<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678843493481327813</id><updated>2011-07-08T02:10:04.495-07:00</updated><title type='text'>.</title><subtitle type='html'>Sometimes.. I'd post stories on different sites... but I want to make sure they don't get stolen. If they ever do.. the person who took it from me won't live for long...</subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Etsuko Sohma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04104109708991053482</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jueu2WooEMU/S28ZkZDt8mI/AAAAAAAAANo/4_mOQ_MuwQQ/S220/02.JPG'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678843493481327813.post-795903613000808801</id><published>2009-03-29T15:34:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-29T15:40:46.500-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Say what you want</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;I feel so tired.. so sleepy&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days were getting shorter and the nights, longer. The sun seemed more like setting than rising in the morning. Every day was filled with clouds and a touch of electricity in the air.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The days dragged Alina with them. She faded as each day comes and go. She couldn't let herself go.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;The sun is burning...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Sun? There was no sun. There was never a sun. Never in Alina's life had she seen the sun.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Time to... go&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;As Alina slowly crumpled up, she twisted to a comfortable position in bed.&lt;br /&gt;She slowly let herself go... and the days went with her this time.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;*2 days later*&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Alina Palin was reported dead on July 7th in her bed. There was no sign of struggle or sickness that could have caused her death. However, the police are still investigating on this...-volume lowers-"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"So.. she finally lost herself..."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;It was July 7th.. midnight.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4678843493481327813-795903613000808801?l=etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/795903613000808801/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/03/say-what-you-want.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/795903613000808801'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/795903613000808801'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/03/say-what-you-want.html' title='Say what you want'/><author><name>Etsuko Sohma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04104109708991053482</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jueu2WooEMU/S28ZkZDt8mI/AAAAAAAAANo/4_mOQ_MuwQQ/S220/02.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678843493481327813.post-4264526553513725942</id><published>2009-03-26T19:29:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2009-03-26T19:33:56.479-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Bliss</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;She held her head up high and walked out the door.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Anna, wait.. I have something to give you before you leave... AN---!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Light sounds, flashing beams, flares burst...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;My eardrums hurt..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Anna looked around her as the world started to crumble and the ground seemed to be getting closer to her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She closed her eyes and thought... &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;this is bliss.... real bliss..&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;**Influenced by Breathe (2AM) by Anna Nalick [=&lt;br /&gt;It's a great song &lt;3&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4678843493481327813-4264526553513725942?l=etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/4264526553513725942/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/03/bliss.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/4264526553513725942'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/4264526553513725942'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/03/bliss.html' title='Bliss'/><author><name>Etsuko Sohma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04104109708991053482</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jueu2WooEMU/S28ZkZDt8mI/AAAAAAAAANo/4_mOQ_MuwQQ/S220/02.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678843493481327813.post-7830347693478181061</id><published>2009-02-08T10:22:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-26T12:59:11.654-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Haliant</title><content type='html'>"I love you! Please go out with me!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haliant was talking... talking to someone...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"I loved you for a long time, since the first day I saw you, the first time I saw you! Every time you come close to me, my heart beats really fast, I cannot breathe and I cannot say hi. You make me speechless."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Yet... no one answered back...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Ok... I understand.. I'll wait for you.. come to Drain Cafe that's around the corner. I'll wait for your answer there."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Haliant took one last look at the bathroom mirror.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"See you later."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;20 minutes later.&lt;br /&gt;A waiter brings another cup of coffee with a spoon this time. Haliant looks at the spoon and sees her reflection.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"You finally came... would you really go out with me?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Someone replies... "I love you, Haliant."&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4678843493481327813-7830347693478181061?l=etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/7830347693478181061/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-love-you-please-go-out-with-me.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/7830347693478181061'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/7830347693478181061'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/02/i-love-you-please-go-out-with-me.html' title='Haliant'/><author><name>Etsuko Sohma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04104109708991053482</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jueu2WooEMU/S28ZkZDt8mI/AAAAAAAAANo/4_mOQ_MuwQQ/S220/02.