Follow the Electrons

If all else fails, just follow the electrons...... -_-;;

Well, midterm season is upon us and coffee is absolutely useless. Strangely enough, I've been craving vampires for some reason lately, not that I've gone back to them in a long, long time. Not since the first time I started to write. Must be because of Kim Harrison's For A Few Demons More, which I finally got to read after slaving away over finals just three weeks ago. Let me just say.... beautiful as usual but I don't think I could tell the difference between my tears and laughter after a while. =(

Bored and trying to stay sane while studying so this is my break.


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“Where do you think you’re going?”

Sighing in defeat, I turned around and faced my stepmother. She was always harping on me to do this and do that. The first year before we moved to California, she had tried to be nice. But now that my dad was working night shifts, she tried to control me as much as possible – not letting me go out with my friends and setting a curfew. It was getting to be that I couldn’t even go to an afterschool activity without telling her.

“I told you yesterday. Today is homecoming. I already said that I was going with Marcus.”

“But –” She had a stricken look on her face, as if my refusal to stay home was painful. What she didn’t know was that staying in the house at that moment would have hurt even more than leaving for school.

“Give me one good reason why I should stay. I’ve been planning this with my friends for weeks. You can’t just say no.” My voice rose as I spoke. Soon, I was on the verge of yelling.

“Fine. Just get back before midnight. Your dad will be worried.”

“Right, Steph.” I saw her wince at my use of her name. It had bothered her from the beginning when I wouldn’t call her mother. But I didn’t need her to replace anyone. Now that my dad was never home, I just did what I wanted. Stephanie Laurens. That was her name. She wore her hair up in a severe bun that added several years to her age. But when her dark brown hair hung down her back in wet tangles, she immediately became more approachable. Not that I was going to tell her. She had a figure I would have killed for. Even though I was at least two decades younger, my stepmother had a better body.

It was worse when she insisted that we have mother-daughter shopping days. Then the guys would all whistle at her. I finally made up enough excuses every time that she didn’t bother.


“You know she doesn’t mean what she says.”

“Didn’t hear the tone of her voice? She hates me. She thinks I’m trying to take over her mother’s place in the house. She thinks that I torture her on purpose.”

Shaking my head, I closed the door behind my stepdaughter’s retreating back. It was enough to drive a person to distraction the way she ignored all my efforts to get to know her.

“It’s only been two years. You can’t expect Elle to forget about her mother’s death so easily.”

“I know that, Derek. But it still gets to me. She didn’t even remember that this was your night off.”

Shrugging off the comforting hand he placed around my shoulders, I went into the kitchen to pour myself a cup of coffee. Cradling the steaming mug between my cold hands, I took a sip of the hot liquid before meeting my husband’s eyes.

“I don’t mind. It’s a nice change to be able to relax. We can watch a movie or go out for dinner. Don’t worry about Elle so much, Stephanie. She can take care of herself.”

“I know.”


“Please get back. There’s nothing to see here.”

The sirens blazed – lights flashing red and blue in a shocking myriad of colors. An ambulance sat parked on the edge of the curb, close to the smoking wreck of a red four-door sedan. The hood was crumpled and the taillights had been crushed upon impact with another car. As the medics and firefighters worked their way through the debris, two bodies were slowly extracted from the gaping maw of twisted and misshapen metal.

Gawkers slowly left in singles and pairs when they realized that every member of the rescue team was shaking his/her head in sorrow – not disappointment at the follies of irresponsible drivers.


“Excuse me, are you Elle Sanders?”

Turning to look at the man dressed in an impeccable suit, I nodded my head slowly. The dance had just ended – and with that, the world turned dark once more.

“I’m afraid I have bad news, Miss Sanders. Your parents were in a crash earlier this evening. The other car caught them head-on. I’m very sorry for your loss.”

The words didn’t register in my mind until the lights all went off in the gym. Standing in the circle of light the lamps gave off, I cried silent tears, frozen in shock. The hem of my silver-white gown dragged in the mud but I didn’t care.

~Jen

Witches, Now and Forever

First off, I completely love my Humanities class this quarter. It's about witches and tracing their development throughout history, mainly focusing upon the European countries and America. But I remembered a little something that I did a long time ago and a picture that my friend, Tina, did, especially after class on Thursday about the Greek and Roman ideals about witches.


Hymn to Artemis

Awaken, Muse –

And speak

Of the long-suffering foolishness of a man,

Weak enough to fall prey to his desires.

Tell me, Muse,

The tale of fair-tressed Artemis,

Deadly huntress and daughter of favored Leto.

Born on the isle of Ortygia, hidden from the eyes

Of Hera, the queen of the immortal gods

And consort to lightening-wielding Zeus.

Twin of Apollo, god of the sun and giver of light.

Speak, Immortal One,

Of the lusting hunter Actaeon, who dared

To look upon virgin Artemis in all her glory.

