It seems that since the school year has ended and college will start soon, I don't know what to do with this blog. My writing has picked up a bit since the last day of school and I'm excited about that. It seems this girl on fanfiction.net has been harrassing me about continuing my stories on there so it seems that my fanfics have started up again as well. I'm happy to inform that I have decided to pursue Callista's and Zayley's stories. They are the most interesting ones that I have ever created so far. Though I may not be on this blog very much in the near future I hope that ya'll will still come back every once in a while. I'll update as much as i can in the future though I procrastinate I'm still excited to see if my listeners will stay with me.
If you want to read my fanfiction go to: www.fanfiction.net
and go to the seach tab and type in: colvoy
and you'll find me.
Oh and one more thing is have created another person besides Colvoy, and his name is Sivalence. i have welcomed him to the crazy family that i have with me and my characters.
Enjoy :)
Thursday, June 30, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
Preview of Callista
This a preview of my story Callista, for those who are interested please read and enjoy. Other then that I hope you like my own little excert :). Please if you can give good comments!:
"Callista smirked pulling out a bottle of perfume that she had hidden in her dress.
“Callista”
She looked up to see her father looking directly at her. Internally she worried that he had notice the whole scene between her and Dion. Out of the corner of her eye she looked over at Dion’s motionless form. He was looking out he window plain as day, but she knew that inside he felt that same way.
“Yes father?” she focused all of her attention on him ignoring the outside world.
“What is that bottle that you have in your possession?”
“Oh this” she held up the bottle, “Grandmother gave this to me before I left. She said that it might come in handy when I got to the palace.”
“Hmmm spray some onto your person. I am really curious to see which of her ghastly perfumes she gave you?” he asked.
Callista did as she was told holding the bottle away from her body. She pressed down on the top spraying the green mist on her neck.
“Bloody Hell!”
Callista looked up seeing that Dion was looking at her with a look of disgust.
“What’s wrong Dion?” she asked noticing her father wrinkle his nose.
“You smell god awful. It is so sweet that it is burning my nose” Dion replied covering his nose.
She looked at him in confusion. “Only your grandmother would give you such a perfume.” Dante interrupted.
“What do you mean father? What purpose does this serve me?”
Dante gave her a steady gaze. “That perfume you have is used to hide the demon essence that surrounds you. Your grandmother gave it to you so that the vampires wouldn’t find out what you are. It is for your own protection.”
Callista looked from your father to the vial that she held firmly in her grasp. The tiny thing was mainly for her well being and the only thing that she could do was thank her grandmother. She looked taking her eyes away from it seeing that her father and brother were slightly edging away from her.
“Oh come on the smell is that bad” she sniffed the air, “It smells okay to me”
“That because to the wearer of the perfume it smells like that of lavender. Though to others like your brother and me it repels us with just the slightest whiff of it.” Dante explained sitting closer to the window.
Callista glanced over at her brother to see that he was ignoring the conversation. Dion’s head was out the window escaping the smell that was her intoxicating perfume. A look of annoyance spread across her face as she watched his hair whip around in the wind. To her he looked like a dog, his face showed a sense of freedom as he felt the wind against his face. The picture of him sticking his tongue out and panting like a puppy flashed in her mind making her laugh to herself. Dante and Dion both looked at her puzzle with the sudden laugh that was erupting from her.
“Is something wrong Callista?” Dante raised a brow at his daughter.
In the midst of laughter she looked at him. “No father nothing is wrong with me. Its just that I found something funny and I couldn’t help but laugh.”
“And what, Callista, had been so funny that you couldn’t contain your laughter?” Dion asked sticking his head back into the carriage regretting it was his head was safely back in.
“Umm it pertains to a certain young man with his head out a certain window” she stated a red tint appearing on her cheeks, “And his slight resemblance to a cute puppy.”
Dion’s eyes widened at her statement knowing that he had been the only one with his head out the window. His eyes quickly met with his father’s which in turns showed the slightest hint of amusement. Then out of the blue Dante started to snicker at the look on his son’s face. Dion turned the darkest shade of red possible glaring at his sister. She held up her hands in innocence grinning at her laughing father.
“So what in the right mind makes you think that I look like a bloody puppy?” Dion snarled.
Callista didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice. “What you had the look of pure freedom one your face. It looked as if you had not a care in the world, like you were happy.”
