Danse Macabre Lyrics

I found it and just thought they were interesting (From the Graveyard Book)


Rich man, poor man, come away.

Come to dance the Macabre.

Time to work and time to play.

Time to dance the Macabre.

One and all will hear and stay

Come and dance the Macabre.

All must dance the Macabre.

One to leave and one to stay

And all to dance the Macabre.

Now the Lady on the Gray

Leads us in the Macabre


The Fire of Liberation

Following the October spooky trend, I decided to write a story a bit darker than the past. This one is not an easy read, nor is a fun happy story. Hope you enjoy it. 


Explanation- Stalin. Communist Russia. Propganda. NKVD. ‘nuf said.


Time slowed to a creeping pace, each footstep taken was muffled by the worn braided rug in the hallway. I sat transfixed on the doorknob of my apartment. Next to the door lay my suitcase, packed and ready to go at the quickest moment. I heard a knock. Not on my own door, but of the one directly across the hall. Sobbing ensued, and children began to scream, leaving sound waves ringing across my mind.

A body was dragged across the floor, and I could hear the wretched sounds of arms flailing and pounding on the wood, but to no prevail.  I tucked in my legs and sat shivering, encompassing every detail of the brass, scratched, and discolored knob.

The sound of the company outside receded. I was safe for one more night. On the small drab couch, I sat, shaking with fright. Sleep eluded me for so long, but the minute hope of liberation whispered in my ear, telling me to shut my sockets.

A terrible nightmare filled my thoughts. Newspapers drowned me. Media and news flooded my throat. I could only hope to scream, to only accompany the millions of others in a desperate plead.

I awoke, panting on the couch and my shirt was soaked with sweat. I hustled to grab my coat, then proceeded to exit the apartment building, going down the many stairs, as well as vacant rooms on the way down. On the street corner was a newsstand.

“Stalin provides the great Russia with another victory out on the front lines” read the headlines. The voices in my head told me it was a lie, but a lie that would elude retribution from the commoners of Russia. Two blocks I walked to the Newsprinting office. I greeted the secretary and continued to my desk. In a machine like fashion, I took my pencil and brought it to paper, then began writing the most updated news from my notes. “Stalin kills Wife” I had written down. “Wife of Stalin mysteriously disappeared,” I wrote on the paper. My head screamed with anger, but like everything around me, it was filtered.

I had one last line to write. My notes were correct, and so I hazily rewrote what they said verbatim. A long day of filtering to no end, a day of propaganda writing only worsened the state of our country. The clock hands met at 6, and so I left the building. No paycheck of any sort was given to me. I did my work and got my rations in return. My once tight-fitting suit now hung off my body.

We had cabbage for dinner as always, my family and I. They wandered off to the one shared room, and I blew out the candles. The last sentence of my article. It tremored through my thoughts, shook my mind.

I once again resumed my sentry on the couch. I stared at my suitcase to no end.

The night was dark, voided of both light and sound. But then I heard the sound of the NKVD’s footsteps once again creep up the stairs. The last sentence. The last sentence. The last sentence. They grew closer and closer. I streaked to the chest and grabbed the Molotov. The last sentence, once again whisked through my thoughts. The last sentence. I grabbed the lighter, and just then, I heard a knock at the door. I made the concoction, and threw the bottle, along with myself, into the one bedroom and locked the door.

The NKVD stood moments longer, until they burst through the door, only to find no one home. They saw the closed bedroom door. The apartment was hot. One of the secret policemen pushed the door ajar, but only found ashes, atop smoldering remains of corpses. They investigated the apartment and found a single note.

I will not face an injustice to a crime I did not commit.

Below it, in shaky writing read, “Stalin had many political members assassinated who opposed him. Get. Out. whatever way possible”

The police thought nothing of it and left the apartment. They moved to the next door and delivered one deadly knock.

