Wow, I guess it's been a while, like, since I first created this site long while. I'm on the Young's computer now, so don't be getting your hopes up about a lot more of these posts. First, hats off to my wondermus cousin Abby, whose been keeping this site up in my internetal absence. Internetal...is that a word? I guess it is now.

Anyhoo, it's me again, Christin, the original anti-heroine. Literally, I'm more fond of chewin' tobaccy. It does a lot less of the wacky on the cerebral cortex and all. Gotta keep the mind intact and everything. Well, what's left of it. As we full well comprehend, the Christin whom we know and love is...well, I'll be generous...just plain crazy. There you have it folks, no thrills, frills, or other scintillating experiences of any sort. Well, at least you all love me, or sort of do, who knows.

It's been business as usual of late. I've been slogging through school, trying to get up gumption to study for my driver's license, being frustrated at thwarted plans, talking on the phone with friends, actually cleaning my room, burning incense, and staying and friends with a .20 gauge shotgun beside me. Oh, I guess I didn't mention that before, huh. Yeah, I did a stint at the Stone's, waiting for Dave to come home and everything. Amy gave me the shotgun, in case anything should happen the house would have two lines of defense. I was the first line...notice anything disturbing? I'm something of an alarmist, huh?

Besides, that, it's been more than the usual. I've been writing like a fiend and have actually completed some really cool stories with a weird and crazy version of yours truly as the wacked out herione. And other friends of mine make starring roles as well. I'll give Mabs (Abby) a copy and ask her to post some chapter segments if any of you guys are interested. I really don't know if anybody is reading this at this juncture, seeing as it has been as aforementioned, a really long time. Go figure, I'm a procrastinator, born and not so much bred. Seriously, I am without pedigree.

But that's no surprise, is it? I'm just Christin, probably always will be. I guarantee you that'll never change. Well, I have to theoretically fly so it's good-bye, good-bye and my love to all

                                                                        The Well Known and Sometimes Liked (When She's Not Meddling Incessantly)

                                                                                                                  Christin

Currently Watching Phenomenon see related

Here's some more of Christin's wonderful Narrative:

Currently Reading The Winter Prince (Action Packs) By Elizabeth Wein see related

Well, here's another excerpt of Christin's awesome book:

Chapter IV

I awoke in a small, stone room. The air was dank and musty. I reached out with my senses and found I was underground. I made for the door, it creaked open. Good, apparently we weren’t prisoners to be kept here.

Currently Reading Medalon (The Hythrun Chronicles: Demon Child Trilogy, Book 1) By Jennifer Fallon see related

Chapter III: What's A Prunella?

“Erinshara Christine Xlander,” my father started in as soon as he saw us, “what have you done? I placed trust in you that you wouldn’t reveal us as tagridaski and what do you do? Go on and slay a werewolf in full view of the public why don’t you! Care to explain?”

Currently Listening My Immortal By Evanescence see related

I awoke to Niki shaking me. “Get up,” she urged, “or we’re going to be late.” I cursed mornings and schools and sunrises and practically all of humanity every time I moved that morning. Some of that salve just wouldn’t wear off and clung to me like skunk spray on a wool coat. So I went through the motions of the morning with painful jabs, itching like crazy, and burning. When Niki and I climbed on the bus, well, she climbed, I kind of hauled myself up, I was already dead tired. Niki looked at me as we sat down, sorrow etched in every youthful line of her face.

“You know if you keep looking at me like that,” I teased, “you’re face’ll freeze that way and the kids will be wondering why the professor is riding the bus.” That got a laugh out of my sister, which made me extremely happy. Niki wasn’t a great one to laugh; neither of us laughed much, since my mother had passed away. We’d always been closer to our mother than our father. She was pretty, only half tagridaski, with bright red hair and sparking green eyes, a shade darker than my own. A vampire had killed her, an evil one who went by the name of Richton, and that’s pronounced Reek-ton. Niki and I had sworn our lives to tracking him down and draining every last drop of blood from him.

