Sita's Journey

Authors Note: I was given the advice that my last piece did not exactly reach my goal,
and with a nice long look at their idea of a character devolvement piece, I knew I
could make mine better; even top what I had done. That is my goal with this new and
hopefully better character development essay. Please enjoy.

               In the beginning of the story Sita is a blood thirst monster, who didn’t think they
deserved anything. All she wanted was for her secret to stay that way. She killed those
who found out, and used her age old secrets to do so. Her still too clear memories
haunt her every dream, and remind her of her every wrong move.

              Love begins to cloud her judgment, and her creator, Yakasha, finds her once
more. His plans come to an end, and he wants it to end with the first of his creations,
her. That was his last wish, for he had lost all him hope to live on for another thousand
years or so. Unfortunately his plan failed.

              Yakasha lived just long enough for the maniac passerby, Eddie, to claim his
body, and his blood. For her creator, Sita had broken her vow to the great lord Krishna,
and possibly damned her soul. She had made another vampire, and he died in
defeating Eddie. Yet Sita still made another, because she could save him from death.
And again she loses him, to government experimentalists. They plan to test on
him, experiment with his blood. Sita’s loving and gentle nature comes out once more, as
she pulls together a plan, to free him and live on.

                As you can see, Sita has changed from a vampire, capable of taking on an army
on her own, to a straight sure lover who won’t give up on those she loves. She can still
do all that she could before, just with passion and love.

My Name Is Sita

Authors Note: This is a character development piece on the main character of Thirst: Human Urges Fatal Concequences  I felt I needed to improve on this skill, and I hope I did so.

            My name is Sita; I am vampire, and that is the truth. Not Braham Stockers envision. I have taken years to truly be sure. I do need normal food, as I do get hungry; but blood is much more of a necessity. I do need blood, but I do not kill my victims; the two are not related, in any way. Though I do like to kill.

            As a younger vampire, I regretted my change, and rejected what I was becoming. I didn’t drink blood for weeks, until I thought I was dying. Yakasha forced me to drink the blood of an innocent, and I killed for the first time. I continued to kill from then on, and it grew on me.

            It has been a long five thousand years since I was first changed but I still pray to Krishna for mercy on my soul when I finally die. I do not hope my death comes so soon; I still have to find my Rama, my love. I have had many lovers, but none I could love more than my Rama, whom I sacrificed my life to save.

            When I thought I found him again, I lost him to Yakasha once again. But lovers could line up for miles, waiting to entertain me, though with one look, I could turn them on themselves. Entertainment is not easy to run out of, nor is it unending. Love can last, and it will find me; it will last until the very end of my time, and I have no doubt of that. I will keep Joel safe, and I won’t lose him. I have lost too much already.

"The Lottery"

              Authors Note:"The Lottery" was written by Shirley Jackson, to scare the readers with clear illustration of pointless violence and inhumanity in their lives; and it did. In reading it, I have seen exactly that.

             "The Lottery" has several symbols, the majority of them stand for death. The little black box, means death, as well as the dot on the paper. The rocks that the boys gathered, could mean pain and fear. The fact that Tessie came in late, could have foretold her bad fortune; or when she protested her husband drawing the paper, could have said something as well.

              Mrs. Delacroix had grabbed the largest rock she could find, and it showed her care and humanity. The lottery is tradition and although it hurts some deeply, they keep it because they've been brainwashed from the start. When Warner didn't budge or think twice about letting Tessie die, it showed the stubbornness of old traditions. The children only listened to their fathers, showing the male rule in the society. 

The Outsiders Club

Authors Note: I wrote this to complete a plot line and actually solve a problem; unlike my previous stories.

 The Outsiders Club had always been low on money, but never like this before. They were entirely broke this time. Take a look, they’re arguing about it now.

            “We would have money for the convention if you didn’t give it all to the endangered animal charity,” Aron argued. He wore his hair not in a Mohawk, but spiked straight up and the tips of his white hair were dyed red, yellow, and orange, making it look like a fire on his head. His eyes were heavily lined with colorful eyeliner to match his hair, and he must have been an albino, because his eyes were a dark orange. It wasn’t a regular orange; it looked nearly a red, but still clearly an orange. His white shirt had a fire pattern printed at the bottom, his pants stood out with their bright red and his white skater shoes had fire drawn on the tips and throughout the laces. In his hand he held dark sunglasses with the fire pattern on them, he most likely had painted; and in his other his thumb twitched on the lighter with a dragon tattooed on it.

