Jesse David Gray
April 21st 1995 - March 27th 2003
She walked through the front door's of the childrens hospital. The smell of disinfectant overpowering her senses, making her stomach queasy. Today was her only day to visit him. Living so far away made it difficult, but when he got better she would spend as much time with him as she could. No matter what the operation or chemotherapy would do to him.
Stepping off the elevator onto the ward, she wandered past the play room, watching several children in wheelchairs playing air hockey. It made her smile, before she saw the tubes, bandages and IV's. Sadness weighed her young heart and she kept walking down the hallway, before stopping at the entrance to his room. She had braced herself in the car, knowing she would see his small thin body, hooked up to different machines. But she couldn't bear the actual site of him. Lying there. The bandage around his head. The tubes in his arms and nose.
It crushed her soul, her spirit, just to see him like that. She could only imagine how he must feel. She walked over to the chair beside his bed, and grabbed his hand. Holding it tightly. A hand clasped her shoulder, making her jump. She had completely forgotten her father had come with her, but she was grateful for his presence.
"I'm going to call your mother, let her know that your here," he said to her softly. She nodded. She stared at her younger brothers face. Stroking it gently, watching him sleep. Tears began to flow down her cheeks, she couldn't imagine this seven year old boy, so full of life only months before, could have something so debilitating as a tumour in his young brain. She stood over him and kissed his forehead, her hand leaning on something under the covers.
She pulled a small, shabby toy from under the covers. It was a present she had been given as a very young girl, that she had in turn, given to her brother when he was born. They had fought over it as kids, played with it, broken it several times, and cried till our mother sewed it back together again. This little toy unicorn, that meant nothing to the other children here, but meant everything to her and Jessie, was sitting there, under the covers, beside his fragile and sickly body. She had turned thirteen a few months ago, and decided to send it to him when she found out he was sick, now that she was far too old for silly little toy's.
Her tears fell onto the unicorn in her hands, before she placed it next to his chest, tucking him in with the toy that had been there through the few years they had spent together. She kissed her brothers head again, and stroked his hair. A hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her into a hug. Her father had returned and he began to steer her towards the door. But standing in the door way, looking as though submerged in cloudy water was her brother. Healthy, happy, cradling that little unicorn toy. He smiled at her, and he slowly began to fade before her eyes. Before he disappeared her came up to her, and kissed her cheek before swirling away. Her father hadn't noticed a thing and walked out of the room before her, stopping and waiting for her. But she turned towards Jessie's bed, and watched him breathe his last breath.
The machines started making all sorts of noise and soon people were rushing in. Christie's father pulled her out of the room before she got run over, holding her as her heart, which had never known such pain, broke in two. The girl had fallen to the floor, sobbing, when something bumped her leg. It was the little unicorn toy, it had been knocked off the bed, and kicked out of the room. She held it to her chest, feeling its warmth, and she let the memories fill her mind. Blocking out the sick boy, and bringing back the image of the healthy and happy boy she loved.Regret ♂
Brumby's Run by A.B. "Banjo" Paterson
Brumby is the Aboriginal word for a wild horse. At a recent trial a N.S.W. Supreme Court Judge, hearing of Brumby horses, asked: "Who is Brumby, and where is his Run?"
A "Run" means Station
It lies beyond the Western Pines
Towards the sinking sun,
And not a survey mark defines
The bounds of "Brumby's Run".
On odds and ends of mountain land,
On tracks of range and rock
Where no one else can make a stand,
Old Brumby rears his stock.
A wild, unhandled lot they are
Of every shape and breed.
They venture out 'neath moon and star
Along the flats to feed;
But when the dawn makes pink the sky
And steals along the plain,
The Brumby horses turn and fly
Towards the hills again.
The traveller by the mountain-track
May hear their hoof-beats pass,
And catch a glimpse of brown and black
Dim shadows on the grass.
The eager stockhorse pricks his ears
And lifts his head on high
In wild excitement when he hears
The Brumby mob go by.
Old Brumby asks no price or fee
O'er all his wide domains:
The man who yards his stock is free
To keep them for his pains.
So, off to scour the mountain-side
With eager eyes aglow,
To strongholds where the wild mobs hide
The gully-rakers go.
A rush of horses through the trees,
A red shirt making play;
A sound of stockwhips on the breeze,
They vanish far away!
. . . . .
