The Novella Life of Illuscia Nester Himawari

I believe They came to me, in the dead of night, and turned me into a robot. Not immediately, but in intermittence. I am not even sure who 'They' are; no one is, not really. First, They took my bones and replaced them with bionic, silicone based material. Next, they extracted my veins and attached a convoluted network of wires in their place. I could feel their rigid circuitry beneath my skin, alien and disconcerting. Then, They harvested my organs, one by one, and left complex machineries inside the empty cavities to support what little human life there is that remains, if there is any. I could feel my self mutating, day by day, metamorphosing into something artificial, into some grotesque android changeling. I am scared to wake up someday to discover that I am no longer me, my memories eradicated, my consciousness digitalized. Are my thoughts still even mine, or are they a mere program, a bio-digital illusion mimicking my thought pattern? Feels like it. I had to ...

-- TRIGGER WARNING: Sexual Violence, Child Death -- It's funny what you remember as a kid. I don't remember my 5th birthday or my first day of school. But I remember very clearly the day my dog died. It's been 12 years now, and it's still the most vivid memory of my childhood. My sister Ashley and I were typical twins. Always hatching diabolical plans and getting into trouble together. On this particular day, we had colored our cat, Pongo, blue. Even though my mom tried to punish us separately - me on the stairs, Ashley in the dining room - we were still making faces at each other and giggling. She was just about to scold us when the doorbell rang. My mother gave us both a you-better-not-move-a-musc le look as she went to answer the door. Standing on our stoop was a tall, lanky blonde man wearing a red tracksuit. I remember he had shifting, watery eyes. He noticed Ashley and I immediately. What we noticed was that he was holding our dog, Rocky unde...

You’ve been dating your girlfriend almost two years now. You often stay late over the summer and on weekends and arrive home long after the rest of your family go to sleep. Every night, you drive the deserted rural roads back home from a pleasant evening at her house, but you become overwhelmed by fears that you will arrive home to find your family dead in their beds. Each night, you peek into your sister’s room and see she’s fine and hear the reassuring rumble of your father’s snore as you pass your parents’ door. You chuckle at your silly worries and drift off to sleep. Finally, one morning, you decide to tell your mother about your late-night fears amidst some jovial conversation for a nice laugh. As you tell her, a concerned look comes over her face. She sweeps the hair away from her face as she says, “Oh honey, you know we were all shot almost two years ago.” You scream as you see the gaping bullet hole in her forehead.

Last week, at the end of class, My English teacher Mr. Collins gave us an assignment. He told us that we were to write a fictional story that would count towards 20% of our overall grade. The story that I've decided to write isn't fiction, but Mr. Collins won't know that. I've waited almost ten years to get this off my chest. I can't tell anyone about it because i f I did, they would think I was crazy. I've had enough therapists over the years; I don't want to see anymore. I suppose I should give you a little background. My name is Eric Peters and I'm fifteen years old. I currently live in Dallas with my fifth foster family, the McLain's. My foster parents are wonderful people. They don't press about my past and they don't treat me as though I'm some delicate flower. They treat me like a regular teenager and for that I'm incredibly thankful. In all honesty, there isn't much to say about me, I like basketball, video g...

Alone, I cry in the dark Longing for you, Your touch, Your love You said I was your everything, Said I was forever yours, Told me you needed me to live, That without me you would die. You lied. If you meant it you would be here, If you truly loved me you would come wipe the tears I cry for you away, Tell me not to cry, Tell me you love me, That youre sorry. The way things ended, They didnt end well. I know youre hurt, Im in pain as well, Here I lie alone, Missing you like hell. Unlike you I meant what I said, Meant every word, Youre always in my head, My one true love. Forever youre in my heart, You could kill me, Laugh as I break apart, But I would still love you. You cheated, Went with her behind my back, You said that kiss meant nothing, I believed you. You said you were sorry, And wouldnt do it again, I forgave you, Trusted you. You lied again. We fell deeper in love every day, Every second, You hoped to make me your wife, Promised you would never leave me, And with me youd spend y...

"Somewhere, there was a tiny dream. Such a tiny dream it was, No one knew who had dreamt it. The tiny dream began to think. 'I don't want to disappear this way. How can I make people dream of me?' The tiny dream thought and thought, and then came up with an idea. 'I'll make humans get lost in me, and let them create the world.'" The first Alice was gallant with a sword in hand She skipped off into the woods and off to Wonderland Cutting anyone and anything that blocked her path Up until the Earth was soaked with red to show her wrath Such an Alice was to be trapped inside the trees A criminal locked away forced to beg on her knees Other than the path she made while cutting in the wood No one knew she existed and she was gone for good The second Alice was a sweet and a humble man He would always sing a song to his dear Wonderland The many tones he sang they twisted and they swirled And thus he created an equally mad world Such an Alice was a man ...

First off, let me apologize for the long wait. Everything’s been so hectic that I’ve hadn’t had any time to actually sit down and type everything. Let’s start with the action part. You’d be surprised at how easy it is to find a restaurant next to an abandoned construction site. At least i n terms of asking the waiters/owners of the restaurant to see if they recognized Erik or Axel’s face. I supposed seeing a tall white guy and a short Japanese guy together was somewhat special. I called up an old friend from high school - Uriah - to accompany me to the construction site. Never mind safety reasons - by the time we found the place, the sun was already setting. Given everything that had already happened, I would have probably shit myself if I had gone alone. Erik wasn’t kidding when he mentioned in his update that all they did was draw circles. “Yo, Lyon.” Uriah pointed his flashlight towards the numerous of circles on the walls. “Did your bro have an obsession with cir...

"WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD! WAKE UP, SLEEPYHEAD! WAKE UP, SLEE— " WHOOP!! Jude groaned as she slammed the alarm clock. Curse her ex-husband to get her such a loud, obnoxious clock for her birthday. Now she couldn't wake up without having a heart attack first. As she slowly slipped her legs off the bed to sit up and put her cold feet into her warm furry bed slippers, she stared out into the slowly rising sun at the horizon beyond her window. An empty feeling that she thought was long gone resurfaced as she glanced at the empty space of the other side of her bed, and her heart unconsciously ached at that feeling, making her wish in vain that all this had never happened. It had been almost 3 years to the letter that she had divorced Jay, her ex-husband of 5 years, due to some stupid misunderstanding. She had to admit, they were really young at the time and they seemed to have rushed into the marriage (after dating for only 6 months) as soon as they were fre...

Like Erik, I had only visited Axel once since the accident. And, just like everyone else, that place gave me the nerves. Even without his screams vibrating throughout the hallways, the feel of the place sent shivers down my spine. You know, I was half expecting to find Axel the same he’s a lways been - strapped to the bed or something and muttering incomprehensible words. It would have made my life so much easier if the entire thing had just been some creative story Erik decided to get critique on. He liked writing - so even when the hospital was eerily silent, I almost convinced myself to turn around and walk out. I thought I wouldn’t find anything but another scarring image of what was left of someone I once knew. I’m so glad I didn’t. “Holy shit,” I remember saying as Axel blinked and glanced up from the novel he had been reading. “You’re really okay.” Axel stared at me for a moment - as if he didn’t recognize me. Then he frowned, almost in disbelief. “Lyon?” He ...