Suddenly I am very lonely. I don't know why, but I've got a sudden craving to be with someone. Maybe it's because I read too damn much and am so affected by what I read...maybe, eh? ;)

Speaking of reading I just finished the fourth Harry Potter novel. That really big-ass thick one. You know the one I'm talking about. Needless to say, by the size of the thing and the rants I'd been hearing in favour of it, I was dissapointed. Quite dissapointed. Which continues the growth in my dislike of series. Y'wanna know why? This is why:

1st book = Excellent! It was written as an independant novel. The characters are engaging and likable, the plot line well thought out, intruiging, suspenseful, emotional, simply amazing. Wow. What a book. The second can only get better...right?

2nd Book = Pretty Damn Good. It fairly well equals the first book. Naturally, the characters have gotten just that much old over what ever time has passed between books. Could be weeks, could be years, could be decades or generations. What ever it is, the book is still great. The plot line virtually matches the first book throw for throw. It sounds a bit like the first one, and since you've already read the first one the second one seems not to sparkle quite as brightly. It doesn't take you by surprise but still, it's an excellent book, the author still has his/her muse and it's working hard and fast. Good book. Well worth the read.

3rd Book = Um. Good (usually). I suppose. It's missing something. It's starting to leave many unfinished strings waving, which, to me, is a serious flaw in any book. I don't care if it's a series. Each book should be able to stand on it's own, be able to be enjoyable enough to be read because of itself and not because you have to know if they ever finally kill the bad guy (which they never do, I'll tell you right now, he always comes back, usually in a magical or highly unlikely sort of way), and having the story have rising and falling action. Not rising action that just sits there and doesn't do anything, but waits around for the next book. It's like a potential orgasm that your lover just doesn't push over the edge. Y'know what I'm talking about? Sure you do. Unless you're too young or havn't experienced an orgasm yet. Then you don't. But to you other people, you know what it's like. Extremely frustrating and very unsatisfying. Kinda makes you want to punch someone and finish the damn series yourself. But you don't, because there's another book. "Another book?" I hear you say in a horrified, hungry sort of way, horrified because of the torturous, brutal writing and stray ends you /know/ are coming, hungry because you /must/ see the ends of the stray threads already dangling in front of your nose. But still, all in all, it really was a pretty good book, dispite the fact that it did turn around and ruin the first book for you by turning one or two of the likable characters that have lasted this long agaisnt the main characters, quite possibly someone they had previously trusted, which is another thing I seriously hate, even if it's necissary...but the book does hold a slight note of desperation. Looks like the muse is losing interest. Oh, sure, the author wants to keep it going, whether because he himself wants to know what happens in the end, or because merchendise, movies and money have come into the deal. The three fatal M's that can potentially ruin even the best of novels and the most humble of people. The book, too, as well as gaining a slightly desperate note also contains a note of...snobbishness. The book, while good, does not rely solely on colourful language, engaging storylines and likable characters to draw the reader into the story like the first book did, but rather is starting to lean towards making references to books past, and what's to come. The author, possibly, has started to become rather lazy and figures if the reader has made it this far, certainly he or she has read the previous two books and knows what's going on and who's who or that he or she is now solely writing for a solid fan base who will gobble up what ever he happens to produce. Which, of course, in most cases is quite true.

4th Book: Oh. My. God. Please. /NO/! I mean, it still is pretty good and some thought and effort did go in to it, but by this time it has so many stray ends all over the place it's terribly difficult to see. It doesn't tie up the loose ends from the last book, merely magnifies them and adds several more incredible problems, most of which are highly unlikely, and chances are they ruin the first three books for you by making one of the previously banished badguys suddenly come back to power in a freak accident, or something of the like. However it's done, it's irritating, because you /know/ there's absoloutely no way on earth that the author is going to be able to kill and/or imprision the bad guy satisfactorily by the end of the book. So you dread the ending...but you've /got/ to read it, just to see what happens. And, surprise surprise, it's a complete dissapointment, and is quite possibly what is known as an anti-climax, leaving you at the end of the book depressed and dissapointed.

5th Book = The author, at this point, unless he or she is /extremely/ lucky, has lost his muse completely and is just writing because damn brainless fans keep gobbling up what ever shit he feeds them.

6th Book and Beyond = Unless, by some miracle, the author is brilliant, and has stopped using one book to lure the reader to another, the author should be shot. Quite seriously. They have either gone power hungry, stark raving mad, or have been locked up and tortured in a studio basement somewhere by contractors who are forcing the poor person to write for their own personal gain.

This is why I no longer enjoy Piers Anthony's 'Xanth' novels. I liked the first few, then I just lost them. They no longer stood on their own as independant novels that didn't rely on the novel before them to fully explain what the heck was going on...plus, I couldn't figure out what damn order they went in! That man should number them all for convenience...

