Just a thing I did for school, and I thought. 'This might be good on the blog." (Don't mind the uppercase words)

A Story of a Feeling.

By Nicole Nantz

Love woke up like the way she always did, with a sober mood from last night’s drink. She looked around, her room was filled with a mess of papers and maps as usual, with random pieces of food on the desk with more pieces of trash scattered over the room. Love knew that she was always too busy to clean herself out of her SQUALOR condition, but she didn’t really care about it.

She finally got up from her bed, and went to make breakfast. She had to go from side to side to avoid the messes in almost a CAREEN fashion, making it harder to get to a simple fridge and freezer.

She went through the freezer to look for her microwavable pancakes, but the pack seemed to many only a small amount of pancakes then the 40 sets that was in there to begin with, but most of it was gone now.

She took the remaining amount of the pancakes and shoved them into the microwave, and setted the time. As she started to wait, she felt the need to just suddenly fall into sleep. Now, we will embark into the mind of something that had lived for so many years, something that never really grew up to only die, the one feeling that would never go away, that feeling was Love.

A FEW HUNDRED YEARS AGO.

A little girl awoke from a small bed in the orphanage, which she beloved. She awoke with a smile on her whitish yet pinkish face. She looked around her room, everything was the same, just as she liked it.

She got out of her room where she found all the other orphans, wearing smiles, and laughing with joy, proving that they were all in a JOVIAL mood.

The little girl left the orphanage, to the open flowers, and the little houses around the small village in Britain. There were many stores, but she always went to one certain place.

There was a small house made of wood at the end of the village, it was near the church. The little girl knocked, and she was greeted by a middle-aged man.

“Hello, Love!” said the man. “How are you doing?”

“Doing great, Mr. Joy,” said the girl.

Love entered the house, it always was organized, and always looked like a maid went through to make it filled with beauty, even though it was all the work of Mr. Joy.

“Sit down, Love.” said Mr. Joy as he sat down on the small armchair that looked handmade. Love followed his orders, and sat on the chair next to her. But, when she looked at him. She could tell that he had begun to age more. His face looked more SALLOW than usual, looked even lighter than his usual dark skin with strain in his face.

“Love,” started Joy. “I am aging, I can tell that you can tell because of you scanning my face.” Love looked at him in the same shock that he always knew what she was thinking.

“You know the reason why we live TRANQUIL lives?” asked Joy, it was the first time she ever heard him in that tone.

“Because, you are the human embodiment of Joy, and thanks to your existence everyone is happy and not depressed.” replied Love, this was basic knowledge to her.

“Exactly,” said Joy, back in his happy tone with a smile, but his face went back to a GRIMACE. He grunted with pain. Love reacted to it by getting a glass of water to him from the bucket.

After drinking the water, Joy was back to normal.

“I’m old, Love.” said Joy. “I did my job, I spread joy to the world, brought the feeling, and now the Feeling Shores are ready to kill me off.”

“That is why you need to find out what your feeling is,

Love.”

LESS THAN A FEW HUNDRED YEARS.

Love looked around the little room she made for people, she actually lived up to be what she was summed up to be, love. The people of the town even made her a house to stay in where she could help people with life.

She grew up in the Middle Ages, and now it was still the Middle Ages. People would be killed, unhappily married, but Love helped, at least the people in this town, find peace in loving someone,

Outside had no carnage, no debating on status, even the Lords started marrying peasants they were fond of with no shame, it was glorious.

But, Love knew this wouldn’t last forever. Soon the Feeling Shores would give her a illness to die from, or just go kill her. They do that to keep Feelings in check, and Love excepted it, she accepted it when her teacher died.

Love finally went out of her house to get some paper, because she knew she couldn’t deal with guilt of letting the people that depended on her to simply see her go with no trace.

The letter was written more than 50 times for each household in the town. It simply told the villagers that she was going to die, and that she hoped for the best for them. But, after the villagers got the message, they didn’t want to let her go.

