Thursday, February 25, 2010

Cockeyed Optimism

Today, the sun is shining. I have been drinking in the big blue sky, and the fluffy canopy of clouds above my head, and I can't stop smiling. Because Spring is just around the corner. My eyes will be searching for crocuses and daffydowndillies, and all the other wonderful signs of life that poke through the earth. Hope will be renewed.

I am looking forward to capturing more stills on my camera. The photos that I have uploaded here were taken last year. Now I am longing to break out my camera and take a ramble to nowhere in particular, with no agenda and no pressing deadlines. It won't be long... Call me a cockeyed optimist, I don't care. Spring will be here soon! Spring is sprung, the grass is ris, I wonder where the flowers is...


















Monday, February 22, 2010

Radiant - Attitudes Lab

N190 Attitudes Lab Assignment. In keeping with the narrative, I created an image for the story. I focused on the word radiant, adding in vibrancy and color. The girl represents Blyss, the main character of my story.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Optimistic Pessimist


Aren't oximorans wonderful? Sorts of contradictory statements that have become an accepted part of the English language, and I will admit that I adore them. Take for instance, act naturally. As opposed to just being yourself, I suppose. Or how about sweet sorrow? Though it may sound romantic and immensely poetic, sorrow is not sweet. Perhaps my all time favorite is the optimistic pessimest. I feel connected to this oximoron somehow, especially after today. And the character who best embodies this hilareous contradiction - in my mind - is none other than Puddleglum the Marshwiggle.

I am paying homage to one of my favorite fictional characters in this post. C.S. Lewis introduced him in the book The Silver Chair, and Puddleglum has captured the love of adoring fans ever since. And so, in honor of Clive Staples Lewis and Puddleglum, I will share a few of my favorite Puddleglum-isms.

"Good morning Guests,” he said. “Though when I say good I don’t mean it won't probably turn to rain or it might be snow, or fog, or thunder. You didn’t get any sleep, I daresay."

"…but I’d better not tell you that story. It might lower your spirits, and that’s a thing I never do."

"Very likely, what with enemies, and mountains, and rivers to cross, and losing our way, and next to nothing to eat, and sore feet, we’ll hardly notice the weather."

"The bright side of it is… that if we break our necks getting down the cliff, then we’re safe from being drowned in the river."

Re-reading these has done just the thing. Cheered me up a bit, and brought a smile to my face. Though it won't last for long, I shouldn't wonder...

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

Talking About Genres & Such

Yet another NM-190 assignment posted onto my blog. I will be analyzing my short story's genre and target audience...

GENRE
FANTASY


Kelsey Lantrip
N190 Spring Semester
February 17, 2010
Target Audience and Attitudes


Gender: Female

Age: 5 - 16

Interests: Fairy Tales, Princesses, True Love, Facebook, Elves, Myths, Friends, Ice Skating, Dresses, Beautiful Things; there are some girls who play sports, such as volleyball, tennis, basketball, soccer, and softball.

Habits: They bite their nails when they are nervous and love bright colors. They have an innocence about them, and are very trusting and naive.

Other things they like to watch or read:
Nancy Drew, American Girl series, Disney Princess movies, Tinkerbell, Chick-flicks, Pride and Prejudice, etc.

What they do in their spare time:
Play with friends, Cook, Watch movies, Read books, Make up stories, Sing songs, Dance, Dream, Act out make-believe, Hang out at the mall, Have sleepovers.

Things they buy:
Dolls, Purses, Make-up, Magazines, Clothes, Shoes, Books, Movie Tickets, Candy, Bubbles, Glitter.

Where they live:
With their parents/guardians.

Income level: $0 - 700 (on an aside, their parents make much more. Between $50,000 - 150,000)

Maximum education:
Freshman in high school [college undergraduates can be lumped in here too].

Anything else that is relevant:
These girls adore fairy tale endings and happily ever after. They love beauty and anything that has to do with magical enchantments.

Blyss - A Short Story. I have gone through and highlighted the adjectives/descriptive words.

It was a SMALL town where nothing exceptional ever happened. Where every day was much the same as the one before. The scenery was dull and drained of color. The people were dull, the food was dull, the buildings were dull – in short, life was dull. No one complained, for no one knew life was to be anything different than MERE existence. They were born, they lived, they worked, and they died. That was all.