Danse Macabre (Inspired by Camille Saint-Saens)

Hi all! I know that I have like 43000000 broken promises, but sometimes I just lose interest with things, and I got very busy. The bear stories have come to an end, the three that I wrote were enough in themselves, and many seemed to enjoy them. As I have proven to do in the past, I usually get active again once school starts, so here I am!


This story is a bit twisted, and because it is Friday the Thirteenth, I thought it was very fitting.

The premise of this story is based on Saint Saens’ Danse Macabre, my favorite piece of music. Enjoy! LISTEN TO THE SONG ON YOUTUBE IF YOU HAVE NO DONE SO ALREADY!



I clutched onto my mirror, its wooden handle was tightly clasped in my hands, and I would never give it up. I stared at it, I stared beyond it. Inside the small realm of reflection was my own face. Blushed and powdered were my cheeks, and drawn were my eyebrows. I tilted the mirror to look at my wig, made of the finest chestnut hairs, befitting of a princess, as was I.  I turned around to see the grand smile of my Oma and she exclaimed,

“Ohh! My sweet Viktoria, how beautiful you look today!” her eyes glimmered with tears, and I rushed to hug her. The perfume Oma wore was the same she had always worn, from the old bottles of Russian Rose stored in the chest in her room. It was a scent I would always know, and hold on to. As a kid, she would even spritz some on me too.

Together, with arms locked, we walked down through the palace to the ballroom. As we passed through the vast ornamented hallways, decorated with paintings of the past Czars, each one stared at me when I glimpsed upon them. With a rush, I surged forward, yanking Oma along with me. It was then that we entered the ballroom. Chandeliers hung in rows above the wooden floor, embedded in gold. A table at the far end of the room was positioned under the portrait of my father, the czar. Oma pulled on my arm, and so we began to dance, flowing back and forth, arms interlocked. Nothing in the world could make the night more special. I looked intently into the saucer eyes of my Oma, full of dazzlement and light, and giggled. We danced endlessly to the music of the string quartet, stepping lightly, and fluently.


A shot rang out in the room and instantly- everything went black as I felt myself spirally to the floor…

I felt a shimmery hand on my shoulder and looked up to see my grandmother, but something was not right. She had no eyes, no skin, no organs… she was a skeleton. I looked down on my self and realized I could see right through my rib cage.

We were both skeletons. We were both dead.

I gazed at Oma and stared into the socket voids in her face. We locked on each other.

A smell wafted to my nose, or what it would have been, and I indulged in the scent, that of Russain Rose. I clambered to my feet, and grabbed my Oma’s hands, and began to dance.

Almost instantaneously, noise spread through the ballroom, and ahead was a string quartet, skeletons just like me. I heard a sound behind me, and turned to see a man, he wore the royal uniform of a czar and his bones were gray and weathered, unlike the pure white ones that made up Oma and I. He joined in on the dance, and we swayed together.

More and more skeletons joined us, and we gathered and danced together. I just knew who they were, my family. In pairs we paraded the room, laughing and swinging our hands back and forth. Love surrounded us, and magic fizzed and sparkled in the air.

With glee, Oma swung me around, and for a moment I could see her face once more, skin and all.  She tugged at my hand, and we skipped through the palace to my room. I settled into my down, taking off my decadent gown, and placing my tiara on the stand beside the four posted bed. Then with a kiss, she tucked me in. She left the room and returned with one item. A pristine bottle of Russian Rose, and spritzed it on me. Then, she lied down on my side and I fell asleep.


Shrieks filled the palace hall, one single bullet had gone through the heads of the princess and her Oma. Guards raced through the palace, determined on finding the shooter. Dancers streamed out of the room, diplomats, and royal attendants fled in terror. The czar and his wife sat beside each other at the head table, gasping and sobbing all the while. They sat there, embracing each other, and with one last heave, a gust of wind, whistling on its journey, brought the queen the scent of a perfume, Russian Rose.


My Work on TeenInk

Recently I submitted the Grizzlies Part Three, and it was accepted onto the TeenInk Website!!!!!! YAY! PLEASE give it a like and “made me cry” or a “Talented author” I would really appreciate it! Share the link with friends! Let’s try to get this on the front page! Thanks so much, and I hope you can help!





