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ENTRY 1
Trisha McMillan
It began at the beginning of time. Someone, somewhere, in the infinite reaches of the universe (though in those days it was simply known as "The Big It", due to the lack of Latin roots) spied a young little blue-green planet in the western arm of a tiny, unimportant galaxy in an even less important quadrant of space. And yet, as that someone lay writhing and burbling from within a bath of noxious slime, floating towards this planet in a small, metallic ship, it took note of its beautiful gardens, lush vegetation, and wonderfully mild climate. Its surface flourished with rich jewel-toned hues, beckoning to the someone and its ship. A lull hung over the quiet planet, creating an aura, unnamed because the word "atmosphere" was still to be thought up. "Bah," it mumbled. "Terrible, isn't it?" It didn't know to what exactly it was talking, just a sort of undirected murmur into the inky vacuum outside his tin can of a ship. "Just terrible. A dreadfully pretty place. I hate it when they're pretty..." A short while later the metal shell touched down on the surface with a melodious thud. Simmering in its broiling vapours the thing slid into a magical clearing. "Of all the places on this Lof-forsaken rock..." it groaned and heaved. Through the brush lay a small group of bipeds with poor posture. They picked fleas out of one another's hair and poked at semi-dead things with long, pointy sticks. "Uggh," said the someone in revulsion as one of the hairy humanoids grunted and pointed at some diagrams drawn in the mud. "Accountants."


ENTRY 2
ash_atreides

Do you know that feeling you get when you sit alone in your room, that feeling that dark eyes are burning into your back? Like some demonic child, petulant and mischevious, waiting for you to make a sudden move? The sprite that you're afraid of, the one that secretly enjoys nothing more than suspense, watching you suffer in silent terror as you lean over your bed? Jasmine knew it. But it was different; they weren't enemies, but friends. As an unusually quiet girl of seven, she didn't play with the other children. It wasn't that she didn't like the other children, she just preferred the cool shade of the trees, and the feeling of gently babbling waters, and the warm, solidly reassuring boulders. When her father brought home an injured kitten, barely of age enough to leave its mother, she tended to it and brought it back from the brink of death. The doctors murmured that it was a miracle; that the small tawny animal at such a young age could sustain itself and live as a normal pet. But it wasn't. It wasn't a miracle, I mean, because it had been well provided for and helped, but it also wasn't a normal pet. Jasmine would talk to it, but in a way other than the usual tea parties and stuffed bears' conversations. When she would talk to it, it seemed more than a simple "How are we today, kitty? Good kitty. Do you like the cookies, Mr. Kitty?". It almost seemed to be a diversion. The cat had a mysterious way of looking at you, entrancing you, trapping you. The same was with everything Jasmine came into contact with. The superstitious old lady would tell stories of changelings, children stolen away by the faeries of of Celtic myth; with powers and abilities; disguised as the children they replaced but in no way the same. Of course, she was only a superstitious old lady, and that kind of talk was considered normal. One day, as Jasmine walked home from school in silence, she saw a river. It was so beautiful, sun dancing off gentle ripples in its clear surface. She reached into the river to examine a smooth, washed stone, and it was so pleasing to the touch that she decided to remove her shoes and play a while; after all, it would be a while before she was expected at home. She played in the stream; warm waters in the warm sun, with tiny fish tickling her feet. As the sun dipped lower, she felt a peace, so happy and serene. She would go there day after day, her special place.
A month later, her mum noticed that she had been absent for quite a while longer than usual that day. Jasmine's father came home, and they searched for her, but she was nowhere to be seen. The next morning they were frantically talking to the police, asking for help, their child was missing. As they were questioned by the police, they told them that she always talked about the stream by the side road off of the main street. The police promised to examine the area, thinking that she might have been kidnapped by or drowned in this river, and they would look for clues. After a thorough search, they came to the weepy family with one conclusion: there was no side road, no river.
If you drive by the spot where the mystical stream lay, one in a thousand will see it, but everyone will hear a child's voice, singing gently, and laughing.
Everyone who hears it will remember that enemies and friends are just titles; names for another; classes. We must be careful, because one who has powerful friends also has powerful enemies.