Ah, me! before our day is done
We long with bitter pain
To ride once more on Brumby's Run
And yard his mob again.
Darius ♂
Personality:
Withdrawn, secretive, manipulative, fake.
History
Darius is a deceptive male. He portrays an outgoing, soulful and happy personality, but, really, he hates others, likes to be alone and does his best to stay away from his humanity. He attends classy receptions, in the hopes of meeting someone with power. While he is not believed to be stupid, Darius is not as intelligent as he pretends to be, which isn't a good thing. Being a manipulative aristocat, doesn't make you smart.
Lets say you have money, and you wish to be charitable, Darius will do anything he can to get that money from you. He appears as a young respectable man in society. You begin to trust him as he strokes your ego like a woman strokes her child's hair. He takes you out to the theater, or to a gentleman's club, and even begins to woo your daughter. He is a fine upstanding citizen. But underneath that facade is a destructive plan.
He plants his seed of trust, then convinces you that donating to a charity is a stable way to climb the social ladder. You take his advice, trusting him completely, then he begins to coax you towards a certain orphanage, or other respectable sounding profit free organization, of course you haven't heard of it before, but Darius is a great young man. He could never steer you wrong. Suddenly, your daughter, or perhaps its your wife, or even your mother, becomes ill. You couldn't possibly deliver the money to the charity yourself. Cue Darius.
He takes you aside, saying his condolences and offers to find his acquaintance, that just happens to be a physician, and who, for some reason or other, owes Darius a favour. He goes to leave, but then says, that as he is passing through, he could drop off the money to the charity, mentioning that one good deed, deserves another. And again you trust him. You would do anything to save your ill family member, and believing in Karma may help.
Darius leaves your house with a bag filled with money, your money, that you just lost to someone so trustworthy. But his plan hasn't come to complete fruition until that night, when the sick loved one passes away in the night.
Heart broken, you forget about the money for awhile, but it soon comes back to you that all through the grief, Darius had not come to visit since he took your donation to whichever charity it was. As the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, you are swept into another wave of grief, one which some never make it out of. But that's the way Darius lives, almost feeding off the misery. Several years later, Darius goes from stealing to murder. . .
Pet's name: Cara ♀Personality:
Strong. Holds herself with humility and grace.
History
Cara is an imperial embroiderer and dress maker. She creates the gowns that the ladies of the court wear, and even once created a beautiful gown for the Phoenix Empress' coronation.
While not considered especially beautiful, Cara was still pretty. But, when you looked upon her, or any woman, wearing a gown that she crafted, you would become speechless. The colours of these robes blended perfectly. Her stitching, which was all dyed and sewn by hand, was flawless. Not a single frayed thread could be seen. One of these gowns has survived almost 800 years.
If you travel to the Omifolai (Pronounced - Ohmai - Fo - Lie) Museum, you can walk around one of her most stunning robes. The entire gown was dyed an earthy brown, but as your eyes move up the fabric, you notice the colours become lighter, softer. A golden tree reaches up from the bottom of the gown, and spreads itself around the fabric. Branches stretch out over the shoulders and sleeves. The tree, being in full bloom had flowers that were encrusted with a tiny red jewel in the center, contrasting with the orange of the flower so delicately.
But your eyes still move about the gown. Its not until you walk around to the back that you notice something. Its not easy to spot, but you take a closer look anyway. At the base of this golden tree, at the bottom of the gown, you see a patch of dying grass. And hidden in this grass is a a most peculiar object. A wine glass. Its lying down, and you see, that there is a red liquid puddle under it. You assume its wine, but it has that deep red colour that is so striking of blood that a cold shiver run downs your spine. This wasn't the intention that Cara wanted to portray. The robe was made as a way for her to overcome a deep pain.
Summer for the imperial family, was more or less a holiday. The crown prince was to remain behind in the capital, to oversee the kingdom, while the royal court went to spend 3, lovely, cool months, up in the mountains. Cara, being the royal dress maker, and the daughter of the Empress' hand maiden, always tagged along. The summer palace was her favorite place to be. She could sit out in the gardens, just as the sun peaked in the horizon, bringing with it a beautiful new day. She once made a gown, that showed the rays of the sun, casting their glow over the capital below. The dress was given to the youngest princess who said that the sun was trying to wake up the sleeping citizens.
