My Version of "the Story of Lady Jane"

[whyeonseo]

Hello, fellow MFCers!

 

I am very pleased to be a part of this community! I have so much to say!

But since finals are soon, I don't have the time to write a proper greeting (apologies).

 

Anyway, our literature teacher gave us an assignment to write whatever we want. Seem now, that barely looks like an assignment(o_0). So the obvious thing for me to do was take one of my favorite Mika songs, "Lady Jane" and turn it into a story!

 

Of course, my imagination might have conjured up some things that are different from the original song, or your interpretations, and Mika's first intentions, but I wanted to share my version of Lady Jane with all of the brilliant MFCers from all over the world.

 

Please Enjoy!

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Gnarled branches that stole every sign of life lined the forest boundaries. Cowed by the misshapen trees, itinerants were turned away by the instinctive feeling of dread that loomed over as soon as they set foot in the forest. Some labeled 'brave' and 'courageous' by the local townsfolk often ventured into the forest, enticed by the honor that would feed their crippled souls only for a small period of time, but were soon turned away the moment they discovered the thick underbrushes that did not permit a single beam of sunlight into the forest. None were brave enough to explore further.

 

The eerie atmosphere was more than enough to send chills down the spine of wanderers; they left the forest without little agony or hesitation. Little did that they know that at the very center of the forest, in a lake that its depth can only dared to be assumed from above, dwelled Lady Jane. It was fortunate that the bizarre ambience of the forest precluded any unwanted visitors, for Lady Jane was the most pure form of beauty to have ever walked the planet since the moment of creation. The sole inhabitant of the forest was safely hidden away in her unsightly, somewhat contrary surroundings. Who would ever venture, even to imagine that an object of such poise, grace, and beauty would be lying in a ghastly forest?

 

Lady Jane possessed a most peculiar talent; she, while retaining her sheer perfection, could walk effortlessly on water. What a sight! She glided gracefully on water, her white feet in contrast with the dark body of water that held only the darkest secrets of the universe, her mane that seemed like the only illuminant in the dusky forest barely skimming the surface--Lady Jane was truly an animal of beauty that we could never dare to match. To some, absolute beauty might be the ultimate goal and desire in their lives, but Lady Jane having already possessed this quality; there was only one thing that she desperately longed and dreamt of intensely—love.

 

Lady Jane, compared to her outstanding beauty, did not require much in a lover—it would be more reasonable to say that she could not require much in a lover, for her potential lover would have to arrive at the center of the threatening forest voluntarily, without the acknowledgement that he might attain love from a breathtakingly beautiful creature. Lady Jane could not leave the forest herself, since she was bound to it from since she was born. She could only wait for somebody to discover her.

 

She did find a lover, eventually--a rootless vagabond with fatigued eyes--not a pleasant sight, however she was delighted to welcome anyone that traveled her way. Her heart, spacious with what seemed like perpetual solitude, was open and kind enough to believe that love does not set its roots in physicality. Yes indeed, it did not. It was a peculiar match, the River Saint and the vagabond; but there were no pairs of eyes near to judge the two, deep in love.

 

Lady Jane was eager to show the vagabond her talent. It was a particularly gloomy day; perhaps it was too gloomy for the event to have taken place. If it had been some other day, a day with splendid weather conditions, maybe our story could have finished differently. Lady Jane, an object of anticipation and excitement at the moment, set her quivering foot rather tentatively on the calm surface of the lake. Her lover's eyes intently followed her every movement; her steps, ever so light, like the pond skaters that would gracefully walk on the water after a torrential rainfall. The black mass of water did not even seem hostile that day. It seemed like it was caressing, protecting her delicate feet from something more than perilous. And as if drawn by some arcane force, as if he was struck by a secure belief that the water would be amicable to him as well, the vagabond stood up and took his filthy foot and placed it on the water to follow Lady Jane. As he lifted his other foot also to place it on the water, the vagabond was devoured by the lake. Lady Jane turned around alarmed, in her lover's direction, but it was too late. He was long gone under the surface, already drowning down below.

