Long forgotten story

I remembered this story... I read it once, I don't remember when or where...

Once upon a time, there was a man and a woman. They were married, and she couldn't get pregnant. They really wanted a child. So they begged the powers that be for a child and she got pregnant. Months past, and she gave birth to identical twin girls. They named them Jessica and Jennifer. That night, the woman had a dream. She dreamt of a beautiful fairy, dressed all in white, with flowing blonde hair and clear blue eyes. The fairy said to the woman, "I have granted your wish. You conceived and gave birth. Now grant me my wish: give one of the girls to me. When she comes of age, I will take her to be my apprentice." The woman thought about this and agreed. She still could keep her other daughter. When she agreed, the white fairy pricked her finger and a large fat drop of ruby red blood landed on the forehead of the twin on the right, the child called Jennifer.
Meanwhile, the father had a dream. He dreamt of a beautiful fairy as well, but this fairy commanded a different beauty. She was dark, and cold, and stunning. Her gown was of flowing black, as was her hair, and her eyes were the color of ravens. This fairy said in a haunting voice, "I have granted your wish. Your wife conceived and gave birth. Now grant me my wish: give one of the girls to me. When she comes of age, I will take her to be my apprentice." The man thought about this, and seeing as how he would still have a daughter, he agreed. At the moment of agreement, the dark fairy pricked her finger. A fat drop of dark red blood fell from it onto the forehead of the twin on the left, the child called Jessica.
The girls grew older, identical in every way except for their coloring. Jennifer had beautiful blonde hair and blue eyes, while Jessica's eyes and hair were the color of inky darkness. They differed slightly in their personalities, as well. Jennifer would sing and dance all day, while Jessica was quiet and refused to sing.
One day, when the girls were 14 years old, their father took ill. Jennifer stayed by his bedside, and sang him songs of happiness and health. She sang of sunshine and fields, of birds and streams, all in her melodious voice. As the father was regaining his strength, getting better, he requested his other daughter, Jessica, to sing for him. She stubbornly refused. He begged and pleaded, and finally, Jessica said, "I have but one song. Do you truly want me to sing it?" The father nodded, and Jessica sang her song. As she sang, his head drooped lower and lower, until he died.
When the girls were 17, their mother took sick. Jennifer sang her songs of beauty, and the mother slowly regained her strength. A few days later, she called Jessica to her bedside. "Daughter," she said, "your sister has sung me many songs. Why is it that you do not share in her delight and sing for me? Do you not love me?" "Mother," Jessica replied, "I do love you, and that is why I do not sing for you. I have but one song. Do you truly want me to sing it for you?" The mother nodded, and Jessica bowed her head, and sang. When she looked up again, her mother was dead.
After the proper period of mourning, the sisters agreed that they should go seek their fortunes in the world. They set off together, walking along a mountain path. After several days, the path reached a valley. Near sunset, the path forked, the right leading into the sunlight and seeming the happier choice. The left led into an inky darkness so deep the stars did not even penetrate it. Night.
"Here," said Jennifer to Jessica, "is where we take our separate paths."
"Yes, " said Jessica, "I must go to the left. It is tugging within me."
"And I am just as strongly called to the right," her twin replied. "It seems to me the road to my happiness."
"Yet, I feel as the left would draw me, it would be my own calling, happy or sad," Jessica said quietly.
The twins hugged each other and turned away, each onto her own path. The light-haired girl meandered up into the sunlight, stooping occasionally to pick a daisy and put it in her hair, or smell the wildflowers, or chat with a sparrow. The dark-haired girl strode down the path of her destiny, not stopping for anything except to disentangle herself from thorny plants or to shout at the hoarse cawing of the ravens.

Stand and watch cathedrals falling

All I really want is to know you
to be touched
to hold hands
If that's alright.
And tonight for the first time
I realized
you're unlike all the others
I hope that's alright.
All I really need from you
is affirmation
and innocence
Would that be alright?
Could you maybe understand that
I want to know your mind
and not your body
That's gotta be alright.
Could you and me fall in love tonight
without touching
just talking
It's alright if we can't.
And if you want to leave right now
I'll understand
and I won't hold it against you
It's alright.
Just know that if you want to talk (or cry) I'm here
anytime
anywhere
It'll be okay, alright?

