Original article posted by Minty:


Funny girls are not this,
Nor boys well versed in humor,
Our moods and our lose,
All are gone way the

Its a cold cobble road she blunders down. Scuffed red vinyl stilettos bending and dropping her lower body with her ankle. Her legs are drawn together as she walks. Trying in a vain attempt to keep her inner thighs warm with the heat of her own skin. Pink latex clung to her waist, a thin spandex tank top wrapped her upper body. The tingling of cheap costume jewelry added a back beat to the click of her heels.

Anne watched the woman hobble down the street next to her apartment building. Her arm propped up and round pink face stuck out the studio’s window. She heard the bathroom door close and the bed behind her creek with the slight weight of her master.

He made a small bored sound as he lit a cigarette and watched her with false, knowing eyes.

The thing about this man was this; he knew very little. Though he had a way of finding out what it was you wanted the most and dangling it with some tact right in front of your face. It was a strategy that worked well, though human nature and curiosity may go hand in hand. Patience does not. So this game of his would not last terribly long. The “student” would at some time realize this man had nothing they could not find on their own and leave. Still it served his purposes; there would always be someone else.

For that was the great crutch of the individual. They all seek comfort and knowledge in another. There is an unspoken belief that we can’t possibly fulfill our spiritual thirst alone. That is why every great occultist gave some credit to “ancients”. Its a delicate trick selling certain truths in halves. And this insignificant man had hit on something that made his life easier.

Does this make him great, this deceptive skill? No, great men and women knew that knowledge is best when it is shared and scrutinized. Not withheld and fabricated.

Smoke dripped from his papery crisp lips and curled up disappearing into the arid atmosphere of the room. The walls received the yellowing smoke, already tinged canary from the half decade or so of dredge that had smoked in the downtown Las Vegas complex.

His eyes were almost hallow, so far sunk into his head, and his skin stretched far past his temples into a hair line that would have been receding if it hadn’t been shorn so short to his scalp. His body was all angles and ridges. With two hallow sunken lines on his neck. His adams apple bulged out from his throat like a bullfrog, and his five o clock shadow gave his face an ethnic tint.

Anne turned from the sight of him and gave the window a long gaze. She traced a circle with her right hand; the small scratching noise her nail made against the screen seemed to annoy her master. He huffed and with a frown she let her hand drop to rest next to its twin on the key board.

Her live journal was up, her fingers tapped lightly at the keys. They made a pleasant padding sort of sound. Not the harsh slam when she wrote, just something like a calm before the storm. And there would be a storm, she had just read Ilene’s journal. It hurt, angered, and confused her. One of her closest friends hated the man she loved. Despised her master.

She thought that it was mostly the girls stubborn views on her lifestyle and femi-Nazi outlook. Yes Ilene could be quite dim and judgmental. Two things that hardly made for a pleasant personality, especially when one of her friends was involved. Still Anne thought that their closeness would allow her Timijin a place in Ilene’s life. She had always accepted Katherin’s trysts either with curiosity or cold indifference. The only thing Ilene had ever seemed to care much about was whether the three of them held true to their agreement.

“Friends before lovers, lovers always leave, don’t ya know?” Though Anne would often doubt how true Ilene would hold to this ideal once she began dating. Ilene was always something of the spinster in their circle of friends. Not that she wasn’t interested in dating, she just wasn’t interested enough.

Her hands pressed firmly into the keys as her face set in a cold frown. What was she thinking? Throwing away a five year friendship over this stupidity?

“I can’t believe shes throwing away a five year friendship over that fucking jackass!”, Ilene shouted after reading a comment left in her live journal. She got up from the computer and stormed down stairs. Hands gripping the banister so hard her nails made small tracks in the wood. She hopped the last two steps, stomped out of the back door and plopped down in a tuft of grass.

Her back yard was a nice peaceful patch of green, her two story home cast a total shadow over the back lawn, shading the girls eyes from the noon sun. A jet passed over head, filling her with a noise that physically took up space. It was an entity all its own, covering her mind in a short burst of white thought. She had lived in this house for two years and was so used to the planes that she naturally tuned them out or shut down whatever it was she may have been saying or thinking to wait for them to pass.

The towering sound ebbed away, and an empty silence replaced it. Annes comment sprinted through her mind again. The pretty, talented girl she had always been so fond of was wasting her time with a manipulative sorry excuse for a man and when Ilene had finally spoken up about how she much she disliked him, Anne had done something drastic. Though lately that was in her character, to completely sever some long tie, for the sake of making a point.

“Thank you for what you have taught me. Thank you for those times when you did save me from myself. But it seems that that’s all you had to offer me in this life, and I can see nothing more that can be gained from our relationship. Goodbye”

Gained? Why use a word like “gained” when speaking about friendship? True these types of bonds are helpful and therapeutic when called for but, there is nothing to expect from friendship. It just is. Theres no monetary value to it. At least there shouldn’t be. What type of person would say such things? Even if she was offended, Ilene had called Timijin “boy thing” and “it”, that was still no reason to completely void any genuine understanding between the two.

Ilene rolled over on her side and splayed her fingers out over the grass. She dug her thumb into the ground and started to dig a little pit between the blades. She needed something physical to dam the flow of betrayal and hurt this girl had caused her.

Unless Anne had never been true to her that their closeness wasn’t real and all those things they shared were circumstance. The assuring words and adamant oaths they had given to each other. Maybe they were both just girls experimenting with what they thought friendship should be.

Anne and Ilene were “best friends”, and they made up a little society for themselves. A false closeness that was shattered by the simplest of things.

A lover.

Another jet flew by, shaking Ilene’s core with its rumbling, but she stayed with this train of thought. It had a crushing significance. It was a bloody rite of passage, something most would have to learn the hard way.

Just because you call someone a friend, doesn’t mean they are.

Ilene opened her eyes and sat up, the sun had begun to set and she could see the shadow of her house slithering towards the brick wall and the air force base runway.

The wind picked up and rustled her mothers dandelions, there was a sour sweet smell in the air as twilight came.

She gave the setting sun a sad smile and thought aloud.
“Five years of something, gone.”

Orginal comments:

Nickname: Junpei
Re: Five Years of Something Gone
I don’t understand the ‘Master’ thing. I can take guesses, but it is just not defined.

Nickname: Minty
Re: Five Years of Something Gone
I did that on purpose. The nature of thier relationship is a slave/master kind but I didn’t want to play that up. I think demonizing him anymore would make the story more bitter than thoughtful.

Nickname: Junpei
Re: Five Years of Something Gone
I figured it might have been. There is nothing wrong with a master/slave relationship, though. If portrayed well, it would not demonize him further. But isn’t that your goal? Who’s side are we supposed to take? Or are we supposed to balance between them and have this be deeper?

If deeper, we need more history. I don’t know where the first is coming from, so I cannot know why she is doing what she is doing. Likewise her friend. I cannot sympathize because I don’t know who they are.