Wednesday, September 23, 2015

it's easy

It's easy to give into one's fears, easy to blindly hate or feel anger.
It's easy, really, just close your eyes and let it rush through your veins,
In less than a minute, you'd be saying things you wouldn't expect,
in less than a minute, you'd feel the thirst for blood and for pain
I don't admire people who are angry, I try not to be angry myself
But I'm just human
The hardest thing is to love the other, to cherish someone in spite of the fear
The hardest thing is to trust the other, to give them a piece of your heart
The hardest thing is to be vulnerable and to allow yourself to be happy too
The hardest, I swear, is to actually forgive and go through a crisis
I admire people who are forgiving, tolerant, understanding and caring
For this is not the easiest thing to do. No, truly, this is the hardest you can actually do. Does that make you weak? no.. Kindness has never been for the weak.

Saturday, September 19, 2015

Sometimes tomorrow

Random thoughts of the evening:
Sometimes tomorrow is not a better day as well. and the day after isn't, and the day that follows isn't. Sometimes one can't just see further in the future because they simply don't have the strength to. But deep inside, there is this little bit of light.
One cannot see it at this moment, but this light is here. Sometimes it's only after one goes through the hardest moments of life and succeeds in doing better, feeling better, reaching their goal that one really sees the long road they come from.
Sometimes they can see hope and keep their spirits high all the way until they recover. there's not a defined path towards recovery.
Hope is there, it never really dies I guess. Hope isn't easy to find, let alone keep. but Hope is there. maybe we can't see it today and it's okay. we will see it someday soon.
I can only wish for you to keep it and for me to see it.
Or is it the other way round?

Thursday, September 17, 2015

dots of hope

Sometimes you really wonder,
what kind of planet you're born into.
You're searching for your inner flame, the long lost passion
Or maybe for your halcyon days, the blissful moments
and you're lost oh so lost
And tired, oh so tired.
You really wonder what's worth in all of that,
Walking on burning sand or very sharp rocks
Everything looks so grey, looks so gloomy
and surely you stop caring about anything at all.
what's the worth of strutting around? where's the beauty in that?
It's a dance, life's a dance.
You can miss the first chance, but suddenly you'll get another one.
I couldn't dance on techno songs, but I'll wait for the R'N'B old school mix
And I'll dance the hell out of it, I'll dance it until my feet hurt
I'll be back into the dark but at least I'll have the memories
I'm living for these moments, small dots in the darkness
small stars in the black sky
little drops of Hope left for me to stare at.

Thursday, September 3, 2015

The Walking dead: life after Z

(The Walking Dead) : Life after Z.

A/N: just trying out a new profile for Asma. This one is similar yet different from the others. She's human, of course, she has a dark past, she has her issues but she's not a bad person. She's a survivor and she is determined to stay alive, even if it means killing people. I retell the day she encountered those she calls Z. (for Zombies obviously) TWD belongs to its owners.

Three years later.

She parked her bike in the middle of the street and glanced back at her group of three partners who were riding an old Impala. The night would soon fall and they needed to find a shelter, right there, in the middle of the road. They didn't see Zs walking around in miles so there was little to no chance to have any during the night, but who knew? These things never rested, they didn't need to. They didn't need to stop by and drink or something. They were dead. Dead for good. Three years could change a man and she certainly did change. She developed quite a nice taut figure, with strong arms and abs, and strong legs. She became more efficient in hunting and fighting. Her hair was always neatly braided and turned into a high bun. While she still had her baseball bat, now stylized with barbwire, the former timid young woman had a pair of guns on each side of her torso, a smaller gun attached to her ankle, two knives attached on each side of her legs and a couple of grenades in her bag.

« I suggest we keep driving for another couple of miles, we're not far away from the nearest city. »

« And do some clean-up there Amelia? I'm sorry but I'm very sore. We all are. We've been fighting non-stop since we left Denver. We should stop here tonight, take turns to watch out for Zs, and then go back. »

Amelia Soto was the second woman in the group. She was Eurasian, with very short black hair, cut into pixie hair, deep green eyes, a tongue piercing, and a bunch of tattoos on her back. She was fond of guns and was always carrying around a sniper rifle, two uzis, and a couple of grenades as well She was quite older than Asma, almost 38 years old, but was well versed in mechanics and was the one tasked to start over cars and repair any machines they could encounter, which came in handy at times. She trusted Asma after the latter found her at the beginning of the Zs awakening and protected her until they found enough equipment and a car to run away.

