LET'S WRITE... !!!

The man stared at me, his dark red eyes burning into my vision. I don't know why he was doing so, but it creeped me out. Perhaps he was stalking me? I was a former writer, and a few of my books got famous. Though, the thought of a stalker didn't suprise me, but it did scare me quite a bit. It seemed like the man was about to leave, and I breathed a sigh of relief. Suddenly, he lunged at me, grabbing my wrist.

Then, I fainted.

Dala stood by Sabine, her face a stolid mask. They stood at opposite ends of the desk, facing each other rather than face Kona. Why Dala chose to, Sabine didn't know, but she chose to direct her anger at Dala. Sabine did not fear Kona. She wasn't the one that injured Nyssa or killed Donna, and though Dala stood by passively, she was just as responsible for what happened as Donna was.
Kona had heard from several acolytes present what had transpired. Gabriel had told her everything that had happened, but she wasn't as observant as Sabine. Kona was no fool. She knew that Donna was not permitted a sword. Kona's hands were balled into fists, her knuckles supporting her weight as she leaned against her desk, her anger reflected in its high-polished red mahogany surface. Finally, she brought Sabine and Dala to her office alone and heard Dala's statement. She honestly explained how the fight transpired, except that, like everyone else, she omitted the initial meeting at the rec room entrance.
Kona turned to Sabine. “Tell me, Sabine.”

So Sabine explained her observations. She was the only witness to speak of the initial meeting in the atrium. Kona listened to her story in silence, her eyes locked on Sabine the entire time. When Sabine finished, Kona stood straight and walked around the desk. She began pacing the office. This was when Sabine found her most intimidating. Kona's anger was building to the point that she could not contain it.

“So,” she said, “Donna was wearing the sword when you first met her, and nobody noticed?”

“Nyssa noticed. She was looking at it when Donna was threatening her.”

Kona snorted in disgust. “Nyssa probably figured she could handle it. I see now that I have to start teaching you that the only thing you need to know to kill with a weapon is that it can kill.”

Dala should have remained silent. Unfortunately, she didn't have much sense. “Nyssa still killed Donna and she didn't have to.”

Kona's eyes flashed. “I beg your pardon?” Dala took a step back, which was probably wise. “If you hadn't given Donna your sword, Nyssa wouldn't have had to defend herself at all.”

“She didn't know how to use it.” A note of panic was in Dala's voice.

“She didn't have to. So she wasn't an expert. She knew how to handle a weapon. That was enough, clearly, to anyone who has a lick of sense. Nyssa almost died, Donna is dead, and without that sword, we wouldn't even be having this conversation. They'd both be alive with nothing more than some broken bones. Those can be fixed.” She pounded her desk. “Donna cannot be fixed. Nyssa's voice cannot be fixed.” Each syllable, she emphasized with pound of her fist.

Kona closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. She turned so that Sabine and Dala were both in her field of vision. She seemed to growl as she spoke. “We have never coddled our acolytes. We teach you to think for yourselves and how to think as a unit. We teach you the importance of looking out for one another. The rules are not in place to control you. They are there to protect all of us. They do not work if you flout them!”

Dala appeared to be shrinking. She sat down as if this were a lesson, trying to make herself less of a target.

“Stand up, Dala.” Dala scrambled as fast as she could, but Kona had no patience, closing the distance between them in two strides. She gripped Dala under the arm and lifted her to her feet. “And stay standing. You are not a child anymore.” Kona resumed pacing her office.

Dala's dark skin had reddened, making her even darker. Her lips were scrunched and her eyes were narrow, her eyebrows close together, clearly trying to keep from crying. “I didn't think it would go that far.”

“I'll agree that you didn't think.” Kona turned to Dala. “We grind this into your heads for years.” She counted off on her fingers. “Weapons are strictly prohibited in the common areas. You may not carry weapons in the building except for scheduled sparring practices. Weapons are not permitted in sporting tournaments.” She advanced until she was mere inches from Dala's face. “No acolyte may exchange weapons or permit another acolyte to carry a weapon that she is not registered to use.”

