Blood Chest (The possible start of a Novel)

Hi, you lot, so I haven't brought anymore books this week, which is meant to be a good thing. Though, I did end up getting books from the library yesterday but that no big deal since they're kid books (so short) and I've already read one. You know I've start to confuse what I've said on my blog and what I've said in my vlogs/book videos.

A family of pumpkins now live in my room.

 So as you know holidays mean I've done nothing or nothing interesting to talk about. But I did write something this week and I'm thinking of maybe using it as the basis of my NaNoWriMo novel. Not sure though yet, I shall think about as well as figuring out what my costume going to be this year. Vampire is tempting as always, maybe I just be a heart broke ghost. We're see...

Working Title: Blood Chest (Silent Beauty) 

I bite my lip, I stare at the front of the class not at all listening to what the teacher is saying. I begin to bite harder and keep adding pressure till I taste the blood drip into my mouth. I lesser the pressure, but keep my teeth where they are, keeping the wound wet.  I eventually let go when the bell rings. The blood begins to heavily flow now my chin. I ignore it. I pack up the paper and the book of the month into my bag, being carefully with neither. I walk up and go to leave with everyone when the teacher says my name.

I don’t remember his name; I’ve been referring to him as Mr English in my head since the start of the year.  I actually think he’s too young to be married, but master for whatever reason went out style for boys over the age of twelve. I turn around leaving my face bank. The blood drips now on to my chest at this point. I still don’t whip it away.

He stares at me shocked. Has he never saw blood before?

“Your lip is bleeding.” He’s says dumbly.

“I know,” I say only moving my lips in response. He’s clearly confounded by my lack of action. The blood continues to drip down. He follows red drop from my chin to my chest, where continues down under my top.  He jumps a little when he realise where he looking at. He was only doing out of instinct to follow movement. He’s not a prev like Mr Music.

“What was it you’re wanted to talk to be about?” I ask blandly. He jumps again; I fight the urge to smirk. I don’t why, but I can unnerve teacher petty easily and for whatever realise I get a small pleasure from it. I know that’s bad thing, but I can’t help who I am.

“It’s about your essay.” Oh, yeah that. I now notice it in his hands.

“It’s very good. However,” O, big word uni boy.  Is “but” too good for ya? I’m tempt to say this but don’t for obvious reasons. “You can’t just write on whatever book you want. It’s important that you stick to the class book, you need to practice for your exam…” This is where I stop listening, I hear exam and I switch off.

He’s stopped and waiting for a response.  I just look at him and bite my lip, restarting the now dry wound.

“Stop that.”

I scape my teeth across my lip before letting go; the blood starts down my chin again.

“Here,” He says holding out a tissue to me. I just shake my head at it. “Please.”

“It won’t happen again, I just felt writing about something more interesting in comparison to book I’ve already read six times”

“You’re only need to read it twice.”

“How many times have you read it?” I ask doing my best to keep my voice toneless. He shakes his head at me.

“That’s not really the point.” We stand, him awkwardly, in silence.

“May I go now, sir?” I drag the sir out.

“Yes, no,” he says muddily. “You’re a good thinker, but a horrible student…”

“Oh please,” I say interrupting. “You’re not going to do the cliché inspiring English teacher thing, are you?” He looks shocked. “Here how it’s going to work, you leave me alone and I’ll get an A in my exam.”

He looks annoyed now.

“I’m your teacher…”

“I’m just a candidate. No one actually cares as long as I don’t drag the school down with me. It’s your job to prevent me from doing this; if I ain’t failing then you have nothing to worry about. Now if you’re done, I have a lunch to read through.”

I walk out the room without waiting for a response. I know there’s a good chance that I might get into serious trouble. I don’t really care. I knew I was asking for trouble with that essay but he gave us that same question three times already.  I wrote it to amuse myself and never did the real one. So I just handed it in. I suppose, I could have told him I handed in the wrong essay the next day…I just didn’t care that much.

I feel eyes at the back of me as I rush down the hall. I snap back to see a boy staring at me.

“What are you looking at?” Original I know. He looks me up and down.

“A vampire by the looks of it,” he says smugly.  I glare at him before continuing my path outside. I bang out the door. There only few people about, I run around to behind the building before anyone can fake interest to why my face is covered in blood.