Luckily, Niki hadn’t been there when our mother was killed. Me on the other hand, fate saw to it that I was there. You know, sometimes I don’t think fate will ever let me miss out on anything tragic or terrible that ever wants to happen. I just attract bad happenings. Like two weeks ago, I had just happened to walk down the street where a house was on fire and oh, here’s the good; well, okay, not the good part. Anyhow, just as I passed the house a firefighter came out with a dead kid in his arms. I had a good cry in the park, so that my stoic and austere family wouldn’t see my signs of weakness. I didn’t mind crying around Niki though, we both knew that each of us have cried ourselves to sleep many a night, thinking about times gone by.

Anyhoo, enough sentimental stuff, let’s get back to my mom. That night, we decided to go after Richton, bad idea from the very start. I was only fifteen, but extremely experienced for that age. We had crept in, hoping to catch him by surprise at one o’clock, the hour he usually fed. But he had sensed us, and was waiting eagerly. Mother never had a chance. He was on top of her like a bullet, stabbing her repeatedly with his knife. The image had been cemented in my mind before I woke up, four days later. I had sustained a broken arm, a concussion, four cracked ribs, two shattered ribs, there’s a divine difference okay, and around six stab wounds. Stupid people get off too easy, that’s why I lived and my mom died. I didn’t do anything to defend her, just stood there and watched as that monster took her away from me.

Niki is the only one who has forgiven me for that. I’ve told myself repeatedly that I’ll forgive myself when I kill Richton, but I’ll never forget. My father won’t either. I think he blames me for her death, or he blames himself for not going along and takes it out on me. It hurts, you know. Sometimes I feel like life is a window, and we’re all looking out, trying to see something, but the glass fogs over. And we strain to create a clear image, but we can only clear the window so much, everything is blurry. Sometimes I wish that we could just clear the window and get the big picture. If I could know why my mom had to die and why I lived it would be a lot easier to accept my fate. I should stop thinking like that though. Philosophy isn’t really my thing, neither are metaphors. Whatever. Niki’s one of the few who actually thinks like that all the time and survives. I personally think it’s unhealthy.

“Wake up, Erin,” Niki hissed in my ear, jerking me to my feet. “I know you’re tired but you can’t sleep.”

“You’re cruel,” I mumbled, not realizing I had fallen asleep. “No, wait. Not you, the system.”

Niki smiled her sad smile, a vague shadow of its former self, kind of like my smile. In fact, I think we were the only two who could make each other feel happy again. But happiness, like everything good in my world, was a fleeting comfort and no matter how hard I tried to get it back, it kept eluding me, like the clear image in the window.

The first class was history, boring and flawed. It was a class to sleep through, if Niki would ever let me do it. We had arranged it to where all of our classes were together. We may have been opposite in a lot of ways, but we still liked each other. Besides, losing the most precious things you have makes you lose immaturity real fast. Sometimes I wonder, and I think Niki does too, what it would be like to dream again. Not a nightmare, spawned from some awful memory, but a dream, where you fondest wishes came true and everything worked out like a fairy tale. Unfortunately, when you lose immaturity, you lose dreams too.

But don’t worry; I had plenty of nightmares to make up for my missing dreams. Yeah, people screaming as they ran around, terror oozing like blood out of their veins. Memories of my mother as she died, memories of my father’s face when he heard the news, memories of Niki’s tears drowning out any other sound. Repeat dreams of the ones I’d had the night Niki almost died, that time was my fault too. But Niki, good soul that she is, has forgiven and I daresay forgotten, except that she’ll never hunt again because of it. I don’t think that matters to her though, she always did prefer the research and book learning aspect of being a tagridaski. Now I suppose you want to hear that story too, huh? You know, I’m always digging pits for me to fall in. I should make it an occupation.