And things might have gone on that way forever, were it not for the arrival of Blyss. She was an oddity, to be sure. Born to a YOUNG peasant couple, Blyss was, well, different. Because, unlike the rest, Blyss was infused with color. Her eyes were SAPPHIRE blue, and they twinkled with a merriment of their own. Her hair was not limp and grey, but JET black, and it shone with a HEALTHY sheen. Her skin was RADIANT, somewhat olive in hue, and contrasted STARKLY with the CLAMMY, WAN complexion that all of the other townspeople shared. Blyss’ lips were a PALE pink, and when she laughed, it sounded like music was issuing forth. Blyss was alive with life, filled TO THE BURSTING with hope, joy, and love.

As she grew, Blyss continued to blossom. Wherever Blyss wandered, color followed in her wake. Flowers sprang up in the cracks and crevices, flavor was added to the hitherto BLAND food dishes, and the dreary, drained town began to drink in the life that radiated from Blyss. The townspeople adored her. Like the winter that melts into spring, Blyss’s presence transformed the dull purposeless townsfolk into people filled with hope. No one knew how to explain the phenomenon, and no one questioned the STRANGE occurrences. Rather, they embraced the changes and welcomed Blyss with open arms.

There was, however, one who could not endure Blyss. His name was Bytterly, and he was the landlord who oversaw the townspeople. Bytterly loathed the sight of Blyss, and he detested the brightness that resonated from her presence. He preferred the darkness, and resided in a large estate outside of the town limits. He watched with INCREASING disgust as the MISERABLE town began to come to life. As hope, love, and joy started to permeate the streets, Bytterly’s thoughts grew darker and darker. A DEEP anger arose in him, and he became consumed with wrath. He hated the very mention of Blyss, and resented the life that radiated from her person. Seeing her, and her vivacity, gave him pain.

Blyss became MORE lovely with each passing day. She worked HARD, helping her parents by earning wages by laboring in the fields. Blyss had MANY admirers among the YOUNG men. ‘Love’ was a new feeling, one that had not existed before her arrival. Feelings had been dead, but the RENEWED life that radiated from Blyss changed everything. The boys fell over themselves to impress her, and each of them sought to make her laugh. For her laughter rang out MERRILY, causing those who heard it to pause and smile. Blyss had an INFECTIOUS joy about her, a RADIANT light that shone forth from her person.

Jaedon admired Blyss from a distance. Unlike the other boys, he was reserved. Quiet and contemplative, he found MOST of his thoughts turned to Blyss much of the time, yet he did not OUTWARDLY express his love for her. Often, however, the two of them would work side by side, conversing together like OLD friends. Their attachment grew STRONGER every day. Blyss’s feelings for Jaedon began to deepen into something more, and she looked forward to their meetings. He had eyes only for her, and felt most alive when he was near her. Some have called it ‘true love’. But the truth about love is that it is more than a feeling. It is a commitment built on a STRONG relationship.

As all these things were transpiring, Bytterly sat seething inside his DISMAL mansion. Enveloped in darkness, despising the light, he could not bear to see his LITTLE peasants’ newfound happiness. Too long he had let things be, but enough was enough. It was more than he could endure. Tormented, he determined in his heart that he would feel no more. He would wait for night to fall, and then he would bring an end to the disturbance of his ‘peace’.

He STEALTHILY crept through the town, through the NARROW streets and WINDING alleyways. The fragrance of FRESH blossoms hung in the air, and the aroma sickened him. He cringed, and plunged onward, willing himself to continue. Bytterly stopped outside of a TINY cottage. Reaching into his cloak, he extracted a SMALL bottle. Clutching it TIGHTLY, he opened the door. Ignoring the CREAKING hinges, he pressed into the room, scanning the place until his eyes lighted upon a SLEEPING form. He felt her rather than saw her. Bytterly had never been so close to her, and hate welled up inside of him. He was repulsed by her, and it took all of his will to accomplish his task. DEFTLY, he removed the lid off of the bottle and poured its contents onto Blyss’s blanket. He then held the DAMPENED cloth beneath her nose, forcing her to breathe it in. Satisfied that she was unconscious, he lifted her LIMP body and silently made his way back through the town.

Upon his arrival home, he carried the OBLIVIOUS Blyss to a DISMAL chamber. The life was leaving her. Her color was fading, and her complexion began to turn pallid. Down the stairs, deep into a DANK dungeon, Bytterly deposited Blyss into a WRETCHED, WINDOWLESS room. And there he left her.

