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Pararae Gala

WebMistress: Pararae
Site: Pararae Gala/Ravenism Pendesee'
Type: Personal/Story Blog
Status: Semi-Hiatus
Contact: Please drop your e-mail address in my Speaktorium and I will get back to you.
Layout: Dorkistic.net
Site Review: By FLH_Lover @ Timeless Cresendo
Currently: Building sand castle in the cloud. Killing time. Shooting cats and chocking dogs.
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#Please make sure you did not leave offensive messages and spams because I will have it remove.


Achungg Maniac
Art Angel
Cutterpillow's Nook
Earth Rotate
Feisty Princess
Flawless Fidelity
Happy Dream
Impeccable Melodies
Jeongmal Mystery
Lost Shadows
Mee.9 (purple_lily)
Minty Fresh
Musical Jae
Needing Oppa
Silver Rain
Sweet Temptation
Tempt me at Twillight
Top Headliners
Utopian Min


I'm just a little girl, living in a big world. My head in cloud. My imagination run wild. Here is my space, where I fly and dive. It ain't much, but I shall strive.


Wielding Katana
Eye of Raven
Peril in Menacing Throb.


The Forgotten Melody (MI Challenges)
Raisonnement, Confiance and Fric
Perhaps...The Darkness of Curiosity.
The Gift of Immortality


Man of Crow
The Making
Bitter Farewell
Sailing the Boat
How I Met a Demon. (29 NOVEMBER 2011 - 17:02)
Who Am I?
Demonic Me
Demonic Lilith
The Child: Me.
Dying Me
Valuing My Life
Mixing Potions of Feelings
A Deadly Game
Tampering in a Tub
Renovating My Heart
The Master He Only Have
A Man and a Piano
Two Peas in a Pod
Death is the New Beginning
Ignorant Me
Wittering Serenity
Entering Battlefield
My Name is L.
A Fight To Come


To the Tiny Beings
A Man Can Die but Once
Forever and a Day
The Miserable Has No Medicine but Only Hope
I Like This Place and Willingly Could Waste My Time In It
Eternally Remembered
A Pearl Among the Pebbles
Who I Am
A Somebody


Psychosis Attraction By SSLL Staff @ SSLL




The Return of the Princess Heir
"She is the one," A girl in the crowd shouted.

"She's the Queen!" Another one replied.

The smiles and the cheers of the people of Moghul brightens the streets of the city. The street is packed and flowers circles the air as the crowd welcomed the arrival of their princess heir. From her high horse, Amara could literally see the glimmers in their eyes, the hopes flashing in those bright, teary eyes. It has been long, as Alter Kama had said. So long since the throne was left empty. And so long since the grey sky loomed over the island. She is now the light that shines over the island and the one to occupy the throne. The burden of her birthright has never dawn upon her. But the innocent giggles of the child, the laughter that fills the air and the brightening face of the anticipating crowds, draw heavy on the lines of her forehead. In those smiles are the hope that she could not fail, as the next queen and as a person.

Amara pushes her hair behind her ears and nods her head to the people with small smile. The best gesture of gratitude she can afford at this moment. She looks over her left shoulder and notes how the thin line of his lips curved into a small smile. Though his eyes are covered, she could see the relieves on his jaws, his relaxed shoulders and his hands. She can never imagine that Reid is capable of such feat. The sight alone is remarkable.

Under her feat, her Shadow seems quiet. She has not kicked up any fuss since they've landed. Perhaps, the journey wore her off or maybe, she is too tired to complain. Amara let her horse rides through the crowd slowly, throwing light smiles here and there. Its hard not to smile in this kind of occasion.

As she is approaching the towering gate of the castle, she can see six elderly standing side by side, each with their own bearing. Among them, a women with green monkey perched on her shoulder, caught Amara's eyes. She looks familiar...foreign, but familiar. Shadow kicks the ground under her and dust circles the air. The women's air jolts Shadow up like a spark of electricity and she can feel a weird feeling down her spine. She couldn't place her worry. Its either her smiling face or the deep, all-knowing eyes. Both are not to be taken lightly.

Amara knitted her brows and her hands feel unease. Something about her that makes her feel discomfort. She reminds her of something not long ago...something that should not be remembered.