 

Heavy tears fell guiltily as the years passed by. Lady Jane, the beautiful creature now stained with tears, spent every second drenched in insurmountable sorrow. She could not comprehend the need to stay alive without her lover by her side—every breath she took was a source of undying pain and guilt. Even though her vitality was cut in half by a knife that also penetrated her heart in doing so, she still hadn't implicitly lost hope in a re-encounter with the vagabond—Lady Jane was determined to find him. Convinced that her lover had become a creature of the sea when he was submerged under the frigid water, she made an irrevocable decision—to cut off her feet and jump into the deep herself—for she could not venture underwater with her feet; her porcelain feet repelled water.

 

The rich crimson liquid that oozed out of her ankles, trickling down to her feet, was already soaking the ground around her. She had found a rusty blade that the vagabond had left behind and with that, she cut off her feet from the rest of her body; it was a painful, and a most arduous task—snapping off one's bones with their own hands is not pleasant to say the least. When she finished her amateur amputation she was waist deep in utter anguish. To get rid of the pain surging through her body that started from her legs, and were rapidly proceeding to her abdomen, Lady Jane dived into the lake. The black mass of water seemed to devour the crimson liquid; and as it pitied the deplorable sacrifice, Lady Jane turned into a fish.

 

Even though her soul now inhabited a rather unconventional shell, the peculiarity of the scaled species couldn’t help but succumb to Lady Jane’s inalterable beauty. The scales seemed to possess a mind of its own; iridescent, its colors changing continuously—sometimes cerulean, now violet, and then green as the leaves that awakened spring—even at the absence of sunlight that would kiss them obligingly. The scales now served as the sole illuminant of the river, which were no longer virgin to sunlight since the metamorphosis.

 

Lady Jane, the River Fish’s exquisite complexion, surprisingly, did not allure people—that was the general idea—but rather repelled them. When people come across an object of such tremendous beauty, they conjure a pellucid sphere in their minds, so fragile and undefiled, that they are afraid to even touch it with the lightest of words. Even though they enjoy the myriad of colors that the sphere generously omits, they cultivate a great fear of tainting, or even breaking the sphere. Lady Jane—we do not know if it was against her own will or not—established herself solidly as one of the spheres in people’s hearts. Afraid that they might tear that fine film of fantasy, to them, Lady Jane was inapproachable—all were extremely tentative to get attached to an animal of beauty that they could never match.

 

But, as every situation turns out to be, she was met with a man that passionately supported the contrary. When some are afraid even to touch the lucent sphere, there are people who seek to conquer it, to uncover the secret formula of its unconquerable beauty, although they have realized, by prior experience, that the radiance of it will vanish as soon as violence comes into view, they cannot help capitulate to their egocentric interests and slowly slip into the roads of destruction. There was a man exactly, if not more, like this. A member of a state from a faraway land that harshly ordered people to fulfill his, and only his requirements. He ordered his men to get Lady Jane’s head on his plate; and yes, his loyal servants carried out the task faithfully. They killed little Lady Jane.

 

Perhaps the sense of emptiness that crawled into his stomach along with the sad remains of Lady Jane was not because of the absence of beauty, both its physical or mental form of it, but by the words of an emperor that mercilessly peeled off the husks of his vanity. The emperor was the only man who wouldn’t understand—even though that the truculent gastronome thought that he has finally got his prize, he was burying the existence of another fish in oblivion. Lady Jane’s lover, the lonely vagabond was still swimming through the frigid ocean with a desperate stare—looking for Lady Jane.

[njloverqoj]

Hello, fellow MFCers!

 

I am very pleased to be a part of this community! I have so much to say!

But since finals are soon, I don't have the time to write a proper greeting (apologies).

 

Anyway, our literature teacher gave us an assignment to write whatever we want. Seem now, that barely looks like an assignment(o_0). So the obvious thing for me to do was take one of my favorite Mika songs, "Lady Jane" and turn it into a story!

 

Of course, my imagination might have conjured up some things that are different from the original song, or your interpretations, and Mika's first intentions, but I wanted to share my version of Lady Jane with all of the brilliant MFCers from all over the world.

 

Please Enjoy!

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Gnarled branches that stole every sign of life lined the forest boundaries. Cowed by the misshapen trees, itinerants were turned away by the instinctive feeling of dread that loomed over as soon as they set foot in the forest. Some labeled 'brave' and 'courageous' by the local townsfolk often ventured into the forest, enticed by the honor that would feed their crippled souls only for a small period of time, but were soon turned away the moment they discovered the thick underbrushes that did not permit a single beam of sunlight into the forest. None were brave enough to explore further.