She returned to the other side of her desk and sat. She bowed her head and rubbed the bridge of her nose. “Now Donna is dead and Nyssa will likely spend the rest of her life mute. Nyssa's reaction was appropriate. Her life was threatened and though she disarmed Donna, she was fatally wounded and had no reason to believe she was safe. Dala, you provided the weapon. You will be required to stand before the council.” Kona placed her open palms upon the desk. “I cannot tell you what the outcome may be. We've never had a murder within the Order in any of our lifetimes. You may even be dismissed.”
Dala turned pale. “It was a mistake.”

“This organization is most threatened when its members cannot abide our rules. I am dismissing you from your training as Kona. Perhaps that will convince the council to limit itself to more temporary forms of punishment. I would do it myself, but I don't have sole authority in cases like this. Dismissed.”

Dala nodded. “Dismissed?” She spoke the word as if it had a foreign sound.

“Just get out of my sight.”

Dala reluctantly turned and walked out the door, as if in a daze. Sabine could admit that the entire night had had a surrealistic feel to it. She turned to Kona and observed her. If Kona knew that Sabine was still there, she didn't let on.

Sabine said, “So, it's just me and Nyssa, now.”

“No. It's just you.”

“But Nyssa...you said yourself she was justified. Your decision isn't because she was overconfident about the sword?”

“No. No, everyone makes mistakes. I wouldn't punish anyone for an honest error in judgment. Nyssa will not be able to speak once she's recovered, or at least not very well. I think you understand how this could form a barrier to becoming a leader. It's an unacceptable limitation...and it's hardly her fault. I simply have no choice.”

Sabine nodded. She hated it, but she understood. “May I go down and see Nyssa?”

“No. She needs rest. See her tomorrow.” Kona looked up, as if surprised to see Sabine still there.

“I've never seen you so angry before.”

“Aren't you angry?”

Sabine shook her head. “I don't know. I feel like I should be. I think I'm more horrified than anything. I feel sick.”

Kona closed her eyes again. “You should. We all should.”

“This hasn't been a good day all around.” She looked to see if Kona would respond. When she didn't, Sabine said, “Will Nyssa be alright? I mean-I know she has a permanent injury to the neck, but...”

Kona's expression softened. “I am assured she'll be fine.” She looked deeply into Sabine's eyes.

This calmed Sabine more than anything else. Though she would never say it aloud, she could care less about Donna's death. It was something she felt like she shouldn't think. After all, one day, their lives could very well depend on one another. Donna and Dala had always been a selfish, spiteful pair, but to welcome one's death seemed a bit much. Trying to drive the thought from her mind, memories of her nightly dreams came to her. This only served to upset her even more. Her memories never left her; never gave her peace.

“Something troubles you.” Kona was perceptive as ever, or maybe she could read Sabine's mind. If she could, she never let on, but then again, she must be able to. Sabine's psychic ability was a prerequisite for training under Kona.

“It's not important, right now.”

“Sabine, tragedy is an expected part of our lives, and it will not get in the way of your education. I am not your mother. I am the priestess that is training you. Nyssa is strong enough to live without your tears. Tell me.”

Sabine lowered her head a moment, slightly chagrined. It was a mild rebuke. “I've been having...dreams. Am I a nomad?”

Kona's face was unreadable. “Nomad is not a race. It's a descriptive term. They're Plainsmen, Ice Harvesters, Gypsies, and a dozen other tribes.”

“That's not what I asked.”

“Then to answer your specific question, you are not a nomad. You are not a wanderer surviving off the land. You are an acolyte in a holy order being raised as defender and a fighting priestess.” She lowered her hand, a deep scowl on her face. “But to answer the question you're trying to ask; yes, you were found among one of those tribes.”

“Then, what...why...” but Sabine couldn't find her voice.

Kona sat forward, resting her elbows upon her desk. “Sabine, what are you hoping for? You can't honestly want to know how we took you from one of the nomadic tribes.”

“Then I was found during a cull.” Sabine looked down. Since the dawn of the Endless Winter, the Sisterhood had done everything in its power to keep civilization alive, to keep society running apace. There were habitat zones across the world that people lived in, submitting to the will of the government. Eugenics programs kept the populations in these habitat zones manageable. Nomads lived outside of the habitat zones and didn't submit to the government's eugenics programs. The Sisterhood kept a careful census of the tribes and when the nomad population became too large, organized culls to kill the excess population.

