The Cheshires

Once upon a boring night, I watched a tv show. As I watched the tv show, I became increasingly more annoyed at the stupidity of the characters. I wished desperately to climb through the screen, into the world of the characters, and give each of them and well-deserved slap in the face. Hence was born the first Cheshire, Luna. Also known as The Outsider, a high rank of Cheshire, she travels through many stories, delivering advice and guidance to many characters throughout the worlds. As I tell my stories, I oftentimes encounter those who do not understand the ways of the Cheshires, and so I will, once and for all, explain about the Cheshires, and their home.

We shall begin with their home, or headquarters. The land of Iridium is a city that sits upon the clouds, the buildings made of white marble and glass. The layout of the city is like that of a college campus, with the Royal Cheshire Academy serving as the shining jewel at the center of it all. The dormitories lie near the main hall, and around the other school buildings are apartments, shops, and on the outskirts of the city are the headquarters of the Guardians. When a Cheshire graduates from the Academy, he or she becomes a Guardian, either of Order, or Chaos. The Guardians of Order, when their contract expires, or if they are killed in the field, are sent to the land beyond Iridium's farthest border, at the top of a green hill, with a rainbow wall of precious stones, stretching endlessly in both directions, behind a gate of mother-of-pearl and silver, in the golden city of light. Guardians of Chaos, on the other hand, are cast down to a place of endless darkness when their contract expires. Though there are some special exceptions. A Cheshire knows this before they graduate. They are educated about the paths they may choose by a mentor, who selects them at their enrollment. These mentors will guide the young Cheshire, being both a teacher and caretaker until they are old enough to make their own decisions. One such decision is what course they will take upon graduation, the role of a Guardian of Order, or of Chaos. Also upon graduation, another choice awaits them. What form will be theirs for the rest of their lives. A Cheshire may choose their own form when they become a Guardian. This is where the myths of unicorns, mermaids, and many other mythical creatures come from. Although these creatures did exist once, or may still exist, those which have been seen are more likely to be Cheshires than actual mythical creatures.
When a Cheshire chooses their path, they are accepted into the headquarters belonging to that choice of Guardian. They are given assignments to assist the characters of a given story, or distract them, depending on what sect of Cheshire they are, and what role the character has. When an assignment is given, the Cheshire will proceed to watch the character's story, and then descend to the world's surface, to carry out their assignment.
In the center of Iridium, in Silver Park, there is a courtyard, and in the courtyard are many wells. If one is to look down into a well, they shall see, as though reflected in the water, the story of a character played out, like a movie. The wells are called the Pools of Sight, and this is where the Cheshires receive their knowledge of any given story.
At the edge of Iridium, where the clouds drop off into oblivion, the Cheshires gather, and leap off into the air. This is the Edge, where the clouds end, and if you look down, it is as though looking down into a bright, clear ocean, and there is a city at the ocean floor. This is how the Cheshires come to our worlds. They leap off the Edge, and fall down to the world they choose, and from there carry out their mission.

I have said that Cheshires can choose their form, and although it is true that one form may have advantages over another, all Cheshires share some attributes. All can fly, all can disappear into thin air, quickly, or slowly, starting with their tail, and finishing with their grin, which remains quite a bit longer than the rest of them. They can have a special tool which helps them with their task, and they may have a familiar, but neither is required. They also may work in groups, or with a partner, for maximum efficiency. Cheshires live much longer than humans, up to ten thousand years, but they are not immortal. When they come to the land beyond Iridium, time will end, and exist no more, and they will live forever, but not before.

This, then, is the chronicle of the Cheshire. All information available to a mortal about their race can be found here.
I shall end my relation here.
~Arya

Prologue to Writing

Welcome to a new world. Our world. Mine and my friend's. Although, to call it a world is not quite accurate. You see, there are many worlds. Some are mine, some are hers, and they sometimes connect. There are people who live in those worlds, just like you, but perhaps not like you. They have adventures, they seek truth, peace, and love. They don't always know the way, yet they strive to walk in the light. So perhaps, in a way, they are like you.

Though, in all seriousness, welcome to our new writing blog. My name is Arya, my associate's is Jackie, and we hope to post stories we are working on, and generally spread good, wholesome writing across the internet. My forte is fantasy fiction, so you can expect to see a lot of fairies, mermaids, and dragons from me. I've known Jackie to write dystopian and apocalyptic fiction, but I'll let her writing speak for itself.

If you made your way through my post without dying of boredom, or retreating to another webpage to watch Naruto, or Sherlock, then I congratulate you (you will receive free cookies for your effort).

So, again I bid you welcome to the realm that we have created. Our new world, Of Pens and Paradoxes.

~Arya Animarus

Untitled Story {Prologue}

She peeked around the corner, her fingers creeping around the corner of the building.

“All clear?” she murmured to herself, turning her head to look the other way, then behind herself, then repeating the cycle again. As she looked behind herself the second time, she jumped, barely containing a scream of surprise, muffling it into a sharp squeal.