Amara throws her head to one side, feeling her long bang falls over he shoulder, before she leans her body for a more comfortable position. Looking at the glee around her, the noise of the fiesta and feeling the joy of her companions, who finally reach their homeland, Amara starts to think that her worry is misplaced. From the corner of her eyes, she can see Shadow is taking a physical form below her horse. Her head is poking out from the dirt ground and her eyes are fixed towards the green monkey. Shadow seems to not share Amara's doubt. She is a beast anyway, a creature moved by instinct. Its hard to shake off bad feelings once a beast feels them. And the fact that they are moving towards the source of worry is troublesome.

Amara sighs...Perhaps today is not going to be so joyous after all.
DATE:Monday, December 10, 2018 TIME:{2:49 AM} COMMENTS: (0) REPLIES

The One Promised by the Dragon
"Can you look into the deck for me, Hyara?" Alther asked as soon as he entered the High Mage's chamber. The rectangular room was large and filled with endless rows of bookshelves. The only burning candles were hung at the side of the door from which Alther has just emerged. His eyes shifted, a little bothered that the High Mage, who was known to have great fear for a dark enclosed space, has chosen to leave the candles unlit but he had no time for the High Mage's emotional breakdown. What he had witnessed this morning still bothered him. Something was wrong. He could feel it. His skin crawled and his fear-struck heart raced a marathon. He desperately needed an answer and only the High Mage could help.

Alther turned to the beautiful woman with midnight hair, sitting at a large table in the middle of the room. Her head hung low and a thick cloak hugged her figure like a blanket. She didn't even realize that the 7-feet Jrakh'ur warrior was standing before her until Alther placed his sword on the table with a loud thud.

"Hyara." The sweating man leaned in. "You need to look into the deck, quick. I need to know." He dragged a chair from a corner of the room and slumped himself across the High Mage, who was still half-dazed. “I need you to look into the princess heir.” Hyara’s eyes flickered at the mention of his master. Her mouth opened to say something but her mind was too scrambled to make out a sentence.

“Hyara!” Alther pressed on. “The princess heir. Please.”

Hyara gazed into the worry-stricken eyes and immediately, she understood. He saw it too. The eyes in the Shadow.

“I’ve looked into the deck. I’ve consulted the dragon,” Hyara begun slowly and lowered her head. “But I couldn’t anymore.”

“What do you mean?” He has never seen the High Mage in this state before – not in the two centuries, he had known her. “What is it?!” He pressed on.

“I’ve looked into the princess heir – many times. The Dragon once told me she is the one. I believed in her and I doubted her. And I still am. No matter how many times I deal the cards, the results are always the same. Her Shadow lingers in my sleep. The earth is growling beneath my feet but the throne is awfully silent. She is an anomaly,” Hyara turned to her companion, face twisted with worry and fear. “Alther, I couldn't comprehend her. Her presence feels peculiar. I have never seen anyone – anything like her. I’ve dealt so many times and now the deck resisted me.”

Hyara shut her eyes as the hoarse voice of the dragon roared in her head. “She is your queen!” Beads of sweat fell down her temple. “Accept her! This is your fate!” The sound of burning leaves and broken forest drowned the silence in the room. Alther shifted in his seat, he could feel strong heat emanated from the High Mage

‘One that is hidden will soon be revealed,’ an echoing whisper swept through the room like a passing wind. Alther clutched the hill of his sword and eyed the room. The candlelight by the door flickered. But as soon as it came, it disappeared. Alther turned his gaze to the High Mage and saw her face softened. Her once terrified face now looked drained.

The magic of the deck is indeed strong. It snags the energy of its user to fuel its power. Even one as strong as the High Mage should not use it for long but Hyara forced it. She forced herself. Now, she’s exhausted. The heat from the prophecy still engulfed her mind but at least, the voice had died down.

“I need to rest now, Alther. I’m sorry. That is all I have for you,” the High Mage pushed herself off her seat and walked away slowly towards a small door to her left.

“Tell me what you see.” Alther jumped out of his seat. His heart was still pounding. He was not ready to let the High Mage leave the room until he got the answer he needed.

“Fire.” The High Mage said unturned. “I saw fire as black as the starless night. It came for us all.”

“And the one who wields it?”

“I don’t know.”

“Tell me what you know.”

“The princess heir was there. A golden crown on her head.”

“She casted the fire?”

"No.” She said almost immediately then silence followed. “Maybe,” she sighed.

“What should we do now?”

“There’s nothing we could do. She is the one.” The prophecy was hidden behind a thick smoke. Drawing them only reveal more questions than answers but there was one thing she certain of since the Red Night. Amara is the long-awaited heir – the One spoken by the dragon. “We must protect her, even from herself.” With that, the High Mage left the room, leaving the frowning man unassured.