Dion stared at her face to see if there was any deception in her words. She stared deeply into her eyes ignoring their giggling father. He saw nothing but sincerity lay behind her hazel eyes, in the end it aggravated him.
“It seems that you sister has you all figured out, my son.” Dante said.
Dion rolled his eyes, Callista smiling at her father’s response to the situation between the brother and sister. The entire situation proved to be amusing for the three of them. The only irony of all this was that, it had been the only source of entertainment for the rest of the trip."
"Callista smirked pulling out a bottle of perfume that she had hidden in her dress.
“Callista”
She looked up to see her father looking directly at her. Internally she worried that he had notice the whole scene between her and Dion. Out of the corner of her eye she looked over at Dion’s motionless form. He was looking out he window plain as day, but she knew that inside he felt that same way.
“Yes father?” she focused all of her attention on him ignoring the outside world.
“What is that bottle that you have in your possession?”
“Oh this” she held up the bottle, “Grandmother gave this to me before I left. She said that it might come in handy when I got to the palace.”
“Hmmm spray some onto your person. I am really curious to see which of her ghastly perfumes she gave you?” he asked.
Callista did as she was told holding the bottle away from her body. She pressed down on the top spraying the green mist on her neck.
“Bloody Hell!”
Callista looked up seeing that Dion was looking at her with a look of disgust.
“What’s wrong Dion?” she asked noticing her father wrinkle his nose.
“You smell god awful. It is so sweet that it is burning my nose” Dion replied covering his nose.
She looked at him in confusion. “Only your grandmother would give you such a perfume.” Dante interrupted.
“What do you mean father? What purpose does this serve me?”
Dante gave her a steady gaze. “That perfume you have is used to hide the demon essence that surrounds you. Your grandmother gave it to you so that the vampires wouldn’t find out what you are. It is for your own protection.”
Callista looked from your father to the vial that she held firmly in her grasp. The tiny thing was mainly for her well being and the only thing that she could do was thank her grandmother. She looked taking her eyes away from it seeing that her father and brother were slightly edging away from her.
“Oh come on the smell is that bad” she sniffed the air, “It smells okay to me”
“That because to the wearer of the perfume it smells like that of lavender. Though to others like your brother and me it repels us with just the slightest whiff of it.” Dante explained sitting closer to the window.
Callista glanced over at her brother to see that he was ignoring the conversation. Dion’s head was out the window escaping the smell that was her intoxicating perfume. A look of annoyance spread across her face as she watched his hair whip around in the wind. To her he looked like a dog, his face showed a sense of freedom as he felt the wind against his face. The picture of him sticking his tongue out and panting like a puppy flashed in her mind making her laugh to herself. Dante and Dion both looked at her puzzle with the sudden laugh that was erupting from her.
“Is something wrong Callista?” Dante raised a brow at his daughter.
In the midst of laughter she looked at him. “No father nothing is wrong with me. Its just that I found something funny and I couldn’t help but laugh.”
“And what, Callista, had been so funny that you couldn’t contain your laughter?” Dion asked sticking his head back into the carriage regretting it was his head was safely back in.
“Umm it pertains to a certain young man with his head out a certain window” she stated a red tint appearing on her cheeks, “And his slight resemblance to a cute puppy.”
Dion’s eyes widened at her statement knowing that he had been the only one with his head out the window. His eyes quickly met with his father’s which in turns showed the slightest hint of amusement. Then out of the blue Dante started to snicker at the look on his son’s face. Dion turned the darkest shade of red possible glaring at his sister. She held up her hands in innocence grinning at her laughing father.
“So what in the right mind makes you think that I look like a bloody puppy?” Dion snarled.
Callista didn’t flinch at the sound of his voice. “What you had the look of pure freedom one your face. It looked as if you had not a care in the world, like you were happy.”
Dion stared at her face to see if there was any deception in her words. She stared deeply into her eyes ignoring their giggling father. He saw nothing but sincerity lay behind her hazel eyes, in the end it aggravated him.
“It seems that you sister has you all figured out, my son.” Dante said.
Dion rolled his eyes, Callista smiling at her father’s response to the situation between the brother and sister. The entire situation proved to be amusing for the three of them. The only irony of all this was that, it had been the only source of entertainment for the rest of the trip."