It wasn't just the beauty of the mountains that appealed to Cara. It was a young guardsman. His eyes were of an average colour for the Traralgon people. But to Cara, they were such a stunning gold that she could lose time just staring at them. Their love was young, pure and full of life. The Emperor, a kind old man, saw them together once, and decided to appoint this young man to care for the dressmaker, so they could spend more time together, and it was a general belief that these two were the epitome of romance. Many of the old stories told today about love, stemmed from this very couple. But, as with most romances, something must always happen.
Cara turned over in her sleep, but for no reason she could determine, she awoke. She hadn't been dreaming of anything that would warrant her abrupt awakening, but, she could see the sky outside of her window beginning to lighten, and decided that now she was awake, she may as well get dressed. But, something seemed off. She couldn't hear any birds. Surely they should be singing their welcome songs to the sun. It was then that she heard, rather than felt a deep rumbling from all around her.
The room began to shake most violently and Cara screamed. To her, the earth sounded like it was opening up to swallow the palace whole. But as a massive boulder crashed onto the balcony in front of her, she couldn't help thinking that the gods must have destroyed the mountain in anger. A minute after the earthquake had begun, and the rocks stopped rolling down the mountain face, the screams of pain, and cries for help started.
Cara pushed some debris from her legs and wiped the blood from her face. She stood up, shaking from head to toe. The hallway outside her room looked mostly intact and she rushed next door to her mothers room. Realizing that her mother was fine, she began to make her way through the palace, searching for her love. She came across the Princesses room, and saw the eldest princesses hand under piles of debris and from the way the other girls stood around her, Cara knew she was beyond help. The youngest was standing there, covered in dust and blood and tears. But Cara could only think of her guardsman. She ran out and saw the front of the palace a few hundred feet down the side of the mountain.
Tears coursed down her face as panic began to set in. She rushed through a door and found herself almost falling over the edge of the dining hall. A great chasm had opened up under the palace, swallowing most of the kitchen and the cooks sleeping quarters. And just over the side of the chasm was little more than a wall. It was what used to be the guards building. A wine bottle rolled across the room and hit Cara's foot. She picked it up and grabbed a wine glass from the cabinet beside her. A thought flickered across her mind that brought to her attention, that the cabinet was still intact, as was all the glasses inside. A smile played across her lips as she opened the bottle and poured herself a liberal amount of the deep red liquid.
Cara sat down on the tiled floor, dangling her legs over the gaping crack in the side of the mountain. She slowly drank the wine as the sun rose, casting light on the devastation around her. Screams grew louder around her, then faded. Cries of loss, pain and sadness filled the air, never ceasing and Cara's tears kept flowing. She was sure he was gone. The building had disappeared, taking the love of her life with it. She drowned her sorrows for hours, until someone called for her.
Cara's mother was outside, tending to the wounded when she saw a group of men carrying a body. They made their way to the rest of the dead. She made her way over to see who it was, as she was trying to see how many of her friends and family made it. The kingdom had lost its Empress and two of its princesses, along with a hundred or so other men, woman and children. A sheet, stained with blood covered this body and as Cara's mother made her way towards the group of men, she saw their saddened faces.
"Who is it?" she asked gently. One man pulled the sheet off the face. It was him. Cara's soul mate. Tears filled her eyes as she realized and sent someone to fetch her daughter. Cara came, knowing he was already dead, but the pain that filled her heart, pulled her down onto the grass beside him. Her head was heavy with alcohol, but she ripped the sheet away. His body was crushed and covered in blood. He was in full uniform and before she could ask, she was told that they had found his body in the garden beside the guards quarters. Cara's heart skipped a beat. She was supposed to meet him there at dawn. They were going to travel up the mountain to the Temple for the day. If they had not argued about the time they should leave, and she had not been adamant that dawn was the best time, he would still be alive.
A few weeks after the disaster, Cara sat down with some fabric and began to pour all her grief into a gown. This gown was never worn, as Cara had intended for it to be. It was used as a symbol for the loss that the kingdom felt. To her it was a celebration of the time she had spent with her soul mate, but also as a reminder of that day when her life, along with the mountain, was destroyed when the earth opened and took away all hope and love from her world.
That dress can be seen today at the museum, it is the only gown she made that has survived. You can see the sketches she made of her past work, many paintings of important women, who were wearing Cara's gowns, but nothing can compare to the beauty this woman made with her bare hands. . .