Sabine didn't know what she was supposed to feel. The Sisterhood usually recruited their acolytes from the habitat zones. It was only on occasion that children were brought from the culls. That was another benefit of the eugenics program; the Sisterhood had full medical details of all of its potential acolytes. They could choose the best of the best without fail.

Kona continued to observe Sabine. “ When you are sitting here, you'll see that they are necessary, and one day you'll find yourself facing an acolyte whose parents you had to cull.”

“Kill. At least call it what it is.”

Kona stared ahead, considering that. “Do you hate me, now?” The question was direct and held a hint of challenge.

This took Sabine by surprise. The distinct tone of the question, demanding an immediate answer as opposed to being an appeal, forced Sabine to face the question directly. “No.”

“You don't sound so sure.”

“I don't really remember my parents.”

“I see.”

Sabine didn't understand. What did she mean by that? Was Sabine supposed to hate Kona? “I should remember my parents.”

“You were very young. Rare is the child that can remember anything at the age you were when you were separated from your parents.”

Now, this made Sabine angry. “You know my mind is different. You know other people don't remember like I do. If I can recite word for word a book I haven't read in a decade, I should remember my parents.”

Kona was smiling. Damn it! She was smiling! She all but confessing to murdering Sabine's family and ripping her away from all that remained, and she was smiling. Fury rose in Sabine's chest as it came to her that only moments ago, they were discussing Nyssa, who was sleeping in an infirmary with a machine to help her breath. “Do you expect life to be of so little value to us?”

“The Earth is frozen. We have to feed a global population on a planet that can barely even support a tribal population. We have to let millions die each year, and we have to kill some that are too stubborn to die on their own or our entire species risks extinction. How should I quantify the value of life? Should we play favorites? Nyssa will survive and she will be a productive member of society. Tribes, if they are allowed to grow unchecked, become a drain on society. If you want to place value on life, try placing some value on your own life. You very nearly became a simple number in the Order's ledger, but we took you and made you into so much more.”

“I--” This had the feeling of a verbal attack. And yet Kona's voice remained so casual; so passive. “Slaughter is not economics!”

“And would you have said that before learning of your parents?”

It felt like her feet had been kicked out from under her, and she very nearly stumbled, for real. Of course, everything could be reduced to a variable. For her whole life, she had learned about the cullings, and that's all they had ever been: numbers on a report.

Kona stood and leaned forward until she was inches from Sabine. “The only time life has value is when you have a personal stake in it. Your family; your stake. That is all. I trust you won't forget.”

Sabine turned abruptly, walking quickly from the room. She knew that Kona was prodding her, goading her into an emotional reaction. Well, she succeeded, and Sabine could no longer stand to be in the room with her. She felt that if she had to continue facing that uncaring smile, she would lose herself. She didn't understand why she was so upset over two people she didn't even remember, or perhaps it was the fact that she couldn't remember them. There was nothing she couldn't remember. Nothing. Being unable to forget was a curse. Kona even often said that ignorance was a blessing. Was that why she couldn't remember? Because ignorance was a blessing?

