Timezone Reblog - Blog Posts

// LMAO I FORGOT THE BONUS ICEBORNE TETSU BECAUSE ITS FUNNEY

// Now it make seem like im never drawing! But I assure you! I am always drawing, it’s just never blog relevant and im so sorry.  I’ve got a WIP for story! But i need to finish writing it! Soon!!!!!!!! I promise!

Short Story- An 'Angel' Passing Through: By Adinelle Ggreeo

We have this saying from back in the day, for when a room full of people (usually a class full of chatty students) all of a sudden go completely quiet for a few seconds.

'An Angel just passed through!' someone would jokingly say, breaking the silence.

It's a soothing thought.

Claire, unfortunately, finds out the hard way that it's anything but an angel.

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You can also read my stories here:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

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It was a regular day for the girls of class 3-A at St. Christopher Girls’ Secondary School. It was their English Language period with the well-liked teacher, Mrs Hayes. She was one of the more lenient teachers and let them get away with a little bit more. Like just then. It was fifteen minutes before the bell rang for lunch and instead of trying to cram more knowledge into their brains, she gave them a short worksheet to complete, telling them that she would be collecting them in their next class. The girls of 3-A took the wonderful opportunity given to do the one thing they like most: to talk. While Mrs Hayes took the little time left to start marking some papers, the students’ chatter filled the classroom with a low buzz.

Two girls sat at the back of the class. One with afro hair that she wore in two neat puffs at the top of her head with a navy blue headband as an accessory. The other wore her hair in long braids that she tied up into a ponytail with a blue ribbon. Their names were Claire Baptiste and Kadisha Benedicte. These best friends sat at the back of the class, to the left of the room and right in line with the teacher’s L-shaped desk. They were out of her sight behind two more desks of classmates. Perfect for uninterrupted conversation.

‘Soooo,’ Kadisha drawled, grinning at Claire. ‘I have a new boyfriend! It’s Chey, from the boys’ school. Remember him?’

Claire rolled her eyes, scoffing good-naturedly. She did remember him. She was glad to know her friend’s taste wasn’t totally trash.

‘Yeah,’ she said ‘But isn’t he the third one this month?’

Kadisha looked away, slightly embarrassed, tucking an escaped braid behind her ear.

‘Well, like he’s the fifth,’ she mumbled. ‘But, we went to the mall yesterday and he bought me ice cream!’

Giving her a look, Claire said, ‘We go to the mall and buy each other ice cream all the time. He has to come better than that.’

Kadisha sighed in exasperation.

‘You don’t understand, Claire! We really need to get you a boyfriend!’ ‘Ha! No thanks!’

Kadisha sucked her teeth.

‘Whatever! Anyway, after the ice cream we...,’

Claire nodded along to her friend’s tale while she absentmindedly doodled in the margins of her worksheet. Slightly hypnotised by the squiggles and swirls she was making on the paper, she didn’t realise that Kadisha had stopped talking. Coming back to full awareness but still looking at her worksheet, she realised that it wasn’t just Kadisha that stopped talking. The buzz of chatter in the classroom had ceased. She looked up and jerked in her seat at the sight of her friend’s face. Her mouth was wide open and her eyes round with excitement. Her hands were thrown back and some of her hair was caught between her fingers. Placing her hand over her racing heart, Claire laughed softly.

“Girl, you look so stupid!”

But Kadisha didn’t respond. Actually, she didn’t move at all. Not even a twitch of her lips or fingers. She was still, like a statue. The smile slowly slipped off Claire’s face.

“Kadisha?”

Her friend remained silent.

Feeling slightly unsettled, Claire looked around the classroom. She felt her stomach drop as she took in the stillness. Everyone was frozen, posed awkwardly in their seats, with their hair suspended in the air, pens and pencils frozen in mid-drop and sheets of paper paused in their fluttering from of the tables. Clair, pushed her chair back, wincing at the loud screech of the legs dragging against the terrazzo floor. Even though there seemed to be no one to interrupt, she slowly crept on her tiptoes towards the desk next to theirs.

The closest girl, Zara Crawford, had big round glasses and her frizzy was hair in four ponytails. Her eyes were screwed shut and her hands covered the big smile on her face. Claire poked her at first, then tried to shake her when she didn’t react at all. She tried the same with the next girl, Clara. She didn’t even twitch.

Claire, starting to feel disquieted, scampered around the class, poking, shaking, flicking and pulling hair, trying to get some kind of reaction. Not one person moved. She finally skidded to a stop in front of Mrs Hayes’s desk, catching her breath. Like everyone else, Mrs Hayes was frozen, bent over the papers she was marking. Dashing the papers off the desk and banging on the wood, Claire screamed in her teacher’s face.