            “We need to do some charity work, and I know you didn’t want to go in public to do it,” Emma countered. She was his exact opposite; her long jet black hair fell around her torso and halfway hid her eyes with widows peaked bangs. Her eyes were painted with the same black as her hair; which made them a royal blue and intensified their size. She was dressed in a school girls outfit, white button down t-shirt, jet black vest, blue and black tie, and a plaid skirt with chains wrapping around one side. Her black leather boots went up to about her knee. She wore a silver necklace with a pair of merfolk wrapped together, around one black pearl. The small patch on her vest was black and blue with small traces of purple, with the same pattern as her necklace. She was relaxed; her purse was in her right hand and nearly touching the ground. In her other hand she held a one-use uncapped water bottle, with fish decorating it. She sighed and took a drink, guzzling down half the bottle.

“I’d rather help the poor scared kitties than go to the next big convention,” Nepeta added. This girl was about to Arons’ shoulder in height, and her curly hair was cut oddly, but would resemble David Bowe if she straightened it. She always seemed to have a go-with-everything green lab coat, which was too big for her. On top her head was a strange mechanism with wires sticking out, one of those wires tucked into the back of her shirt and connected to the butt of the tail. On the back of her belt, a long tail stuck out, it was entirely mechanical like her crown. Her coat was split down the middle like an older style, to accommodate the tail. Her old sneakers didn’t even make a sound as she moved across the floor. Her comfortable jeans had tears at the knees, and the fabric was growing thin. Her shirt was fairly new, with the Leo symbol printed clearly on it; in the same color as her coat. Her big green eyes were pleading as she looked up at Aron, and her tail gently swishing back and forth.

“Good luck at convincing him, Siren” a girl sitting in the corner mumbled. She was moderately tall. She wore five inch platform heels to lengthen her size, and her dark skinny jeans fell around the ankle. Her note book that rested on her lap was old; it was filled with drawings pictures and statements. She stood up and capped a pen as she walked to the other side of the room; her unused suspenders swung and she approached the door. She pushed the door with her butt, and tossed the pen in the garbage. Her gray layered shirt had an owl printed; as she backed out the door she raised her eyebrows as a challenge for Nepeta.

Her tail fell as the girl spoke; she was a new person, so Nepeta happily followed.

“We don’t need to go to the convention, Aron” Emma continued.

“We’ve been waiting for this all year. Why would we not go?” he was now bouncing eagerly on his toes.

“Why can’t we be friend? Why can’t we be friends? Why can’t we be friends? Why can’t we be friends,” Melody started to sing out, then silenced herself immediately. She was a quiet girl, until she sang. She didn’t look special, and normally easily hid in a crowd, but not today. She wore a skirt that looked like a piano wrapped around her, and her leggings had music notes falling down in a straight line on the back of her legs. Her shoes looked like they had sheet music printed on them. Her tank showed a gory picture of vocal cords, and the caption ‘My voice is my instrument. Take it away; you’ll kill me.’  Her jacket was leather with a piano key pattern for the trimming. Her hair was let down loosely, and her bangs were pulled back. Her bright blue eyes stood out, and her grand piano necklace was nearly forgotten about.

“Ha ha ha, yer music sooths them Anabel,” Roland, the blind boy sitting next to her said, placing one hand on her shoulder. He was a normal person, except for his bare feet and walking cane. His hair was shaggy, and hanging in his eyes. He wore a proper kilt with the right jacket. His cane was covered with intricate designs; they were the entire infinite knot. His voice was heavily laced with an Irish or Scottish accent.

“What’s my name,” she began to quote the famous Riahana song.

“Melody; ye wish me to call ye Melody,” he cut her off. Through his loving smile you could tell how much he cared for her. She didn’t reply with a song she just smiled, and he felt her face like blind people do, to tell whether or not she was smiling. Then the pair hugged. You couldn’t tell whether or not they were a couple or brother and sister, or even if they were best friends, they just had an amazing bond.

“Before you go all true love and sappy stuff on us, we got a problem to solve. So put your Sherlock Holms hat on and pull out your sleuthing scope and let’s get down to business.” Ed“Gear” interrupted. This guy was steam-punked. Aviator boots up to the knee, and jodspurs held up with a bronze belt.  His flight jacket was open to show his red vest with gold paisley pattern. The gold pocket watch chain was hanging out of his breast pocket. His unbuckled skull cap showed less than an inch of brown hair and his bronze flight goggles, that he had over his eyes now, had a targeting scope on it. He lowered his scope as he spoke.

Just outside the door there was a loud thud, followed by contagious laughter. Melody pulled out of the hug and ran out the door, more laughter. She reentered and stepped to the side, holing the door open for Nepeta, and her new friend. Nepeta’s wired tail was covered in faux fur, and the fur on her headset was fashioned into a cat hat, complete with ears and everything. The tail was gently swishing from side to side; wrapping around her legs with each oscillation.

