I give you my sincere apologies for neglecting my stories like I have been. The thing is, I've been horribly busy with school, art, forensics and the like. That and my motivation disappeared after I stumbled across a plagiarized version of one of my songs, here on Fiction Press no less. And being that I removed it from my account here, I have no published proof and am screwed unless I can convince her to take it down herself.

I wouldn't even care if it hadn't been one of the pieces that made me feel severely vulnerable, the reason I took it down to begin with. It was something I'd written about my first relationship with my ex-boyfriend when I realized I was so infatuated with him that I was willing to look past his increasing drug abuse to preserve those feelings. Then he told me that he'd started using Heroin, so I finally spoke up, and I ended up loosing one of my best friends. I imagine you have a good idea where the song came from now.

And not only did she steal this, she tried to hide that she stole it by changing it ever so slightly. Pulling out verses or parts of verses and inserting large "poetic" words. I cried when I read the abuse she inflicted on it. It'd been so difficult for me to read before that I had gotten rid of every copy of it I'd written, but this just makes it worse. Not only can I not delete the piece and the memories that go with it from my mind, but I also have to have someone distributing mutilated copies around the Internet! And it has been happening since 2002 without my finding out.

So I ask you this Amaris Moonsong: Is nothing sacred?

Escape The Rain With Wishes Chapter Nine: Save Me

'Sometimes I don't know what to feel. Happy that there could be feelings for me, or sad that at the same time they aren't for who I really am, only for who I appear to be. But, then again, I'm always only what I appear to be, aren't I? I'm never quite sure. It's annoying not knowing who and what you are, never being quite sure of anything.'

"Only you can decide what type of ending your story will have," Raven muttered towards Ishi, far beyond her range of hearing, "I just hope it involves me."

His head dropped into his palms as the memories sprang back into life, swallowing him into their bellies and burning him with their acid. He had been such a fool, wasting his wish to force himself into this slavery; at least he wasn't the only one who'd done so, and despite its bitterness, he found this comforting. Who could have ever imagined so many people wished, above everything else, to disappear?

The problem was, none of them really 'disappeared.' Instead they became the messengers that distributed the wishes to the next person in line. To do so they were given the ability to take the form of a person, since a soul alone cannot be seen. Unfortunately, they found they couldn't hold onto that body unless they got someone to wish them to stay. Needless to say, that had never happened.

And so Raven found himself starring at his first assignment, wondering why they were so cruel to always have it be the messengers soul mate.