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Dabbler in the Darkest Art of All

I was a fierce wind, left to destruction by him, now barely a whisper within….
CURSE the sunshine of your hair! Your lying blue eyes and the trickery that lingered there. You caught me with your fire, long reaching flames of desire, blinding my eyes, not letting me see, what you always were to me, a careless Playboy and a liar.
Oh Cavalier Musketeer! For whom I’ve shed many a tear. More fiend… than friend, your guised game has reached its end, for your wretched villainy has NO power here! No power over me, no broken love to fear.
You led my follied heart to fall, you collector of affections, dabbler in the darkest art of all. Breaking hearts and taking names, laughing at my love, yet using it, abusing it, to pump your perfect pride up.
Aye a poisoned love to aid in your oh so dangerous game. Steal the light of a star, you did, yet somehow she lived to shine again.
Now, your charms have ceased to charm even me, oh such languishing anguish the day, but now I see how to blow through the smoke of you, and finally see me. As I was meant to be.
Not the shade, not the shell, not the way you made me feel, what your smooth lips so cleverly concealed. But the girl I really was, the girl strong enough to set the sails of a thousand ships, the girl who chased the very wind and ran with it.
The girl you looked at so condescendingly, Thinking you were too good to ever belong to me….. the girl you never really got to see.
 A rare kind of inside beauty…….

Through The Looking Glass I See, A Rare Kind of Inside Beauty…..

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Awesome Like Austen

It

Is

A

Truth

Universally

Acknowledged………..

………. That I am not Jane Austen.

Though in most ways I would very much like to be. Putting pen to page is an art form. The creation of the curves and sounds and poetry of the words, the images that we painstakingly paint in the minds of our readers, pen poised as readily as the artist faces the easel. There is no feeling like it in the world. The actual feeling of writing on paper, the transferrence of the mind to the waiting page, gives us this connection to nature, a profound one at that, which inspires a sublime sensation. The sensation that we are part of something much greater than ourselves. No artist was more a master of her craft, with her hues of humor, writings of wit & wonder, and her strokes of genius than Miss Jane Austen.

I have a beautiful canvas waiting for my art. Leather bound, supple and soft in texture, it is of the highest quality, and exactly the sort of journal my dear Jane might have constructed her own genius upon. It is cherished, beloved, admired and…….. altogether blank. Why, you may ask? Because I am not Jane Austen. Strangley enough, in respects to my writing, to even compare myself to my most respected, revered, role model, this brilliant young woman, my closest of fictional female influences, and at a time, my dearest of friends seems, in practice, blasphemous.

The truth is I’m intimidated by lovely, leather bound books because I think my writing, my thoughts, are somehow not deserving of such grand enclosure. I wonder if Jane thought similarly, when her father gave her a fine volume for her sixteenth birthday, leather of course, wrap around straps, and with crisp clean pages, pages which she caressed longingly as she sat on the tree swing, her wildly curly brown tresses, escaping from her proper hair pinning and falling down her shoulder. Where would our world be if Jane did not pick her quill from her satchel, and poise it over the clean snow white pages, her mind flooded and dancing with the painted images of balls, a fine brooding, yet handsome young man, a dark eyed, clever girl dressed in a white gown, and matching gloves? A girl that would change his prejudices of life and love forever. A girl that would tame his pride, and humble his soul. Mr. Darcy, and his Miss Bennet.

The world would be at great loss, if dear Jane never saw the writer within herself. Perhaps I too am teeming with Austen potential. Perhaps there is a story within me, begging to let the world hear. A story that the world needs to hear. Perhaps I am much more like Jane than I ever could imagine. Afterall, was not Jane once a bright eyed zealous young woman, dreaming of love, confounded by the fickle nature of men? She most certainly was. Perhaps even in the very state of mind I find myself today. Seeing love blossom all around her, longing for its blooms to fill her life with lovliness and wonder, yet never finding such bountiful bouquets within her reach.

Jane Austen may not have been considered to live the most adventurous of lives, yet this remarkable woman found the adventure and magic in the life she did live. She knew love’s nature, and though she never got to hold it forever in her arms, catch its lingering luster for all enduring time, she would become known as the most romantic of souls. Love was her life, even if she did not have a life of true love. Her voice, her characters, her turn of phrases, whimsical wit, and lovely prose resound through time, and are heard, read, and loved even today.

