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Journal by...Glain.

Journal Entry: Thu Aug 21, 2008, 5:31 PM
  • Mood: Psychotic
  • Listening to: Incubus - Anna Molly
  • Reading: Electronics Certification Handbook
  • Watching: nada
  • Playing: find a decent picture of a certain vampire...
  • Eating: milk pocky
  • Drinking: lychee bubble tea ( a.k.a. god in a cup )
I’d never really known what I was. I hadn’t thought much of it. My presence would cause unexplainable power surges in any area with a lot of electrical things, but where I came from there were so few places that even had electricity that it didn’t matter.
My family lived in a town of what a lot of people liked to call Traditionalists. No electricity other than necessary, no pesticides or artificial preservatives, and, most importantly, no government. We were a simple people living in peace. My father used to say that governments were for the weak people that relied on control and technology to make their lives comfortable. Our kind was stronger than that, he would tell me.
There were only ever two exceptions to the electricity rule, the underground gardens that had to be maintained by things that the farmers called LEDs and the simple medical machinery that the local physician had. If anyone in the town needed anything else they would have to make the journey to one of the big cities.
Every month my father had to make the journey to Northampton to see a special sort of doctor. He had a sort of sickness that no one in the town knew of and only physicians in the larger cities had any idea how to treat it. I don’t know exactly what it was, but sometimes my father would know what my mother and I were thinking without even having to ask us. When I was young, all that I knew was that whenever he heard thoughts he became unexplainably sad. Now that I’m older I know that he had a condition called telepathy, but the reason that it made him so miserable still eludes me. I can only assume that the minds of people in our village weren’t as cheerful as the people themselves.
My mother, however, was the exception to that rule if that’s the case. She was the most optimistic woman alive. Even after the storm began, she would make her own sunshine simply by smiling. When I was still quite taken with Matthew, mum would always have him over for dinner and would, despite strict rules on such things, let me wear one of her bracelets. I’d always liked the green and gold one with the willow trees and suns on it. After Matthew found out what strange things that I accidentally did, she gave me the bracelet to cheer me. My mother knew everything that there was to know on me and my father, yet she still loved us. She was the one that taught me to read and write because I was too afraid to go to school as a child. And when I was older and wished to go, she worked into the night sewing me beautiful dresses to wear. Many people said that she was our town’s personal ray of sunshine. Sharon May Cartret, the light of Old Lamport.
Even the most bright lights may fade, though. She was ill. Tuberculosis, the doctor said. We hadn’t the money to pay for her treatment. My father’s medication was free, but not all others were as kind as the man that he saw. The townspeople held charities to benefit her and, eventually, we were able to afford her treatments. There was not enough to continue them for as long as she needed, though. We were a simple people and simple people are almost always poor people.
When she died, our town died as well. No one could say quite why or how, but after her funeral no one smiled as much. The school mum’s lost the musical note to their voices and the farmer’s didn’t sing as much when they worked. It felt like everyone was lost without her baskets of cloth flowers and homemade sweets to brighten their days.
Though all of the sorrow and grief, it was my father who took up her mantle. He tried so hard to be strong for everyone, but it only lasted a short while. Hardly more than a year after her passing, my father stopped making the trip to Northampton. His smiles ceased to appear and he was no longer a father, but a shell of a man now empty without his wife.
The family friends, Mr. and Mrs. Eddings, were kind enough to take me in when my father’s doctor decided that he was no longer well enough to come home. Once I moved in with them the incidents stopped. I could go to the gardens without fretting on any of the lights flickering when I walked in. It felt like a miracle, until I realised that my stuttering and fidgeting was getting worse. It came to a point where I couldn’t hold anything like a conversation.
That was the time of the accident. I was on a trip to the city with Mrs. Eddings to get glass jars to be used for the spring’s wine and jellies. The buildings were so huge and so reflective that I couldn’t look away, but she didn’t realise that. My escort was a good bit ahead of me by the time that we heard the sound of the auto turning the corner. I didn’t know what the noise was, so I didn’t move. There wouldn’t have been time enough to do so, anyroad. By the time that the noise was heard that auto had already collided with me. I was lucky, I suppose, because only my leg and a few ribs were injured. Well, to be specific, my leg was mostly torn off below the knee.
The man that had hit me offered to pay for medical treatment and, despite the horror of the other people in my city, I was glad to accept. Prosthetics were looked down upon as making someone less than human. It would have been nobler to hobble about than to have a mechanical leg. It was the beginning of my life, though, the summer of my youth, and I didn’t wish to spend it being bedridden and pitied.
At least, I thought that I didn’t. The looks and the jeers and the cruel words were enough to make me nearly forsake my leg, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I was tiring of the strict rules of my town. Every day I remembered the beautifully dressed nurses in their clean white frocks and the buildings that glimmered with man-made light. I longed for the city.
Two years after my operation, on the eve of my nineteenth birthday, I packed my bags and left for Northampton. This, truly, is where my story began.