Tuesday, May 10, 2011
Reading
Reading, I think, is something that you make a life passion because of the various wonders that lay woven within the pages of a book. Children in a America read books when they are young and some onto adulthood. But lately i haven't seen that! I see some people saying that books are stupid and they are boring. sometimes i think that they are just reading the wrong things. When you read, in my perspective, you should read something that you're interested in. Never read something that someone forces you to read unless you're in the school and the teacher tells you too.
i mean how hard is it to go into a library and look around and see if there's anything that you like, but it doesn't mean that you have to find something right away. reading is helpful in imagination and creativity, it allows you to envision a world within a book. Just pick up a book and read sometimes people act like its like the longest calculus equation of their lives.
i mean how hard is it to go into a library and look around and see if there's anything that you like, but it doesn't mean that you have to find something right away. reading is helpful in imagination and creativity, it allows you to envision a world within a book. Just pick up a book and read sometimes people act like its like the longest calculus equation of their lives.
Awesome Guest Post, I read.
When I sit down with pages bound by a leatherhard cover, I let my mind wonder. My mind explores the wonders of the words that are inked onto the soft tan pages. The words lasso my brain with people, ideas, and imagination. The people appear to me in a dramatic way, they show themselfs to me forming an image in my twisted spirals of brain tissue. Ideas pop their way through the pages, leaping from page to page making new ideals comet to my mind. Reading caused such an impact to my way of writing and my style. Without the many books ive read my style would be so different. Imagination plays a huge rule, in when I read a book. My imagination has to wonder, and if the book doesnt lead to that I carefully put it down and close the cover. The book no longer holds any interest to me. Books are awesome, read them now. Or else.
created by: Shalakamalac
created by: Shalakamalac
Post 4
Dear Blog,
Hi my name is Callista, i am and only will be Juan's main character, i am in his novel/ story thing that he has been writing for a very long time. I am 687 years old not counting my 'human' years. I am a demon as he puts it, but nonetheless I'm not scary just careful when it comes to situations now. My life has really complicated and i can't explain it because its a very very long story that seems to get longer each and each day. sometimes living forever has its downsides, but having Azriel and Indemnis by my side. and if your wondering what Indemnis means it means innocent in latin, apparently his mother took his name into consideration when she named him, but i love him with all my heart. though i have no love of my life being with them helps fill the void of lonliness that fills my soul when i think of Him. I know that one day that things will be better and that i will kill my Brother Dion once in for all. his life in my hands i will truly take it from him as his harbringer.
With grand lots of Love,
Callista Visconti
Hi my name is Callista, i am and only will be Juan's main character, i am in his novel/ story thing that he has been writing for a very long time. I am 687 years old not counting my 'human' years. I am a demon as he puts it, but nonetheless I'm not scary just careful when it comes to situations now. My life has really complicated and i can't explain it because its a very very long story that seems to get longer each and each day. sometimes living forever has its downsides, but having Azriel and Indemnis by my side. and if your wondering what Indemnis means it means innocent in latin, apparently his mother took his name into consideration when she named him, but i love him with all my heart. though i have no love of my life being with them helps fill the void of lonliness that fills my soul when i think of Him. I know that one day that things will be better and that i will kill my Brother Dion once in for all. his life in my hands i will truly take it from him as his harbringer.
With grand lots of Love,
Callista Visconti
Friday, May 6, 2011
Imitation Writing: Anita Blake style
Excerpt:
"I was covered in blood, but it wasn't mine, so it was okay. Not only was it not my blood, but it was all animal blood. If the worst casualties of the night were six chickens and a goat, I could live with it, and so could everyone else. I'd raised seven corpses in one night. It was a record even for me.
I pulled into my driveway at a quarter 'til dawn with the sky still dark and star-filled. I left the Jeep in the driveway, too tired to mess with the garage. It was May, but it felt like April. Spring in St. Louis was usually a two-day even between the end of winter and the beginning of summer. One day you were freezing your ass off and the next day it's be eighty plus. But this year it had been spring, a wet gentle spring.