So here’s the story. One year ago; we were sixteen, Niki and I were the baddest hunters on the block. We decided, foolishly, now that I think back, that we were ready to take on Richton. Tip for the future, if you ever think you’re ready to get revenge, stop right there and decide to wait. We tracked him for weeks, finally pinning down one of his locations. Deciding to attack him in daylight, when we were stronger than he was, we entered the house at precisely twelve noon. Well, how were we supposed to know that he had an alarm system that shuttered all the windows to where everything was pitch black, not an ounce of sunlight? F.Y.I., vampires can see in the dark, tagridaski can’t. Well, don’t hang up now, the day got better, or should I say worse, from there. He came down, silent as the dead, which - ironically - he is. Well, we managed to get out alive, but not before he almost blinded me and snapped Niki’s leg in three places, not to mention dealt her a head injury that nearly killed her. She still has a slight limp, not enough to hinder her any, just enough to keep her reflexes from being able to react quickly enough. I still have the scar, a line reaching from above my eyebrow down to my cheekbone.

To make matters worse, that was the first time after my mom died that my dad showed any concern for us at all. He actually told us that we were stupid, foolish and would kill ourselves, just like I, not Niki mind you, killed my mother. I didn’t say anything; I knew I had messed it up again. But it still hurts to have someone blame you. And Niki, pure, good-hearted Niki, told me later that everything was her fault, and she was sorry she almost got my eye put out. I couldn’t help it, for the first time since my mother had died, I cried in public. Of course, that started Niki off in a flood of tears. And, miracle of miracles, we actually heard my father, the unmovable, the unshakable, crying. That was when I realized that he was still human. He’s made me forget that many times since then.

After class Niki and I strayed into the hall, going to our lockers getting books and other such things for the next class.

“So what was up with you guys last night?” the question startled us both. We looked up and there was Alex, wearing his you’d better tell me everything, face.

“Nothing,” Niki, ever cool, ever calm, answered him. “We were both at home last night. Why, what did you think happened?”

Alex rubbed his forehead. “I could’ve sworn I came to you guy’s room last night and Erin was hurt and…” he trailed off.

“Nope,” I said nonchalantly, maybe a little too reassuring. “I was home all night, nothing happened. Have you been taking any medicine lately?”

Alex shook his head, looking dazed. I glared at Niki, she flashed me a smile. She had used her mental powers to warp his mind, making him believe that it had actually been a dream. Did I mention that tagridaski are slightly telepathic, kind of like vampires? Well, they are, though not nearly as powerful as our undead cousins. Yeah, that would be another lack of revelation on my part, wouldn’t it? Vampires and tagridaski are closely related, but don’t shout it around.

I looked to Niki for the schedule. You see, I was in school almost as much as I was out of it. I could see the look in her eyes, geometry. Math was the only thing Niki got an A minus in and it nearly crushed her. I laughed every time she got distressed over a test, showing her my big, fat, red F. Not that that helped her morale any, I just enjoyed doing it. Come to think of it, I think it actually concerned her that my grades were less an average…okay, they stunk. See, I’m a realist.

Well, math was boring; it usually always is in my opinion. I watched as the person on my right, an acquaintance of mine named Kalli Richardson, drew a caricature of our teacher, Mr. Firkin. Mr. Firkin was plump and rosy, with a comb over that made his rapidly thinning hair all the more apparent. He had an overly long hawk nose, on which perched a pair of spectacles, Ben Franklin style. That’s real vogue, Mr. Firkin, perfectly Fifth Avenue.

He stopped by Kalli’s desk. “Interesting Miss Richardson,” He began and continued, but I can promise you that both Niki and I did not hear him. All of a sudden, the room smelled like rotted meat and wet dog. We glanced at each other, it was a werewolf. You see, with werewolves, the full moon begins to lose its grip after a few decades or so. Then the thing goes through a period of transformation until it can change shape at will. The transformation consists of running about like a wolf for a month.

“It’s heading straight for us,” Niki informed me.

I nodded and reached into my sleeve, pulling out a switchblade, the only weapon of silver I had on me. Mr. Firkin forgot Kalli’s drawing and looked at me. “Miss Xlander, you are violating…”

“Don’t care!” I shouted at him, leaping from my desk and pushing him to the floor, just in time for the door to fly open. I big, brown furball hit me at speeds unattainable by humans. I was slammed into a wall. It hurt…a lot. The girls started screaming, huddling in corners, and hanging on every guy with muscles in the class, begging for protection.