Anyway, enough of my frustrated ramblings. I was dissapointed with the fourth Harry Potter novel because in many ways it did exactly what I discribed above. And it was too damn thick. I was expecting something better from that many words. But really, dispite the highly dissapointing and unfulfilling ending, it was a pretty good book, even if through out the entire book everyone was having hissy fights at each other and stopping being friends and starting again, and getting jealous of each other and being let down...Books should have as many up points as down points, if not more, and this book didn't. As I said earlier, I was dissapointed.

But speaking of writing, I promised another section in that humble story I was writing, didn't I? Sorry it took so long. Exams, y'know. But now they're over! Whoo! (Gods, I hope I didn't fail...)...Sheesh. My writing sounds so pathetic up next to the 'famous Harry Potter', 'internationally acclaimed'...But I've got something that Harry Potter doesn't!...Oh. No. Wait. I don't. Never mind.

Anyway, here's the next installment. Enjoy: The small group of Starseekers wove their way into the crowded marketplace.

�Are you sure it�s coming from here?� The spirit sister, Maru, asked impatiently.

�Positive,� Nasaka, warrior and leader of the cluster, replied, craning her neck to see over the heads of the tall peasants.

�But you�ve said that about the last three villages!� A tall girl from the back piped in, a whining note in her voice.

�Silence, Orii,� The fourth girl of the group said quietly. �It is the place.�

Orii looked at the mage with wide eyes, but said nothing more.

�Naama, will you please scan the area?� Nasaka paused to glance at the mage.

Naama nodded and positioned herself in the midst of her companions as to hide her motions, and quickly traced a faint pattern in the air behind the shields of their conveniently placed cloaks. Her forehead rumpled a little in what could be confusion or alarm, then nodded towards the heart of the jeering crowd.

All four girls turned to stare at the girl atop the punishment platform.

Silik� hissed and spat at the crowd as the first rotten tomato struck the shackles near her head and splattered into her tangled fire-red hair. A murmur swept through the crowd and several peasants made signs to ward of evil.

The Slysk girl rolled her sore shoulders and winced as her ragged clothes shifted against her sunburnt back. She was locked in a kneeling position by stout wooden shackles and iron locks. Another piece of over-ripe fruit exploded on the platform and Silik� cursed as a spray of stinking juice swept up her sore neck, speckling the star-shaped pale amber stone imbedded in the skin there.

�Witch!� Came the familiar, coarse insult from somewhere in the center of the crowd.

�Vampire! Demon!� More names followed and Silik� bared her teeth, showing the inch long fangs where her eye teeth should have been. The crowd shifted and fell silent.

Silik� sighed and hung her head as the uneasy gathering very slowly began to disperse, a few brave souls lingering to toss the last of the rotten fruit.

Nasaka lead the cluster through the thinning crowd, towards the platform. She paused and tapped a nearby young man on the shoulder. He turned, his wide brimmed hat shadowing most of his face.

�What has this girl done?� She murmured.

The boy shook his head sadly. �The villagers hate her because she is Slysk.�

�That�s it?!� Orii burst out in a fierce whisper, her hand sliding to the hilt of her dagger. �Why I ought to-�

Naama gently pried Orii�s fingers from her dagger, clasping the girl by the shoulders. �Calm yourself, Orii. Everything will be sorted out. Don�t worry yourself.�

The boy�s eyes widened. �You�re Starseekers, aren�t you?�

Nasaka nodded and frowned a little. �Yes, but hush. No one is supposed to know we�re here. But if you figured it out--� She looked a little worried.

The boy looked uncomfortable. �I�m...different. You don�t need to worry about the other villagers.�

Naama gave the boy an inquiring look but he said nothing more.

�Sarion,� The girl on the platform lifted her head and looked down at the boy. �Get...me...out...of...here.� Her words were hoarse and sounded painful.

An anguished look crossed Sarion�s face and he looked as though he wanted to reach out towards the girl. �You know I can�t, Sil. Do you want both of us up there?�

The shackles shook as Sil let out a rasping cough; a few spots of dark red blood splattered the fruit stained platform.

Sil went deathly white as she stared at the red spots. �Curse them three ways from the third day. Not again...� And she went completely limp.

***

Frightened, Sarion reached out towards the girl. �Silik�!� He turned desperately to Nasaka. �Please, m�lady, help her! She�s going to die if she takes any more of this!�

�Orii,� Nasaka turned to the cluster�s Healer. �Get up there, right now. Naama, help her, and makes sure no one interferes.� She turned to the last girl. �Maru, do what ever they ask of you.�

�Where are you going?� Maru asked as she climbed onto the platform.

�To get the horses!� Nasaka called back as she broke into a sprint, running back the way they came.

�We can�t do anything until the lock is undone. Maru? If you please?� Orii looked over at the spirit sister balanced on the edge of the platform.

Maru rose and simultaneously produced a small piece of twisted wire from somewhere in the folds of her tunic. Crouching, she shoved the wire into the lock and ducked her head towards the mechanism, listening for the appropriate clicks. In a moment Maru stepped back and removed the lock.