Except for the high number of zombies I'd raised, it had been a typical night. Everything from raising a civil war soldier for a local historical society to question, a will that needed a final signature, to a son's last confrontation with his abusive mother. I'd been neck deep in lawyers and therapists most of the night. If I heard, "How does that make you feel, Jonathan (or Cathy, or whoever)?" one more time tonight, I'd scream. I did not want to watch one more person "go with his or her feelings" ever. At least with most of the lawyers the bereaved didn't come to the graveside. The court-appointed lawyer would ascertain that the zombies raised had enough cognitive ability to know what they were signing, then he would sign off on the contract as a witness. If the zombie couldn't answer the questions, then no legal signature. The corpse had to be of "sound" ming to sign a legally binding signature. I'd never raised a zombie that couldn't pass the legal definition of soundness, but it happened sometimes. Jamison, a fellow animator at Animator's Inc., had a pair of lawyers come to blows on top of the grave. What fun."
Contents:
-Sarcasm
-Gore (Animal Blood)
-Humor (Towards her job)
Imitation:
Justin stood staring at the man in front of him, face drenched red with anger. He had gotten carried away with murdering the Werewolf in from of him that laid before him in pieces. Blood covered the front of his body bleaching the earth with its blood. Anderson had warned him not to get carried away with the execution, but he didn't seem to follow orders. His job was to execute any rogue creature that went against their laws. Being a vampire only added on to the degree of execution that he could produce. He had tried to do it quick and clean, but his victim had been very loud and verbally abusive towards him. His anger had gotten the best of him and the result lay before him as a large mound of flesh and bones.
"Really Justin, why did you have to make a mess?!" the man yelled.
"Sorry sir, but he ran his mouth to much, and it seems that i have a bad temper" Justin replied calming down.
"I can see that, but that doesn't give you the right to tear up the prison like a piece of meat"
"Sorry, but maybe next time he'll behave and keep his mouth shut" justin smiled.
"I was covered in blood, but it wasn't mine, so it was okay. Not only was it not my blood, but it was all animal blood. If the worst casualties of the night were six chickens and a goat, I could live with it, and so could everyone else. I'd raised seven corpses in one night. It was a record even for me.
I pulled into my driveway at a quarter 'til dawn with the sky still dark and star-filled. I left the Jeep in the driveway, too tired to mess with the garage. It was May, but it felt like April. Spring in St. Louis was usually a two-day even between the end of winter and the beginning of summer. One day you were freezing your ass off and the next day it's be eighty plus. But this year it had been spring, a wet gentle spring.
Except for the high number of zombies I'd raised, it had been a typical night. Everything from raising a civil war soldier for a local historical society to question, a will that needed a final signature, to a son's last confrontation with his abusive mother. I'd been neck deep in lawyers and therapists most of the night. If I heard, "How does that make you feel, Jonathan (or Cathy, or whoever)?" one more time tonight, I'd scream. I did not want to watch one more person "go with his or her feelings" ever. At least with most of the lawyers the bereaved didn't come to the graveside. The court-appointed lawyer would ascertain that the zombies raised had enough cognitive ability to know what they were signing, then he would sign off on the contract as a witness. If the zombie couldn't answer the questions, then no legal signature. The corpse had to be of "sound" ming to sign a legally binding signature. I'd never raised a zombie that couldn't pass the legal definition of soundness, but it happened sometimes. Jamison, a fellow animator at Animator's Inc., had a pair of lawyers come to blows on top of the grave. What fun."
Contents:
-Sarcasm
-Gore (Animal Blood)
-Humor (Towards her job)
Imitation:
Justin stood staring at the man in front of him, face drenched red with anger. He had gotten carried away with murdering the Werewolf in from of him that laid before him in pieces. Blood covered the front of his body bleaching the earth with its blood. Anderson had warned him not to get carried away with the execution, but he didn't seem to follow orders. His job was to execute any rogue creature that went against their laws. Being a vampire only added on to the degree of execution that he could produce. He had tried to do it quick and clean, but his victim had been very loud and verbally abusive towards him. His anger had gotten the best of him and the result lay before him as a large mound of flesh and bones.
"Really Justin, why did you have to make a mess?!" the man yelled.
"Sorry sir, but he ran his mouth to much, and it seems that i have a bad temper" Justin replied calming down.
"I can see that, but that doesn't give you the right to tear up the prison like a piece of meat"
"Sorry, but maybe next time he'll behave and keep his mouth shut" justin smiled.
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