“Wake up!”

Like everyone else, she remained as she was.

With dread overtaking her, she slowly backed away. Her attention was drawn to the doorway and while staring at the tree in the plot of grass past the corridor, she realised that she couldn’t hear the rustling of the leaves. Actually, she couldn’t hear anything at all. No birds chirping, no insects chittering, no sounds from the surrounding classrooms. Having a bad feeling, Claire ran out the door, barging into the classroom to the left of hers. Just like her classmates, everyone was still. She ran into the class next to theirs. Same thing. The class at the far end, the same and the form four class across from theirs. All the same.

Gasping and close to tears, she stumbled back to her classroom at a loss for what to do. The whole world it seemed like, was frozen and all the sound was gone. Except for her. Her footsteps and whimpering were uncomfortably loud in the eerie stillness. She reached the door of her classroom, pausing briefly to take in the frozen forms of her classmates, dreading that she had to sit in their stillness. Sniffling, she placed a hand on the doorframe and stepped over the threshold. She never made it past the door.

She had one foot past the threshold. As soon as her shoe touched the floor, Her whole body was locked in place and the world around her began to change. The light blue walls of the classroom, the whiteboard, the lockers and the floor all began to melt, the colours and textures slowly sloughing off and sliding away. In its wake was a ghastly, roiling mass of colours that she’s never seen and a pitch-black darkness. They moved in and out and in between each other, writhing like they were alive.

With their appearance, the sound came back. And what horrible sounds they were. A thick squelching and a ringing that alternated from a high, ear-piercing sound to a low ominous hum. It vibrated around her, torturing her ears, causing goose bumps to rise on her skin and sending her heart into a panic. The strange colours and the darkness seethed around her, seeming to close in on her. Claire wanted to scream, but her lips remained firmly closed. Her eyes, the only part of her that could freely move looked on as the colours and the darkness began to churn faster, converging in the corner of the classroom diagonal to the door. They twisted and turned, the squelching sounds increasing and the ringing lowering to that horrible, low drone. They began to bulge out as if something was pushing on them and horror filled Claire’s heart when she realised that something was trying to come through.

A long black thing pushed through first, dripping with the colours and the darkness. The spindly twigs at the end of it slowly curled into themselves. It was a hand and those twigs were long bony fingers. The rest of the thing came after. Claire could barely comprehend what she was seeing. As it oozed through the rapidly distorting colours and the darkness, It began to grow and grow and grow. There was no ceiling to hinder it. It had no discernible form. There was no head and no face. It kept shifting and twisting into tattered ribbons of black and they swirled around like a mini hurricane. Pale, glowing orbs were embedded in the parts that the ribbons revealed. They moved and rolled around, leaking a thick black substance that flew off to join the rest of its swirling form. They vaguely looked like eyes pouring dark tears. The limb it used to push through into the classroom had disappeared. There was no indication that it even existed. There were no other limbs to be seen. It was a mass of swirling darkness with orbs all over its form and it brought with it such a bone-chilling dread that Claire thought she was dying. The ringing had gone high again, the shrill sound increasing her fear.

It slowly, so slowly began to move away from the corner, making its way between the desks. It did not touch the girls. It didn’t pay them any attention at all. It left a trail of the dark substance in its wake that was absorbed into the colour and darkness that was the floor. Claire watched the thing as it made its way to the front of the class, pausing where the whiteboard was and pulling one of its long, spidery limbs from the confines of its form. It was so close and Claire was so afraid. Desperately, she began to pray.

As if sensing her pleas, the thing whipped around to face her. Its form contorted abnormally and all of its orbs turned to look at her. The high-pitched ringing abruptly stopped and Claire silently sobbed. They both stared at each other for a short while. Then suddenly the thing was right in front of her. It was crouched down, so the place where its face should have been was right in front of hers. There was one big orb embedded there. It was still as it observed her. With her heart trying to beat out of her chest, Claire could only watch as it brought its hand up to her face, one of its skinny fingers held up. It dripped with the strange black liquid. A soft whistling sound filled the air around them. It rose high and loud, assaulting her already hurting ears. Its orb began to glow white hot, so bright. One moment, she was looking into the face of what she thought was death, the next, she was blinded by the expanding glow and knew no more.

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Mrs Hayes softly laughed to herself at the three seconds of silence from the class.

‘An angel passed through,’ she thought, remembering the old saying the adults used to chuckle about when she was a young girl.