Taking a Glimpse,
DATE:Saturday, September 30, 2017 TIME:{4:16 PM} COMMENTS: (0) REPLIES

Let It Be Known
Let it be known that this bond is made.
I speak to the blood running through my veins.

Let it be known that this vow is taken.
I speak to the air circling in my lungs.

Let it be known that this promise is made.
I speak to the spirit burning my heart.

With this vow, we are one. We are the same.
Let it be known. Let it be known.

Of friendship. Of loyalty. Of love and sacrifice.
Let it be known. Let it be known.

This bond shall be broken not.
They shall withstand the task of time.

As further than our own.
Of our life and of our death.

Stronger than the Earth.
Brighter than the Star.

Unshaken by greed, by men and by filth.
Let it be known. These words are spoken.

Let it be known.
Let it be known.
Let it be known.


DATE:Monday, December 7, 2015 TIME:{5:05 PM} COMMENTS: (0) REPLIES

Contract of Blood and Soul

I am a figure of Shadow.
Whispers in the Wind.
Footsteps in the Alley.
Seer of the Night.

I am the bone of Sorrow.
The sins of Men.
The river of Deceit.
The fire of Hell.

I am without Soul.
I am without Origin.
Unknown to Life.
Untouched by Death.

Whisper my Name 
And I shall answer thee.

I am Thou
And Thou art I
From the depth of thy soul, I'll come.
This is a Contract of Blood and Soul. 

On my own sullied name, Amara Maryanna Kharyster Maerad,

Queen of Shadow,
DATE:Sunday, November 15, 2015 TIME:{9:33 PM} COMMENTS: (3) REPLIES

POKER (uneditted - w/o beta-read)
“Do you like to play poker?” A simple question followed by a long silence circled the air. Only the ticking sound of dripping water from the sink could be heard from a distant and at each passing moment, more sweats running down the battered man’s head like a waterfall. In front of him is a silver 99 mm with a black silencer. He couldn’t remember how he got there. He was preparing for bed with his wife in a cheap motel by the freeway with dirty, yellow wallpaper and as soon as his senses came back at him, a ghostly, masked figure of a young lady threw the place upside down.

His throat chocked with fear. His eyes widened in horror. At his feet, a limped body of his pregnant wife laid bare. Her head smashed and her stomach cut. Beside her, his unborn child laid hanging by umbilical cord to the mother’s womb. As soon as he braced himself to look into the ravenous eyes of his masked attacker, his head snapped back to the wall with a thud and his hands fell limp to his side. A burning smell filled the air. It was done.

A raven haired young girl turned to the rest of the hotel room and studied the mess she made. Blood spattered across the wallpaper, drenching the mat beneath her feet. Cracked television in the toilet. Broken chairs on the bed. The signs of struggle are obvious. In this situation, an amateur would proceed to clean the crime scene, get rid of evidence and hide the body. But not her. She has lived in this dark world for far too long to know how to walk into a crime scene and leave no trace behind. Strutting the thin ice like a ghost. A nameless phantom that lives only in rumors.

Instead, of covering them up, she takes pride in her work. After all, what’s the point of going through all the troubles when there is no one to appreciate? Suddenly, a loud siren echoes from two blocks away. She almost smile when she found a Queen of Spade in her back pocket, running through her fingers, finding its way onto the dead man’s chest. Buying her time to do what she does best…disappear.

---3 years later---

                “Do you like to play poker with me?” That simple, harmless question almost knocked her out of her chair. She grabbed the knife she had tucked in her back pocket out of instinct but before she pull it out, an old man in late fifties stared back at her with a friendly smile and sat at the table.

                “Sure.” She replied lazily, leaving her knife strapped. She recognized the old man from the store across the street. He owns a small grocery store and would bring papers and a bottle of milk to her house every morning for five bucks. He is very amicable, likes to watch daytime dramas on cable and everyone in the neighborhood likes him. He had a son once but lost him to cancer at the age of 7. His daughter moved to a college abroad and never return. His wife left him for a richer and younger man in the big city. Yet, he never fails to give the brightest smile to anyone who visits his shop. His eyes will lit up and a big, cheerful laugh follows after. Still, she didn’t know his name.

                “It’s alright if you don’t know how to play English poker,” he said while setting the table. “I can teach you.”

                “I prefer Russian,” she said while pulling her cards from the table and arranging it in her hand, hinting that she actually has knowledge in the game and even more. ‘It has been a long time,’ she thought to herself.

