Sefa

I woke myself up screaming again last night. Every night the nightmares get worse! There's the traditional nightmare where I stand there and my brother advances towards me with a knife in his hand. My parents watch us to one side, silent at first and then they burst out into encouragment to my brother, urging him to knife me or whatever. He doesn't need the encouragment...he comes striding towards me, an evil glint in his eye and I try to run but my feet just wont move! I scream to my parents but they just wont help me!

I do wish that good things came alongside the bad things rather than having all the bad things happening at once followed by all the good things although I guess having it that way around proves that there's always a light at the end of the tunnel. I've had such a rough time of late - its been building up for months but I finally think that I'm turning a new leaf and things are starting to get happier which is brilliant of course!

OOC note: this was the bit on her profile that was her backstory but I've decided to re-jig one or two things and decided that I no longer wanted this on her profile! 

He came again! Several times in fact. It was always the same: I'd be playing in the garden, he'd appear and we'd sit together, me talking at him, him listening in silence. I loved it! The secret boy who hung onto every word I said with such interest that it made me want to say more and more. Occassionally I'd ask him a question; who are you? Why do you come here? How do you know how to get into my garden? What's your name? Where're you from? Where's your family? But he'd always reply with a knowing smile and more silence.

It was three weeks after I planted my little acorn before I saw Joran again. Despite the rain which hammered down into the garden, I prefered to be getting wet and muddy to being cooped up inside with the rest of my family. I enjoyed the rain back then; it was always fun to splash around in the puddles, wallow in the mud and generally mess myself up to such a state that me Ma would despair.

As a child I would spend most of my time in the garden of our home. The house itself was nothing special - a small family home for the lower middle class of Dale but the garden was always something a little more special. I think the best thing about the garden was that none of the rest of my family ever really ventured into it unless they had to which had caused it to become wild and untame and thus the land of many childhood fancies and play for myself. 

Hello me deario! Long time no speaky! Well...this last little while has been interesting to say the least. No, interesting is the wrong word and I'm not sure what the true word is to the point where I may just make one up. Figolop! That's the perfect word! So this last little while has been very figolopish which has been a real pain in the artichoke. Where to even begin? I guess it all started when Dessmond asked for a quiet word with me in the Pony.

My life was once beautiful. Everything was glamour and glitz, fashion and frivolities. I was a flirt, a manipulator, an innocent. I never left my home. I loved myself, my beauty, my dresses, my parties. Perfection was an understatement. I'm not saying that I was happy, just content in the vain little world that I had created for myself and unwilling to allow a need to let others invade my own private realm of self love. All was well until that fatefull day when my life took a turn for the different and nothing was the same again...