I dump myself on the brick wall that doubles as a bench. I exhale my frustration into the empty air around me. I take in one more breath before I take out the book I’m currently reading out of my bag. I’m soon lost in the life or death problems of the protagonist. It’s actually kinda of shallow compared to the last in the series. The romance is such a major feature in this one. I easily bore of romances in books or any media; at least it isn’t a triangle.

I realise there someone near me when I smell cigarette smoke. I look up at the future cancer patient.  It’s vamp boy. He is leaning against the building staring at me, puffing smoke in my direction.

“Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” He says smugly. His whole appearance said smug. His clothes were dark, but proper and expensive. Not something he cared much about if his battered converses were anything to go by. I scuff my fake ones against the wall. His face was that brand type of handsome, that he had tried to disguise with a lip piercing and obviously fake black hair.  Going by the fag in his mouth he was rebelling against his proper and rich parents.

“Go away Emo,” I say meaning it as an insult. He ignores me and sits next to be on the wall. I begin to cough. The only thing that sets off my asthma is smoke. Besides that I only have weaken lungs from childhood infection.

“Want a puff?” he asks smirking, putting the fag in front of my face.

“Sure,” I say grabbing it, throwing on the ground and use my boot to grind it against the tarmark.

“It okay, you can have the rest of it.” I give him a death glare before returning to my book. He begins to read it at my shoulder. He actually has the nerve to put his head on me. I hit him with the book, it’s a shame it’s only a paper back, before getting up.

I’m tempted to just leave, but this is my place and this prev had followed me here. I wasn’t fleeing my territory.

“Do you normally stalk girls?”

“Only the petty vamp ones.”

“Why, do you do have a deathwish?”

He chuckles.

“You know most girls would take the compliment?”

“Of being called mythical monster?”

“No, of being called pretty.”  I didn’t. Petty or “beautiful” always seemed like an insult to me. My mother was always telling me how pretty I was if only I would make an affect or her and others would say it when something had gone wrong.  I knew I wasn’t ugly, but I didn’t really see why it matter either way. To me it was being clever (in some way) that mattered. I didn’t like this boy at all.

“Well, the girls you know ain’t that great.” I say sitting farer down the wall from him and begin to read again.

“So is there a reason why you’re walking around as though you’ve bite someone?” He asked after a while. I put my earphones in and put my music loud enough for him to hear also. He keeps talking. I ignored his words and his eyes for the rest of lunch.

I get up as soon as the bell rings. I have to walk past him to get to my next class. As I do so, he grabs me around my hips. I hit with the book and push him off. Didn’t he understand personal space? He pulls my earphones out.

“I said can tell me where Mrs Smiths’ room is.” It’s an acceptable question to ask if he’s new, which I realise he obviously is if he spends his lunch annoying strangers. I really don’t know anyone in school so I would have no clue.

“What’s the number?” I only knew the heads by their names, everyone else was room number and subject.

“113” he says not sounding smug for the first time. Damn that my classroom.

“Just play stalker,” I say as I turned around and leave him on the wall. He doesn’t follow me at first and then I hear his steps. Once he catches up with me, he starts asking stupid questions like what’s my name and I am seriously going to class like that. He informs me his name Alexander Laviat. Only then do I respond with

“Why should I care?” I say trying to make it clear that he’s wasting his time. He smiles at me.

“Because I’m a vampire hunter.” I’m tempted to hit him again, but I just roll my eyes. He probably piss himself if he ever meets a vampire. Trust me, I’ve met several. They’re never “nice” to mortals of any kind.  

I try to lose him in the correct hall and slip into Room 113 without him.

“Lila, what happened to your petty face?” Mrs History exclaims upon seeing me. I ignore her and go to my place in the back. She continues to fuss about the blood, but I just my shake head at her. Refusing to say a word, I’ve already said too many today.  She only stops when a confused, but somehow still smug Alexander wanders into the room. He sees me and smirks. Mrs History finally goes and fusses with him.

When he sits next to me, I kick him hard under the table so he knows his mistake. He just continues to smirk.