Devious Information

  • Current Age: antiquated
  • Current Residence: the twilight city of Inquanok
  • Interests: the mafia, robots, mythology
  • Favourite movie: Blade Runnder, Godfather trilogy, etc.
  • Favourite band or musician: Billy Idol, Incubus, Zeromancer, Sublime, etc.
  • Favourite genre of music: rock
  • Favourite artist: Librian
  • Favourite poet or writer: Sagan, Lovecraft, Gibson, etc.
  • Operating System: Vista *hiss* Getting Ubuntu soon...
  • MP3 player of choice: the one mah brother gave me
  • Wallpaper of choice: it changes randomly
  • Skin of choice: I can eats yours please?
  • Favourite gaming platform: PS1
  • Favourite cartoon character: not cartoon, but...Halloween, Deuce, and Roy Batty
  • Personal Quote: "We have people we'd like to throw flame ON."
  • Tools of the Trade: CLICKY PENCIL OF DEATH

deviantART Notice

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Devious Comments

~ambiguous-aberration:iconambiguous-aberration: Aug 19, 2008, 11:51:55 AM
me: Good. Then we're doing our job. ;)

--
From here on it's instinctual.
Even straight roads meander.
Every piece contains a map of
It all! It all!
*LibrianGoober:iconLibrianGoober: Aug 19, 2008, 9:11:20 AM
:evillaugh:
Alex: -_-; I hate you people.

--
I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person. ಠ_ಠ
~ambiguous-aberration:iconambiguous-aberration: Aug 17, 2008, 2:45:33 PM
Hn...the latter. :D

--
From here on it's instinctual.
Even straight roads meander.
Every piece contains a map of
It all! It all!
*LibrianGoober:iconLibrianGoober: Aug 16, 2008, 10:42:30 PM
:heart:

(:D) I'm thinking [link] . He was a physician and was eaten alive by beasts...
Or [link] , who was noted as exceptionally filthy and was burned to death...

Hard decision, that.

--
I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person. ಠ_ಠ
~ambiguous-aberration:iconambiguous-aberration: Aug 9, 2008, 6:59:39 PM
Heh. :heart:

( :evillaugh: ) me: Oooh. Nice. So...which one shall we make him?

--
From here on it's instinctual.
Even straight roads meander.
Every piece contains a map of
It all! It all!
*LibrianGoober:iconLibrianGoober: Aug 9, 2008, 2:23:48 AM
Not for very long if you did. ^^;

( :evillaugh:) Alex: That's because I don't have a saint that shares my name and was shot by arrows.

Me: Hmmm... Saint Alexander. *wikis* OO; Wow. Well, Alex, it seems we have a great selection when it comes to your saintly torture...

[link]

--
I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person. ಠ_ಠ
~ambiguous-aberration:iconambiguous-aberration: Aug 7, 2008, 3:29:21 PM
Oo; I used far too many "oh"s in that reply...

--
From here on it's instinctual.
Even straight roads meander.
Every piece contains a map of
It all! It all!
~ambiguous-aberration:iconambiguous-aberration: Aug 7, 2008, 3:25:10 PM
Oh, honestly, if I cared anything for dignity would I really be chatting with you? ;)

( Oh, there's plenty of that, I assure you....) Heh. Oh, come now, Alex. It's not like you were the one turned into a human pincushion.

--
From here on it's instinctual.
Even straight roads meander.
Every piece contains a map of
It all! It all!
*LibrianGoober:iconLibrianGoober: Aug 7, 2008, 2:05:54 AM
'S okay. I'm just amused that you're dignifying that with a response. Yes. You are. Old man! I talk to an old dude on the interwebs... how classy. :roll:

:D

(lol What, no mortified shock?)I dunno... Alex? You up there?

Alex: No! >< Leave me alone! You're both evil.

--
I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person. ಠ_ಠ
~ambiguous-aberration:iconambiguous-aberration: Aug 5, 2008, 6:49:34 PM
Late reply, I know. Thank ye. And yess...yessss...I'm practically ancient aren't I? ;)

Hn...would one of those be Seb's instructor? Heh.

--
From here on it's instinctual.
Even straight roads meander.
Every piece contains a map of
It all! It all!
*LibrianGoober:iconLibrianGoober: Jul 30, 2008, 10:31:02 PM
Happy B-day, Quincelot! :cake:

Yay for being old!:party::twenty:

Yay for being old enough for me to give you birthday strippers!
:strip: :strip: :strip: :strip: :strip:

--
I refuse to have a battle of wits with an unarmed person. ಠ_ಠ
~Frodo-chan:iconFrodo-chan: Jul 30, 2008, 8:48:10 PM
HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!! :glomp:

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I am not worth of friends so great..shining like candles in the darkness of my insantity.
Twist, turn and crazy people that is all need to be said.
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*Cricket-Syamota:iconCricket-Syamota: May 5, 2008, 6:49:53 PMComment hidden by Owner
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~ambiguous-aberration:iconambiguous-aberration: May 4, 2008, 8:00:45 PMComment hidden by Owner
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