“Another body, Jim?” A man asked into a telephone. He was at a payphone, talking to another police officer on the other side of the city. It was a dismal day out, rain had been pouring quite a bit recently, and to top it off, there had been a recent string of deaths, forcing the police to work overtime.
“Yes, Clyde, another body.” There was a deep sigh, obviously from Jim. He seemed annoyed, Clyde noted. Though, Jim always seemed annoyed, so it might have been nothing.
“Who was it?”
“David Wixon.”
“The botanist?” Clyde frowned. David Wixon was a friendly man, with a loving family. He was a botanist, but ran a flower shop on the side. Clyde had actually been there a few hours before buying that Japanese Blood Grass that was all the rage recently. Clyde didn’t know much more about him, but he felt pity for his family, as he did with all of the victims.
Victims? Was that right? It did seem unnatural, all of the recent bodies had been found covered with small scratch marks. Perhaps from an animal? But they were also drained of blood. It was an interesting enigma.
“Yeah. The botanist.” Jim sighed again. “Just come here, and check it out.”
“Fine, fine. I'll be over in a few minutes.” Clyde hung up the phone. His car had broken down recently, so he had taken the opportunity to exercise. Though, with the weather, it wasn't very fun. It was too bad that he had forgotten his umbrella, as the rain grew harder and harder with every minute.
Eventually, Clyde arrived at the “crime scene”, if one could call it that. It was Wixon’s Flowers, a small, but colorful shop. In the back would be Wixon's lab, where he examined various plants. However, Clyde was headed to the front desk. Jim was there, his body partially obscured by the desk, though, he was a tall man, and one could easily see his head just above the desk from far away.
“Hey.” Clyde smiled, before seeing Wixon's body, and turning the color of dry beach sand. Wixon's body was almost skin and bones, his entire body pale, as if he was under effect of Pallor Mortis, though Clyde knew immediately that he was not. His body had been drained of blood, rather neatly, as there was no blood in the surrounding area. Though, something was wrong. There, on the desk. There was Japanese Blood Grass, though there was something off about it, the color? It had gone from green with a small red tip previously, to a darker red, covering almost all of the plant. The grass had grown in size as well, much larger than it was previously? Though, Wixon could've changed out plants previously. Clyde realized that he should check the video footage, to see any suspicious events. There were no cameras in the other crime scenes, as they had all been homes, not well protected. However, the shop should have some form of footage.
“I know that look, Clyde.” Jim glanced at Clyde. “You want to check the footage. You've made that look at every crime scene we’ve ever been at together.”
Jim's observational abilities were very good apparently, similar to Clyde's, they truly made good partners.
“Too bad. The footage is missing.” Clyde sighed, he hoped that wasn't the response he would get, and he did. Continuing to stare at the blood grass, Clyde remember something.
“Hey, Jim. Do you have pictures of the previous crime scenes with you?”
“Yeah, we brought some copies.”
“Good, let me see them.”
Jim handed Clyde the copies. As he looked through them, he looked for that one thing connecting the deaths. The one thing that was at every scene of the crime. It was always there, always in the picture, always obvious, it's dark red color burning into Clyde's eyes.

Blood grass.

Life's a dream;
Time it's self is the illusion,
A divine, transcendent framework.

With the black abyss at it's base.
The universe is chaotic.
Not peaceful.

With an ivory tower built inside;
Peace can be cultivated.
It can grow.

Within the chaos.
(horticulture)

The boy was dead, too. Or, at least, he would be soon enough, if he didn’t manage to get out of the chains. Why would Graven have tied him to the pole? Where did he even get the chains from? Why him? There were plenty other in the group, and the boy was the most useful by far. He glanced outside, it was near sundown. The boy gulped, soon they would be there to turn him. If they did, with his abilities, everyone would be doomed. Unless… there was another like him, another person with his abilities, or at least similar ones. There were some places shielded, wasn’t there? The virus may have not spread there yet.
Suddenly, the boy heard a sound, it was dark now. They would come out to turn him into one of their hive. A bloody, small hand reached out from the darkness, followed by the body of a small child, probably five or six. The child, a small boy, looked completely normal. The boy sighed, perhaps he was saved. Then, he saw the monster. A swelling mass was attacked to the back of the child’s head, connected to a long tentacle-like appendage. The appendage was long, and the boy could hear deep breathing, whispering in his ear. Another appendage flew out towards the boy, and the attached itself to the back of his head. He screamed as his mind was overloaded, his brain filled with conflicting memories and feelings, before his original memories disappeared. His body fell limp, and another appendage ripped off the chains, pulling his body into the massive form that the appendages were connected to. He would be completely absorbed soon enough, the monster, the Biophage, devouring his very being, gaining memories, powers, and the ability to recreate his body as a puppet.
The world was ending.

