago).
i pressed my nose
into the pillow
for incense and cologne and starbucks
to penetrate my mind
and thinking fervently
i already know
what a clean sheet smells like."
how strong an aftershock can be,
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