Mr. Firkin got up, sputtering nonsense about detention for the rest of the school year. Niki and I, and strangely Kalli Richardson, were the only ones with cool heads in the entire school. Fire alarms stared ringing, students filing from the classrooms in a nice orderly fashion, just the way we’d been taught. Everybody except for Mr. Firkin’s geometry, that is. The werewolf paced in front of the door, deciding which of us to eat first. Alex, who happened to be in our geometry class, looked at me strangely. Niki bit her lip nervously, since she had given up the hunt, she no longer carried weapons.

I got to my feet, the classroom tilting and swimming before my eyes. Steadying myself, I flicked out the blade of my knife. Silver gleamed under the harsh fluorescent lights, catching the werewolf’s eyes. It howled, even a glare from silver was painful. Using the distraction, I sped to the door and bore down on him with my knife. I stabbed him over and over, each time he screamed and howled as the poison entered his bloodstream. Soon, he shifted back to human form, scaring my classmates even more.

As a human, the werewolf was handsome, sort of. “Tagridaski!” he spat, like it was some sort of curse. Before I could dodge, he threw a punch. Even when in their death throes, werewolves are still strong. Very strong. His fist caught me right were I’d been sliced open yesterday. I screamed and fell to my knees. Niki started to rush forward but Alex stopped her. Thanks Alex, no sarcasm intended.

In a fit of rage, and pain might I add, I stabbed the werewolf one more time through the heart. Instead of a howl, the man screamed. The entire class cringed away, except me. I was too exhausted, last night’s fatigue and the new bruises swamping me. Besides, I had seen werewolves die before. I put my blade away and just laid there on the floor, yet another pair of clothes ruined by blood. Darn.

Mr. Firkin got up, pudgy face red with rage, “Now see here, Miss Xlander,” he began, “you have violated a code stating that no weapons are to be brought onto school grounds. The police will be notified and I’m certain your parents as well.”

I looked to Niki; she shook her head, if any more of our true selves were revealed it would be curtains. Instead, Alex came forward. “Excuse me, Mr. Firkin,” he said, his voice threatening, “in case you haven’t noticed we were just attacked by some creature! If Erin didn’t have that knife, I’ll bet everything that you’d be ground beef about now.”

Mr. Firkin was at a complete loss for words, a state I wouldn’t mind seeing him in more often to tell you the truth. He turned his attention to the class and ushered them out in a single file line. Only Niki and Alex stayed behind. I got shakily to my feet.

Fear seeped from Alex as he asked, “What…what was that thing?”

“Don’t know,” I managed to choke out, my mind still ringing from being slammed into the wall.

“Don’t lie to me!” Alex shouted, near hysteria, “You know what that thing was!”

“We’ll tell all later,” Niki intervened. She came to stand beside me, a mute offer to catch me if I fell.

“I’m not an invalid, you know,” I said, in ill humor. Alex left in disgust, our secrecy was probably driving him insane.

Niki raised an eyebrow, “You will be if you keep this up, Erin. I’m worried about you.”

We made it to the steps; I saw police cars and fire trucks surrounding the building, red and blue lights flashing even though it was bright daylight. I looked to Niki, pleading with her to do something, the last thing we both wanted was a police interrogation. Niki frowned deeply and closed her eyes in concentration. "Illusion yourself." she hissed.

I took her cue and covered myself with a layer of glamour which made it appear as though the blood was gone. Time froze and Niki and I dove headfirst into the nearby bushes. Niki broke her magical hold on time and lay against the wall, breathing heavily.

"Thanks." I whispered. She nodded weakly. I'd forgotten how much time magic saps a person of strength. We waited for a few minutes and then snuck over to the other side of the school and approached the steps at a run. We were stopped by the principal of the school. He looked us over and asked, “Are you two in Mr. Firkin's geometry.?”

“Nope,” I said, blatantly sarcastic, giving him thumbs up.

“Good,” he said. I saw relief spreading itself over him like butter. I couldn't believe he bought the lie. Well, as long as he did, I thought I was free to go home. My suspicions were correct. He started walking away from us and said, "Then you're free to go." I breathed a sigh of relief, but, you understand, I never get off anything easily. The principal turned around, “Oh, before I forget," he said sweetly, "the parents were notified. Your father is here.”