If Jane was once so very much like me then, perhaps I can grow to be at least a shade of what she is now. We seem so similar in thought and mannerism, why not? I am not Jane Austen, but perhaps I am waiting to be. The only difference between us may be that she took heart and had the courage to write in those leatherbound volumes. She was determined to leave her legacy, determined not to be intimadeted, not to be denied, and I, myself, feel shy in the watchful eye of the world, in the eyes of the lofty literary giants before me. The journal, the fine canvas of a painter of prose, sitting primly on my desk, seems to bekon to me even now, and I wonder if one day I too might be something, someone amazing. Someone remembered. Someone awesome like Austen.

"We Are All Fools In Love."

Ruby slippers are real 😉

Good day to you fellow blog adventurers! Today I was in class, lost as usual during Math In Modern Society, when a wondrous day dream drifted welcomingly through my mind, and I had to write it down! I realized that daydreams can be amazing inspirations for writing, as they are our imagination at work without even our knowing it. All at once our minds are creating, drifiting beautiful images across our consciousness to get our attention. I have written many of my day dreams down and some have even become catalysts for short stories and such! I thought this one was particularly good, and it felt so entirely real that I had to share it. Just a note though, in The Wizarding World, my name is Allyssa Summerhaze. Somehow Allyssa Watkins didn’t seem quite radiant enough for my magical home, and I decided to fashion myself a new one. So without further ado, please enjoy, “There’s No Place Like The Wizarding World.”

Allyssa Summerhaze sat slumped over in her seat, her elbow propped up on the desk, her cheek resting in her palm. George Tucker, Math Teacher and Misery Maker Extrarodinaire, gestured wildly at the board, his maniacly fast paced voice droning on and on about unit conversions and weight measurement, and Ally felt that all too familiar feeling of wanting so very badly to lob the hefty mathbook at his head. She sighed, staring at the numbers and symbols that may well have been a different language, from a different world. Closing her eyes, she clicked the heels of her sparkly black flats together, thinking again and again in her mind, “There’s no place like home.” Dorothy had the right idea. She opened her eyes and found herself still stuck in class, the board crawling with the squiggles and curves of numbers, like it was a growing disease the board might never be truly rid of. Apparently sparkling black slippers, did not have the same magical abilities as bright red ones, she thought with one final click.The hand on her back startled her, until she heard the chuckling, slightly amused voice of Draco Malfoy. “Tell me, Darling, which home were you attempting to reach, your muggle one or your real one?” He winked as she turned to see him and he kissed her cheek. Ally couldn’t help but smile. Draco had accompanied her to Math In Modern Muggle Society, but as per usual,  he’d fallen asleep and then disapparated for awhile. How silly it must seem to him this boy who could do real magic, the girl attempting to escape by what she’d leaned in an iconic movie scene. Laughing she whispered, “My real one of course. My Wizarding World.” Draco nodded, satisfiedly sure this would be her answer, and yawned as he propped his feet on the table, a sudden jolt startling the girl next to Ally, but as for the reason why she would never know. “It really works you know…….” he whispered in her ear, his long fingered hands finding their way to each of her sides. Ally laughed shaking her head, “No it doesn’t, Silly boy, or else I would be in Transfiguration class right now, wowing McGonnagall by blowing chalk dust from my palm, transforming the particles into butterfies.

Draco rolled his laughing eyes. “Sweet little schoolgirl, ONLY you would escape one class, just to be in another!” Then he arched one of his eyebrows impressively, “Wait, you can really do that, can you??” Ally nodded shyly. “I have been working on it for a great while. And draco magical education is just that….. MAGICAL! Instead of learning about numbers and fromulas, and many other words I don’t understand, I can create, change one thing into another in a brilliant fashion. Magic is FUN, Math in Modern Muggle Society is NOT. Draco nodded in agreement, lazily watching the emphatic teacher scribble out furiously more symbols he did not understand. “Is he ALWAYS bouncing and barking in such a manner?” Draco asked with a wrinkle of his nose. Ally giggled remarking how cute it was when Draco wrinkled his nose. “Yes, I’m afraid so Darling.” Draco closed his eyes uninterestedly. “What a nuissance, and Dearest, your Magical Education Zeal, is endearing, but magic is really only fun when you’re using it for mischief, pranks, and the like…..” He opened his eyes suddenly, looking lazily at her, a smirk playing about his lips. “I have SO much to teach you, yet.”