« You're the boss. If you think we can stay here, then I'm good with it. » She replied to the pink-haired lady who leaned her chin at the back of her hand. Asma glanced at the tall lean man who left the car.

« What do you think Hamid? » She asked. He was wearing glasses and had short black hair and bronze skin. His eyes were brown and he was sporting a light goatee. Unlike the girls who had no problem using guns, he was more fond of blades and was sporting a French rapière. and a hunting knife he always kept on his back. He used to take fancy classes before the Zs awoke and spent most of his life leaving at home and providing internet services from there. He was a fine tactician and very often suggested Asma's ideas of how to handle some situations, especially when they had to cross a city and there were other groups of survivors. He was the second to join their group after Amelia saved him from a certain death. Both were sharing a special bond that was hard to define. They occasionally had sex, but both knew there was something more to their relationship than casual intercourse. Yet, with the Apocalypse falling upon you, they didn't quite know what to do with it.

« We can stay for the night. We would need to leave as soon as the sun rises though if we want to reach out to the other city, find a decent shelter, and clean the place. »

« Yeah... I knew I had a good idea. » Replied the pink-haired lady with a grin.

The second man to leave the car was Abel. He was a huge German man, with broad shoulders and a face that could make Captain America jealous. He truly was handsome but was barely aware of it. He was developing growing feelings for Asma who didn't seem to be aware of them and therefore didn't have the chance to return or reject them. Soft-spoken, sweet, and always willing to help, he was the perfect guy for all the heavy work. He used to work at a « moving » company and could lift a lot of heavy furniture a day. He also was fond of guns and used very heavy ones. He owned two Smith and Wesson and a magnum 357 but usually only used it when it became very hot and dangerous for the crew. And usually, on humans, for he couldn't waste the bullets on mere creatures. He was among the first to witness the appearance of the Zs and survived long enough in his zoo (hunting and eating the animals trapped there until there was nothing left. He then met the group when they were trying to hunt in the zoo and joined them so he wouldn't be alone.) Asma smiled at him as he was starting to unpack their tents and help Amelia and Hamid prepare theirs as well as preparing his and Asma's.

« I don't know though. We'd be very vulnerable to any humans trying to cross by. I don't really trust this road. » Complained the last man on board. He was shorter than the statuesque Abel but still taller than little Asma, the shortest of the group. He was lean but muscular, as only a Tae Kwon Do Blackbelt could be. He was a handsome Korean named Jae Do San and actually a martial artist and teacher who found himself kicking his way out of the Zs when they awoke. He ran into a group who was simply driving through his city and offered his help in exchange for whatever good they could give him. He still carried around a small Beretta and a knife but was more efficient with his powerful legs.

« We'll do with what we have for the night. If you can't sleep, you can still watch after us. » teased Amelia before Asma stood up and helped Abel finish her tent.

They quickly settle down and started a fire to grill their meat and get a little bit of heat in the colder temperatures they have to deal with. For a moment there was a soothing silence. The kind that forces people to remember a moment in their life and maybe start a philosophical conversation about the meaning of it all. Asma was lost in her thoughts, she remembered that after she grabbed Amelia, they both went back to her house for supplies and the realization that her parents actually didn't survive the Zpocalypse traumatized the young woman. Once again she lost everything but in her misery she found something. A new hope. A new family. They have been loyal for three years, doing anything they could to protect each other and the young woman knew that she wouldn't bear losing one of them. She was dependent on them, emotionally speaking, going as far as sleeping with each of them, in an attempt to recreate some « family » bond. The void inside of her grew wider and became heavier as time went by and she was more than ever in need again.

Nobody realized and Amelia might have had some hints but they never spoke of it. They barely spoke of their pasts, if it wasn't related to their job. How funny and tragic it is that when Apocalypse finally happens, the only thing people want to know about you is what you can do. Asma played with her bat, swinging it in her hand before she munched on her meat.

« I remember... I miss chocolate cakes. » She finally said to the startled audience who looked at each other before Abel, Hamid, and Jae started to laugh and Amelia chuckled. « What? It's not funny! I really do miss a big good chocolate cake! Mom used to bake me one, whenever I came to her with a broken heart..she always told me, «  A good chocolate cake can mend the most broken heart. » »

« And is your heart broken? » Asked Hamid, curious and bemused by her words. She shook her head and shrugged.