My birth was in germany, in 1970. I lived my infancy medium class family, nothing unusal. My name was Schatten bartsch. My family was a normal family. There were no much problems there. I had no brothers but when I was small I never felt lonely. I had some friends in school and in highschool. I was a normal guy, with a normal life and a normal family. But I changed, I destroyed everything. That day, the cursed dsy in which I started to have fear. January, 1989. My age was 19. I went to my house, which I shared with my girlfriend. When I opened the door a rotten scent enbraced my senses. It was quite disgusting. Inside my house I saw my girlfriend body hanged in the common room. Her face looked yellow and her tonge was purple. I was schoked but I hanged out her body and called the police. That day was haunting me for years. Now I have no fear in remebering that day but it's cost me a lot to forget it. On nobember, in the same year, something similar happened to me again. I was in a pub speaking with a friend of mine. Suddenly, a guy who was near started vomiting some kind of foam. He was dying of an epilepsy attack. I was quite scared and disgusted. Thanks to thoose two things, I became paranoid. I was so paranoid than I moved to another town, to scape from her. But it was in vain. In july of 1991 I was in a friend's house. We where sharing some heroin. We wrre having a good time. I felt sleep there. Wen I woke up my friend face was yellow, his eyes where gone and his tonge was blue. I was sscsrelared. Also there were many policemans inside the house. I thanks a lot that I'm alive now. But that day was the trigger of my obssesion by her. I just realised I couldn't scape from her. She was upon my way, she was destroying everything I meet. That day I started my journey into the darkness and into her thoughts. Death, you're my demon and saviour.

Your first tastes of fear never prepare you for true terror. Sure, the darkness is scary, and you always want to turn on the lights to ward off the unknown, and you can always flee from spiders and insects, or pluck up enough courage to smash it with a shoe or throw something at it. However those fears are trivial compared to the gripping terror of something you don’t think you can stop. It’s the things you can’t run away from, things that seem unavoidable and unstoppable that truly wrack your soul. It’s not like darkness, you can see and know what the enemy is, you can know when it will strike and how, but you won’t be able to do a thing about it. You’re in it’s clutches and it seems all hope is lost, and you’re doomed to die. You’d need a miracle to save you.
On a gorgeous summer day, at a pool party behind a classic suburban house, a boy walked around the pool, confident and calm in his ability to swim. He wasn’t allowed in the deep end and he didn’t argue, obvious danger was best to be avoided. The other children were as rambunctious as ever and swimming around the pool, deep end included, having a great time. Inflatable tubes were being used as rafts, beach balls as cannon balls, and the pool as the high seas. The parents, meanwhile, relaxed near and in the house, out of the beating summer sun. Carefree and enjoying the company of the other adults, they had no worries about their children. Their children were all smart and would never do something too dangerous. They weren’t completely trusting that they wouldn’t make a small mistake, like splashing each other in the eyes or tripping on the poolside, but those could be dealt with easily and quickly. A quick reprimand and a bandaid would solve most problems children could get into. The boy himself was rather bored, not seeming to enjoy anything about the party. After some debating, he finally decided getting into the pool would be nice, and proceeded to storm down the steps into the shallow end, surging through the water with little grace. The crispness contrasted the dripping mugginess of the hot day and soothed the boy. He began to float around, relaxing and enjoying the water. The scene was so calm to him; the adults were rather quiet and mostly out of earshot, the children were laughing and playing in the deep end, and overall it was pleasant. This party turned out not to be a waste of time. However, his impatience and the general desire of youth for change overcame him and he began fooling around. He tried to run around in t water, which proved to be impossible yet entertaining as his legs surged forward and backward, yet his torso never moved.

He steps forward, the blade in his hand glinting, from both the polished steel, and the blood left on it from when he stabbed you in the stomach. You try to run, but blood is quickly draining from the hole in your flesh. He quickly catches up, moving at a pace seemingly impossible for a normal human. Grabbing your neck, he pulls you backwards, and you fall onto the cement. Using the knife, he delicately slices a line in your flesh. You scream in pain and fear, but you know that no one will come, they were already dead. Placing his hand inside the hole made using the knife, he forces your stomach open, pulling out the various organs from inside your body. You've lost consciousness from the blood loss, and pain by now, and you know that you won't wake up. He continues removing your organs while you drift asleep, his gloved hands occasionally bumping your bloodied skin. Working his way up, he cuts open your chest, before throwing the knife aside. He doesn't need it, he has what he wants. Removing your rib cage ever so slowly, he reaches into your open chest, and rips it out. Your heart, beating its last beats. He bites into it, chewing away at the organ, slowly mutilating it, like he did to the rest of your body, and those of your deceased friends. He smiles, content, before standing up, and walking away, wiping the blood from his face. Truly, he was a demon in a man's body.