Now it was Ally’s turn to arch her eyebrow, trying to smother a smile. Draco grinned. “I meant it, when I said it really works though…… the heel clicking I mean…… Every so often a muggle will remember seeing something, or make a blind shot in the dark that’s correct to our world. Such as the broomsticks for example. Ally’s brow furrowed quizzically. “Really? You mean the most famous and beloved classic “The Wizard of Oz,” contains real magic?!?” She was excited now, the harrowing struggles of mathematics forgotten. Draco nodded seriously. “Sure, Darling, the word “Wizard,” is even in the title, y’know. Obviously, some muggle witnessed the account of the girl and the dog, and the good witch, and the bad witch, GOD does that bad witch ever remind me of Aunt Bellatrix, and their memory was not properly modified. I mean these so called “munchkins,” sound very much like goblins to me, don’t you think? Ally gasped thinking the munchkins to be much cuter than goblins, but certainly the same size. “Why yes! They really do! It all makes sense!” Draco grinned even more at Ally’s obvious delight. He loved delighting her, making those eyes shine excitedly, surprised. “It’s all true, but naturally the memory charm did work because the muggle remembered the spell wrong, which is why, dear Dorothy, your heels did not take you to Hogwarts.” Ally leaned in closer, her hair tumbling down her shoulder, fully enthralled now, paying full attention to Draco, hanging onto his every word even more than was usual. “Tell me how it works?”

Draco nodded secretly also leaning in, very much enjoying the possession of Ally’s full attention. The fact that she was leaning in so close he could kiss her, was not at all lost on him. “Is it the shoes?” Ally asked inquisitively, her mind circling excitedly now. “Are there really such shoes with such powers?” Draco smiled softly shaking his head. “No, Darling such shoes do not exist to my knowledge, else Auntie Bellatrix would have a bloodlust to own them, power and impressive fashion being her ultimates.” He went to smile and then grimaced at the thought of his Aunt trouncing about in sparkling ruby slippers, all powerful, able to do whatever she fancied without consequence. Voldemort would be his uncle for sure…….. His stomach writhed uncomfortably. “Perhaps do you click the toes together instead of the heels?” Draco shook his head yet again. “No Ally, the heel clicking itself is a vital part of the spell. But two other things are required for it to take effect. First the witch or wizard raises their wand above their head, pointing it straight up . Then they must also have on their person, some kind of token, y’know, something from home. For some reason it has to be metal, so in regards to Hogwarts, your crest tie pin should work quite nicely. Then they click their heels together twice, say the words, “There’s no place like home,” and then BAM you’re there.”

Ally looked awestruck at Draco, amazed that such magic was indeed real, and not the doings of film wizardry. “Have you done it before?” Draco nodded. “Several times, in fact.” Ally’s brow furrowed again, something still not quite right. “But Draco, how is it I’ve seen no one, not even Hermione, manage such a spell outside of the film?” Draco smiled whimsically. “Ally it’s something you tend to do, when you’re entirely alone, or else someone will find out what your token is, take it from you and you’ll never get home.” Ally’s eyes went wide, has that happened to you, Draco? How awful!” Draco grinned sheepishly. That wasn’t exactly how he knew about stolen tokens…….. “Uhhhh remember when I stole Neville’s remembrall first year, Darling…… and that uhhhh rather unfortunate case with Katie Bell’s amythest ring…….? Ally’s mouth dropped open and she gave Draco an aghast look of disapproval. “Draco no, you stole those, and they didn’t get home? Draco tried to hide a laugh with a sudden cough, “Yes, and that was uhhh very VERY wrong of me, and Neville’s Gram was furious with him for weeks and weeks!” Draco couldn’t guise his amusement any longer and burst into snickering laughter. Ally pushed his shoulder in disapproval. “Draco that’s perfectly horrid! But wait…… wasn’t Neville’s remembrall made of glass?”  Draco’s laughter slowly subsided, and he raised an eyebrow. “Quite clever isn’t it? There was metal only on the bottom of it. Normally that would insure it’s safety as not being suspected of a token, but that didn’t stop me from stealing it 😉

There was a rush as the class ended, and the other students gathered their things, attempting to revive themselves from the partial coma the class had induced. George Tucker continued to make outlandish jokes, most including math, that nobody laughed at. Draco naturally shouldered Ally’s bookbag, making it to be a great show of strength, and effortless ability, and it was actually quite something, as Draco never even carried his own bookbag at Hogwarts. That’s what Crabbe and Goyle were for apparently. As the young wizard couple stepped into the bustling hallway, Draco’s arm slung tightly around Ally’s back, as he walked with that unmistakeable Malfoy swagger, Ally turned to whisper in his ear. “Show me!”

