This is a Afrikaans poem that I rewrote in english. It took me along time to get all the words right.

Sonata - ANNESU DE VOS

Our friendship was an afternoon melody
from four to five (o’clock) between cool white walls of the flat white house in which you live

and outside the listening plants crept and clambered over the roof
in the harmony of the whispering sound

now our friendship is only the silence after the symphony
and on a rainy night I recreate it

with white, pointed vingers it becomes a wistful moan on the piano
because I miss you and I am crying alone because you are laughing at me

Air

I hated him. I hated everything. This time . . .

I was mad. I wanted to hurt him in a way he hurt me. I wanted to show him how it felt to me. To see him through his life away. I even hated the whole idea of him.

The way he became after a while.

Aggressive

Stressed

Ignorant

Arrogant

Dumb

Okay, granted that that last one was mean.

And probably untrue

It is the way I feel.

He is dumb, no. He is weak.

He lives for nothing .Emotionless, longing for he’s freedom that comes in a little tiny box.

So I burned the box. Knowing that I could not hurt him. Could not touch him. Not really

If you think about it. I could do nothing. Watch as he deteriorates into Oblivion.

But I wanted to. Not because I want to be some sort of hero or savior of a kind.

I wanted to act. To show him I cared.

And all this time he tough. I was picky or immature.

Fact: It’s against the law to smoke in a house where there is a child under the age of 18

The above is a law that came into the publics’ eye first in 2007 or 08. It made me glad. Now I could lay charges against him for the abusive action he so very much likes to do.

I could make a difference. Could take control. Could sway my opinion around and people would listen. The law was made after research had shown for every cigarette that a person smokes the person next to him smokes in reality 3 cigarettes because of all the harmful smoke. That could take your life away.

“I hope you die of lung cancer or emphysema one day”

He didn’t move, say a word at all. Just kept starring at his laptop and other guy gadgets that were neatly placed all over his table.

Do I regret saying those words?

HELL NO

Like I have mentioned before. It is the way I feel.

I have vague memories as a child where I took all the little boxes and stomped on them for fun. Smoking has never been interesting to me. I have never had a flush of interest in trying it out. My friends don’t smoke. I don’t have friend that smoke …

I might sound mean. I might sound cruel.

But this is the way I feel.

The cruelest moment in my life is when I, my mom and he went on a family trip to my grandmother. When he smoked. I would usually put a blanket over my head not to get most of that awful smell on me and in my throat, round my tongue. It disgusts me.

I do not remember the exact word that I remarked to him but I remember him saying. “Well if you’re under the blanket quite and that’s all it takes. I guess I’ll light up another one”

And he did....

Maybe that’s what sparked my intense hate and anger towards him and his fellow friend.

I wonder if he knows he is a slave. I wonder if he even cares what this is doing to us. His family. Does he know?

Has he any intention of stopping. Or even trying to? Or is that all he would forever be a weakling. Addicted to smoking. A brainless fool.

Maybe this is what makes him happy. To smoke and be away from all of the problems, the people, the family, us

Maybe he has no strong will-The he is weak and can not stop. But we ARE THERE FOR HIM!!!

And are fully willing to stand by him. To fight this disease.

And I hope that one day he would trust that I knew what was happening to him and that I was only trying to help when I shot him dead.

Tarja Turunen Fanfiction.- Tarja in Trouble

Marcello’s words shook the ground under Tarja. It felt like the words were still echoing in her ears. First starting off softly and slowly over time growing louder and louder until she grabbed her head. Holding it in her hands. Trying to make sense of everything.

“ CD sales are down. Shows aren’t selling and frankly ,Tarja the company’s running bank robbed.

 

Those words were what any artist dreaded to hear. Tarja remembered how she always said in interviews that loosing her voice was her biggest nightmare but somehow that seemed stupid now. She would rather have no voice and loyal fans than have a voice, That no one wants to listen too.

She threw a glance around the room and saw the musicians shaking there heads.

 

She knew she had to do something or she will loose them. They all had families that they need to take care of. She must act now.

…………………………………………………………………………………

The next morning , Tarja woke up with some startling news. When she picked up the phone- It was the police. There had been a break in at the studio. At least nothing was taken. But the police had found a letter. Suspicious, don’t you think?

 

“ What did it say?”

“ We don’t know miss Cabuli. We were hopping you would come down to the studio and open it.”

“ Yes. of course. I’ll be right over.”

 

Tarja slowly put the phone back on its stand.

Marcello was still sleeping. Like a baby

Tarja didn't bother to wake him. She couldn’t believe that he was still not awake. The phones piercing ring came just after 3:40 am

 

To be continued

Lost:Prologe- Tristania fanfiction

“This wasn’t easy for me,Osten”

Vibeke stared at the ground while her words still lingered in the air. Unable to escape.

Only the soft rain outside could be heard. Kjetil took a sudden sharp breath in and then, let the air slowly escape between his lips.

Osten shifted from one leg to another.

 

 “And everything we were working on. We just got out a album,Vib”

“ Well” Vibeke began ” I’m so sorry. This will never work,we all tried to fool ourselves a little longer but the truth is. I cant. Not anymore.”

 

Kjetil looked at Vibeke with disbelief. This was going to be his big break. To sing for Tristania,and now Vibeke was ending it. Never to be the same again.

“ Then you must go.” He said in a familiar growl-like moan

 

Osten suddenly sprang up and looked Kjetil in his eyes. Trying to stare him down. It worked ! Kjetil slummped back down in the chair. Like a naughty child that was being punished.

Vibeke slowly walked to him. Clutching her stomach. Feeling his pain. Taking his hand in hers. She bent down and looked him staight in the face while she whispered.

 

“ We had a long run. It was fun. Thank you for everything,my friend. Please tell the others of my departure.”

 

She slowly got up. Tears rolled down her pale cheeks and Osten only stared outside the window.

When he turned his head back to the room. He heard the door “ click” shut

 

And Vibeke was gone.

 

Forever...