Well, I wrote this out very nicely the first time, but I put down August instead of 08 for my birth month so I'll start over.
I decided when I was in fourth grade that I was going to write a novel, and publish it, and become famous before I was out of elementary school. Well, it didn't work. But I wrote 73 pages of single-space 12. times new roman font that year. The first line was "A jagged little stone, blood red in color, was the only thing that held Loria to this world." Pretty catchy, neh?
Well, despite the fact that my first attempt was a flop, since then, writing seems to be in my blood. I'm avid, maybe even obsessed. I have to wake up in the middle of the night and boot up my computer to get down ideas, or stop during my math test to write a page.
I write anything and everything, and I'm currently almost done with a story written in second person, which is a real accomplishment to me, as I've never finished anything over five pages long.
I favor fantasy, but I mix and match. Fantasy romace, fantasy horror. Honestly, I'll write anything if it stands still long enough. I have a bad habbit of making my characters suffer from sexual abuse in their past, or writing things that small children shouldn't ever read, but I'll try and keep it clean for this site, and I wont break rating rules.
Besides that, I write poetry. Often. More then often. All the time. I love the lyrical words and the way things flow together.
I also draw. I might post some art, or draw some characters if people like. I work for cheap, cuz you can't get much cheaper then free.
My life is limerance.
~Keseken
Man, I'm so stupidly scared that someone will steal this, but believe it or not, I've had people do that to me before. So if I caught you stealing, then I will bring hell down upon you.
However, I'm hoping that because this is a writing website, there will be no stealing of ideas or plagerism.
The Unseelie Court is no more than a dream on the minds of half-sleeping dreamers. No more than just a thought in the hearts of the thoughtless. For every outcast who has sought helplessly for a place to be welcomed, for every scream of injustice and anguish, we have been the whisper in the dark. We have been the home to those too monstrous to find a home, and a shadow of hope over the souls of the wearied. No one was scorned here for their needs and desires. No thought was too unkempt or taboo to find a place of freedom. We have been the darkness that our carefully conducted counterparts loathed, simply because we shunned no one. They called us unruly and cruel, coarse and shameless, when it was truly they who were the cruel ones. They who threw me out into the woods for dead as only a child who knew no better, with the only crime I had committed being love. They who gave crumbs of kindness to the foolish, and nothing but hatred to the ugly. The court of beauty and light indeed, but what a hell it was for those of us who fell from the shining throng, and for those of us who were never considered tame enough, or lovely enough, to be looked upon. The Unseelie Court was the outsiders dream. We were a home. Maybe it wasn’t as safe, and maybe it wasn’t as pretty; a place of revelry and drink, blood and humor, but home still we were. They called us nightmares, and now, we are no more.
