My Angel, My Child Stay close my angel, for the bad men are on their way. Stay close my child, or in the gutter you may lay. Come here my angel, where have you gone? Come here my child, stay close or you will be drawn. Keep away my angel, they're coming near. Keep away my child, they fill you with fear. They're coming my angel, please don't go. They're coming my child, do you see their black vesicles trudging through the snow? Here they creep my angel, the shrills of lost souls. Here they creep my child, their eyes black coals. Stay still my angel, maybe they won't see you. Stay still my angel, please stay still, whatever you do. No, please don't go my angel, please don't leave. No, please don't go my child, tugging on my sleeve. Please stay there my angel, you're now their kin. Please stay there my child, living in a #life of sin. I tried to warn you my angel, i tried to tell you so. I tried to warn you child, a child of the dark now, you must go.

Lurking In The Dark What's that lurking in the dark, Just out of sight. What's that lurking in the dark, running out of light. What's that behind you, Or was that just a trick of the eyes? What's that behind you, All you know is lies. Can you hear that, That terrible sound. Can you hear that, That screeching all around. Was that the wind, A cool breeze against your neck. Was that the wind, Turn around and check. What's that lurking in the dark, That thing that can't be seen. What's that lurking in the dark, That thing that's muffling your screams.

Swimming Everything I've learned in #life, I've learned from swimming. One moment the girl next to you is your teammate, the next, your rival. I've learned to stop expecting and start doing. I've watched thirty some girls, all extremely different, become a family over the love of a similar interest. I know now that when my friends aren't enough, I've got music to back me up. I've learned that no matter how individual and meaningless something may seam, it's always a part of a bigger goal, a team. But most importantly I learned about taking chances, because you'll never swim the same race twice, so why waste the now? So, it's kind of crazy that a two year roller coaster has brought me to so many realizations, not only about swimming, but friendships, hard work, teamwork and just.. #life.

The Century Storm Chapter 2: Knocking on the recently closed door, Archer called out, "Phoenix, are you in there?" He waited for a reply but got none. "Phoenix, I know you're in there." He tried again, knocking louder on the door, "I brought you clothes." The door opened a crack, revealing her fair face and bright green eyes. "Where'd you hear that story?" She whispered, pulling him into the room. "The story I told Robbie? My father told me it long ago, before he died, why?" He asked, setting the clothes on her bed. He mindlessly sorted through them, sorting them into the ones that would fit her and ones that wouldn't, slimming the pile down by quite a few items, he left her with a few tee shirts, a dress and some jeans. "My mother used to tell me a story something like that." He looked at her inquisitively. "It started the same way, the little boy and girl, always finding each other, but then the little girl got sick. Then the story differed. It became a tale of hatred and sorrow, as the little girl grew sick and she couldn't find the boy. He'd left her, he'd left her alone to die." A bitterness filled her voice, the same as it did her mothers when she told the story. The story of a sick girl who was to die with nobody. The story of the sick girl who never had anyone, because the only person she did have, wasn't anyone in the end anyway. "It's just an old warm world tale anyway." He sighed, helping the misses, who had made her way up, pull in the bathing tub. "What's just a warm world tale? There's not many circulating through here anymore, did you find something?" She asked Archer. She'd always been nosy, curious about the warm world, she was one of the many who had never stepped foot outside. "Something I read in the library." He lied, "when I lived in the west wing." He helped her move the tub closer to the fire, trying to keep the water as warm as possible. "Ah." She sighed, thinking fondly of all the books there must be. It had grown so cold the rest of the castle had basically frozen over, sending Archer and his father to look for a warmer part of the castle, both families had been unaware of the other for the longest time. "You'll have to bring me back some when you do those morning rounds of yours, the book selection here has grown boring. "Yes ma'am." He agreed, laying out the clothes on the wooden dresser and turned to Phoenix. "You're bath is ready. I would say to go to bed after because it is night, but six year of sleep should cover you for a while." She thanked him and shooed them out of her room, not wanting the water to get any colder. They two had left and nothing sounded better to Phoenix than a warm bath. She dipped her toe in the water, warming the water to her touch. She sank down in the water, rolling the water over her shoulders and through her hair. She hadn't had a bath in over six years, if the dip in the icy moat was counted. Before that, who knew how long she'd been away, wandering the snowy roads from France to Australia, crossing the ocean somewhere in between. It had only seemed like days wandering, looking for her mother. She could remember so vividly the green grass of the summer before that, the electric lights shining upon the Eiffel Tower, tourists crowding the old streets, everything had been so normal. Sitting on the windowsill looking out at the beautiful warm world, the butterflies dancing from flower to flower, the colors of the trees, the bright blue sky, she missed it. She missed the beauty, washed out by the pristine white snow, the species wiped out by the cold, the blue sky turned grey with the ever present, storming clouds. Soon the water had grown too cold for even her to stay warm in and she found herself wrapping herself I a robe Archer had left, humming her dreary song. She couldn't sleep, couldn't even think of sleeping, so she threw on a night gown and wandered downstairs, looking for none the other.