Little Competition?????

Hello all! I wanted to make a competition on what the 5th bear cub’s name will be. Comment your submissions, and I will have a trusted friend pick the best one, the winner will be given a shoutout and featured! Good Luck! The 5th bear cub is a strong willed adventurous cub! His/her gender will be decided on the name. (let’s not assume genders here right? lol) So good luck all! Remember, they are Alaskan Grizzly Bears, so choose a name that fits!

The Grizzlies, part 3

GRAB YOUR TISSUES!!!! Just kidding, no I’m not kidding. This one was, well, harder to write. There were a lot of things that I had to describe through the perspective of a bear cub, and I tried my best. If you need anything clarified, feel free to ask, I really tried painting a large and more realistic story in this one. Also, be sure to look out for commas, they change the inflection of two really important sayings in this installment. The next Grizzlies will most likely come out on Saturday. The one gets pretty emotional and I hope you like it. Since a lot isn’t explained Ill explain some of the harder parts to understand…

Summary- Cub gets sick from a salmon. The mother bear thinks he dies because she doesn’t here his breath anymore, but really his heart is still beating. Humans come along like 30 minutes later and find him (they are park rangers). They bring him to a bear reserve where they feed him and nurse him back to strength. Then they put him in a territory with a black bear cub who is the same age.

Names?? You might realize when reading that the Grizzlies name is Liwanu, Zumi, Allura    and more to come.. But the Black Bear’s name is Cedar… This is because I am trying to say that the Grizzlies are alaskan Kodiac bears, so I gave them Alaskan names. There are also black bears in Alaska, but the bear reserve is in Canada near the border. The black bear name is because black bears like climbing trees, and I thought Cedar was a really nice sounding name… (totally going to be a future cat name) If you remember from the second story Sarov, he is from the Russian Circus so I thought it would only be fitting if his name was Russian. For the next cubs, I will choose one. There will be a competition for the 5th cub though, so keep your eyes out for that.



The grizzlies woke up at dawn, and continued moving West, in the direction of the sun.

“Where are we going?” Liwanu, a strong male cub, asked.

“We are going to a lake! The lake is vast, and full of fish, far away from all the manpeople.” Mother Bear responded. Liwanu’s eyes widened, and he grew excited for such a beauty that would come.

They lumbered on for what seemed like hours until they came to a large river. It was wide but shallow, easy to cross if not for the harsh current.

“We will eat first, then cross.” Mother Bear told her cubs. Mimicking Mother Bear’s movements, the young cubs stood along the edges of the river, swiping in all directions. The river was bountiful with salmon, and many ran right into the paws of the bears.
“I caught one!” Liwanu bragged, followed by distant snarls from his brothers and sisters positioned around the river. Once they had all caught a fish, they went hunkered down in a small circle and ate their fresh kills. Liwanu was entrenched in the wondrous smell of fresh salmon. He had caught a king salmon, one that was larger than all of the ones caught by his siblings. Mother Bear of course caught the largest, it had flopped around until she hooked it with her claw in one practiced maneuver.

After their bellies were full, the bears crossed the river and continued on their way. Dusk was approaching, and so they sought for some type of shelter. Finally, Liwanu found a protected hollow, one that would protect the small bears from the cold of the wind. Their heavy brown coats had not yet grown into the double coats Mother Bear adorned.

Liwanu’s stomach felt tight, as if it had gas in it. He stretched and moved around until it felt better, and dismissed the feeling so that he could fall back to sleep…

The next morning all of the grizzlies got up and began on their long journey once again, following the path away from the rising sun. Its rays cast long shadows on the thick spruce trees, and the world was still quiet. Liwanu’s stomach still felt uncomfortable, but this time, his head was pounding too. Each step he took seemed to draw him downward, and nausea soon followed.

“Liwanu, why are you dragging behind?” his mother inquired, all the way at the head of the small group of wandering bears.