I was really bored and was watching the Torchwood episode Small Worlds, so yeah. EVIL FAERIES.

Oh. Hi. Wanta read?

After In The Beginning
The account of creation is related in the book of Genesis; the name meaning beginning or birth. The birth of the world according to God is told here, but where else? Many people know of the Genesis account, but what do the other stories say, the other sixty-five books of the Bible? It is fitting to be in the first book, but in the last? Though the story moves on, the themes of rebirth, resurrection, and new life are recurring. Scattered verses reference the Second Coming, when Jesus will establish a new kingdom, or Christians experiencing new life in heaven. Even baptism reflects these. It is called a ‘second birth’. Romans 6:4 says “We were therefore buried with him through baptism into death in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead through the glory of the Father, we too may live a new life,” according to the NIV Bible. When someone repents, they turn from their old ways to follow a new doctrine.
The book of Habakkuk says “Of what value is an idol, since a man has carved it? Or an image that teaches lies? For he who makes it trusts in his own creation; he makes idols that cannot speak.” (Habakkuk 2:18 ) Since God created the world, He alone must hold the sovereign power to make true life, because the idols and tools we make do not possess that mysterious spark which constitutes life. “A simple electrical impulse!” is the argument of many. Possibly, but what about the electrocuted stone that sits there like, well, a rock? It is said that a product can only be as good as the man who made it. As mere mortals, how could we expect to create our own gods, powerful yet sculpted under that hand of man? We make idols of things, wealth, a celebrity, a television show, music. We can treat them as gods, but they still lack the ability to do anything that we ourselves cannot. An inanimate object is solely defined by what the observer makes of it. But that leads to a quandary: if one believes it is an all-powerful deity, then it is so. If another comes along and tells him it’s only a rock, or an animal, or a car, then it both is and isn’t. So while it may be defined by the observer, even definitions can be wrong. As Douglas Adams said in Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy: “...most of the people living on [Earth] were unhappy for pretty much of the time. Many solutions were suggested for this problem, but most of these were largely concerned with the movements of small green pieces of paper, which is odd because on the whole it wasn't the small green pieces of paper that were unhappy.” We as a race spend so much time looking for a way to fill a space for God that we project it onto impermanent and fleeting things, earthly treasures and shiny things, without ever stopping to accept that there is a being greater than ourselves, because that would mean that we were not the most powerful entity as we had thought, or at least hoped. As the only creature given the gift of free will, we are a most egocentric species.
2 Corinthians 5:17 has this to say about redemption: “Therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation; the old has gone, the new has come!” This verse is based upon Re’s, repent, redemption, rebirth, rejoicing, and the list goes on. A sinner must find his way through repentance, but once there, he is redeemed. He is reborn to a new life, through with his sinful past.
But he doesn’t need to find his way in the dark. God knows and keeps track of us all, lost sheep though we were. “Nothing in all creation is hidden from God's sight. Everything is uncovered and laid bare before the eyes of him to whom we must give account.” (Hebrews 4:13) As an inventor remains master of his invention, God is master of all creation. Not because the inventor controls his products, but because he knows their blueprints and designs. The inventor never finds a new, hidden door, or an unexpected feature. No software engineer finds that their internet browser plays music as well, as part of some surprise glitch in the code, a fortunate side-effect, because it would take upwards of a million more lines of code to produce it. No contractor builds a house only to discover later a secret passageway. The owner might, as we might find a hidden talent or skill, but not the master, who holds all of the plans. God knows the entire universe, and while the human race is struggling for the stars and asking ourselves the what the meaning of life, the universe, and everything is (while watching old British science fiction and shouting “42!”), God knows all of the answers. Sometimes parents let their children learn something on their own, because while they by all means could simply tell them what three plus four is, they have to learn how to learn.
“Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God.”(John 1:12) With the times of learning a painful new lesson come the times when God protects us. God is like a father. He has undying paternal love for all of his creation. In a sense God is more than a provider; because He made us. “Is he not your Father, your Creator, who made you and formed you?” (Deuteronomy 32:6) He formed mankind from the dust of the ground. Evolutionists will say that early life began by dust, slime, and protoplasm combining into a primordial smoothie; started by an electrical current. These ideas and similar ones grew out of the humanist movements, believing that humans were the epitome of evolution and that humans are all there are; no God, no spiritual world. And yet, there seems to be two issues: the first is that such a movement, glorifying the human race, would rather admit to slime and monkey ancestry than an omnipotent being. The second is that if evolution took millions and millions of years to get where it is today, the ‘epitome of evolution’, what’s to stop it from barreling right through this little species of ours, or to turn right around and go back to the oceans?
God gave Adam a specific task. “Now the Lord God had formed out of the ground all the beasts of the field and all the birds of the air. He brought them to the man to see what he would name them; and whatever the man called each living creature, that was its name.” (Genesis 2:19) Humans were put in charge of the animals. This was twofold. Adam was blessed with control, but also had responsibility.
This was fine until he learned of the difference between good and evil, which again, separated Adam and Eve from the animals, but caused them to sin and lose the paradise they had. In Hosea 6:7, Adam’s sins were again brought up. “Like Adam, they have broken the covenant— they were unfaithful to me there.” Adam and Eve were the first, causing a chain reaction, filtering down through the generations, behaviours becoming more and more ingrained.
But as with all tales of sin and wrongdoing, it ends in a fiery purge, a cleansing or a redemption. Revelation 17:8, the last book of the Bible, says “...written in the book of life from the creation of the world...” which reveals that there has been a plan from the beginning of time to the end, a master plan where the names of all of the followers of God through Jesus were recorded, kept, preserved, predicted throughout time and history to this exact apocalyptic moment. It is said in Genesis, and said in Psalms, “In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands” (Psalm 102:25) It was said at the beginning of time, and it will be said in the end of days: “I am the Alpha and the Omega, the Beginning and the End.” (Revelation 21:6)