Draco smirked slyly, and as they walked out into the bursting light of the day outside, through the parking lot and arrived at Ally’s crimson Buick Regal, he pulled her around the corner of the college building. “I trust you enough, Darling, so yeah I’ll show you how it works. 😉 He dug around in his pocket and pulled out a small metal figurine of a Quidditch player, robed in emerald green and gleaming silver, his gloved hand reaching up to catch a golden snitch that just barely touched his fingers, his hair a golden blonde. Ally gasped in delight. “Awwww how cute, did you play with this when you were little, My Malfoy?” Draco tried to look indignant, wondering if this was the best idea, suddenly feeling a jab to his masculinity. Then he couldn’t help but smile sheepishly as he weaved the tiny figure back and forth between his fingers. “Yes, me and Danton Deverly spent a great deal of time together when I was five. I’d use father’s wand to make him fly, just like the others, except he was the only one I didn’t flick in the face when the charm wore off. Ally giggled, and Draco looked down at the determined, yet handsome face of Danton, and the snitch he would never catch, always just out of reach. “Naturally a five year old’s logic made him my favorite, as his name, like mine started with D, not to mention he was the one that looked the most like me. Ahhh yes, Danton was seeker for the Sadington Sea Serpents, if I remember correctly. Father’s and consequently my favorite team. Father’s because they mostly let in only Slytherins with the occasional Ravenclaw, mine because I like green. Draco pulled on his emerald tie with the other hand, still do actually,” he said with another wink.

Quickly he grabbed Ally’s hand. “Ready to see the magic happen, Lovely?” Ally nodded excitedly, and Draco squeezed her hand and slipped the figurine back into the pocket of his robes. He had no worries of anyone seeing him because he was invisible to everyone but Ally in the muggle world, but he still leered around the corner for Ally’s sake. These college muggles would think it strange if she suddenly vanished into thin air. “Okay keep hold of my hand,” he instructed as he pulled the emerald handled hawthorne wand from the pocket in the silk lining of his robes. He lifted it skyward, and then sniggered as he said under his breath, “God, everytime I feel so bloody foolish doing this.” He smartly clicked together the heels of his expensive Italian leather shoes and then said rather nonchalantly, “There’s no place like home, There’s no place like home.” Ally felt her breath be stolen away, and instead of the strange, compressed feeling all over that was a common occurance of normal apparation, she felt warm all over and a shower of silvery drifting sparkles errupted from Draco’s wand showering them both, until they glowed! Ally watched Draco glow brighter and brighter, and looked at her arm to find she was doing the same! They glowed so bright she was almost certain they must be on fire, blinding white fire, and then suddenly as they reached the height of their luster, Ally felt the ground disappear beneath her feet, and she watched her sparkling black flats glow like embers before disappearing altogether….

"Magic is really only fun when you're using it for mischief, pranks, and the like........"

There's No Place Like The Wizarding World

I am not the kind of girl, who should be rudely barging in on a white veiled occassion....

Good day to you fellow blog adventurers and wandering readers! I thought today, I’d share with you something I’d written, just for fun of course, based on a song that inspired my vivid imagination. Often times when I hear a song, I’ll close my eyes and a story will play along with it in my head, just like a movie. I find it a fascinating exercise to write what I see, let the song, the tone, the rhythm lead the writing. In this particular piece, I happened to be listening to Taylor Swift’s Speak Now, when a scene between myself, and often the subject of my daydreaming, Mr. Draco Malfoy unfolded in a splendid, dramatic fashion. It is well known that JK Rowling, herself, said Draco Malfoy married a fellow pureblood Slytherin, a year his junior named Astoria Greengrass. However, apparently, my mind remembered the events much differently and here is the concoction it has created. I hope like me, you will find it much more appealing than the way it was actually recounted, and I encourage you to listen to songs you really enjoy, feel the music, and let your own stories spring to life in tune to the music.

Now, I give you “They Said Speak Now.”

Astoria Greengrass fairly glided down the aisle, her floor length platinum blonde hair was mostly piled in graceful curls atop her head, while the rest fell down to the middle of her corsetted back. Her wedding dress was pretty but it was garish with outrageous layers of ruffles and white silk bows. As she floated forward, her frosted cupcake of a gown trailing behind her, my eyes turned to the incredibly handsome man waiting at the alter. Draco Malfoy looked more like he was attending his own funeral than his own wedding….

The organ that had been brought into Malfoy Manner rang out with a song, sounding like a death march.  She was the one they had picked for him. The prim, perfect pureblood with the right family, the proper superior look. She was more suitable for their Slytherin Prince than the sweet girl that had been raised as a muggle, whose pureblood parents knew nothing of magic. His somber eyes met hers for a moment, these eyes that used to sparkle with boyish mischief, were now dark and clouded with complacency. These eyes were wishing for a different girl to be walking towards him. The curly hair was supposed to be a rich dark brown, the eyes a sweet emerald green. Astoria smiled at him, but no love warmed her thin lips.