The next morning dawned. The townspeople awoke DROWSILY, as though from a dream. In disbelief, they stared at their surroundings in DISMAY. The VIBRANT colors were fading. The flowers had SHRIVELED up during the night, and the blossoms were STRICKEN. The buildings were once more DREARY shells. And the people felt the life drain from their bodies. Their complexions were ashen, their hair returned to grey, and their limbs were heavily laden once more. The lightness and brightness disappeared. In vain did they search for Blyss. She was nowhere to be found. In their hearts, they knew that he had taken her. Hopeless, they accepted their fate. How SWIFTLY they abandoned hope.

All but one. Jaedon’s love for Blyss had developed into much more than a fancy or a feeling. He clung to the hope that she might come to love him as he loved her. Her disappearance was a blow indeed, but rather than to lose hope like the others, Jaedon determined that he would not let Blyss fade. More than anything, he wanted her. He longed for her. In his mind, MERELY existing without Blyss was not living. He would not be satisfied with anything less. While the others were certain that Blyss was dead, Jaedon would not believe the rumor. He could not.

That night, Jaedon set out to find her. No one in the village had ever set foot inside the 'GREAT house’. Armed with his scythe, a sturdy rope, a parcel of food, matches, candles, and a heart swelling with hope, he left the town behind him and advanced toward Bytterly’s estate. He knew no fear, because he did not FULLY comprehend whom he was going up against. Jaedon was young and optimistic.

He had the good sense not to waste his time with the MASSIVE door. As for his plan, he did not have one. He was improvising as he went along. Jaedon crept up to a window and peered inside. He saw UTTER blackness. Sizing up the window, he gave it a shove. It didn’t budge. Picking up a LARGE stone, he took several steps before hurling it WITH ALL HIS MIGHT at the glass. The shattering pane cut through the silence as shards tinkled to the ground. Wasting no time, Jaedon leapt into the house.

Feeling his way through the darkness, with his heart beating LOUDLY inside his chest, he inched along. From the depths of the mansion, echoes began to reverberate off of the walls. A FAINT, SICKLY light made its way towards him. Jaedon headed for a table and QUICKLY took cover.

Bytterly came into view. He surveyed the GAPING hole. Seeing him in the light, Jaedon shuddered. Suddenly, Bytterly turned toward Jaedon’s hiding place. The gleam of the candle illuminated Jaedon’s CROUCHING form, and cast shadows on Bytterly’s HOLLOW face. The landlord was COLD, HAGGARD, and his features were eaten away by hate. His PIERCING eyes stared at Jaedon with something akin to disbelief.

It had never entered Bytterly’s mind to even consider that anyone would attempt to rescue Blyss. He had assumed that the villagers’ feelings were tied into Blyss’s life force, and that removing her from the equation would have eliminated ALL the NEWFOUND sensations. Bytterly had not counted on anyone ACTUALLY retaining feelings after Blyss’s departure. Jaedon’s love for Blyss caught Bytterly off guard.

Without giving it much thought, Jaedon drew out his scythe and lunged toward Bytterly. Placing the blade against the landlord’s throat, he demanded to know where Blyss was being held. His eyes lit with passion, his hand firm and steady, he was not to be reasoned with. Looking into his eyes, Bytterly saw a fire that could not be quenched. He told Jaedon that it was too late to save her. That her life had faded and that she was nothing more than an EMPTY shell. Jaedon’s eyes burned with ferocity as he again demanded that Bytterly disclose her whereabouts. Upon learning where she was, Jaedon rendered Bytterly unconscious and hurtled down the corridors, down to the chamber where she lay.

Blyss was as still as death. ASHEN, STRICKEN, she was hardly recognizable. Tears filled Jaedon’s eyes as he beheld her there. Rushing to her side, he cradled her head in his arms. As his tears dropped onto her face, and SPARKLED LIKE DIAMONDS, FAINT SPOTS of color appeared in her flesh. As he clung to her, he whispered the words that he had never had the courage to say to her. I love you. I love you, Blyss. And I always will.

