Death Does Not Become Me....

Magic. Oh how I miss magic. I know now what Zillah meant when he said I shouldn't use my magic here. These people from the future wouldn't understand, they'd panic. My voice can't muster the spellwords, anyways, even when I try hard to think of them and bring them to life. Patrick, my dear friend, procured me a set of fire poi. He had seen my entranced stare at a couple of street performers, and presented them knowing somehow that they would make me happy. I'd often sit in my cardboard shanty and hold them, feeling the leather grip, the linked chain, and the coarse fabric that was used as a wick. I'm not sure how Patrick found them, or could afford them for that matter, but they were the one thing I carried with me everywhere. At night, I'd find a secluded place and swing them about, tensing and stretching out muscles I'd forgotten existed. Swinging them around into curlicues, sweeps, and twists was the closest to magic I could muster. It was o

There are so many people in this town that look like those that are in the Party. Multi-coloured hair, stylish but crazy clothing, metal piercings and tatoos on all visible spots of flesh... I fit in pretty well. Somewhere along the way, though, I had lost my nosering. Better it gone anyways, with all the memories it held. At the encampment, we’d play games like Charades. It’s a game where you gesture a predetermined word or phrase, and there’s no speaking involved. The other team, the guessers, had to yell out what they thought you were trying to gesture. I became very good at gesturing, at trying to relay what I was saying with my body language, but on the guessing end, I was horrible. I knew the answers, but I couldn’t just pipe up. The days were interesting. The future is filled with things I never thought possible. Everyone walks around with these little boxes up to their ears and talk to no one visible. There’s electricity everywhere, and even more litter on the ground.

It took awhile to recognize that when they said "Zeph," they were refering to me. I would have giggled had I the voice to, when I heard them tangle my name into all sorts of sounds. The general consensus was "Zeph" in the end, since it was the easiest. It was a few weeks before my smiles became more genuine. The Derelicts called me one of their own. They were especially pleased to learn that I wasn't afraid to pickpocket those in crowds that seemed to have heavy wallets. It was so easy, because I would just limp slowly down the sidewalks, since it still hurt to move, and oblivious pedestrians would walk on past, not realizing they had lost something precious. Alcohol was abundant on nights that I brought home a big profit, but it still didn't suppress the pain. Physical pain I didn't mind, but my heart still felt as broken as it had the second I saw ... them. Patrick had asked me on occasion if I wanted to go back home. The only response I could

My friends took me in readily and happily. They brought me to a nice, green park with a magnificent view where cliffs met the ocean. I washed up carefully, noticing that my wounds were healing more quickly than they had before... youknowwhat had happened. They were all smiles and ogles as we paced slowly back to the encampment, acting like they'd never seen a girl before. The Derelicts made me a nice structure out of cardboard and other miscellany items. Someone had even drawn a picture of a curtained window on the side of the cardboard with chalk, to make it a bit more festive, I suppose. But it was a place to rest my head and dwell. Dwelling on my past turned my stomach in knots. Soon, I was unable to tolerate the thoughts running through my brain, the visions that I don't even want to mention, and had to leave my little ramshackle hut to be among my new caravan. Very few questions were asked, but I couldn't muster the voice to answer them. I had to write in the di

"Aye, girl!" A gruff man with disheveled hair and ratty, holey clothes waved at me, trying to get my attention. "Yeah, you!" He motioned for me to come towards him when he caught my eye. I tentatively walked over, concentrating on each step since the pain lingered. As I cleared the distance between us, he looked me over, noticing the deep red smeared all over my person. "Dear lass! You've got blood all over!" he flailed with wide eyes. I caught a whiff of alcohol on his breath when he stooped over to catch me in my faint. When I came to, I was sprawled out on a pile of cardboard and newspapers. Seeing newspapers reminded me of him. How he'd drink his coffee, and turn the pages of the paper just so without burning it with his cigarette. What a way to start the day, thinking of how that bastard lied and cheated! I looked around, seeing a struggling fire in a metal basin, and the old guy in rags sitting across from me, eating a bruised banana.

The world was dark, almost a shade of blood red. No wait, it was blood red. Blood had seeped into my eyes, shading my vision from the look of horror upon that bitch's face... and his. It was over. His dry and cold heart was gone and I had let it go. I never realized that he had let his heart stray. I knew he had his... escapades ... but he always came home. I had turned into what my mother had always warned against. Don't nag your man about the other women, she said. It's a part of life. But he actually said the word ... love ... in reference to her. He had never said it with me. I suppose it was just understood . And a child... they were to bear a child together, and they were... excited . Beyond that, I knew any breath I took from that moment on was wasted. There's a satisfaction in terminating your own life, that release of not having to worry about anything anymore. You can only do it once the correct way, and there's no turning back. I found myself

Goodbye. I love you all.

Death the Sweetheart There was once a pretty young girl with no husband, no father, no mother, no brothers, no kinsfolk; they were all dead and gone. She lived alone in a hut at the end of the village; and no one came near her, and she never went near any one. One evening a goodly wanderer came to her, opened the door, and cried, 'I am a wanderer, and have been far in the world. Here will I rest! I can no further go.' The maiden said, 'Stay here, I will give thee a mattress to sleep on, and, if thou wilt, victuals and drink too.' The goodly wanderer soon lay down and said, 'Now once again I sleep; it is long since I slept last:' 'How long?' asked the girl; and he answered, 'Dear maid, I sleep but one week in a thousand years.' The girl laughed and said, 'Thou jestest, surely? thou art a roguish fellow.' But the wanderer was sound asleep. Early next morning he arose and said, 'Thou art a pretty young girl. If thou wilt, I will tarry