The ceremony began, and this dashing young man ran his fingers through his own white blonde hair, looking very much like his life was ending. But it wasn’t….. not yet, at least. I was about to save his life, and dispell the lies told him. He didn’t know I was here….. my heart started racing and I wrung my hands in anxious anticipation. He thought he’d never see me again, thought I’d been forced away from him forever. I’m not the kind of girl who usually ruins white veiled occasions, but then again, it’s not everyday Draco Malfoy almost marries the wrong girl……

I swallowed hard, knowing what was coming, knowing what I was going to do. I heard the preacher say “Speak now, or forever hold your peace,” and a silence washed over the room. My peace would not be held, and the lie would not be lived. I stood up slowly, my hands shaking, listening to the gasps echoing from around the grand room. All eyes now stared horrified at me, the intruder, an uninvited guest if ever there was one. However, my eyes did not see Lucius, Bellatrix, or Narcissa….. my eyes saw only him and I breathed deep, as wondrous recognition gave life to his sorrowful face. “I have good reason why these two should NEVER be married,” I said caught between the threads of laughing and crying as the tenderness and joyful surprise of his gaze held me. “I’m madly, hopelessly, and fantasticly in love with the groom!!!” Now I did burst into tears, and I saw his own eyes, those wondrous sapphire eyes, so full of love and longing tear up with the realization that I had never left him!

I stood there looking perfectly out of place in my muggle clothes, a pink t-shirt and jeans, and even under the furious stares of the wizarding world’s elite, I felt wonderful as I ran to him, my face glowing! He caught me in his warm embrace, fighting back the tears, pulling me ever tighter, a bright deliriously happy grin chasing away the shadows of his sorrow. “Ally!” He struggled to get out my name as his arms tightened around me. The scream that came from Astoria’s little mouth was almost not human. She gathered up her vast skirts and hurried off to her parents, ranting and raving about her wedding being ruined and never getting what she wanted. I closed my eyes as the scene fell into utter chaos, But when I looked into my malfoy’s soft blue eyes, I could hear none of it.

“A-Ally, they…… th-they told me…….” He lapsed into more tears, and I nodded feeling my stomach tightening at the memory. “Y-Yes dearest I know what they told you, and not a word of it was EVER true! I love you with the very depths of my heart, and I NEVER left that morning! They tore us apart, that day, but I couldn’t be kept from you! So here I am, I smiled brilliantly, to ruin your wedding. He grinned slyly and whispered, his voice still shaky with the shock of it all. “I can’t bloody thank you enough, girl 😉 He then fiercely grasped both of my shoulders his lips overtaking mine, giving me the kiss that I had craved for so long. Amid the screaming and upset guests Draco Malfoy kissed his true bride to be with an unbridled fervor. I giggled, running my fingers through his nicely combed hair, making it nice and messy and whispered, “Aren’t you glad I was around, when they said speak now?”

She smiled at him, but no love warmed her lips.

Draco Malfoy looked more like he was attending his own funeral than his own wedding.....

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

"Aren't you glad I was around when they said, Speak Now?"

 

The Girl On Fire & The Boy With The Bread
Revolutionaries in the Time of Bread & Circuses

May The Odds Be EVER In Your Favor

For those of you who, like me wear proudly the golden Mockingjay pin, and are therefore a passionate Hunger Games Fan, you know that this craze is taking aim and captivating our nation. The story of The Girl On Fire and The Boy With The Bread is so incredibly written, and once you turn that first page, you shall never stop. Susanne Collins is a master in her craft, a specialist in suspense. Every chapter leaves you hungry for more 😉 I think that, like the story of our dear Harry Potter, this series (3 books in all) will be an instant classic and a story that is told for hundreds of years to come. a legacy of literature, a crossover of artistic integrity and popular culture is coming, and I could not be more thrilled. These are the kind of books that truly leave an impression.

So I present the first, in I’m sure, many poems about the phenomenon to come. Inspired by The Hunger Games, a short piece, “May The Mockingjay Fly Forever, ”

With the shine of golden mockingjay pins, the fight for our freedom, and lives begins.

A Girl On Fire will take aim against a colorful enemy’s cruel ire. With quick precision, we’ll make the decision to fly against our foes, strike hard against our hunger and woes, and we will not surrender to those who wear the rainbow wigs.

The Capitol can fall, but only if we don the emblem and hear the call…. The song of shattered candy hues of glass, echo in our midst, our freedom to live is nigh, sweet taste for which, we could have only wished!

Alongside our Leaders, Spirited Katniss, and Sweet Peeta, we will let our hearts and hungers lead us, and through our passions, they shall free us.

Down with the Capitol, we raise three fingers, to the girl that taught us all,

To fight for our rights, to fight for life, love, and other such worthy endeavors.