She moaned in response. FAINTLY, but it was a sign of life. Alert, Jaedon was filled with hope once more. Blyss was reviving, SLOWLY. Trembling now, he began to breathe his breath into her lungs. This time, he gave her life. The BRILLIANT color began to return to her body, though not as vibrant as before. It was as though something had died in her. Jaedon held his breath as her eyes FLUTTERED open. Her glittering, SAPPHIRE eyes locked onto his, holding his gaze. And he knew, then and there, that she would always be his. Because those BEAUTIFUL eyes that SPARKLED and SHONE said it all. I love you, Jaedon. And I always will.

And they lived in UTTER bliss to the end of their days….the end.


*feel free to correct my mistakes - my mind isn't quite sharp right now. I may make more changes to this later...but it is posted at least.

Obituaries...

Another entry for my NM-190 class. Choosing our favorite fictional obituary in regards to our animatic characters.

After having scrolled through the lengthy list of character obituaries, I finally lighted upon one that made me smile. Perhaps humor and death should not be paired together, but in this case I was amused by Brendon's blog post.

Todd Martin Justice died in Indianapolis, Indiana on October 5, 2023 after being found dead in his parked car on Meridian street. The autopsy revealed that his cause of death was exhaustion. Investigators reported that they believed he had spent several hours circling his office building for a parking space, and by the time he finally parked, passed out from exhaustion.

Todd was born on April 17, 1988 in Indianapolis, Indiana. He lived in his hometown his whole life where he attended law school at IUPUI, became Indianapolis’ top law prosecutor, and raised a family. Starting in college, he had always had trouble finding a parking space, no matter what time or area. As a result, many knew him to be the man whose biggest goal was finding the greatest parking spot. The spot he claimed before he died is considered to be the greatest parking spot in all of Indianapolis. It is believed that he died happy since when he was found, he had a smile on his face.

Todd is survived by his wife, Rachel Justice and daughter Violet. He was preceded in death by his parents Bob and Mary Justice.

The public calling will be held at Conkle Funeral Home this Saturday at 10:00 AM. A private funeral procession will be held at Gray’s Memorial soon after. Contributions can be made to the Equal Parking Association.

This was my favorite character obituary. Todd was a normal, simple sort of fellow who found joy in great parking spaces. And he died happy...

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Wondering...

Are there actually any new ideas out there, somewhere? Or has every thought been thought before? Are our thoughts original, or not? I want to know. I am again unable to sleep, and so have turned once more to my blog to ponder these questions out loud.

My musings may seem ridiculous in the morning, but for what they are worth, here they are. I am feeling burnt out at the moment. The inspiration tap is running dry - I suppose that it will turn back on later. I have been thinking about what it is that I want from life, what I want to be remembered by, and what kind of legacy I will leave behind me when I am gone. Morbid? Not really. We are mortal - we all die. So I am giving it some thought.

And that is where I will stop. Before I say too much. Maybe you have thought about these things as well, while you are tossing and turning at night, when sleep evades you and your mind refuses to turn off. I think we can all relate, to some degree. Enough said, I'm off to bed. To all, a good night.

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Of Potato Peel Pie


I have fallen in love with The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. Written as a collection of letters and read by a brilliant cast, this audio book has delighted me as I have driven to and from school. As I have listened to the story unfold, I have become intimately connected with a lovable cast of characters. The best part? They have genuine British accents.

The letters begin in post-war England, in the year of 1946. In the aftermath of the devastation, the people try to pick up the pieces of their broken lives. They share their lives on paper, and narrate their experiences, giving the reader a glimpse into their thoughts and tumultuous feelings.

The beautiful aspect of the novel, written by Mary Ann Shaffer and Annie Barrows, is the way that the characters connect. Each of the letter-writers love books. Not just any sorts of books, but the types of books that communicate and express the sorts of emotions and thoughts that the readers feel themselves. The novel captures a true love of literature in its finest sense. And as the characters compose their letters, they are themselves weaving a story of their own.

As I have listened with rapt attention to the letters, I find myself drawn to the fictional people. I can relate to them. I am saddened by their sorrow, and I laugh with them in their joy. I cannot thank my friend enough for allowing me to borrow her copy of the audio book. I do not want the story to end, and am savoring every minute of the listening experience. And what a name. With a title as promising as The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, the book certainly lives up to its intriguing, and almost laughable, title. Filled with introspective musings and engaging wit, this book is a joy.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

It was the Best of Times, It was the Worst of Times...