"This bread is yucky," I griped about the Salutation Inn's food. It's always so stale there, as if the Innkeeper really doesn't care about his foodstuffs. Zillahface look ed over at me and replied coyly, " Want some miso?" I gladly hopped on his back, in my usual piggy back fashion, and he brought me through a zillion oceans it seemed like until we finally found some bushis. I didn't know what to make of them, because well, they glared at us. I mean, I know we're cute and all, but they didn't have to look at us like that. Then when we tried to seek passage into their realm, they forbade us. Forbade us!! We're good paying tourists! So I put them to sleep with my magickstuffs, blew them a kiss, and we walked up the path. Zillahface took us directly to the local inn, since the locals were busy doing hard labor and we didn't want to be dragged into doing that. The innkeeper was a funny looking man who insisted we call him the

My damned sister thinks she knows everything. Blahblahblahorbthisorbthat I know about the stinking orbs! I may not be as adamant about searching for them, but that doesn't mean I'm not looking. Maybe I'm not as vocal about searching for them. And no I'm not making up excuses. She had the audacity to be alone in the Warehouse with Samael last night. I love you, Samael, but nonononono . Not my sister. And they both gave me the line, "Oh! We're standing eight feet apart!" That's the same thing that Zillah and Mistress Nadia said when I caught them all dishevelled in the warehouse earlier that eve. When I went to pull Kizzie and Samael apart, Kizzie used my trick... the Recall Magick trick to poof me out of the warehouse. Twice! That frustrated me to no end, so I poofed her out quicker than a swatfly on a Kleinster's exposed eyeball. Just because she's older than me doesn't mean that she can do these things. She knows how I fe

So after joining the Party , I never lack of social interaction. I've met a few new persons that I enjoy hanging out with, and they aren't afraid of my prescence because of my associations (which believe it or not disuades people from hanging out with me) They are my associations! A nice man by the name of Antonio, who makes me kiss his cheek, and a dear Tristen, who likes to look at girls, no matter who or what they are. Samael is fun, too, and always makes me laugh, but he's entangled with a new girl every time I see him. We've kind of learned to brush that off and expect it from him now. Maybe he didn't get this many girls back in Sea-at-tel? *shrug* Whatever. And my Zillahface. He makes me smile, no matter what trouble he's causing. Yes, I'm aware he does this... yes, I'm aware he does that. What's it to you? He knows where to come home, is all that matters. I left him a lovely spraypainted message the other day in the Warehouse. Fo

So I missed Mistress Nadia's wedding to Mister Moris. I am very sorry Mrs. Nadia, but please understand that it was a social scene that I couldn't put myself in. I do congratulate you for your happiness though! May you and your husband smoosh all the lil minions you can in Hell. (funny how in any other situation, this would sound like a threat, but it's really not!) And last night! It was Kairi and Archangel's big night. They'd been talking about getting married for ages and ages. It's funny how everyone wants to get married nowadays... but anyways. My date made a fuss about dressing up, so I made him wear his pants with the spikes on them. He looked delicious as always. I dressed up as well, but the only person that noticed was Kairi. It's not very often I get to wear all my jewelry and lace! After finding ourselves at the wrong altar, we finally made it to the wedding site which was to be officiated by the Abbot Suger. I don't really like t

So this lovely gentleman by the name of Joel asked me for a visit. I don't know Mister Joel very well, just from those that he associates with, really, but I appeased him and travelled to his home in Salem. It was a brutal trip, with villagers spitting in my path and muttering profanities in my direction. They called me a witch! The audacity! Some law enforcer shuffled me about, glared at me with his wonkey eye, and threw me in an uncomfortable cell. When he turned his back, I escaped, so if you hear of any of those types looking for a gypsy, tell them I've gone on vacation. Anyways, I followed the directions given to me to his home, knocked a few times, and he smiled when he answered the door. I was a bit nervous at first, being at a stranger's house alone, especially a stranger that doesn't have carpetting, but I found his floor to be quite comfortable after a few minutes. He instantly became pressing with questions. Questions about my Zillahface, about plans

In this life, it's really hard to determine who your friends really are. I found that your friends are the ones that stick with you, through thick and thin, who still have the gall to make fun with/at you, but are there for a hug when you need it. I used to have certain friends that would speak to me on a regular basis. They used to care what was going on in my lil nomadic life. But I started associating with persons that they disliked. Maybe it was because I didn't join their little sewing circle clan because I saw it as exactly that, a sewing circle. Anyhoo, life moves on, I'm blatantly ignored, and not even considered when they start a musical band. Not that I know anything about their band or what kind of music they play, but I know that the Devil himself granted the gift of music to my kind, and not one person in their group can top my talent. Oops? Did I say that aloud? I'm not afraid to say what I feel, they've hurt my feelings blatantly and publicly. I

The Importance of Baths I don't think people take me seriously when I say baths are important. They superduperreally are. I mean, who wants to smell your stink? And you got to get all the mud, blood, and grit out of your hair. The bath is my favorite place. The tub I use is placed in the center of a beautifully tiled room. The room is themed in a blue color, which is of course my favorite. Lush carpet surrounds the outer edges of the tub, and a comfortable chair sits idly by, waiting for my Zillahface to sit in. He likes to sit there, especially when I'm taking baths. I do think it is time to change soaps, though. The lavender-scented one is getting a little old. Gypsies aren't supposed to smell like flowers... just clean! And I can't stand that patchouli stink that everyone gabs about. Smells like the gutters of Klein. I do need some bath toys, though. A little rubber hellhound would be cute. When I get mad at it, I can just hold it at the bottom of the