We sing a song of battle tonight.

May the Mockingjay Fly Forever.

*Written in Honor of The Hunger Games Movie Opening At Midnight Tonight*

Beauty That Defies The Cold

A fair tide, and a fine afternoon to you, fellow blog adventurers! ^_^

I’ve been inspired by my English Literature class as of late, learning about the Romantics, their love of nature and their poems personifying the sublime! I wrote this about a week back, as I awoke to find the world sparkling with snow. I felt myself, as I’m sure Wordsworth, and Blake did when greeted with a majestic scene of natural beauty, overwhelmed with emotion. So I would like to present you my first ever poem written in the romantic style, “Mystic Is My World In Snow.” I hope you feel moved, and even inspired to write about your own flourishing natural world, enveloping you in lovliness!

Dress my world in brilliant white
Paint today in snow to wonder and delight
Let sparkling magic fall and adorn my hair
Let its ethereal beauty linger there.

Oh sacred secrets of the sky
I cannot deny your ultimate sublime
You take the everyday, and with your Cloudy Climes
And glowing Snowshine Skies
Create a wintry wonderland before my eyes

Mystic is my world in snow
Warm feelings alight, my heart is aglow
For all is right, and gone is woe
When snowflakes swirl and dance aside my window

Like children we delight in the gorgeous white lovliness
Everything softens, everythings brightens, gone is all ugliness
Love is a snowstorm, wild and wonderfully warm
Lips pressed to lips, snowflakes kiss
Our cheeks so tenderly
What could be amiss

When all is bliss?

Dress my world in brilliant white
Let us live forever in this majestic sight
Sparkling drifts, whispers the words that we only know
When we feel a reaching warmth in falling snow

Beauty that defies the cold.

The Boy Who Lived Becomes Legend

Dear Readers:

I hope you all enjoyed my last post, in which I hopefully showed you how I implement emotion into my writing and try to make the reader feel what I feel, take them there with me, in fact. In keeping with this Harry Potter type theme, (I’m afraid insane fan girl doesn’t even BEGIN to describe my feeling towards J.K. Rowling’s epic masterpiece) today, I’m going to share with you my first attempt at an epic poem. I wanted to see if I could take seven books, accompanied by eight movies, and trasnform them into a poem that had just as much feeling, suspense, granduer and poetic grace as the series.

I hope you enjoy it, I’d like to think of it as my tribute to JK’ Rowling’s wondrous work, and as always I would very much like to hear your thoughts, opinions and criticisms.

Happy Reading, let your writer be your guide, and don’t be afraid to lose yourself, and indeed find yourselves in a story. Now, watch before your eyes as A Boy Who Lived becomes a Legend.

Ten years ago as we well know…. a boy became a wizard in The Socerer’s Stone.

A year older then, wand raised with no regrets, he boldly took on his darkest enemy in The Chamber of Secrets.

Daunting dementors, and taunting rivals, whirling at him in the third year at hand, he uncovered the past, and discovered a man, a Prisoner of Azkaban. To the Dursley’s he never did wish to go back, once met he his godfather, the noble Sirius Black.

Fighting dragons, rash wild branches, and mermaids in the toss and toil of black waves, not to mention a twisting tangle of a maze, was naught compared to what young Harry would face upon being stolen away to a forlorn dark grave. Losing dear friend, a most horrid sight to see, t’was the wrongful end of dear Mr. Diggory. So happened this ressurrestion of a dark enemy’s ire, how Harry did suffer at the whim of The Goblet of Fire.

Age fifteen, no longer a boy but a man, Harry is haunted by dreams from a most pale, deathly hand. Oppressed by authorative tyranny, such wretched pink villainy, He stood up against a sickly sweet horror, with an army of friends named for his hero Dumbledore. Loss struck him yet again, as noble Sirius Black met his untimely end. Shattered, and broken, he sought revenge, yet instead found a token that would pit him once more, against the monster of a man who murdrous murders adored. Neither can live, while the other survives, one must prevail, as the other dies, Harry Potter so painstakingly picked, to save the wizarding world in The Order of the Phoenix.

Dear chosen one, facing the trials and triumphs of love, wonders what awaits him as sixth year comes. An old school foe, fallen from his playful arrogant ways, treads ever more into darkness, with a poisonous plot at play. Eaters of death, mark the young aristocrat as their own, as an evil power ascends higher to the throne. A dark lord rises, a great wizard falls, a surprise assassin, a daunting call. Harry’s screams echo in that hallowed hall, lost so many loved, now the man who taught them all. The true pain of impending hardship hits, darkness decends at the doings of A Half Blood Prince.