The Century Storm Chapter 1: "Mum, mum! She's waking up!" The girl with the black hair heard a little voice calling from beside her. Her eyes were forced closed, but she could feel the warmth of a real bed surrounding her, blankets covering her and a pillow under her head. The boy must have saved me, she thought. She tried to roll over to see him, move at all, but found herself stuck, paralyzed in one place. She couldn't even bring herself to say anything, her throat was so dry, all she did was cough. "That's impossible, she's been like that for six years!" An older woman yelled, her footsteps joining the boys at her bedside. The girl coughed again, trying to show signs of #life to the woman. She gasped, "get the girl some water!" Little footsteps ran away, but quickly came back. The woman began forcing water into her mouth, which she gratefully accepted, the cold stinging her throat in the process. She coughed again, this time with more sound, a promising sign. "Oh Steven! Go grab your brother, he'll want to see her!" She nudged the little boy who ran off. "Are you alright?" The woman rubbed her arm, and the girl nodded painfully. A third set of footsteps entered the room, with the smell of clean, fresh, spring, had the storm finally passed? "I'm going to grab her some soup and tea, will you watch her?" The misses said, running off without an answer. "Sleeping beauty awakes." The man stated, no emotion in his voice. "I pull you out of the water and what's the thanks I get? Six years of silence?" He laughed, attempting to make a joke. She tried to say something back, but her throat was still so scratchy and dry. The woman's footsteps stopped at the door for a few moments then turned back around. "Tea or soup?" The male voice asked, sitting on the edge of her bed. He pulled her up with one arm around her shoulders and put a hot cup to her lips. "Tea, drink up." He said, letting the girl take a few sips. The warmth was instant, she felt it circling throughout her body, giving her enough energy to finally move her eyes. They fluttered open, revealing a tall boy sitting on the edge of her bed. His fair skin and light hair reminded her of some of the statues found on the streets, his big brown eyes looked into hers. He was much older than the boy who had saved her, but everyone had been saying she'd been asleep for six years. The curtains were drawn, letting her see that the storm still raged on outside, he followed her gaze. "The century storm, as of this year." He stated like a tour guide, completely emotionless. "A century?" She asked, her voice raspy and quiet, but a voice. She hadn't talked to anyone in ages. "As of this year, yes. One hundred years of nonstop snow, and first people thought the earth was warming." He laughed again, she was obviously not getting the joke. "No. It had only been a few days." She stuttered, her voice clearing up with every sip of tea. He tilted his head, his attire looked normal. A black shirt, blue jeans, a long coat hanging on the door, his boots were worn and old, and his watch had hands, everything was as it was. "A few days since what? Since you fell through? You were in a coma, it's been six years." He explained, offering her the soup once her tea was gone. "No. It's was only a few days after the storm hit." She laughed, the boy thinking that the storm had been going on for one hundred years, when it had only been six years and a few days. His head was now hitting his shoulder and his eyes squinted, focusing on her. "Where are you from?" He asked, genuinely concerned. "Here of corse!" She laughed, but realized something. He sounded nothing like her, his accent was different, all of their's were. "Paris, I'm from France. Where am I now?" She asked. "This isn't France honey." He laughed, throwing himself back onto her bed. "You're in Australia. Sydney to be exact. That snow storm has been going on for one hundred years after a few days ago, and nobody's gone outside in that amount of time. I bet some people have stayed inside their entire lives, living and dying without seeing anything but their own four walls." She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the longing in his voice. "You were outside." She stated, trying to move, but a sharp pain shot through her back. "I was outside. It's not cold." She said, shaking her head and drinking her tea. "Why do you think it was only a few days?" He asked, ignoring her previous statements. "There were only a few nights." She replied. He laughed again, rolling off her bed and standing next to the window. He never stopped moving, even with his gaze locked on the falling snow, he swayed back and forth. "The nights here last for about a decade, same with the days. If you thought you were gone for a few days, thats about one hundred years. It's been day since you got here." "That's impossible. Nobody can go one hundred years