Love

Yes, a cheesie topic, but it's worth so much more then money. It's something everyone in the world has to learn. Perhaps, if we all shared a little bit more love, the world would be that much better. Show love by small acts of kindness, a smile to anyone and everyone, a hug where it's unexpected, and a kind word where it's needed. Everyday should be called "Show a little more kindness then yesterday" day.

Think about it.

How much kinder would we be to those around us if we made the decision to be that much kinder to everyone we met? How much better of a day would we have then the last every day if others treated you better then they did the day before? How many more friends and allies would we have if we decided to simply be nice to one another? How often would wars not happen? How much easier would it be to get along with your enemies if you were nice? Would enemies even exist at all?

We should ask ourselves these questions of just about anything in life. Just one question at a time, and something that seemed like such a good idea suddenly becomes dumb. And something that may have seemed uncool before may become the coolest thing to do. The quality of life would change for everyone, even those less fortunate then the majority of us: those without any feeling of hope, love, exceptence or worth.

If we just reached a hand out to those in need, smiled at everyone, said 'Hi' to those we passed on the street, and acted out of kindness every day, everyone would be happier. It's the principle of the 'Feel good, Do good' phenomenon in reverse. 'Do good, Feel good.' And in doing so, we apply both principles to our lives and are ever feeling better and better, doing more and more good, and make the world a more livable place because the smallest word of kindness in just the right place can make the difference in one person's life, having a ripple effect on them and spreading to those closest to that person. When you effect one person, you NEVER effect just one life. You effect more people then you could create a formula for.

Never leave anything the same as when you left it, or so the quote says. That should be changed to ALWAYS leave things better then when they come to you.

Your decisions effect people in ways you wouldn't even begin to believe possible. THINK before you act and SMILE before you talk. DECIDE to be happier and nice and the world WILL be a better place.

You mean almost nothing to the world, but you mean the WORLD to someone. Especially when you don't know who that person is, but you acted in kindness anyway. Let your heart and conscience guide you and I promise, as long as you act in kindness, you won't go wrong.

Strangers

People you meet that you don't know. Previously unseen faces, unknown attitudes, undiscovered personalities. Unsure of ourselves and others, we choose to guard our secrets and act differently then we normally would. And yet, there are always those people who make us open up without a second thought. Always those who make us want to be ourselves. Why someone we just met can have such an effect on us is a mystery and perhaps it always will be. And yet there is always that warning voice in the back of our heads telling us to be careful and not to make yourself vulnerable to someone you don't know. Slowly, as we get to know the person better, that voice retreats and becomes silent almost all the time. It's always there, but it normally knows when to pop out. It's what we call our instinct. Most of us could probably stand to listen to it more often then not. The things we tell them are strange and varying but nevertheless revealing about ourselves. People will say just about anything to just about anyone. Only rarely to we utterly avoid people we see because our instinct tells us to. We avoid others becausee it's normal and we would be considered strange if we didn't. Some we don't necessarily feel open to just because and some we will tell and give answers to just about anything that they ask.

And still, we push ourselves past our boundaries to gain new friends and new insights into the world. A connection we previously didn't have. Something new we didn't have moments ago. As humans we are incredibly curious. You know what they say, "Curiosity killed the cat," only problem is that the cat has nine lives whereas humans only have one. Or so the legend goes. Or story. Or call it what you will. But regardless of the name, it still exists. Back to curiosity.... why are humans so curious with only one life given to live? Why are we so incredibly willing to be so different and yet so much the same as the crowd? Again, conformity to complete strangers is yet another unsolved mystery of the universe. Perhaps all those mysteries lead up and answer the biggest mystery of them all............... Who are we? Not in general to the universe or the human race or anything of that sort, but rather to ourselves. Perhaps that's why we are so infallibly curious. Perhaps that is the reason certain strangers can make us tell them just about anything. And yet again, maybe the answers to those questions aren't anywhere near to the answers to that crucial question. Maybe they don't even lead anywhere near the answer. And yet, I believe that the answers to those questions can give us more then we give them credit and tell us more about ourselves then any fortuneteller could.

Thoughts

Thoughts. All you need is a thought and boom..... something completely new has been started: and idea, an invention, a story. Your body holds your thoughts and puts the most powerful ones into actions. One idea to start it all. Everything in history was started because of one small thing in someone's mind. You can't find anything from the beginning of time that wasn't started because of an idea.

Anything, including the war. I was there. I saw it and witnessed it's destruction. I felt the devistation of thousands of lives and the ruin of countless cities. I know the sorrow and the anger that was bred because of it all.

Empires were destroyed, species wiped out, civilizations erased from the map. Things changed, and few live to remember how it was and most choose to shove those memories into the backs of their minds, the dustiest corners so they will never be seen agian. No record exists for writing it would be too painful a memory and too great a task to ask of anyone. Except her.

She was there before the war and she still remains. No one knows how old she truly is. Perhaps even she has forgotten. But a war such as that can never be forgotten by those that live to remember it.

Insomnia

Hmmmm. Not being able to sleep very well, or at all, gives a person a lot of time to think. Time is your enemy and your friend at night, in the quiet darkness that surrounds you. Your mind wanders and your imagination peaks because you have nothing else to do. Your earliest and irretrivable memories take on new and fantastic shapes, creating partial realities and magical places. Or at least they do for me. Slowly, sleep tires the eyes and the dim shapes of night begin to blurr. Those memories, partial realities and magical places become your dreams. And you can live in the past once again.

