sunninesses

Febuarary 23 2011            Life Of A Slayer   When I was a baby, I would cry and get whipped. Severely. I stopped crying after that. I guess we all did. It was the only way of survival. If a child didn't learn fast, they would die.  I could fight even before I learned to speak. Even before I could walk, I could probobly kick your butt at Ti-kwan-do, karate and SalRye, a tequnique designed by slayers. Slayers don't fight to defend, they fight to kill (Go ahead, unscramble it. It spells Slayer). I guess it was because they fought us against their best men. Just another s

I still remember the dream. It was dark. The room was pitch black except for a stream of light across the room, dividing it in half where I was standing. It was coming from the ceiling but when I looked up to see what it was, it was blinding and I shielded my eyes and looked back forward, I was facing a blank wall. The light showed it as white, and smooth, perfect, with no faults. I don't know why, but I looked left. Standing there in the darkness was a girl, only visible through the light that was coming through the ceiling. She was 16 by her looks, and had dark wavy red hair. She wore a black dress that fit her slender body, that had read