�She�s all yours, Orii.�

A small crowd began to gather around the platform as Orii lifted the wooden plank. Naama moved quickly as the weight of Silik�s body slid her out of the shackles and onto the mage�s waiting grasp.

�Hey!� Someone yelled and the three girls turned to see a short, fat, and rather angry looking man hurrying towards them, followed by a small group of heavily armed guards in bright blue uniforms. �You can�t do that!�

The mage held Silik� gently as Orii turned away from the man to the injured Slysk girl.

Naama ignored the guards and studied the man briefly, unimpressed. �Why not?�

Without replying directly, the man tried to haul himself up onto the platform. Unsuccessful, he scowled at the guards and immediately two stepped forward to push him rather roughly the rest of the way.

�Who are you, sir?� Maru asked, tipping her head to one side as Naama and Orii joined hands to begin a basic healing spell.

�I am Sergeant Bresk. Who,� he asked haughtily, �are you? And what do you think you�re doing with my prisoner?�

Maru rose from her crouched position, towering at least a foot over Bresk. �That, my dear Sergeant, is little, or none, of your business. As for your so called �prisoner�, we need her, so if you have no more objections, we�d like to continue our work.�

Bresk�s round face turned several shades of pink and finally settled on a furious purple. �Objections?!� He shrieked. �Guards! Guards! Arrest those women!�

�No,� Naama said, though quietly, it halted the advancing guards. �We will be going now.�

�What�s this? What�s this? Men, what are you waiting for! Get them!� Bresk wailed. �They�ll get away with that witch girl!�

The guards shifted uncomfortably and looked at each other.

Naama stood and brushed of her tunic, then turned to aid Orii as she hauled the unconscious Slysk girl into her arms.

Maru moved to stand next to the mage and the healer. �Shall we be going now, Naama?�

Naama nodded, eying the partially infuriated, partially frightened Bresk. �Yes,� She said quietly. �I think so.� She lifted her arms and white light bloomed around her outstretched palms.

Over the smooth buzz of the magic Maru heard metal and wood clatter to the cobblestones as the blue clad guards scattered.

�Arrest them! Arrest them! They�re getting away! Men!...Men?� Bresk�s high pitched wail cut through the hum as he realised his men had deserted him.

Beads of sweat broke out on Naama�s forehead. �I can�t...Too many...� Her hands shook and the light wavered as she fought to complete the spell. �Orii? C-can..�

Orii began to respond as a shadow moved at the corner of her eye, attracting her attention. �Sarion!�

Sarion darted out of the shadows where he had been hiding and leapt onto the platform, shoving past Maru.

�Maru? O-orii? I...can�t...W-who?� On Naama�s last word Sarion moved behind her and firmly clasped his hands on either side of the mage�s head; blue light exploded, overpowering the white glow. Pale blue mist sprang up around them and in a few moments solidified into the towering trees of the Midnight Forest, four horses and Nasaka.

�Naama!� Nasaka said in relieved tones as she swung down from her chestnut mare. �I was afraid you wouldn�t make it in time!�

Naama blinked a few times and lowered her hands, looking dazed. �What was that?�

Sarion pulled back and fell gratefully to his knees, breathing heavily.

Naama turned. �Sarion!�

Silik� stirred and Orii gently set her on the spongy moss. �Sarion? Sarion!�

The boy turned and Silik� scrambled over to him.

Clasping the Slysk girl in his arms, Sarion looked up at the four young women. His hat had fallen off in the joyful embrace, showing off a head full of spiky fire-red hair, matching Silik�s perfectly.

The incomplete cluster looked at the two Slysk in astonishment.

Sarion smiled a toothy smile, the afternoon sun glinting off his long, pointed eye teeth. �I told you I was different.�

***

Heck, I figured the story was too damn small to split up any farther. So what d'ya think? Not too shabby? I hope not. Being an author has always kind of been a bit of a dream for me. That was before I entered theatre, that is. You know why I did, what I like about theatre? It's the fact I can do things and be places and become people and be in situations that would never happen in real life. It's like a better version of a book. Instead of being so absorbed in it you think you're the characters, you actually /are/ the characters. Everything is you and you are it. One night you could be a distressed lady in 16th century France escaping from the Cardinal's Guards...next you could be Mrs. Beaver, the loving wife of Mr. Beaver as he urgently explains about the White Witch to a group of lost little children...heck, you could even be an imbittered, skulking, black-wearing minion of the most evil man in Europe, trying to seduce a murderous woman in the upstairs of a small English tavern! The possibilities are endless. You just have to get the part. ;) It why I like theatre, you see. I figure, if it won't actually happen to me in real life, I might as well get the next best thing. Makes sense?

Anyway, I've tallied here too long. Bed is calling and my legs are getting quite severly chilled. The skin is cold to the touch.

So I run. Not literally of course. More like staggering up the stairs while blood flow returns to my woe-be-gotten limbs. ;)

So I bid thee a good night. Good night, good night! Parting is such sweet sorrow that I would say good night 'til it be morrow!

*smooches* Adieu, my dears.

.

Rosie.

Before&After