Immediately after, a scream pierced the air. It was coming from right outside the class. She shot up from her chair, almost slipping and sliding on some of the papers that were for some reason on the floor. Some of the students followed, their desks and chairs scrapping against the floor as they scrambled out of their seats.

She almost ran her over when she shot out the door.

There was Claire, curled up on the floor right outside the door, still screaming. Her arms were wrapped around her head and she was clawing at her hair, pulling the strands out of their puffs. She knelt by her, trying to gently pry her hands away from her face and head, but her hold was like a vice. Other teachers and students, disturbed by the screaming, had come out to check.

What happened? How did her student who sat at the back of the class end up outside the door? She didn’t see her pass by. And the screaming. It was filled with genuine fear and pain. She could barely hear the other teachers as they tried to talk to her.

Her other students all huddled by the door, some starting to cry and wail at the sight of their classmate. Claire’s seatmate and possibly her good friend had pushed herself to the front of the crowd, trying to reach out to her, but was held back by another teacher who was failing to console her. Her own screaming and crying added to the utter confusion of the situation. Thankfully, someone had gotten the school nurse who arrived with a wheelchair. As the nurse wheeled the still-screaming girl away, Mrs Hayes, with a racing heart and an unnerving feeling about what happened, shook herself and breathed, turning towards her distraught girls.

It looked like lunch would be a bit early that day.

Short Story- Shades of Violet: By Adinelle Ggreeo

I can see the good and the bad in people.

Red and blue are what I see. Throughout my life, people have come in many different shades of purple.

We all have the capacity for good and bad within us. Our shades of purple depend on whether we choose to listen more to the angel or to the demon on our shoulders.

But there are those that have no angel at all.

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You can also read my stories here:

Archive Of Our Own

Fictionpress

I can see the good and the bad in people. I've had this ability since I was a young girl. It appears to me as an aura around the person, emanating from their heart space. Red and blue are what I see. red for bad, blue for good. Simple stuff. Human beings though are not that simple. Red and blue when mixed make purple. Throughout my life, people have come in many different shades of purple. We all have the capacity for good and bad Within us. Our shades of purple depend on whether we choose to listen more to the angel or to the demon on our shoulders. But there are those that have no angel at all.

One instance was in a church of all places. An acquaintance of mine invited me to a Sunday mass at her community’s church. She was very braggadocios with her invitation, telling me all about the beauty of the building and the status of her community. She was the kind of woman who cared too much about what she looked like and what others thought all the while judging others for the same thing. She was a little on the red side of purple. Just a little. I didn't think too much of it. She wasn't bad, just superficial. So I said yes.

When I walked into the church that Sunday, I was immediately on guard. There was a worrying amount of red-violet people walking around. They smiled their false smiles and spoke their false well wishes to each other. One of them came up to me, a woman. She was decked in red. Red dress, red lips, red fingernails and toenails, and an almost red aura. She looked me up and down as she walked over. It was slight and quick, but I saw her nose wrinkled and the corners of her lips turned down. I suppose she wasn't a fan of my hand-me-down cotton dress on my plain brown flats. Her wide smile snapped back into place and she greeted me with a high voice, speaking loudly enough for others to hear. She was apparently one of the ushers. I told her I was invited by an acquaintance and asked if I could be seated with her. Apparently not.

“Oh, newcomers sit at the back, sweetie,” she said, showing me to one of the pews in a dark corner of the church. I was the only one sitting there, which was strange for such a large church.

The building itself was quite grand. It was as beautiful as my acquaintance had said. It had tall ceilings with victorian-esque chandeliers and large and colourful stained glass windows depicting The Passion of Christ lined the walls. Statues of St. Mary, Jesus Christ, and various Angels and saints painted in gold and jewel tones stood tall near the altar. The altar itself looked more like a performance stage. I could see stage lights all around. the priest's chair looked more like a throne, tall, wide and covered in rich purple velvet and what looked like precious germs. Very pretty, but unnecessary. I sat there uncomfortably, taking in the church and watching the people, seeing very few of a blue hue.

My final straw was when the priest came in with all the altar servers and lectures. As we all stood for their entrance, I noticed how everyone was placed. All the people grew redder the closer to the altar they were. Then I saw the priest at the end of the procession. Decked out in his white robes, he glowed a deep, blood red, brighter than I'd ever seen and I was immediately filled with dread and horror. I didn't care how it looked, I got up and power-walked down the aisle. I ran when I heard someone call out. I refused to stay in the same space as someone so vile as to have the aura of blood. The acquaintance and I are no longer acquaintances.