Forced into hiding, the hero’s disguise cloaking his many friends, they do fly off to safe digs, yet is lost a funloving flighty fowl, his faithful owl, Hedwig. All that is familiar is lost, very lives could be the cost. A snapped wand, a frozen pond, same mind, different faces, unfamiliar lonely places. A row with a red-haired weasely, always moving, searching for soul pieces, no one said it would be easy. A child’s story could so cleverly hold a living mystery, a stone, a wand, a cloak owned by the Pevril Brothers Three. The search thickens, yet Harry’s heart quickens, as he is brought to a place he longed to avoid. The sprawling mansion owned by the family of Malfoy. Torture and tears, realized fears, threats and argument of a sacred sword, not to mention a death that left them sobbing, everyone forced to bid farewell to a helpful house elf named Dobby. Horcuxes hunted, an dangerous race run, who can predict what is to follow, death can be mastered only by he, who possesses the Deathly Hallows.

Deathly Hallows: The End is Near! Wizard & Muggle Alike Unite!

He’s Here To Pick Up The Pieces

Draco Lucius Malfoy

Even if that man is known to be a Slytherin...... and a villain?

Good afternoon, wonderful blog adventurers!

I thought I’d post soemthing that exemplifies a feeling of true, unbridled emotion, in my writing.

For me, this piece is incredibly personal, as it was written just after the man I loved, told me he loved someone else, and “just wanted to be friends.” In my opinion, it illuminates how fiction, in all its forms has always been a great comfort for me, and how the players of fantasy, such as yes, the dearly beloved, wildly misunderstood Draco Malfoy, can feel so incredibly real, appearing before my eyes as if comprised of verity, instead of verse. I hope you enjoy this piece, and I would love to hear your comments and questions.

Now, I’ll show you how “He’s Here To Pick Up The Pieces.”

He broke my heart. I watched him, this supposed to be shining knight, the prince I’d always dreamed of, pretend to cherish it as he took it in his hands. But once my heart was his, once this gleaming heart shaped orb was in his palm, he trifled with it. Recklessly. Up in the air it went, behind his back, back and forth, hand to hand as if it were nothing more than a toy. Then…. he tossed it up far too high, he was simply not quick enough, and with tear striken eyes, I watched the delicate glass of my heart, shatter into thousands of shards. He looked at me, right into my emerald eyes, and then swiftly walked away, as if none of it had ever happened. He left me there, and I fell to my knees. He left me too look upon the ruins of the love I so willingly gave him. He left me with nothing but brokeness, and haunting memories. Memories I once treasured, memories that dillusioned me into thinking he’d one day be mine. Weeping I reached for the broken pieces, their knife like edges leaving small crimson cuts upon my pale, shaking fingers. Dustyn Curtis Skylar had never loved me. I knew that now. It had taken a year and eight months, but now it was as plain as the bleeding cuts in my hands, and hurt even more so. I clutched the few pieces in my hands, feeling them bite into my skin. In anguish my fist tightened, and I cried out, tears pouring afresh. The pieces then fell, and clattered onto the floor. My eyes were veiled, like so many nights before, with the tears I shed for him. The tears he’d caused me. I did not even attempt to wipe them away….

It was then I felt the hand upon my back. Warm, soft, strong it didn’t startle me at all, but rather brought waves of comfort, as If I were kneeling beneath a warm waterfall. Softly the fingers stroked my back and I leaned against his tall legs, feeling strengthened. A renewing was beginning. He kneeled down taking my cut fingers in his, and brought me to my feet. Gently he walks around the shattered shards and turns to face me, a smirk playing upon his lips. I look up into his stunning sapphire eyes, glinting with tenderness and love, yet remaining ever sly. I look up at the one they called the villain, the one said to be hated above all others. The one they called Draco Malfoy. “W-Why are you here, Draco?” I ask the handsome, fair haired wizard, fighting through the tears. He grins, his eyes growing ever softer, ever more full of pure love. “I’m here….. to pick up the pieces,” he says proudly his voice gentle, soothing. He brandishes a fine wand, with an emerald green handle, and holds it up over the shimmering ruin that was once a heart. He flicks his wand, whispering the words, “Coeur Repairo.” I watch in awe as the shards rise from the marble floor and begin to glow. The shards then soar at eachother, attatching themselves together, very much like jagged puzzle pieces. My eyes widen as soon my heart hovers, flawless, sparkling, perfect, over the place where it had so haphazardly met it’s destruction, rising like a Phoenix. I cannot believe my eyes. A broken heart, beyond repair was now mended to perfection, made new against all odds. Grinning the wizard steps forth, in front of the glowing glass heart. Gingerly, with the utmost care, he cups it in his hands, a happy tear escaping now, as he holds it safely to his chest. He then walks towards me, an arm slipping around my waist, and holds out the heart to gaze upon once more.