Liwanu began to speak, but no sound came out. His throat was slackened with phlegm, and hurt to swallow. His paws steps became distant, and a small piercing noise interrupted his hearing. The ground in front of him, Mother Bear, and his siblings, became brown and green blurs. Thud Thud Thud His pawsteps seemed to echo through his skull, and as each paw met the ground, a shudder ran through Liwanu’s body. He grew weaker and weaker, until all he saw was blackness. No more sound entered his ears. He collapsed.

Liwanu opened his eyes. He couldn’t hear anything. And his vision was blurry. The blackness called for him. With every breath, his body rattled. It was too difficult to go on, too difficult to breath. Liwanu had never seen death, but the word came to him. Death, darkness

Mother Bear and the other cubs stood beside Liwanu, whining and squealing as the realized what was happening. This was not Mother Bear’s first litter, and not her last. She had experienced a cub dying before, and the death of a cub broke her heart into shards, destroying her from her inside to her outside. She knew the little bear would feel better in death, no pain no worries, instead he would live in an endless hunt near the river, able to fish in his dreams for eternity.

“Rest in peace my cub” she somberly whispered into Liwanu’s ear. She and her cubs lay in silence next to little Liwanu, until the rasping breaths stopped emitting from his body. Wearily, the bears stood up, and continued on their journey, grieving all the way…

Liwanu awoke to rustling beside him. His vision was blurry. Around him the musky yet sweet smell of man wafted. He felt a small paw under his pelt, lifting him off the ground. The world went black once again…

The next several weeks passed quickly. Liwanu would wake up, and his mouth would be met immediately with fish. Then he would drift back into his slumber. All the time, the smell of man continued. With each awakening, Liwanu grew stronger. He began to feel strength flow back in his bones. Soon he would be up for hours at a time, playing around with several balls. He was always watched by the sweet smelling human. Her pelt hair would hang down, and he liked to swat at it. She would scratch behind his ears and rub his stomach.

Liwanu opened his eyes. He was back in the forest!

“Mother Bear? Mother Bear where are you?” he cried. But, she was nowhere. The forest was small too, and nearby a stream flowed. He scanned the other direction to see a large lump of fur, about the same size as himself. It was black, and, bear shaped!

“Hello?” Liwanu greeted. The small cub rose to his paws and look at Liwanu.

“Hi, I’m Cedar, have you seen my Mother Bear? She looks just like me! Well, she’s black, and likes to climb trees, oh and my brothers and sisters too?” He asked nervously.

“The name is Liwanu, and no I haven’t seen your den family. I can’t find mine either. The last thing I remember was feeling sick, and falling asleep.” Liwanu replied.

“The same thing happened to me, it seems as if it’s just the two of us, we should be friends!” Cedar suggested.

“That sounds like a great idea, now let’s go explore our new territory!” Liwanu responded with glee. Together the two of them patrolled the new woods. However, it didn’t take too long, as near the edge of the woods there was a meadow, but past this was metal barrier that the bears couldn’t pass. About the barrier were large black spider webs, but these looked different from the ones Liwanu had seen in the old forest. They soon realized that the territory was closed with no means of escape…

Days passed, every day the stream would become full of salmon, and fresh fruit would fall from the trees to eat. The water in the stream was fresh and cool, and along one side of the territory were caves to make dens in. Cedar and Liwanu played and napped all day, they might’ve lacked family, but they had each other. Liwanu could now rest, in peace.

Late Post- I was delayed!

Hi all! I have a new installment of The Grizzlies. I have decided to make 6 installments. I know that I had previously said I would have only 4-5. But, I decided on 5 cubs… The last installment features the mother bear. The next part of the Grizzlies, this time featuring a male cub named Liwanu. (Whoop I found a bear name generator!!) Also, as of now Mother Bear’s name IS Mother Bear. In the last edition, you will find out what her real name is!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Enjoy, and keep your eyes open for the next edition of, THE GRIZZLIES!!!!!!!!!