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678843493481327813.post-3678583582054384725</id><published>2009-02-08T00:03:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-08T00:05:27.927-08:00</updated><title type='text'>Cillian</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;Love me... love me not... love me... love me not... love me.. hate me... hate me not.. hate me.... hate me not...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cillian was ruining her mother's whole garden... She was tearing up all the flowers.. all the red roses that took so long to grow.. all the yellow tulips that fitted in so well with the roses...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The flowers drooped... Cillian spent her whole summer outside.. day and night... outside in the little garden...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;No one ever called her back in. No one ever rang the doorbell to her house. No smells of food were ever carried away by the wind. There were no phones that rang in the house... that wanted to talk to Cillian. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The whole house was empty. No furniture... no drawings of a 6 year old girl when she was young... no secret diary hidden under a young girl's bed... &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;if there was a bed...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;However... outside the house... on the front lawn.. there was a big sign... a sign that says "&lt;span style="font-weight:bold;"&gt;For Sale&lt;/span&gt;" that's just dangling outside.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;He loves me... loves me not... hates me.. hates me not...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cillian, still tearing up the flowers that are getting less and less as each day comes, stares at the almost empty garden in front of her as tears leak out... more and more tears that leak out as each day comes to her...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello? Anyone here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-weight:italic;"&gt;A male's voice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cillian turned her head... and started to walk back into the house... the back door that has been left opened since the past &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;10 years&lt;/span&gt;. Cillian... the 10 year old girl, walked through the house to the front door.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She grasped at the door. The door opened. The male stepped in. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Hello? Anyone in here?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Cillian stared at her hands... and waved at the man. The man.. didn't see her. Cillian ... grasped at the door handle again. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;She cried.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4678843493481327813-3678583582054384725?l=etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/3678583582054384725/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/02/cillian.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/3678583582054384725'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/3678583582054384725'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/02/cillian.html' title='Cillian'/><author><name>Etsuko Sohma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04104109708991053482</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jueu2WooEMU/S28ZkZDt8mI/AAAAAAAAANo/4_mOQ_MuwQQ/S220/02.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4678843493481327813.post-8619062059058524809</id><published>2009-02-07T23:31:00.000-08:00</published><updated>2009-02-07T23:33:49.721-08:00</updated><title type='text'>The Window</title><content type='html'>"Mom...", the little boy says as he stares out the window.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Yes, Gwen?" as the lady continues cooking dinner.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Why so many people outside our house? Are we having a party?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Curious, the woman looked outside her window. Strangely.. there was no one there.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gwen, stop playing around. Now sit back down so that I don't have to watch you every few seconds."&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Gwen was somehow.. half inside the house and half outside dangling in midair as if... someone was pulling him through.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"But Mom... the lady wants me to go with her. She says that she has something important to give me... "&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The lady, not looking up from the broth she was brewing says, "Gwen, stop it. It's not funny! ... Gwen?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Finally, after 1 whole long minute, she noticed that Gwen hadn't replied to her, hadn't spoke at all. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gwen...?"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The surprised mother turned from her broth and looked at the chair where Gwen sits... where he &lt;span style="font-style:italic;"&gt;was suppose to sit in.&lt;/span&gt; She went over to his chair and looked out the window. It was pitch black. &lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;"Gwen? Gwen, answer Mommy!"&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;Scared, the mother stared out the window... the same way Gwen was facing and staring out the window earlier.... and she saw something that made her scream.. that made her scream as loud as she can while she was being absorbed by hands outside the window... trying to fight the strong hands that held her... but she knew that it was useless...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;The broth was ruined.&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/4678843493481327813-8619062059058524809?l=etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/feeds/8619062059058524809/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/02/window.html#comment-form' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/8619062059058524809'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/4678843493481327813/posts/default/8619062059058524809'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://etsukosohma-stories.blogspot.com/2009/02/window.html' title='The Window'/><author><name>Etsuko Sohma</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04104109708991053482</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='32' height='26' src='http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_jueu2WooEMU/S28ZkZDt8mI/AAAAAAAAANo/4_mOQ_MuwQQ/S220/02.JPG'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