                “Ah! Dangerous game. Big money!” He chuckled. “Though you don’t seem the type.”

                ‘No, I make sure I don’t,’ she said in her head. When was the last time she played an honest game of poker with anyone? She couldn’t quite remember. Was it two years back? Or perhaps longer?

                “So, Mae. Are you planning to go back to school?” the old man pulled out a two of diamond.

                “Yes. When the school opens up.” She replied with a five of heart.

                “Have you got your uniforms ready?” He pulled out an eight of heart.

                “Yes.” She pulled a card from the deck and put out a ten of spade.

                “That’s good. I’m sure I still have my daughter’s. I’m saving it for my granddaughter but it is such a waste to see it in the box after all these year.” He took one from the deck and pulled out a joker of cloud. “It might be a bit old but I’m sure it will be just your size. I’ll bring it up to your home tonight.”

                “Thank you. I appreciate it.” Mae smiled and pulled out a joker, king and queen of spade.

                “Ah! Man! I’m out of luck.” He chuckled. Just as he was about to counter the card, a middle-aged woman called out from a distant. “Ah! Sorry! Coming! Coming!” He shouted back before he ran across the street to his shop, where even from such a distant, she could hear the woman complaining about the price of bread and apple.

Mae looked down to the table and saw the queen of spade staring back at her. It felt familiar, yet distant. Relief yet remorseful. Unspoken bitterness edged across her thin lips.

Sigh…It has been a while. 
DATE:Monday, September 14, 2015 TIME:{10:17 PM} COMMENTS: (0) REPLIES

Reminiscing Foams
Like foams washing away on a lonely shore by old-spent waves, washing and crashing onto the black sands. Its tide is counting short, creeping in depth of its color into the morrow of the last dying light of autumn. But the wind waver not for the breeze gather around the wild, scarlet tulips and take the baygrapes into a foxtrot of a soundless melody.


I cruelly kick a blue pebble into the water, watching it dims into its depth and along with it, my hope and dream.

"Tomorrow, tomorrow and tomorrow," I chant. "Creeps in this petty pace from day to day, to the last syllable of recorded time and all our yesterdays have lighted fools."

I pick up my train and wander along the littoral, leaving a washed up footprint behind me before I noticed a black, ebony bird flying below the sicken clouds of the yesteryear, beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,

My eyes trail its majestic wings and whisper. "Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly. Though its answer little meaning, little relevancy bore. For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being ever yet was blessed with seeing this lordly bird." I smile and continue my lonely step.

Behind that shadow creeping away from the forest grow as the sun anchors into the deep horizon. I look into the black water and saw a ghostly reflection of a broken girl, staring back with such intensity that I could feel the sorrow haunting her pitch black orbs. I sigh again, but this time, it circles the air and is carried away into the darken sky.

"Perhaps," I pull myself away from the eerie beach. "Perhaps, this is my destiny..."

Sinking Deep,
DATE:Thursday, April 30, 2015 TIME:{6:09 AM} COMMENTS: (0) REPLIES

The Ponds of Silver Tears
She pushes her hair behind her ears. They fall down her back, overwhelming her small frame, and effortlessly rest on her ankles. The waves gives the impression of a river, which water is as white as snow gathering under the sail of moonlite. It glistens like a silk against her pale lips, as if one could see right through her.

She peers from behind the red curtain and a ghostly reflection stares back. Its eyes are like foams drifting on the billow-height from old-spent waves by a lonely shore. It stares with such intensity, yet with such hollowness that one would find himself drifting into the depth of the earth. There's nothing in it. No remorse, nor a child's glee. They're just a pair of expose and nothing more.

She turns from the storm, the thunder roaring above the sky and the pounding of wind against her wooden house. She pulls on her sleeping gown and drags her feet to one corner of the room, where a rusty, silver harp rests beside a wooden stool.

It has been awhile, she nods. Since the tune of those beautiful strings ever sing in this storm. She touches its first string, tempted to stroke it into play, yet she stops and sighs.

No more, she whispers to herself as her eyes drifted away with a thought that sings in her mind, with stern and decorum like a countenance it wore...

She whispers...

"And her eyes have all the seeming of a demon's that is dreaming,
And the lamp light over her streaming throws her shadow on the floor,
And her soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted, nevermore!"

Poe-ing me,
DATE:Wednesday, April 22, 2015 TIME:{4:28 AM} COMMENTS: (0) REPLIES