Books Sprees (Invadison of the Novels)

My arms are playing up again, I'm spitting pains in my back. I woke up twice and I really couldn't move my right arm, it was that numb. My fingers went bit odd after that, back to normal now.

So that my normal. I don't why but I've been thinking darker thoughts lately. Not as bad as this time last year. I'm not depressed before you start any of that nonsense. That was last year 2011, my darkest year yet. I blame the school system (I actually do partly, a lot). I think it probably me just subconscious reflecting on the situation.

 I've taken to reading three books a week, which if I continue with this trend and with my current books read number (of 64); I shall have read 97 books this year. Though, that's a bad number so I have to read at least one more so its even number.

I've recently been buying a lot of books, yes that number is actually 10 but that's a lot considering I have no money. I have used money meant for food. I haven't brought in any months. I guess when I buy books I do it in sprees. I did buy a book I've been meaning to get for years is of course "The Perks of being a Wallflower" I could probably do a joke blog with the same title. Maybe next week.

So yay, my room is getting invaded by books. There's a boxes everywhere of them, but then it been that way for months. I'm been moaning about a new bookcase, no clue where I would put it. I could just put it in the middle of the room. I'm probably going to reorganise my bookcase.

Oh by the way, I'm off for two weeks...so reading and stuff.... I might get something productive done. Might.
What do think of the idea of me dressing up as a alien for Halloween?

WTF Writing

Hello Lovies, I read "The Fry Chronicles" by the fantastic Mr Stephen Fry this week. Which somewhat explains why I've decided to dub my Hermes 305 (not a 301 like I said in previous post): Fry. Frankly, its doesn't deserves such a good name; rightfully it should be called Billy Bob or some rather boring like Steven. Why don't I dub it one of those, because even if I despise the damn thing, everything which I decided to name must be called something interesting or at least standable to me. I'm also on a mission to kill a cat called Steven (no clue why) therefore my typewriter can't share the same name.

I'm sick of my own life, therefore I'm back to the scheme of writing fiction for these rather than my actual life or some lame arse point.

The Horror of Writer Okay, not that.


My head hits the desk, in frustration I begin bang it repeatly as though the abuse will cause my brain to come up with the thing I demand of it.I stop and rub my now sore forehead. That didn't help at all. Really not that.

There was once a girl by the name of Rebecca. Now, Rebecca was hideously plain, not like that Jane who keeps saying she is while all the boys chase after her luscious lips and long smooth legs.Rebecca was slightly gay for Jane, but that couldn't be helped as Rebecca was slightly confused. Rebecca was looking forward to summer as she would no longer have to strip naked for gym with the other girls.  She shivered in...embarrassment.

Rebecca was not ugly, no just plain. Her features were neither pleasing or displeasing. Her best friend was sort-of-petty Anna, they had big plans for the summer. Those plans had been massive, but Anna had gain a boyfriend the month before summer ended. She now interested in kissing him (and not sleepover experiments) leaving poor Rebecca to her own devices somewhat. Rebecca had no hope to get a boy of her own, no matter what Anna said. Unless she became easy like Easy Ruth.

The last true school event was the big party that Easy Ruth was holding that everyone was inviting to. Rebecca and Anna are meant to be going with each other, though Rebecca was now worried she would end up sitting in the corner by herself while Anna did straight things with the boy. Anna showed up at Rebecca's house at 2 past seven while Rebecca was putting on a plain blue dress.

Anna sighed (inside) when she saw Rebecca. She didn't appeared to have made an effect, besides shaving her legs. She wore no make-up and her hair was straight as normal. They had this debet before, while Anna had began to wear make-up daily and wore a a skirt that was three and half inches above her knees. Her shirt hinted at her womenly figurer. Rebecca look at best the 50s worst five years old.

They left at past 10 and arrived at Easy Ruth's at 20 past. She was wearing a top as dress and large breast were shoved in Rebecca's face upon entering. If Rebecca hadn't a pair herself, she would have swore that Ruth was flirting with her. It must have just been teasing when she asked if Rebecca liked her perfume.

The house was full of teenage hormones and their carriers. The night started calm, until a game of spin the bottle was suggested after every teen's lips had made contract with alcohol. Rebecca didn't understand this game, it seem so easy to go wrong. She didn't want to play, but Anna made her. It would be a long game. A giant circle was formed, going girl boy girl since that apparently would make things more interesting.