Another instance happened when I was a teenager and thankfully, it was just in passing. My friends and I were at the mall, just hanging out. Those were our ‘window shopping’ days, when we had nothing but lint in our pockets, having spent all our allowances as soon as we got them. I'm a lot better at managing my money these days. We sat in the food court, nibbling on the sandwiches that we brought from home. we were people watching, well boy watching to be more accurate. Ooo-ing and Aah-ing over boys and men that were too old for us.

My friend, Sharon had pointed him out to us, her eyes wide with awe. The other girls were no better, openly staring at him with gaping mouths. It was obvious why. He was beautiful in an etheric way. He was tall and slim with dark brown skin that contrasted with his pure white afro hair that he wore in a loose ponytail at the base of his neck. He wore all white. White short-sleeved button-up shirt, white trousers, and white sneakers with not a speck of dirt on them. He was looking down at a little black book he held in one hand as he walked by. His other hand gently grazed his sharp jawline. That drew our attention to his strong nose, plump lips and the long, dark lashes that covered his eyes.

“Oh my gosh, he looks like an anime boy!” my friend, Ali whisper-squealed.

The others chimed in with their agreement. I was watching his back as he left our sight with a sinking feeling in my stomach. Because that was the first time I'd ever seen a person glowing so red. his aura was the colour of rubies and it beamed out of him in tentacle-like rays, like a red sun.

“That one's your pick huh, Cici?” Sharon teased, elbowing me out of my trance. I force the giggle I'm trying to ignore the roiling in my stomach. I prayed to never see that boy again.

I have seen and met people that were fully blue. All of them were babies and small children, pure souls untouched by the darkness of the world. They start to become tinged with red by the time they're about ten years old. Children can be cruel, after all. I have yet to meet a blue adult. They don't exist. By the time we’ve reached that age, we’ve seen, experienced and done too much to not be tinged with red. This does not mean that I have not met any good people. There are many good people walking this earth, contrary to popular belief. They come in different shades of violet and blue-violet. I'm glad to say that I see them daily among the red violets.

Today, though, I ran into someone. Well, it’s more like they ran into me. They came barreling into me out of nowhere from among the crowd. I'm a small woman, so I went flying, hitting the ground hard. Thankfully, I had nothing to spill. My tailbone wasn't too happy though.

“I am so sorry, miss!” said a male voice.

I looked up at the man. he was holding out a hand to me with an apologetic look on his face. He was still talking, probably still apologizing, but I could do nothing but stare. He was an average-looking man, his appearance a bit dishevelled. He had a mess of brown curls atop his head and a face dotted with small red pimples. He was in need of a shave, with a five o’clock shadow going across his face and down the underside of his chin. He had nice teeth though. They were straight and clean and so were his short nails. He wore a slightly oversized t-shirt and jeans and smelled faintly of fabric softener. A battered grey messenger bag hung off his shoulder.

His appearance was not what stalled me. It was his aura. his bright blue-like-the-sky aura.

In the midst of my shock, I didn't remember taking his hand and him pulling me up to stand. I came back to the present as he awkwardly patted me on the shoulder, still apologizing and then off he went, once again almost running through the crowd of people. I watched him go, his blue aura shining between the sea of purple. I looked on until I could no longer see him.

I gripped the strap of my shoulder bag tightly. I looked around at the violets and blue violets at the red violets and darker. I was worried. For the first time in my life, my sight failed me. A blue adult does not exist. I stand by that. I glanced back in the direction the man went.

So how do I explain that?

An excerpt from the current story I've been writing.

She had noticed them immediately as she raised her head to breathe in the unusually cool air. They stopped her in her tracks and she nearly fell over as she missed the steep step-down on the broken sidewalk.  There were many of them and they hovered still in the sky as far as her eye could see. They were smooth, ice-grey disks with no other defining features. They almost blended in with the grey of the sky, but they were so big that they could not be missed. Carissa stared up at them, open-mouthed, hardly believing what she was seeing and hardly believing that no one else was seeing this as she wildly whipped her head around to see if anyone else was gaping up at the sky. The old lady in her yard across the street was watering her plants. The school girl in her blue uniform further up the street was giggling at her phone. The lanky man wearing a graphic t-shirt and ridiculously sagged jeans swerved around her on the sidewalk, shooting her an annoyed glance as he passed. Trinidadians were known for making a scene when they saw something out of the ordinary.  Maybe she was just seeing things.

This is still unedited, but I know I'll be keeping this section in.