My hand on my scimitar

I am in shadow
So deeply inured that, should someone try to withdraw me,
Thier very breath drawn from their lungs
We should die ere we reached the surface.
The tendrils of dark coil around
And though one may stare, my face is hidden by my hair
The lasting impressions, of blades, of words, draw black blood
Until I am weak enough to struggle,
Tired enough to scream, perhaps trapped in this dream.
The stagnant air of this sanctuary cold against my skin
And maybe all we thought we knew
Was never really actually true.

Can someone else do this for a while?

I am in blood, stepp'd in so far, that, should I wade no more, returning were as tedious as go o'er.


I realized today that I am quirky. I am different than other people. No one else writes the word 'knee' on the knees of their jeans in black pen. No one else wears their bunnyhugs sleeves weirdly half rolled up like I do. No one else likes the Boston Bruins. I love the Boston Bruins. Very few other people hang out at the library whenever it is open. Very few people read as much as I do. I figured I am a kind of introverted extrovert, but I'm still not sure exactly what that means. I am the only person I know who hates weekends. I prefer school days any day. I watch very little television (CSI). Movies don't count. I know very few people who have words on their ankles. 2, to be exact. I love holding hands, I think, but I have never held anybody's hand. (Note: this is not a quirk, it is actually quite common, and that's okay.)

I wrote a poem last night. I might post it later. But then again, I might not. I haven't gotten to bed before 1:00 the past three nights, and the latest I've woken up was 10:00. So I'm not winning in the lots of sleep category. I love waking up early and being in town on Saturday mornings, though.
So, yeah, to end off, the quote up above is my all-time favorite quote in the world. It is from "Macbeth" Act 3 Scene 4, and it haunts me. (Speaking of haunting, everyone go read The Phantom of the Opera, it's in the school library.)
And now, I really should go back to the school to watch volleyball, so leave a comment or something. I like comments. But if you decide to tell me off, kindly leave your name.
Auf Wiedersehen.

It's morning

Wake up! C'mon, it's time to wake up! The sun's shining, it's morning! *Starting to get panicky* Why won't you wake up? *Sees it* You're not breathing! Oh, you're not breathing! C'mon, c'mon, wake up... *Doing CPR* You can do it. Wake up already!! *Starts sobbing* Damn you! Wake up! Why'd you go and do this to me? *Falls on knees and cries* Damn you! Why won't you just... wake... up?

I'm still waiting for... you to be the one I'm waiting for

Regarding The Dictionary Game:
My word was Tyrolian. My blogger has an aversion to letting me post pictures, so if you want to see the picture, go to google, type in tyrolian, and it's the 4th picture across on the top row. It's a fat guy in ski pants reaching up a pole, trying to put a blue tube over it. There are a bunch of hands reaching up at him.

I found an unusually large nail clipper

It's been this way for so long... how do we get back to something that almost never was? Can you be guilty of something you didn't do?

Here's a riddle I wrote... if you get it don't post the answer.

Two from one
Together yet separate from each other
Dark as night and fair as light
One loved and hated, one hated and loved
The innocence is hidden under shadow, the guilt flashes in the morning sun
And the more you look, the harder it is to see which one is which one

I talk to trucks

I have sunk to a new high.
Or risen to a new low.

It's a shocking bit of footage viewed from a shitty TV screen...

When there's nothing left to live for you must live for death, which in itself is oxymoronic. When you hit rock bottom, and you feel like there's nothing left to do and nowhere left to go, and it's impossible to go up, you can always go sideways. You can live for death the way Captain Nemo did. (If you haven't read 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, go borrow it now and read it immediately, you'll better understand what I'm trying to say.) Living for death does NOT mean that you should go kill yourself, not at all. Instead you live for things that can't ever come back, and in a roundabout way you take your revenge on the world for stealing your heart straight out from under you. It is a sad state to live in, this is true, but it is better than no life at all. And so perhaps those on the other side don't know how you feel, you can't blame them for what they have never realized. Maybe we just have to think outside of our comfortable little damning boxes, and we'll see what's been plain as day in front of our eyes this whole time.

"The sun came up with no conclusions
Flowers sleeping in their beds
The city cemetery's humming
I'm wide awake- it's morning"

It's Here!!!

It's November.

Yes. I'll try this again. Everybody comment on this post because I'm tired of finding out at random times during the day that people read this blog. So if you read it, comment please. Thank you.