 

The eerie atmosphere was more than enough to send chills down the spine of wanderers; they left the forest without little agony or hesitation. Little did that they know that at the very center of the forest, in a lake that its depth can only dared to be assumed from above, dwelled Lady Jane. It was fortunate that the bizarre ambience of the forest precluded any unwanted visitors, for Lady Jane was the most pure form of beauty to have ever walked the planet since the moment of creation. The sole inhabitant of the forest was safely hidden away in her unsightly, somewhat contrary surroundings. Who would ever venture, even to imagine that an object of such poise, grace, and beauty would be lying in a ghastly forest?

 

Lady Jane possessed a most peculiar talent; she, while retaining her sheer perfection, could walk effortlessly on water. What a sight! She glided gracefully on water, her white feet in contrast with the dark body of water that held only the darkest secrets of the universe, her mane that seemed like the only illuminant in the dusky forest barely skimming the surface--Lady Jane was truly an animal of beauty that we could never dare to match. To some, absolute beauty might be the ultimate goal and desire in their lives, but Lady Jane having already possessed this quality; there was only one thing that she desperately longed and dreamt of intensely—love.

 

Lady Jane, compared to her outstanding beauty, did not require much in a lover—it would be more reasonable to say that she could not require much in a lover, for her potential lover would have to arrive at the center of the threatening forest voluntarily, without the acknowledgement that he might attain love from a breathtakingly beautiful creature. Lady Jane could not leave the forest herself, since she was bound to it from since she was born. She could only wait for somebody to discover her.

 

She did find a lover, eventually--a rootless vagabond with fatigued eyes--not a pleasant sight, however she was delighted to welcome anyone that traveled her way. Her heart, spacious with what seemed like perpetual solitude, was open and kind enough to believe that love does not set its roots in physicality. Yes indeed, it did not. It was a peculiar match, the River Saint and the vagabond; but there were no pairs of eyes near to judge the two, deep in love.

 

Lady Jane was eager to show the vagabond her talent. It was a particularly gloomy day; perhaps it was too gloomy for the event to have taken place. If it had been some other day, a day with splendid weather conditions, maybe our story could have finished differently. Lady Jane, an object of anticipation and excitement at the moment, set her quivering foot rather tentatively on the calm surface of the lake. Her lover's eyes intently followed her every movement; her steps, ever so light, like the pond skaters that would gracefully walk on the water after a torrential rainfall. The black mass of water did not even seem hostile that day. It seemed like it was caressing, protecting her delicate feet from something more than perilous. And as if drawn by some arcane force, as if he was struck by a secure belief that the water would be amicable to him as well, the vagabond stood up and took his filthy foot and placed it on the water to follow Lady Jane. As he lifted his other foot also to place it on the water, the vagabond was devoured by the lake. Lady Jane turned around alarmed, in her lover's direction, but it was too late. He was long gone under the surface, already drowning down below.

 

Heavy tears fell guiltily as the years passed by. Lady Jane, the beautiful creature now stained with tears, spent every second drenched in insurmountable sorrow. She could not comprehend the need to stay alive without her lover by her side—every breath she took was a source of undying pain and guilt. Even though her vitality was cut in half by a knife that also penetrated her heart in doing so, she still hadn't implicitly lost hope in a re-encounter with the vagabond—Lady Jane was determined to find him. Convinced that her lover had become a creature of the sea when he was submerged under the frigid water, she made an irrevocable decision—to cut off her feet and jump into the deep herself—for she could not venture underwater with her feet; her porcelain feet repelled water.

 

The rich crimson liquid that oozed out of her ankles, trickling down to her feet, was already soaking the ground around her. She had found a rusty blade that the vagabond had left behind and with that, she cut off her feet from the rest of her body; it was a painful, and a most arduous task—snapping off one's bones with their own hands is not pleasant to say the least. When she finished her amateur amputation she was waist deep in utter anguish. To get rid of the pain surging through her body that started from her legs, and were rapidly proceeding to her abdomen, Lady Jane dived into the lake. The black mass of water seemed to devour the crimson liquid; and as it pitied the deplorable sacrifice, Lady Jane turned into a fish.