It was a night full of homosexual and heterosexual experiences. Boys kissed boys, a boy kissed Rebecca, Rebecca kissed Easy Ruth whose hand had made contract with Rebecca's left tit. Rebecca watched nervously at first but the kissing began to blur. That was until Not Plain Jane's turn. She bent down to spin the bottle giving  an eyeful. The bottle seems to take forever to choose its next victim. It landed to Rebecca's right. Jane drunkly crawing her way across the circle, before fosting her tougue down Rebecca's thoat. She pushed her on to the boy she was meant to kiss.

Rebecca was no longer confused when it came to Jane. She was a horrible kisser, but her boyfriend was much better. Rebecca moved after that summer. Anna became close with Jane intimately. Easy Ruth got knocked up before running off her Social Studies teacher, Miss Rook.

THE END

I hope you wonder WTF did you just read, as much as I went WTF did I just write. So much filler, I don't have words.

DAMN IT MOFFAT (I promise Last Doctor Who post till christmas but that only cause I can't think how it will come up again till then).

So I've just watch The Angels take Manhattan and I feel just a tiny bit broken. I know there are fangirls and boys that are completely broken at the moment. The thing is while I know how awesome and how skilled Steven Moffat is at making people break. I was still not expecting it at all to effect me. 

But damn it that man is talented. 

Seriously I was rather sick of the Ponds, never much of fan of them really, I was looking forward to them leaving/dying. Hell I've been annoying my best friend about their fate since the new season started. Always slightly disappointed when they suddenly appeared alive and well by the end of the episode. I cried though, not a lot, watching those last moments I had tears in my eye. They managed to sneak up on me just like a Weeping Angel.  I did indeed have  "Damn it, Moffat" (in the same way Brad Majors proclaims "Damn it Janet") on my lips after it was over. I think it probably has to be one of the best Farewells a companion/s has ever had. 

It's so finial, we  know they're happy with each other, and the Doctor was devastated. And they're not the Ponds are no more (in a lot of ways).

I suppose I should talk about the rest of the episode, I know a rather backwards review, well these just all my feels really.  I loved the whole book thing, a old ploy but still a favourite. Always being reminded about the rules of times through out the ep, just hamming it all in. Last page is always the best.

God, I can't write about this anymore. I feel sort of numb. I'll just say it was one of the best Doctor Whos, my favourite is still The Girl in the Fireplace (another example of Moffat ability to break hearts). I'm off to watch Companions last scenes off youtube. Don't worry, I'll be fixed by next week. 

We're back to magic and fantasy.

When the cat is gone, the mice will read.

I am ill. I thought I would start this week's post off with my moaning. Okay,  I don't actually have that much to moan about. The bus to college didn't show up, well according to them the bus was 15 minutes earlier than plan without warning, after it being 15minutes late every other day before. I think they're just skipped my stop due to it being usually empty and its meant to be the first stop. Its not my fault I live in the village of the damned. I'm also still waiting to hear from SAAS to hear about my grant. Its been 30 days since I sent the addition information, so hopefully Monday a letter will come. Till then I am broke.

My parents are gone for the weekend, so be my sib have the house all to ourself. So obviously we have big plans for this weekend. However, as we're both geeks these plans include watching Doctor Who, Comedy World Cup and QI XL. I know we're so cool. Until then I plan to read Sherlock Holmes stories (and watching some lame British horror 'Demons Never Die').

God, I hate being ill. I always feel like I can't breath when I have a blocked nose. Maybe I have something to write about if I didn't have such a boring life, full of such interesting books.

My Sherlock Problem (with disturbing DW action).

I said I was going to talk about Sherlock Holmes today didn't I? Well, I'm not. Not really anyway, since frankly I talk about him far too much. It really just my problem which I inflict on my best friend. We had a  lovely chat last week until my phone declare we had talked too long.

I've bleached part of my hair so now I have sherlocks (that is probably no way the correct way to use that word), someone said (on the internet) that Sherlock meant golden hair. I have found no proof of this, and all the name meaning website have a different means such bright hair (which is certainly all my hair), light hair (some) or with cropped hair (none). Lock means hair most certainly.