Sister of far-shooter Phoebus Apollo, with

Shafts of gold filling her quiver and a bow,

Curved and supple, forged by Hephaestus,

Crippled patron of craftsmen. Reveling in the

Clear cool waters of Gargaphia, Artemis,

Goddess of the hunt and wild things, bathed.

Hunting, grandson of Cadmus, Actaeon,

Trained by the centaur Chiron, stopped.

Hearing the quiet laughter of children, the

Twinkling sounds of bells as water flows

Over orbs of purest glass, the mortal man

Quieted his hounds. Creeping closer, hidden

In the shadows of green leafy bushes, Actaeon

Watched, mesmerized. Waterfalls of light

Cascaded down around the goddess of the hunt,

Framing her supple body in a golden shower.

Nymphs splashed playfully in the shallows,

Companions to the shooter of stags. Naiades,

Daughters of Amnisus, twenty all in count,

Virgins in their prime, young and innocent.

Arethusa, Britomartis, Nephele, Maera, Rhanis,

Aura, Pheraea, Hyale and Callisto, most favored

Of all attendants to great Artemis, protectress

Of the innocent and bold of heart.

The crackle of leaves underfoot, the snap

Of a dry branch, stopped all revelry. Cautious

Looks and fearful glances roamed surrounding

Trees, searching for the source of the noise.

Sharp and piercing, the goddess’s gaze lit upon

A spot of color in the bushes. Blue and bright,

A contrast against the leafy green bowers.

Stringing her bow with nimble fingers, healer

And mistress of death, Artemis drew a shaft

Back, releasing the quarrel into the bushes.

A moment of silence, then the quick fluttering

Of wings, as a jay flew from a tattered nest.

Sighs of relief followed the maidens, pure in

Their hearts, all. Laughter ensued, ending

All worries. Yet unknown to all, Actaeon,

Mortal hunter and defiler of the beauty

Of virgin Artemis, watched with greater

Interest. Such precision of aim only spurred

His lust on further. Nothing could persuade

The student of Chiron to look away, not even

The threat of death, for those who looked upon

Artemis’ untouched body could never leave to

Tell of the tale. Immune to Aphrodite’s wiles,

At home in the wilderness, fair-haired huntress

Of the night, Artemis continued with a watchful

Eye. Every sound and movement caught

Her attention, wary and watchful.

Feeling the gaze of the goddess, Actaeon

Stepped out from the shelter of the bushes.

Panic followed his appearance in the

Sheltered glade, hidden from prying eyes.

Intruding upon the calm serenity of the

Maidens of the river and their mistress,

Twin to chariot-riding Apollo, the hunter

Approached with desire in his steps.

Flocking round, naiades all, hid their

Friend and companion from sight.

Anger roused the goddess to fury,

So waving all her handmaidens off,

Far-shooting Artemis beckoned the

Hunter close. Cyprian Aphrodite guided

His steps, bringing him toward the dread

Goddess of the hunt. All worries left,

For only the beauty of the goddess

Could placate the desires coursing

Through his veins, driving him to

Foolishness and the beckoning hands

Of Aidoneus, lord of many and commander

Of the underworld.

Masking her distaste, Artemis, pure in

Thought and form, wove a spell of

Entrapment for the misguided hunter.

Confusion and change followed Actaeon,

Believing the goddess to welcome

Him with open arms. A fierce smile

Upon her lips, the huntress washed her

Hands in the spring of Gargaphia. Clean

And untouched by the lustful thoughts

Of Actaeon, mortal hunter of beasts,

Artemis beckoned her companions close.

Puzzled and unsteady, Actaeon stepped

Nimbly to the water’s edge, leaning in

For a drink of clear, clean water. Short

Fur and full antlers met his eyes. Backing

Away in panic, he ran from the goddess of

Wild animals, fearing her wrath. Soon,

The baying of hounds followed on his path,

Scenting young flesh and salty blood.

Feeling eyes watch his flight of terror,

The stag, young and foolish, looked back.

Hounds of once human Actaeon chased

Their master through the trees, seeing only

What the virgin goddess of the hunt desired.

A faulty step, a misplaced stone, tripped

Unsteady Actaeon, leaving him prey to the

Jaws of his faithful hounds. Pleading, cajoling,

The grandson of Cadmus, kicked futilely, only

To fall back on the ground, victim to

His own foolish endeavors. Cheering on the hounds,

Artemis of the golden bow, watched in satisfaction

As the man who dared to look upon her

Splendid nakedness left the world

Of the living and slipped onto the raft for

Hades, flowing swiftly on the Styx and past

Three-headed Cerberus, guardian of unruly spirits

And the gates of the underworld.

Calling back the dogs with a whistle,

The daughter of blessed Leto, closed

Her eyes to the slaughter and turned

Her back to the mangled body of Actaeon.

Accompanied by her favored companions,

Artemis returned to the glade with

Animals following in her footsteps.

And so, I bow down before your beauty,

Deadly goddess of the hunt, virgin and

Protector of the innocent. Now, I turn

To another tale of love and life, ending

Your tale of change and praise.