Now that I think about it, I actually don’t know what death is. Or a soul for that matter. Or even a Heaven, or Hell.

What does it mean when people say your soul goes out? Like-you how you are aware as you read, write or do anything?-is that your soul? Isn’t your personality in your brain? Your brain is still here when you die, though. So when you’re dead, it all deactivates?

In Church and other religious activities, you go to heaven or hell, depending if you were good or bad.
Well, if you’re dead, you’re gone!
And-sacrifice. I’ve heard there is an ancient culture which sacrificed women and jewelery to the God of the lake. Nowadays, people “discover” the skeletons in desperate positions. Like I said earlier, if you’re dead, your soul+personality are gone, so you offer nothing but pain to history.

All that makes you thing this ”vital” question:
Then, is God real?
I think: believe what you believe. Religion, Science. I, however don’t know if this is Science or not.

My theory says there is no heaven. My theory is:
Brain=Personality. Brain shuts down=when dead. So your brain doesn’t work. No more awareness.
Wipe out is a good word for my theory.
My theory isn’t properly explained, but I tried.  .   .
Comment!!

So the black stuff kept coming, and I was seriously scared. I blinked twice, and yet it still poured. I guess I wasn’t thinking it up. Then bright electric blue spurted out the kitchen sink. And red blood coloured liquid oozed through an invisible hole in the ground. I reached by reflex for my cell, or whatever was beside me, but ended up with dark violet goop coming through the air, onto my hair. I have very nice puffy black hair, but I seriously didn’t mind. And then, out of the blue, I suddenly thought, Could I drown in make believe? I guess I did drown, or faint, cause when I came to, I was surrounded by my curtains hanging in tatters, and my clothes(simple beige shirt dress, jeggings) also darkened. So putting it all together, it is really weird, climbing a curtain and replacing it with me. I think.
The day after that, I visited Lily’s home. I decided to act normal, so I wasn’t so fancy. Knocking on the door, I expected Lily to come up with her scarf unwound, but instead I was greeted disdainfully by her tearful mother. She invited me in, oddly enough, and ranted at me with a raspy voice. “How dare you kill all of my children, they were the only ones left, out of five. FIVE! And you go and act mindless about my poor son’s death, when I suppose YOU are the one who put those boys against him, ah, I knew it! And now my Liliana goes and sacrifices herself out of sympathy and agony!! Oh, how DARE you!!!”
Typical. So I stare, and gape, and cry, and she goes on.”Remember, snifff, when I gave you the ipad, snifff? It was for you to write an essay about how wonderful I am. How I let you have Lily and her brother, but you ruined them. I was fooOOOolish for thinking you were responsible enough for my darling boy. Nopes. sniff./”

Deliberate Swirl
Mysterious Slumber
Beautiful Velvety Mystics
Alight Fire

Intricate Dusk
Enchanting Quiet Twilight
Serene Yellow Moon

Tantalizing
Threatening
Crook Ablaze
Silently Conscious

Apologizing

Exalted Myth
Luxurious Mind
Sparkling Lookers
Charming Magical
Electric Specialty

You Superior
Lovely Grace
Of Harmony
Virtue
Writing

Nice poem? I wrote a rhyming couplet, and two haikus, but I really kind of don’t want to copy them…
Okay, tell me if you like them!! Thanks.

This is the part where I can’t understand why I was so depressed. I’m currently wondering why I was so sad, I did have a chance then, to go at Life again. But then again I look at my purpose now, why I am writing this down, and think back at my problems.
A few months later, Lily left. I don’t know where she went, but she left me a message saying something about following her brother’s shoes, I suppose she means be brave, and go hiking.
And so I was sitting in my beige armchair, scribbling something on my ipad. A gift from Lily’s parents-quite stiffly(cordially, formally, over insensitive…)-may I add. And then I put it down. As soon as I settled back onto the chair, some black liquid started pouring out of the vent.
continued soon

Anella shrieked when she saw him. Well, every one would if a stranger was in their room. Ulysses apologized, and told her everything he knew. Anella was astounded. She told him that she will continue writing it. He smiled, and said goodbye. Afterwards, she felt erratic. Sort of. After all, she had to save two Ulysses, although ‘they’ were spirits, of the same origin. Slowly, she walked to her desk, thinking hard. She stared at what she wrote earlier. It was about Eloise capturing all the mancers. All. Of. Them. She sighed, and went to sleep.

In the morning, Anella awoke to her mother’s shouting. Anella threw on a dress and went downstairs. Her mother stopped shouting and handed Anella a letter. Her mother eagerly asked who it was from. Anella ignored her and took the letter upstairs, reading it. Sitting down at her table, she gasped. It was Ulysses’ vision. About his story. Anella rushed to copy this down:

After the hour, Eloise captured all of them. But she had to let one out to kill it, for her to go to the World. She glanced uneasily at Ulysses. He was watching her intently, avoiding her gaze at the same time. She peered into the sack and let the largest one out. He jumped happily out and tried to get her. He couldn’t, and Eloise killed him.

That was all Ulysses had, and she decided to visit him at them island soon.

TO BE CONTINUED .    .    .    .    .

Here is a story about the Place of Paradise. Well, actually, more about it. There was a slave boy, and he was working for a rich couple. They, luckily, were kindly people, very generous. The boy’s name was Ulysses. Ulysses had seen Eloise, Madame Eloise before, and he liked her. Alot. He knew she liked him too, so everything was perfect. Until one day, twelve mancer bosses came, and invaded the kind-hearted couple’s leaf home. Ulysses grabbed the kettle of boiling water and flung in unto the mancers. Every one of them shriveled and melted, creating a rainbow liquid on the floor. Unfortunately, Ulysses had a cut on his shoulder. It wasn’t deep, but it was long. Eloise was down-hearted. And so was everybody else.

Anella stopped abruptly. What else was there to write? Oh yes, the special healing. And much more. She decided to bring some pencils and quills home from school soon.

TO BE CONTINUED. . . .

“Nothing” is innocent
For you do nothing.
———————–
Well, isn’t that right? Cause you don’t move, sooo. . .
What else is innocent. Comment on it. I can think of some.

On my honor, I will try to write more on my blog. Maybe not today. But I will. I try, but sometimes there is/are no subjects. Like today.

Thanks,
Grace

To be continued. . . . . . .