« I miss the taste. My heart can't be broken.. it had already been a long while ago you know. » She said while taking another bite of meat.

« What do you mean? » Asked Amelia with a curious look on her face. Asma tilted her head to the side and shrugged.

« My mom was a crackhead. She abandoned me when I was five because she couldn't afford to feed me... I learned what starving truly means. » She trailed off and took one last bite of her meat, leaving only the bones she kept munching on. They all looked at each other in utter shock and then looked at Asma who was still eating. « There's no need to feel sorry guys. Just eat, don't waste it's all I'm asking for. »

« How could we remain calm? Your mom really did.. wait, so the woman we saw when we went to your house ? » started the Eurasian, but Asma shook her head.

« My mom.. foster mom if you prefer, but to me, she's my mom. She's the first person to ever give me love... her and Dad. It's just..... it's not very pleasant to remember the life before I met the Jensens... » She furrowed her brows and grabbed her baseball bat. « But all I need to remember is to swing this bat. I'm pretty good at it ain't I? »

« Yeah! I was wondering if you were a professional or something! » Jae wanted to switch the topic, it was becoming too heavy for all of them and thankfully, she switched and flashed a large grin on her lips.

« Nope! But Dad showed me how to do it. I used to paint before the Zs awoke. I was about to exhibit for the first time, I was just paid a large amount of money. It's no use today.. money... how weird and ironic. I was struggling to find money, to become someone and now.. it doesn't matter anymore. It doesn't matter at all. I live the life I used to live before, except it's more dangerous.. even more than when I was on the streets. » She sighed and looked up. « But I believe we can make it all. Alive and well. We can build a new life out there... we just need to go to... Washington. I heard they were working on a cure. »

« Washington? It's still quite a lot of road but.. we can make it. »

« Do you believe in this ? » asked a suspicious Abel. « I'm not sure there is a cure. I believe it's what God sent us, a punishment of some sort. »

« A punishment? If you were so confident in what you were saying, then why are you here with us? Why do you try to survive ? » said Hamid in a mocking tone. « It's not punishment. it's a test. »

« I disagree. » started Abel

« A test ? » cut short Amelia. « Are you fucking serious? A test? It's not a test! It's our fault! We, human beings. I'm sure it's one of the government experiments gone wrong! »

« I disagree! It's not a test and it's not our fault! I believe it's God's way to have us repent for our sins. I am with you because I want to repent. »

« You? Repent ? » asked Asma with a couple of blinks. « What do you have to repent for? You are nothing but sweetness. »

« I wasn't always sweet. » He simply trailed off, before they heard a noise. It wasn't walkers because they would have heard them arrive miles away, no, it was swift. It could either be an animal or a man. Asma grabbed her bat and clenched it.



Wednesday, September 2, 2015

(the walking dead) Life before Z (intro)

(The Walking Dead ) : Life Before Z.

A/N: just trying out a new profile for Asma. This one is similar yet different from the others. She's human, of course, she has a dark past, she has her issues but she's not a bad person. She's a survivor and she is determined to stay alive, even if it means killing people. I retell the day she encountered those she calls Z. (for Zombies obviously) TWD belongs to its owners.  

////////


It was a rainy day, she remembered it perfectly. A rainy day, probably a Tuesday. She was sleeping in her bed, wearing only flannel pants and a white tank top when she heard a hard knock on the front door. Opening one eye, she glanced at the watch by her bedside and groaned loudly as it was only 3 in the morning. Unwilling to stand up and open the door, she put her pillow against her face and tried to ignore the knocks but they became more and more violent, thus forcing her to stand up and walk towards the front door. As she opened it, she didn't even have the time to blink because it opened violently, hitting her in the process and forcing her to take a couple of steps back. As she stroked her cheek, the young woman looked up at the intruder, Sam.