The end.
This is all in single space. Took lots more when I turned it in double spaced.
NO CHEATING, GOSH RUKAI!! lol

This is beautiful. Heard it on Torchwood. Dang them, they're everywhere.

The Stolen Child
By William Butler Yeats
WHERE dips the rocky highland
Of Sleuth Wood in the lake,
There lies a leafy island
Where flapping herons wake
The drowsy water rats;
There we've hid our faery vats,
Full of berrys
And of reddest stolen cherries.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wave of moonlight glosses
The dim gray sands with light,
Far off by furthest Rosses
We foot it all the night,
Weaving olden dances
Mingling hands and mingling glances
Till the moon has taken flight;
To and fro we leap
And chase the frothy bubbles,
While the world is full of troubles
And anxious in its sleep.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Where the wandering water gushes
From the hills above Glen-Car,
In pools among the rushes
That scare could bathe a star,
We seek for slumbering trout
And whispering in their ears
Give them unquiet dreams;
Leaning softly out
From ferns that drop their tears
Over the young streams.
Come away, O human child!
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand.

Away with us he's going,
The solemn-eyed:
He'll hear no more the lowing
Of the calves on the warm hillside
Or the kettle on the hob
Sing peace into his breast,
Or see the brown mice bob
Round and round the oatmeal chest.
For he comes, the human child,
To the waters and the wild
With a faery, hand in hand,
For the world's more full of weeping than he can understand.

Lol. Star Trek talk. At least, thinking, anyway. I'm communicating telepathically with my tribble, now. Cats cats cats cats cats. GAAAAH eww never put milk in Earl Grey tea. o_O I have to do math homework. I don't wanna. I don't know which problems to do on 6.5-like, 6.9, or something, so I guess I have to do them all.........o_O Is hard to be geek. blaugh

Ha ha ha. O_o

cool is that? Huh? HUH? PWN, I pwnds u

I made it.

Just more posties for golds.........NEED 59g!! woot you're just jealous of my PWNage.

I dunno. Actually, I'm just posting for random gold. I've designed an avi under 5k. Not on purpose, of course, though I DID want something simpler and cheaper, since my other account are cosplaying really expensive outfits.......

4,709, baby! WOOT!