Art by MeddygonThere is a fine line \ Between genius and madness. \ It is called timing.

(Originally written 07 March 2005. Revised 15 March 2008)

I am legendary. That is to say, there are legends about me. I do not see why, as nothing I had done in life was worthy of legend. The stories about me happened after I died.

In life, I was a woman, and I did as women do. I served my husband faithfully; bore and raised his children. He defended our homeland, and I defended our home. I died as many women did in our time: a fatal blow to the head from an enraged husband. It matters not why he was angered, nor why he struck me. I was merely a housewife and this was my final reward for my years of servitude.
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(You may have already read this. Originally written in October 2007.)

It made me uncomfortable when she looked at me. She was a stern woman, very strict. It was odd, and insulting, that she should save her softness for gazing on me. Sometimes, I’d look at her and see pity in her eyes. What sympathy did I need from her? The old hag never had children or a successful project. It should be her who receives pity, not me.

Whenever she’d review the work of her interns, she’d chuckle when she got to mine. It hurt to hear her laugh. She found no amusement in the work of anyone else. Why was she singling me out?
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(You may have already read this. I wrote it in October.)

A young woman walked along a street in the evening, surrounded by the open air and sunset. Her destination was far from any town, across a wide desert. She carried a backpack that, to the casual observer, might seem too empty for the length of her journey.

Scarcely a dozen cars made their way down the road in the three days she traveled. Several stopped to offer her a ride, though she never got in with them. She hated seeing cars. The cars ruined her view of the desert scenery.
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I dreamed of greater things today, I dreamed of what I want to be. What I want . . . or what I was meant to be. Was I meant to be great? No, no one is born into such a status . . . we must toil with our services in life before we are granted such a penance . . . That is what they tell me, yet I do not believe them . . . but who am I to claim that I’ve been denied a destiny? Perhaps it’s a past life . . . But I’ve lived so long, how could it . . . Did I forget things over time? These scars tell me I have . . . I don’t know where I got them, yet they’re there . . . they’ve always been there . . . Those wings, were they mine? What happened to them? Why can’t I remember . . .

— oooh, nothing like some surprise bondage to make my night,

Don’t look at me like that. I was only 3 weeks old :-(

— Ah, self-portrait?

The body’s mind recently opened up some past memories This is a scene from when they’re taking the body to have the “Growths” removed from her back.

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The souls are easy to explain.

Azula is a evil, conniving bitch who’s capable of doing good only when it benefits her

Amanda is a bitter young woman who just wants to live her life after it was taken from her before her time.

Kerin’s deathly afraid of everything, but she’s capable of being sneaky when she needs to.

Scissors spends all his time making as many people as possible miserable.
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