He was the young woman on and off boyfriend. He was a large and towering Irish-American banker with red/orange hair, deep blue eyes, and an obsession with bodybuilding. She furrowed her brows and closed the door behind him as he paced towards the living room. They were in the middle of their break-up and she really didn't want to see his face in her house but since he forced himself in, she decided to roll with it. Sam was not a bad guy, but he definitely was an asshole. Her parents told her to leave the guy because both were co-dependent on each other, hurting the other and yet being in dire need of their presence. She could have severed their linking and ended their relationship but he was temporarily filling the void she had inside. He'd suffered from abandoning himself for his father dumped his family to build a new one somewhere else in the States and both were feeding off the affection they gave each other but it wasn't Love. It was brutal, it was possessive. His strong dominant personality attracted her, she needed to feel roughed up, needed.. oh yes, needed. She needed it and he was giving it to her like a drug. But it wasn't healthy because none of them actually was in love with the other and neither of them could fix the other and yet they believed they could.

« What are you doing around so late? » She groaned while scratching the top of her head. He patted his lap and invited her to sit on it but she shook her head. « No. We're on a break remember? I don't want to see your face, or your dick for a while. » She crossed her arms over her ample chest, furrowing her brows as he kept patting his lap.

« Then grab me a beer. » 

« You haven't answered. Why are you here, fool? »

« You didn't hear the news? People are getting crazy and loot and fight. Police are killing people.. people. We don't know what's going on. I need a beer. »

« Why did you come here? Don't you have your fuckbuddies you could have gone to? » She complained while she went to the kitchen.

She furrowed her brows as she grabbed the bottle and put it on the counter. What was she doing? What was she doing in there, with him? It wasn't the first time he casually came to her place, in spite of her protests, and got away with it. He'd drink, eat, fuck her until he got enough of it and would leave early in the morning for his job. She didn't deserve this, she didn't deserve this lack of respect. Marie was a very nice woman. She was kind and loving; everyone said she was very soft-spoken and that children adored her. Nobody believed she was resilient or even strong. Nobody believed she could teach a lesson or two to men like Sam. She was fragile, yes, but she wasn't made of glass. If anything she was strong and determined to survive. Ever since she was a child, the pink-haired painter was a survivor. Her biological mother, a crack addict, abandoned her when she was 5 because she couldn't support a third child she survived two weeks of starvation, eating from trash cans whenever she could and her luck prevented her from being abused like any child her age would have undergone if it was in her shoes. So why ?.. why couldn't she ditch Sam?

She felt strong brutal hands grab her waist, beneath her shirt, and run up until they reached below her breasts. She gasped and tried to turn around but he leaned into her, forcing her to bend forward over the counter.

« Fuck you! Get off me! I'm not in the mood! »

« C'mon! I know you want me! You've always wanted this dick before, why would you refuse now? »

« I don't want it, Sam. I was fucking sleeping before you crashed at my door! Get OFF ME! » She yelled at him, but he was heavily intoxicated already and she realized that if she didn't do anything, he wouldn't stop at all. Sam was this stubborn. She hated when they fucked while he was in such a state, because he didn't know how to stop, or he refused to do it until he reached his own climax. It always left her bruised and sore but this time, it was different and she could tell by the way he was breathing and the force he used to pin her against the counter. Her breathing quickened and she became as stiff as wood as she was already searching for a way to escape. Her chestnut eyes locked onto the bottle of beer she had in her hand and she quickly smashed it against his face, eliciting a groan from him and giving her enough room to escape from his embrace.

« COME BACK HERE! » He growled but she didn't listen and kept running, but he was faster than her and grabbed her ankle, making her stumble but not fall. She had to straighten again but he slapped her face, hard enough to make her bleed from her mouth and cause her to fall onto the ground. She rolled on her side and crawled to the bedroom where her baseball bat was stored. He started to unbuckle his pants and chuckle darkly. « Ahaha.. you decided to play it rough tonight uh Asma? » She winced, her cheek still burning from the slap he gave her and still crawling towards her bed. « You can't escape from me, babe. I told you, nobody ever says no to Sam. You cut me with that bottle, you're gonna pay! » He dropped his pants, down to his thighs, she could hear it and hastily looked for her baseball bat. Her body was shivering, mostly because of the aftermath of his blow and because she was scared of not finding the bat in time and going through another shitstorm again with him. « Be nice to me Asma. Be nice and I might be gentler. » He sneered while grabbing a fist of her hair and yanking it back, causing pain and her to groan with it but she could grab the bat in time and once she was sure she would not let go of it, the young woman turned around and started to beat him with it.