“A treasure greater than I even deserve,” he says with a wink. “He stole it from you, this cherished jewel, then carelessly let it break, stupid, stupid boy.” I lay my head upon his shoulder. “It meant as much to him as dust in the wind, and I am the foolish one for giving it, letting him take it from me so willingly. Draco grinned and primly shook his white blonde head. “No, Love. He is the foolish one, the stupid one for letting such riches slip from his fingers. He collects these, as if it is a game, and I assure you, he has dropped many. I smile softly gazing into his eyes. “And you, Sir, have mended what I thought long lost. You have proved yourself more noble then he could ever hope to be.” Draco’s grin widened, another tear escaping his eyes. “That I have, Miss. You see, this was never meant to be in his clumsy, careless hands. This is far too precious to be his. This belongs, and has belonged, and forever will belong to one man. One man who loves a girl more than he ever knew or dreamed he could. The one man worthy enough, is the one who wonders how could he ever deserve such a jewel. I smile brightly, the tears just as forgotten as the painful memories of the past. “I believe I know this man. I believe he was the most wonderful, charming being who ever breathed, and I too dared to hope to gain his love. Draco turned his face, letting the tears fall freely. “Even…. Even if that man has been known to be a Slytherin and a villain?”

I smile and put my hand beneath his chin, raising it, so that his eyes met mine. “Tell me who is more the villain? The one who is labeled in all goodness, bathed in light, yet proves himself to trifle with love, leaving broken hearts and pain in the wake of his proud stride? Or the one downcasted for his family’s name, forced into the darkness of shadow, that hides the heart of a hero, and mends the unmendable, who treasures love above his own life? Tell me, My Malfoy, who is more the villain? Perhaps the one who has been so falsely labeled the hero…..” Draco turns to me, wiping the remaining tears from my glistening eyes, whilst fighting against his own. “I do know the man whom this heart has always belonged,” I say gently. He smiles softly and replies. “He shall only take it, if you give it to him. How badly he wishes to steal it, to never take his hands from it, but he will only take it if you will it. Gently he slips my unblemished heart back into my hands, and I grin brightly. “Draco Malfoy, I willingly give you my heart, my love, and ask that you be only mine for all enduring time. Smiling brilliantly now, his pale hands reach out for my heart, and I place it his palms. “Allyssa Jolene Summerhaze, I have, will, and shall always treasure this as the greatest gift ever given to me, and say that I have been only yours, just as you had been only mine, since the moment I saw you. I love you, girl.” Softly he brings my bloodied hands to his lips and the cuts disappear, my hands now as flawless as my heart. I now knew that my heart had always belonged to him, (Even before I had ever known him) that no one could ever steal it again, and that my one true love, this sly wizard of mine, would always be there, to pick up the pieces.

My heart isn't his to break anymore.... Delicate glass, mended, it belongs in the safe hands of he whose love never ended. ♥ ♥ ♥

Every Sky Is Our Own Kind Of Blue

I am a pirate, and I’m a princess. A daughter of another time. Back when ladies loved gentlemen, adventure was real again, and poems were made to rhyme.

I am Ally.

I am interesting.

No, I’m not bragging in the least, but I feel like the world would be astounded if they could play my thoughts aloud. The musings of a most imaginative miss. The ponders of a true pirate lass.

I am quite simply, an eighteenth century girl trapped in a modern world. My imagination is so incredibly vivid, I can summon images before me, as real and wonderful, as tangible as anything I see. I have a knack for blurring so beautifully, the fine lines of fiction and reality and escape into them as if they were moving paintings, portals from another world I could walk through. I see the magic and beauty in ordinary things. Characters cross my path and take me away with them. I find myself both writer and character, both creator and learner, in my life. In the story that’s happening all around me.

Enter in my world, wander the waves with me, take the helm, take the hand of the grinning pirate girl, her eyes the color of emeralds, and an adventure will await thee. Take my hand, turn the page, let your writer be your guide, no matter your age. Let me weave you tales of wonder, of adventure, betrayal, love cut asunder. Let us wander the waves, that take us places that amaze.

“Let us paint the pages of our fancy
Write the words that give us wings
Love the heroes from our fantasies
Let us live the way we dream.”
♥ ♥ ♥

I am Ally, pirate lass and painter of the page. I am your writer. Let me sail you away, from all the gloomy, all the grey, into a world of vibrant colors, let me lead the way………