A Hopeless Love

Introduction: A small twist to Beauty and the Beast.

Some ways off, there grew a mysterious wood.  No one dared trespass in this wood for any who had, seldom returned.  In this strange and forbidden wood stood a castle.  This castle was also enchanted, and captive within was a nameless beast.  It is here, in this enchanted castle in a strange wood, where our story begins.

He stared out the window at the pouring rain.  It was always dark here as if his castle was locked in its own dungeon.  When the sun shone, its light never seemed to reach this magnificent palace or through its numerous windows.  The sun always seemed like a small, golden sphere shining its light everywhere except on this accursed place. In his hand he clutched a rose that was his love and fear.  It was a curse just as much as a gift.  It was the only beautiful thing in the palace, but it was also the most fearsome.  One solitary petal dropped onto the floor beside his ghastly feet.  As he stared at the petal, a distant door seemed to creak and he heard the indistinct voice of an old man.

He would have left him alone but for the voices of two servants that welcomed the man in.  What they offered this man appalled him to the greatest extent.  Who is this trespasser who DARES enter my prison and sit in comfort as I wait miserably for this nightmare to become reality?  How DARE my two servants offer him what I have strictly forbidden to any male passer whether he be young or old?  With these thoughts pulsing through his mind, he ran down the stairs and burst into a room lit with a warm fire.  The wind from the opening of the doors blew the brilliant flame to nothing but smoldering coals.

Amidst protests and endless pleading, he dragged the trespasser up the stairs to a tower filled with straw and cells.  He threw the man into a cell and went angrily back to where his rose rested.  He cradled the beautiful, fallen petal in his wolf-like hands and placed it in a jar along with the rest of the petals from the rose.  He thought of the many other petals that had fallen to the ground.  There were only three petals left on the enchanted rose.  Only three more days till the curse was complete and there was no escaping his now horrible form.

In those three days he must love and get a female to love him in return.  To that end did he still live.  But it was hopeless to do what must be done to break this foul curse.  How could a beast and a beauty fall in love over three days?

He brooded there for hours on end, thinking over his past life and then imagining the terrible life to come once his curse truly imprisoned him forever.  As he stared up at the thick, grey curtain that was the ceiling of his prison, he wished that the sun would truly shine just once before this nightmare became his true but terrible reality.  Here, the sky cried relentlessly, mourning the appalling curse that had been put upon him.  It was as if the sky knew his future and cried for the loss of joy it would have.  He could only imagine the despair and resentment that would come upon him if he never broke what the rose represented.

Slowly, as the moonless night wore on, his eyelids began to droop until he fell into restless slumber.  He dreamed of his father and mother; opening the door to find an unsightly woman standing before him; the woman turning into a beautiful and powerful witch; becoming the thing he now was; and seeing what he wished to, but never would, become.

When he awoke, he noticed that yet another crimson petal had fallen to the floor.  Stooping down, he laid it with the rest.  Only two more till it was complete.  It was against all hope that he wished for a miracle.  He knew none would come, but without hope, what did he have to live for?  Nothing.  Wishing for something else to think on, he stared helplessly at his rose, willing the last two petals to not fall but miraculously stay immovable on the wilting flower.

He sat there brooding his unwelcomed curse, and yet another petal fell.  He did not bother to place the solitary petal along with the others.  He had no strength left.  He let it lay there while he stared at it, unwilling to move or answer his servants’ pleading questions.  It was almost over, his nightmare, but his now locked reality was just about to begin.  He closed his eyes and slept, resting well for the first time since the rose had come into his possession.

He was awakened by the sound of distant creaking and the calling of a young girl’s voice.  He started down the stairs at a more relaxed but excited pace than before.  Upon reaching the bottom, he finally beheld the beautiful girl to whom the voice belonged.

She was a little thing and he seemed to wallow forever in the green ocean of her big, round eyes.  Her face was pale, but her nose and ears were rosy for the weather outside was cold.  Her dress was nothing extraordinary, made from simple cloth, but it complimented her body perfectly.  Her hair flew unruly from her head like an irrepressible wild fire.

As he stared in wonder at this young virgin, he wondered if she could ever learn to love him.  While his thoughts drifted to fantasies he knew would not come true, the young woman took notice of him for the first time.  Her gaze pierced his soul.  In her eyes, he saw his reflection: wolf-like face with human eyes, razor sharp teeth meant for killing, dark brown, almost black, fur covering him from head to toe, his frightening body morphed to be like a wolf’s but combined with a human.  In here eyes, he saw himself but also saw fear.

“Where is my father? I know you have him,” she said in a shaky but demanding voice.

“He is my prisoner and is staying in the dungeons of the highest of all the towers in my castle,” he replied.

“Please, let him out and give him to me to take home,” pleaded the girl.

“Only if you stay,” he bargained, but against all hope.

“Not for all the love in the world could I stay with a beast such as yourself,” retorted the girl.

“Then take him and leave me. Be gone!” he yelled with sad finality.

As the girl ran up the stairs to retrieve her father, he turned and went back to watch the dying rose that would set the course of his future for time and all eternity.  He went to the window with the rose in his hand and watched as two blurred forms struggled through the rain and out of the gate that bound him prisoner.  As he stared, a single tear fell on the last petal of the dying rose, shimmering like a diamond resting on red velvet.  Together, tear and petal fell to seal his doom as the Beast cried from anguished grief.