without eating, drinking or sleeping." She said, forgetting about the pain in her back and standing up. She was taller than she remembered and dressed in a loosely fitting night gown. "Well you did." He said emotionlessly. "What's your name?" He asked, still staring at the falling snow. She hesitated, nothing coming to mind. "I don't remember." She sighed, leaning against the window. It was cold on her skin, but quickly heated to the touch. "My entire #life I lived alone, I never needed one." "What do you want to be called?" He asked, looking past her and at the defrosting window. "I don't have any clue." She laughed, looking at him. He was handsome, strong, but cold, he never seemed to care much about anything, which is all she gathered in the ten minutes she'd been awake. "You chose." He thought, chewing on his bottom lip. "What about Phoenix? The mythical bird of fire." She smiled, it was a nice name, fitting. It sounded good rolling off his tongue, natural. She nodded, realizing how tired she really was. "You take a nap, I'll bring you some clothes and we'll see if a bath can be drawn." He lead her back to the bed and pulled the covers around her. "Try not to make it six years again." He smirked, closing the door behind him. "Hey!" She called out, he popped his head back through the door. "You never told me your name." She smiled, yawning. "Doesn't mean you don't know it." He said winking at her and closing the door again. "Goodnight Archer." She smiled, nuzzling into the pillow. ***** "Archer!" The smaller boy yelled, his long brown hair bobbing in front of his face. "I got some clothes! Is the girl still asleep?" "Yes, so keep it down Robbie." He scolded the boy, grabbing the clothes from his hands. Robbie had got any clothes he could find, he didn't know what size she was. She'd been covered up for six years, and the clothes she'd worn there weren't much help either. "We never had to worry about being quiet before." Robbie moaned, trying to brush his hair out of his eyes. It was growing quite long, but he'd never let the misses cut it. "That's because she was in a coma." He laughed, ruffling the kid's hair up. "Now, can you tell the misses to draw her a bath?" "Already did!" He smiled, proud of himself. Archer had always been more of a father to him, Robbie's father had died when he was only one. "And Archer." Robbie asked, joining him by the fire. "You've lived here longer than I have, you could at least call my mum by her name." "That's disrespectful. She houses me, feeds me, clothes me and you want me to call her by a common name, I could never." He scoffed as the clock struck ten. "Time for bed." Archer added, pushing Robbie up the grand stairs. They believed they were the only ones in the castle, the only living ones anyway. A few visitors had been trapped when the storm hit, they all gathered in the main hall near the biggest fire place, but many soon died. Only the Schmitt family was left, baring one son, Robbie. Soon the castle was to die with him, unless someone else hid in one of the other wings. Robbie's PJs were on, his teeth were brushed and Archer had tucked him into bed, tending to the fire in the corner. "Archer?" He yawned watching the embers blaze through sleepy eyes. Archer looked towards him, pulling the heavy curtains closed to block out the sun which will be there for a few more years. "Can you tell me a story?" He asked. Archer's big brown eyes blinked in sympathy, but he showed no more emotion towards the boy. "I know no stories." He replied, taking a seat in the rocking chair anyway. "Just make one up!" He nagged. Archer sighed, giving in. He also noticed the slim figure of a girl hovering in the doorway. "Once upon a time, there was a girl and a boy, lost to time itself. They lived #life after #life, always finding each other one way after another. They'd never look the same, each #life they'd take a different look, but they could see it in each other. They could see each other's deep down. One #life, long after their first, it grew very cold, and the girl grew very sick. So sick that the boy couldn't make her better. He left her, he had to, she was to sick to notice that he left her with a nice woman, one who couldn't have kids. The boy and the girl didn't age for a long time, for they needed each other to move on. Then one day, the boy noticed he looked older, only by a day or two but he was still older, he became hungry, tired and most of all happy, because he knew the girl was near. But the girl was still sick, and he couldn't help her, and soon she became so sick, the boy became sick and they had to go home. The end." He said, pushing himself out of the chair with more effort than he had shown. "What happened to the boy and girl?" Robbie yawned, fighting to keep his eyes open. "The boy caught the girl eavesdropping and the girl apologized and took a bath. Goodnight Robbie."