Such lovely words, as penned by Charles Dickens in the Tale of Two Cities. And that just about sums up my weekend. It was the best of times, it was the worst of times... The tragical thing about my weekends is that they go by so quickly. This past weekend was no exception. And I did enjoy it. It was quietly spent, on account of the snowfall. I engaged in acts of domesticity, and whipped together a delicious batch of apple crunch muffins.

My cooking adventures did not stop there. I next concocted 'stone soup', adding a bit of this and that into a creamy, original recipe. The following day, after I got off work, my dad and I made a simmering pot of piping hot chili - simply perfect for cold winter nights. With all of my baking and time spent in the kitchen, I began to feel like Julia Child. I really do love adding spices and seasonings to dishes, tasting as I go.

On Super Bowl Sunday, I helped my mother make her world famous nine layer Mexican dip. The fresh ingredients make the dip especially tasty. When the Super Bowl finally began, I was more than ready to relax on the comfy couch, wrapped in my warm sweater and cozy blanket. And what a game. Words cannot express my intense disappointment. The Colts let me down. I even wore my Reggie Wayne jersey.

The evening ended on a high note, though, for I would not go to bed in a sorry state. Tonight, I was able to view part of the conclusion of Emma, and I immensely adored the movie's ending. All is well with the world. Jane Austen gives me hope for the possibility of happy endings. And now to bed...

Saturday, February 6, 2010

Until the End of Their Days...

After writing my short story, my next assignment was to create an obituary for my main character. In my tale, that happened to be Blyss. And now I am posting her obituary onto my blog. Without further ado, here is 'the rest of the story'.

Merely five months after the passing of her husband, Jaedon Nathaniel LaVida, Blyss Aryana LaVida breathed her last. She was survived by her seven children - Estel, Ariya, Keene, Asher, Jaya, Ajay, and Ketziya. Blyss was born on Apryl 9th, 1257 during the reign of Lord Byron, and was raised in a village near Lorraine. Her presence transformed the community into a thriving town of joyous, industrious people. She never left her village, and she remained happily married to Jaedon until his death in 1346. Blyss died of natural causes on the 14th of Novembre, in the year of 1346, and was buried beside her beloved husband. She truly lived her life to the full.

Blyss and Jaedon were married on the 1st of Apryl in 1274. Though she was just 17, and he not much older, the two of them were devoted to each other. They remained committed to one another until the day of his death. Blyss gave birth to her eldest daughter, Estel, on Juyne 7th, 1275. She delighted in her family.

And the townspeople delighted in Blyss. Life radiated forth from her presence, and spilled out to everyone she came in contact with. Blyss was an enthusiastic gardener, and her home was surrounded by bright flowers, herbs, fruits and vegetables. Her cooking was renowned throughout Lorraine, and she was constantly whipping up culinary delights in her kitchen.

To say that Blyss was perfectly and incandescently happy every second of every day would be stretching the truth. She was human like everyone else, and had her moments of ups and downs. During the month of Octobre, she fell into despondency. It marked the anniversary of her abduction, and Blyss never fully recovered. Even after Bytterly was replaced by a new landlord in 1279, the memory hung over her like a dark cloud, and she was scarred for life. Throughout that month, even Jaedon could not console her. When Blyss gave birth to her third son, Ajay, on Octobre 17th, 1288, her despair was temporarily lifted. His name meant 'victorious.'

Blyss was an artist, and could be found painting on beautiful days. Light fascinated her, and she attempted to capture the soft shadows and hues. Her voice was melodious, and her laughter infectious. She was in love with life, and it evident. Her legacy was the life she lived and the children she left behind. Blyss was not rich, nor was she powerful. She never desired an elevated status. Yet her impact on the small village in Lorraine was a large one. Blyss Aryana LaVida will live on in the hearts of those who loved her. Her spirit is now at rest. Reunited with her maker, she is utterly content. She will remain in a state of bliss in the lands beyond the world, hand in hand with Jaedon, the love of her life.


*the spelling is deliberately Olde English

Tuesday, February 2, 2010

Blyss - A Short Story

This was a short story that I wrote for my NM-190 class. Hope you enjoy...

It was a small town where nothing exceptional ever happened. Where every day was much the same as the one before. The scenery was dull and drained of color. The people were dull, the food was dull, the buildings were dull – in short, life was dull. No one complained, for no one knew life was to be anything different than mere existence. They were born, they lived, they worked, and they died. That was all.