While Love was waiting to die in her house, the village people meet in the main church to speak of the problem.

A priest went up to the stand to preach to the outraged villagers.

“Now, everyone,” said the priest. “It is not the end of the world that Love is dying-”

“YES IT IS!” screamed a villager, a Lord, who went up to the stand to talk to the priest head on. “Without her, who will convince others to fall in love, will there even be the feeling of love in our minds when she is gone?!”

The crowd now whimpered in wonder of that statement, if Love were to die, would love no longer exist?

“You have a point there, young Lord,” replied the priest. “But, everyone dies. Love has told us that all the embodiments must die when they spread their feeling.”

The Lord looked at the priest with disgust. He left the stand and went down the stairs to the outside of the church, and everyone except for the priest followed him.

At the Lord’s house, the group of villagers started coming up with a plan. They looked for ideas, all the other ones were stupid, but one stood out.

An odd dark wearing man came up. “Why don’t we do a ritual to make her immortal?”

The crowd looked at him.

“Isn’t that witchcraft?” asked a villager.

“But, we need her don’t we,” said the odd man. “Desperate times, call for desperate measures.”

“He is right,” said the Lord. “We need to perform the ritual of immortality.” He turned to the man. “Do you know the ritual, Mister…..”

“Hate.” replied the man.

“You can call me by my PSEUDONYM, Hate.”

A FEW DAYS AFTER.

Love knew what they did. She felt different. They invited her to a party to celebrate, they called it Valentine’s Day. But, it was made for something else. A man wearing black with completely white skin performed a spell, witchcraft.

She made it room, her dress she picked was now MORBID, thanks to the blood used for it. It stuck on her dress, and splattered her skin and hair. Giving it a red feel in the ends for her regular pinkish hair.

She went to her house, with the sadness of the feeling of Sadness, because that is what it felt. Love looked at herself, and went to the nearby mirror that she kept nearby. She looked like a mess. Marking started to spread across her skin to her surprise, almost like a snake crawling on her skin.

They were just completely red, that simply blended with her skin, and then stayed still, leaving the mark of snakes and birds on her back. She knew what she did now.

A tear fell down from her eye, a red tear, and then a burning sensation came from both of her eyes. She placed her hands on her eyes as soon as possible, and fell onto the floor. The burning continued with grueling pain with more tears of red. Until, it stopped.

She stood up, feeling even more different. She looked at herself again after the now considered INTERMITTENT cycle for simply stopping and starting.

Her eyes were now pinkish hearts, no more pupils, no iris.

Only hearts.

A FEW YEARS LATER.

Love sat on her throne with her hair pulled back by a crown. She wore battle armor, and in her heart shaped eyes you could see the WRATH from the conqueror of a kingdom. Thanks to her new found immortality, and continued to grow in power, and a thirst for it.

She conquered Britain from the inside and out, she now only used the King and Queen as to make the public not know anything, if they said one word about her, they would be shot in the head by a sniper, who was everywhere they were.

As time grew, she felt like giving up her life of new found royalty, and controlling the lives of powerful figures, and training for the worst. After all, she was now a one woman army.

The feeling of actual love was missing from Love’s heart and mind. She no longer cared. Humanity with their lies and lives could go and die for all she cared.

But, everything was boring now. Everything in your grasp, everything you say can go, that is how Love felt. She could have anything done, and best part about it is that she couldn’t die.

So many people were sent to assassinate her, but even if the MINUSCULE of a bullet or a small drop of poison settled in. It would just disappear and Love would simply feel no pain at all.

A MONTH LATER.

The lasted King, George something, decided to tax the new colony, without the consideration of Love. She snapped. She simply invited him to dinner. He sat there, not touching his food at all, because of the fright that Love gave him with her stare.

Then just a few seconds later she simply said. “I am done with your family, and this bloody kingdom. Goodbye.” And, she left just like that, with her crown dropped on the table.

That’s it for now.