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echoes of the past,, ~ Aisling Crawford

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Post  WonderlandJunkie Mon Dec 24, 2012 6:07 pm


A single page sits in the front of the new journal, one which is spattered with what appears to be dried blood. It is burnt around the edges, and looks as though it was torn out of another book. It reads only this,


There are times when I stare out at the edge of the forests
To see if I can find the end of it
Find where the rest of the world begins
Because here
Here, we are caged.
We are animals.
Let us out.

We are not safe here.
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Post  WonderlandJunkie Mon Dec 24, 2012 6:13 pm


The handwriting is fairly sloppy, as if written with the authors bad hand.

Christmas Eve




"That Psionic will wake and find her eyes eaten by hounds!"

I though that I could trust you.
I thought that...

I heard her telling you to make friends. I should have known, it was all a lie.
And I'll be damned if I let anybody else fall for your little game.
I wanted to give you a chance. There is good in everybody, I was once told.
You are the exception.


I saw the malice in your eyes.
You wanted to hurt me.
Those little bats and doves you play with, they may help your cloud of innocence but I can see straight through you.
You are vile. You are sadistic. You are rotten -- down to the core.
You had no right to do what you did, no matter if I layed a hand on you or not. We settled it already.
I hope that you get what is coming to you, somehow or another.
You don't belong here in The Compound.


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Post  WonderlandJunkie Tue Dec 25, 2012 1:27 am

Christmas Eve, still



It is only a few hours until Christmas day.
I am alone.
Sebastian is gone, and has been for some time yet I cannot get the images of that night out of my head,
I watched him get decapitated.
My parents are gone.
They sent me to a labratory like an animal.

I am gone.
I've always been gone.

I have died everyday waiting for you
Darling don't be afraid I have loved you
For a thousand years
I'll love you for a thousand more
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Post  WonderlandJunkie Tue Dec 25, 2012 3:46 am

Christmas Morning


Passion, it lies in all of us, sleeping,
waiting,
and though unwanted, unbidden...
it will stir, it will open its jaws and howl.
It speaks to us, guides us,
passion rules us all, and we obey.
What other choice do we have?
Passion is the source of our finest moments.
The joy of love,
The clarity of hatred,
and the ecstasy of grief.
It hurts sometimes more than we can bear.
If we could live without passion maybe we’d know some kind of peace, but we would be hollow,
Empty rooms shuttered and dank.
Without passion we’d be truly dead.


I was dead for a long time.
Wondering the planes with no reason to breath--
Except, perhaps, to be a hybrid's chew toy.
And what sort of life is that? Certainly not the sort I wish for, or planned to have.

Then, a light erupted in my vision and I felt.. alive.
No longer did I need my beating heart to tell me I was living,
Because I could feel my soul was no longer shriveled up but had flourished.
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Post  WonderlandJunkie Tue Dec 25, 2012 10:05 pm

Christmas Day


'Those who have actually seen the Devil and lived to tell the tale say he's the most beautiful specimen of manhood you'll ever see. No horns, no hooves, just perfectly sculpted out of lust, greed, and retribution.'
I have seen the Devil.
She's got lips painted red which speak the words of truth no matter how cruel, a true symbol of her power.
Nobody can stop her reign of power, no matter how hard they try.
What is this master plan that churns the gears inside the Angel's head?

They say that the eyes are the windows to the soul.
If you modify the eyes, have you given your soul away?


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Post  WonderlandJunkie Wed Dec 26, 2012 2:40 am

Christmas Night



Lips red as blood,
Hair black as night,
Bring me your heart,
My dear, dear
Snow White


Chaos has erupted outside the walls.
I hear it on the television, people are terrified of the uprising that may come.
People are afraid that the mythicals are going to break from the Compounds and take over.
The Angel spoke of some master plan earlier, so I wouldn't doubt it.
I'm tired of being here, caged.
I. Am not. An animal.
We. Are not. Animals.
We will not be silenced.

I would rather die fighting than live caged.

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Post  WonderlandJunkie Wed Dec 26, 2012 11:05 pm

December Twenty-Sixth
2012



Ill break every window of your unit
And use shard to cut a slice into your skin.
And Ill slowly, peel away the skin
Using your slices as a beginning point
And throw your remains in the river
And leave your skinless body in your bathtub

The one you broke.

And just to show that I am serious,...

Where should I cut, Aisling?
Somewhere less obvious this time.
Your hand healed far too qiuckly.


I had help.

Maybe the back of your neck, at your hairline

Or... your shoulderblade

Or maybe give you the same facial damage as me, and slice the bridge of your nose

Right between your eyes.


The last set of words was scribbled in a quick manner, the ink pressing through to the page behind it.


Help me.


There was another note, added later. It appeared to have been ripped from another paper, and the scriffy handwriting was obviously not her own. The ink dripped down the page as though it ran too fast for whoever wrote it.

чσu lαíd α hαnd σn mє, psíσníc
sσ nσw, í tαkє thє hαnd


ζςομ ψους βεστ ζςjενδ

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Post  WonderlandJunkie Thu Dec 27, 2012 12:48 pm

December Twenty-Seventh
2012




She's a cool Mistress
And a bargain must be made
Oh my love dont forget me
When i let the water take me


The rumors of the uprisings have grown full scale.
I fear for my life,
But not my sanity- that has already been lost
If the rumors are true,
I fear for the angel, Cambria.
I fear for Karou.
For myself.

Someone is at the doo~~

The writing falters and becomes a long, scrabbled line as though the writer was pulled away as she wrote.

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Post  WonderlandJunkie Wed Jan 02, 2013 2:20 pm

January Third



Tonight was my wedding night.


The wedding itself was beautiful.
It was set in the courtyard, light pink flowers strung beneath a white tent.
The benches were made of mahogony and were painted white, with black metal decorating each end.
It was a small wedding to say the least,
and an even smaller reception.

Only five people showed up in all, to the reception.
Margra, Cambria, Ibram, Myself and Carter.
I suppose it could have been worse.

Is there really aything wrong with marrying someone you haven't known too long,
If they mean a lot to you?
I guess so.
Aparently, calling Margra pretty also makes me a lesbian.


This night was supposed to be about me,
and instead I drank myself to another world.

Wonderful.


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Post  WonderlandJunkie Sat Jan 05, 2013 5:56 pm

January Fifth
Afternoon




You don’t know what goes on in anyone’s life but your own. And when you mess with one part of a person’s life, you’re not messing with just that part. Unfortunately, you can’t be that precise and selective. When you mess with one part of a person’s life, you’re messing with their entire life. Everything. . . affects everything.


A flood of emotions rushes into me when I recall the events of today.
Pain and anger. Sadness and pity. But most surprising of all, hope.
Hope that we will get out someday.
That the world will change and we will once again be able to live peacefully in the shadows.

I held a dead girl in my arms today. She died.. In my arms.
Because I couldn't save her.
Another psionic by the name of 'Ariane' showed up - I do believe that she is a royal, a council member as well.
After we left the neko's body to be taken, she took me back to my unit.
I sat. And I thought. And the more I thought, connecting the events in my life and Miya's, the more my heart collapsed.
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