And things might have gone on that way forever, were it not for the arrival of Blyss. She was an oddity, to be sure. Born to a young peasant couple, Blyss was, well, different. Because, unlike the rest, Blyss was infused with color. Her eyes were sapphire blue, and they twinkled with a merriment of their own. Her hair was not limp and grey, but jet black, and it shone with a healthy sheen. Her skin was radiant, somewhat olive in hue, and contrasted starkly with the clammy, wan complexion that all of the other townspeople shared. Blyss’ lips were a pale pink, and when she laughed, it sounded like music was issuing forth. Blyss was alive with life, filled to the bursting with hope, joy, and love.

As she grew, Blyss continued to blossom. Wherever Blyss wandered, color followed in her wake. Flowers sprang up in the cracks and crevices, flavor was added to the hitherto bland food dishes, and the dreary, drained town began to drink in the life that radiated from Blyss. The townspeople adored her. Like the winter that melts into spring, Blyss’s presence transformed the dull purposeless townsfolk into people filled with hope. No one knew how to explain the phenomenon, and no one questioned the strange occurrences. Rather, they embraced the changes and welcomed Blyss with open arms.

There was, however, one who could not endure Blyss. His name was Bytterly, and he was the landlord who oversaw the townspeople. Bytterly loathed the sight of Blyss, and he detested the brightness that resonated from her presence. He preferred the darkness, and resided in a large estate outside of the town limits. He watched with increasing disgust as the miserable town began to come to life. As hope, love, and joy started to permeate the streets, Bytterly’s thoughts grew darker and darker. A deep anger arose in him, and he became consumed with wrath. He hated the very mention of Blyss, and resented the life that radiated from her person. Seeing her, and her vivacity, gave him pain.

Blyss became more lovely with each passing day. She worked hard, helping her parents by earning wages by laboring in the fields. Blyss had many admirers among the young men. ‘Love’ was a new feeling, one that had not existed before her arrival. Feelings had been dead, but the renewed life that radiated from Blyss changed everything. The boys fell over themselves to impress her, and each of them sought to make her laugh. For her laughter rang out merrily, causing those who heard it to pause and smile. Blyss had an infectious joy about her.

Jaedon admired Blyss from a distance. Unlike the other boys, he was reserved. Quiet and contemplative, he found most of his thoughts turned to Blyss much of the time, yet he did not outwardly express his love for her. Often, however, the two of them would work side by side, conversing together like old friends. Their attachment grew stronger every day. Blyss’s feelings for Jaedon began to deepen into something more, and she looked forward to their meetings. He had eyes only for her, and felt most alive when he was near her. Some have called it ‘true love’. But the truth about love is that it is more than a feeling. It is a commitment built on a strong relationship.

As all these things were transpiring, Bytterly sat seething inside his dismal mansion. Enveloped in darkness, despising the light, he could not bear to see his little peasants’ newfound happiness. Too long he had let things be, but enough was enough. It was more than he could endure. Tormented, he determined in his heart that he would feel no more. He would wait for night to fall, and then he would bring an end to the disturbance of his ‘peace’.

He stealthily crept through the town, through the narrow streets and winding alleyways. The fragrance of fresh blossoms hung in the air, and the aroma sickened him. He cringed, and plunged onward, willing himself to continue. Bytterly stopped outside of a tiny cottage. Reaching into his cloak, he extracted a small bottle. Clutching it tightly, he opened the door. Ignoring the creaking hinges, he pressed into the room, scanning the place until his eyes lighted upon a sleeping form. He felt her rather than saw her. Bytterly had never been so close to her, and hate welled up inside of him. He was repulsed by her, and it took all of his will to accomplish his task. Deftly, he removed the lid off of the bottle and poured its contents onto Blyss’s blanket. He then held the dampened cloth beneath her nose, forcing her to breathe it in. Satisfied that she was unconscious, he lifted her limp body and silently made his way back through the town.

Upon his arrival home, he carried the oblivious Blyss to a dismal chamber. The life was leaving her. Her color was fading, and her complexion began to turn pallid. Down the stairs, deep into a dank dungeon, Bytterly deposited Blyss into a wretched, windowless room. And there he left her.