“Do that a little louder next time, so they'll be sure to find us, Lia!” he hissed.

“Maybe you should stop sneaking up on me, Joaquin!” Lia retorted.

“I didn't. I merely happened to come up behind you as you were looking behind yourself,” Joaquin stated. “Seen any of the Bloodsuckers?”

“No.” Lia nervously reached for one of the guns holstered on her small waist. “It's like the quiet before the-”

A loud shot rang out, followed by an agonized scream. A moment of silence followed, then Joaquin looked at her. “You were saying?”

But Lia was already preparing to move into the open street. “That sounded like Keri,” she said, her teeth clenched. “If they've killed her-”

Joaquin grabbed her arm and pulled her back. A split second later, a bullet whistled by where her head had been.

“Show your faces, dirty Patriotics!” yelled the rough voice that Joaquin and Lia recognized as one of the leaders of the Bloodsuckers.

“You first, Bloodsucker!” Joaquin hollered back. “It's my turn to get a bullet in your ugly face!”

He turned to speak to Lia, but she had already pulled out her spikes. “For once,” he said, “you're a step ahead of me.”

With the speed of those who had done it many times before, they strapped the spikes onto their wrists and knees and attached themselves to the stone wall. Then they started hauling themselves up the wall with speed and agility.

“Just in time,” Joaquin grunted as bullets started hammering into the alley.

“Maybe we should wait to mouth off until we have the height advantage, bigmouth,” Lia muttered.

“You're not a guy,” Joaquin said, grinning. “Mouthing off is half the fun of gang life.”

Lia rolled her eyes. “Maybe the other half should be trying to stay alive-and that's the half you should be focusing on right now.”

“Love you too,” Joaquin said as they reached the top of the building and rolled over the small ledge there.

“Save it,” Lia said grimly, turning her wrist over so the spikes were standing up. “Sentiments can wait.” She pressed a switch on the side of the spikes and a bullet roared out, catching the Bloodsucker crawling up the opposite wall in the throat. He let go and plummeted to the ground, clutching his throat.

Simultaneously, the pair grabbed the twin guns on each of their waists and started shooting at the Bloodsuckers that were now pouring over the side of the wall, giving them only a few chances to shoot back. Lia and Joaquin, ducked, twisted, rolled and shot, going so fast that the Bloodsuckers had a hard time aiming at them.

Finally, they stopped coming over, and Lia and Joaquin were left standing in the middle of a mass of bodies. Sweaty and exhausted, they smiled and hugged each other, trying to catch their breaths. Then they froze as someone spoke.

“Sentiments can wait, huh? 'Til we've slaughtered all the bad guys? Huh, maybe we should try that, Vesta.”

“Wildcats,” Joaquin muttered. “Could've known they would try to spoil the party.”

The pair turned to face the two sole Wildcats, Vesta and her twin brother Dax, notorious for breaking into the fights between other gangs and escaping almost unnoticed. Everyone else in their sector of the city was dead-they were the only survivors (hence the name Wildcats).

“Too late, chums,” Joaquin said, folding his arms, a wry grin on his face. “You missed this little party.”

“Only most of it,” Vesta said, nodding in the direction of the opposite wall. “Look who sacrificially let everyone go before him.”

Lia and Joaquin turned back around and saw the Bloodsucker leader who had spoken to them on street level. He was huge-almost two meters tall and packed with muscles. Two large guns were slung across his back, and two smaller ones were holstered on his hips. Only a vest covered his broad chest, across which were folded two hefty arms.

“Hey. You can have him-our treat,” Joaquin said over his shoulder to Dax and Vesta.

“We're tempted,” Vesta said, “but we really shouldn't.”

She and Dax grinned at each other, turned, and swung grappling hooks over the ledge of the next building, swinging away with whoops and cheers.

“Well,” said Joaquin in a low tone. “We're toast.”

Wyndmere was once a beautiful, bustling tourist resort. Until the US government randomly-or maybe not so randomly-decided to perform highly questionable nuclear tests here. Now it's dark and gray-the sky is always cloudy, the buildings have no hint of beautiful color-it's just all...gray.

I've never seen the sun. Mom said it was beautiful-bright and yellow, shining down, giving us life, giving us hope. Now it can't even penetrate the cloud cover and even Mom is starting to forget what it looks like. Of course, the experiments she was subjected to as a child are finally starting to affect her brain. We have to keep her in a deep basement under constant supervision 'cause we can't risk her coming up and getting killed by the gangs that have become our way of life in Wyndmere. Even if she survived, she would kill us for getting swept into it. Like we could help it.

She's the last of the parents, and lucky to have survived so long. Every other parent, now dead, was subjected to experiments when they were younger. They all died around the age of 40-except for Mom. Something inside kept her alive longer-I don't know what it is. One of the main reasons Joaquin and I joined our sector gang was to explore the city to see if we could possibly find a cure. We haven't had any luck so far-but we're hoping to before she fades, which she is-and faster than we would want.

Please join me as I chronicle our adventures.