I want to just do all my hair, but my mother is strongly against it. I want to do it as my last act of teenhood, It something that won't get away when I'm older, its not as premarted as a tattoo (someday, but have yet to find the right one) or a piercing (there can go horribly wrong, as in death). It's something I wanted to do for a while. I think I'm going to leave as it is for now and do it in October right before Halloween. That totally won't crashed with me dressing up as a female Sherlock (Vamp! version most likely). We'll see as neither plans are set in stone.

I've been fan-arting, something which I have never finish a piece of this yet and what I'm currently working on is challenging piece. Its Doctor Who related and might end the unverisal if were ever to happen. It also Slashy and can't help but giggly while drawing it. Even just looking at it sets me off. I have been informed that I must now finish it.

I would just like to take this time to make clear something. I am not Sherlockian or Whovian. I am Sherlockish and Whoish. This makes perfect sense since I am British, they are British therefore we are ab "Ish". The "an"s of North America are trying to inflict their ways on to us. Never. I will hurt the next person who address me as such.

Seriously, nothing to say this week.

Doctor Who thoughts as they happened.

GOD, Doctor Who makes me giggly. Watching it as I type. What with the orange opening? Queen Nefertiti is the best Queen of Egypt ever.  This is probably going to be rather random to begin with. Dinosaurs in space, isn't that like a little boy's fantasy. I would say kid except I wasn't that much into either as a kid.
LOL, Squeaky voice robots fantastic.Oh I know those voices, I love both those voices.

The Earth Lizard people are back.  I don't imagine a (can't think of the name of this) Dinosaur licking someone like a dog. I like Rory's dad better than Rory, its so sad when children go up...can't think of the right word. Everyone knows the Doctor is more like a PhD doctor than a medical one.

Eleven is really growing on me. At first I wasn't sure of him, I thought he would be better than nine who I did not like at all, but he's much better. Though, Ten will always be my Doctor.

The Doctor doesn't have a value, he's priceless. But definitely not worthless.

"Don't ever judge me by your standards" He probably stole that off someone. I'm now stealing that.

Robots are funny, as expected. "They've stolen a dinosaur." "I see that."

Gay kiss, well just give the fangirls what they're want then Doctor.

Oh, not the doggy Dinosaur *weeps dramatically*

Lestrade is all I can think about.

Ew, old man. No one likes a creepy rapist trying it on with a several thousand year old Queen. Nefi could definitely take him anyway.So could anyone he is on crunches after all and rather dimwitted.

Ha, I saw that coming didn't I?

Aw, who doesn't want to see their home from space. And Earth is rather petty. Thats amusing and sweet ending.

 Next week Cowboys. These writers are such boys.

I'm off to annoy my best friend, I tell about my (our) Sherlock problem next week. 

Blogger's block (with London's Safety being poked at)

It surprisingly hard to come up with a blog idea every week. I mean I know there's people out there that blog something everyday. I tweet most days, but most of those barely past as amusing nevermind interesting. Maybe it would help if had a life outside of books and the internet.

I mean I can't really write book reviews (from English I took the ability to only write essays about characters and deep themes, most people don't want that or most of the books I read are too shallow to do that or have been done who knows how many times before). There are no currently geeky shows to watch (the realisation I only watch cartoons and BBC productions) and I forgot to write about The Dark Knight Rises when anyone, including myself, remotely cared (it was overly obvious from a fan point of view). The Olympics are over and no offence to the Paralympics but channel 4 suck at sports so I've given up any notion of watching them (or any sports).

Wait, Doctor Who is back on tonight; technically I could just wait and watch that. Then I could freely bitch about why do the writer hate Rory so much (they've killed him at least Three times) and how I'm not fond of any of the Ponds (its nice to re-watch River Song's death). Okay, I could do all those things right now, but you know me... I like to bitch at the only semi-appropriate time.

I would also like to state that I hate Docter 9 and Rose that while the plots were okay (besides the characters) I never watch them because frankly I would have happily killed both. Still sightly sad that Rose didn't die...

Also why has London not been nearly destroyed the past two Christmases?

Oh, for those expecting a update about  how my first week of college went... there isn't one (not clearly written one anyway).