The next morning dawned. The townspeople awoke drowsily, as though from a dream. In disbelief, they stared at their surroundings in dismay. The vibrant colors were fading. The flowers had shriveled up during the night, and the blossoms were stricken. The buildings were once more dreary shells. And the people felt the life drain from their bodies. Their complexions were ashen, their hair returned to grey, and their limbs were heavily laden once more. The lightness and brightness disappeared. In vain did they search for Blyss. She was nowhere to be found. In their hearts, they knew that he had taken her. Hopeless, they accepted their fate. How swiftly they abandoned hope.

All but one. Jaedon’s love for Blyss had developed into much more than a fancy or a feeling. He clung to the hope that she might come to love him as he loved her. Her disappearance was a blow indeed, but rather than to lose hope like the others, Jaedon determined that he would not let Blyss fade. More than anything, he wanted her. He longed for her. In his mind, merely existing without Blyss was not living. He would not be satisfied with anything less. While the others were certain that Blyss was dead, Jaedon would not believe the rumor. He could not.

That night, Jaedon set out to find her. No one in the village had ever set foot inside the ‘great house’. Armed with his scythe, a sturdy rope, a parcel of food, matches, candles, and a heart swelling with hope, he left the town behind him and advanced toward Bytterly’s estate. He knew no fear, because he did not fully comprehend whom he was going up against. Jaedon was young and optimistic.

He had the good sense not to waste his time with the massive door. As for his plan, he did not have one. He was improvising as he went along. Jaedon crept up to a window and peered inside. He saw utter blackness. Sizing up the window, he gave it a shove. It didn’t budge. Picking up a large stone, he took several steps before hurling it with all his might at the glass. The shattering pane cut through the silence as shards tinkled to the ground. Wasting no time, Jaedon leapt into the house.

Feeling his way through the darkness, with his heart beating loudly inside his chest, he inched along. From the depths of the mansion, echoes began to reverberate off of the walls. A faint, sickly light made its way towards him. Jaedon headed for a table and quickly took cover.

Bytterly came into view. He surveyed the gaping hole. Seeing him in the light, Jaedon shuddered. Suddenly, Bytterly turned toward Jaedon’s hiding place. The gleam of the candle illuminated Jaedon’s crouching form, and cast shadows on Bytterly’s hollow face. The landlord was cold, haggard, and his features were eaten away by hate. His piercing eyes stared at Jaedon with something akin to disbelief.

It had never entered Bytterly’s mind to even consider that anyone would attempt to rescue Blyss. He had assumed that the villagers’ feelings were tied into Blyss’s life force, and that removing her from the equation would have eliminated all the newfound sensations. Bytterly had not counted on anyone actually retaining feelings after Blyss’s departure. Jaedon’s love for Blyss caught Bytterly off guard.

Without giving it much thought, Jaedon drew out his scythe and lunged toward Bytterly. Placing the blade against the landlord’s throat, he demanded to know where Blyss was being held. His eyes lit with passion, his hand firm and steady, he was not to be reasoned with. Looking into his eyes, Bytterly saw a fire that could not be quenched. He told Jaedon that it was too late to save her. That her life had faded and that she was nothing more than an empty shell. Jaedon’s eyes burned with ferocity as he again demanded that Bytterly disclose her whereabouts. Upon learning where she was, Jaedon rendered Bytterly unconscious and hurtled down the corridors, down to the chamber where she lay.

Blyss was as still as death. Ashen, stricken, she was hardly recognizable. Tears filled Jaedon’s eyes as he beheld her there. Rushing to her side, he cradled her head in his arms. As his tears dropped onto her face, and sparkled like diamonds, faint spots of color appeared in her flesh. As he clung to her, he whispered the words that he had never had the courage to say to her. I love you. I love you, Blyss. And I always will.

She moaned in response. Faintly, but it was a sign of life. Alert, Jaedon was filled with hope once more. Blyss was reviving, slowly. Trembling now, he began to breath his breath into her lungs. This time, he gave her life. The brilliant color began to return to her body, though not as vibrant as before. It was as though something had died in her. Jaedon held his breath as her eyes fluttered open. Her glittering, sapphire eyes locked onto his, holding his gaze. And he knew, then and there, that she would always be his. Because those beautiful eyes that sparkled and shone said it all. I love you, Jaedon. And I always will.

And they lived in utter bliss to the end of their days….the end.