Smash! Smash! SMASH! SMASH !!  She hit him over and over again. Her blows became stronger and her technique better as she remembered what her father taught her when she was younger. He knew she was a soft soul and he needed her to be able to defend herself if attacked. When she was dating Sam, it felt as if she had forgotten all of her father's teachings until now. Now, the pink-haired lady was just made of rage and was beating him with all the repressed anger and disgust she felt when she looked at him. He started to plead with her to stop because his face was bleeding profusely and bits of his skull were flying over but she didn't stop, she kept hitting, giving back all the pain he gave her when he was hurting her while she didn't ask for it, for the way he disrespected her, for the way he used her but most importantly for having tried to do something she could never forgive. Or maybe it was something else, as she beat him to death, she felt a guilty pleasure overwhelm her, taking control of her very being and leaving her in a very confused state of mind. He'd stopped moving and she started to laugh maniacally before breaking down into an ugly cry. She fell onto her knees and then sat on her heels and stared at the messy horror she'd just made. His lifeless body was lying on the floor and bits of brain and skull were on her bat.

Without thinking twice, she stood up, grabbed a bag threw in the essentials, enough to survive for at least 10 days, and ran outside. Forgot her umbrella but didn't mind the heavy rain that was falling upon her, as if it was cleansing her from the crime she'd just committed. Her panicked mind was still confused between having her laugh or cry so she did both and was holding her head as if it could help her find a solution to the situation. It only was when she was a lot closer to the city center that she noticed something was wrong. People were agitated, they were screaming and looting. She furrowed her brows and decided to seek shelter at a church. She found one that was still inhabited by nuns and hit on their doors, calling them out so one of them could open the door but she heard no noise. Worried and starting to become cold due to the rain, she tried to open the door. Instead of being locked, she could easily break in, which alarmed the young woman who took out her bat and held it firmly in her hands. The church was hushed, a little too much since there were candles lit and it stunk. As she wrinkled her nose, the young woman twirled her wrist and started to speak loud enough to be heard. « Is there someone? Hey? Are there any nuns here? I came here for the night. » But no answer.. just the dark silence.

Asma was starting to breathe more nervously, she didn't want to scare the nuns, let alone be denied shelter but then suddenly she heard a sound. It wasn't human, it was weird. So she said out loud again. « If there's a child here, it's not funny! You can't scare people like that! » She was still exploring the church, walking carefully as if someone could surprise or attack her. Finally, at a corner, she saw what seemed to be a group of nuns busy doing something she couldn't see. They were crouching on top of what seemed to be someone, maybe they were trying to help that person? Well, if they were why there was a munching sound? Her pulse was quickening and the pink-haired beauty started to believe that something was very off and her guts never lied to her. She furrowed her brows and stepped closer « Hi! I'm sorry I don't want to .. WHOAAAAAAA! » They all turned at her with faces eaten by death itself! Asma couldn't believe her eyes. She screamed and started to run, they were following her, quite fast but not enough to catch her.

Panic was starting to take its toll on her, how was she supposed to fight that? Was she hallucinating? Was it God telling her that she shouldn't have been killed earlier? She was terrified and lost track of coherent thoughts; She'd just killed a man and now what looked like zombie nuns were running after her. She could glance back and see the mutilated corpse lying there and realize that they actually were eating the poor thing. Quick! Puke it all! Puke! Her insides were growling and her belly was hurting. She had a bad taste in her mouth and already an urge to puke but was trying to contain herself. Flashes of her previous crime were filling her head and she didn't know what she could do. These creatures were coming closer and sooner or later, they might kill her. She wanted to cry and started to sob, thinking #this is it. I'm going to die there !#



People were still burning the city and looting outside and if she quickly didn't secure the church, she might fall into the worst of mankind very soon. She tightened her grip on her bat and took a deep breath. Panic slowly started to fade away as something else grew stronger inside of her: she needed to survive, whether or not people died on her way. She would also come to her parents, to make sure they were alive, but knowing her father, he would have found a way out to secure her mother. So she really just should get away as fast as possible. As far away as possible from the madness. Determined again, she finally let the herd of nuns come closer and when she swung her bat and crashed it in the face of one of them, literally bursting it into a pulp, she didn't realize that she actually made a step forward in her survival quest.


Welcome to the new world Asma. Stay alive as long as possible.