“We have an idea,” Nepeta began.

“We thought that a bake sale might work,” the other girl continued.

“Oh, this is Athena,” Nepeta added, gesturing to the mystery girl.

“A bake sale? How would we get the baked goods for it without spending more money?” Aron spat.

“We make them at home, of course,” Emma inquired.

“Yup,” Athena replied.

“Most of ye would have the fixings fer it at home,” Roland said, standing up with his cane in his right hand. Melody rushed over to his left to direct him to the door.

“Simply make a batch or two at home of your chosen treat,” Emma said.

“Then place them in your satchel, and bring them here on Monday,” Gear added.

“So there we have it, meeting adjourned,” a girl sitting up against the wall said, standing up. She had perfectly straight black hair, falling just past her shoulders. She had large dangling skull earrings and her lips were painted black. Her gray eyes were lined with heavy black eyeliner. Her top was a leather corset with decorations of skulls on the trimming and the ends of ribbon on the lacing in the back. She wore a leather jacket over the top half and her spandex pants were nearly painted on. On her hip she had a sword; the hilt had intricate designs. The hand guard looked like skeleton hands, ejecting from the blade, and the pommel was a skull.  The grip was simple leather as well as the sheath. The heels of her three inch mid calf boots were a pile of skulls and bones. They subtly clicked as she walked across the room. “Don’t forget your cookies,” she said and walked out the door.

The next to go was Roland, and Melody sang So Long Fair Well from The Sound of Music as she led her friend out the door. Then Athena; all the while she was keeping Nepeta from tripping over her newly refurbished tail. Next Aron stomped out the door, and Emma stayed back with Gear to clean up the chairs before leaving.

On Monday they met up during lunch to decide what to do.

“Hehehe, I made kitty cat cookies,” Nepeta happily giggled.

“I made angel food cake cupcakes with books and owls,” Athena pulled one out of her tin bin. “What kind of cookies did you make, Ann?” she addressed the skeleton decorated girl.

“After putting my blood and sweat into them, I put glowing skeleton heads in the middle of the bloody frosting,” she spoke in a flat tone while giving Athena the stink eye.

“Oh that sounds good,” she returned, “Medusa.”

“Aye, lassies, you’d better stop that before one a ye does turn to stone,” Roland interrupted.

“I don’t think Madam Medusa or Miss Know-It-All would really want Lady Melody to start up her eternally scratched record,” Gear added.

“State your name,” melody quoted Repo! The Genetic Opera pointing to the skeletal girl.

“My foster parents just call me girl, so you might as well follow their lead.” She stated.

“Come on you must have a name,” Nepeta complained.

“What shall we call ye?”Roland asked.

“Just call me Morgana,” she pulled out a lunch pail and set it on the table. From within it she pulled a metal goblet and a tin thermos. She poured thick red contence from the thermos into her goblet before sipping it. Then they all gobbled down their food in silence.

“Alright, so I talked to the lunch ladies, and they said the bake sale was a great idea. They are willing to let us sell our stuff during lunch for the next two weeks,” Emma said as she finished her meal.

“Great, so we can start tomorrow?” Aron concluded.

So there you have it. They had a happy ending, new friends and the money for the convention.

Tradition vs. Bedazzled

Authors note: I wrote this a a comparitive essay, on two of my favored books. I'd sudgest reading either or both of them.

           You may not know this, but my favorite books include vampires. After reading the Twilight series, I wanted to find something better to compare it to. I found Thirst. Both books are about an old vampire, looking for love in the modern world. Each story has their own twist on the idea of what a vampire would look like, and act. The main vampires, in both stories, fall in love with a high school student, and resolve in turning them into a vampire as well.

            The two series are different however; each one has a different back story which is entirely different from the other. Edward was dying of influenza when he was turned, but in the other story, it was the first vampire who changed Sita, over five thousand years ago. Edward was changed out of the good of heart, and Sita was changed for envious jealousy.

            Their living situations were different as well. Edward lives peacefully with his coven, while Sita lives in hiding from hers, who try to kill her. Edward lives by rules his kind has made, but Sita lives a nearly worry free life with no boundaries. The sun hurts Sita, while Edward sparkles in it. Their bloodlust is on separate sides of the scale; over her thousands of years, Sita has learned to control it, and she won’t kill her human victims. On the other hand Edward has no control, and kills all his victims, the only reason he didn’t kill Bella, was his pure love for her.

            I personally love the contrast between these two books, it gives you two different ideas of what a vampire is, and they both make perfect sense.  I would recommend both books to anyone with a love for vampires, enthralling conflict, or great literature. Of course neither of them would be considered a classic, but I suppose the authors might have read some of it to come up with these fantastic tales.