 

Even though her soul now inhabited a rather unconventional shell, the peculiarity of the scaled species couldn’t help but succumb to Lady Jane’s inalterable beauty. The scales seemed to possess a mind of its own; iridescent, its colors changing continuously—sometimes cerulean, now violet, and then green as the leaves that awakened spring—even at the absence of sunlight that would kiss them obligingly. The scales now served as the sole illuminant of the river, which were no longer virgin to sunlight since the metamorphosis.

 

Lady Jane, the River Fish’s exquisite complexion, surprisingly, did not allure people—that was the general idea—but rather repelled them. When people come across an object of such tremendous beauty, they conjure a pellucid sphere in their minds, so fragile and undefiled, that they are afraid to even touch it with the lightest of words. Even though they enjoy the myriad of colors that the sphere generously omits, they cultivate a great fear of tainting, or even breaking the sphere. Lady Jane—we do not know if it was against her own will or not—established herself solidly as one of the spheres in people’s hearts. Afraid that they might tear that fine film of fantasy, to them, Lady Jane was inapproachable—all were extremely tentative to get attached to an animal of beauty that they could never match.

 

But, as every situation turns out to be, she was met with a man that passionately supported the contrary. When some are afraid even to touch the lucent sphere, there are people who seek to conquer it, to uncover the secret formula of its unconquerable beauty, although they have realized, by prior experience, that the radiance of it will vanish as soon as violence comes into view, they cannot help capitulate to their egocentric interests and slowly slip into the roads of destruction. There was a man exactly, if not more, like this. A member of a state from a faraway land that harshly ordered people to fulfill his, and only his requirements. He ordered his men to get Lady Jane’s head on his plate; and yes, his loyal servants carried out the task faithfully. They killed little Lady Jane.

 

Perhaps the sense of emptiness that crawled into his stomach along with the sad remains of Lady Jane was not because of the absence of beauty, both its physical or mental form of it, but by the words of an emperor that mercilessly peeled off the husks of his vanity. The emperor was the only man who wouldn’t understand—even though that the truculent gastronome thought that he has finally got his prize, he was burying the existence of another fish in oblivion. Lady Jane’s lover, the lonely vagabond was still swimming through the frigid ocean with a desperate stare—looking for Lady Jane.

 

That...was......AMAZING!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Great job! and to the MFC!!!

[EmmaImogen]

Hello, fellow MFCers!

 

I am very pleased to be a part of this community! I have so much to say!

But since finals are soon, I don't have the time to write a proper greeting (apologies).

 

Anyway, our literature teacher gave us an assignment to write whatever we want. Seem now, that barely looks like an assignment(o_0). So the obvious thing for me to do was take one of my favorite Mika songs, "Lady Jane" and turn it into a story!

 

Of course, my imagination might have conjured up some things that are different from the original song, or your interpretations, and Mika's first intentions, but I wanted to share my version of Lady Jane with all of the brilliant MFCers from all over the world.

 

Please Enjoy!

 

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

 

Gnarled branches that stole every sign of life lined the forest boundaries. Cowed by the misshapen trees, itinerants were turned away by the instinctive feeling of dread that loomed over as soon as they set foot in the forest. Some labeled 'brave' and 'courageous' by the local townsfolk often ventured into the forest, enticed by the honor that would feed their crippled souls only for a small period of time, but were soon turned away the moment they discovered the thick underbrushes that did not permit a single beam of sunlight into the forest. None were brave enough to explore further.

 

The eerie atmosphere was more than enough to send chills down the spine of wanderers; they left the forest without little agony or hesitation. Little did that they know that at the very center of the forest, in a lake that its depth can only dared to be assumed from above, dwelled Lady Jane. It was fortunate that the bizarre ambience of the forest precluded any unwanted visitors, for Lady Jane was the most pure form of beauty to have ever walked the planet since the moment of creation. The sole inhabitant of the forest was safely hidden away in her unsightly, somewhat contrary surroundings. Who would ever venture, even to imagine that an object of such poise, grace, and beauty would be lying in a ghastly forest?

 

Lady Jane possessed a most peculiar talent; she, while retaining her sheer perfection, could walk effortlessly on water. What a sight! She glided gracefully on water, her white feet in contrast with the dark body of water that held only the darkest secrets of the universe, her mane that seemed like the only illuminant in the dusky forest barely skimming the surface--Lady Jane was truly an animal of beauty that we could never dare to match. To some, absolute beauty might be the ultimate goal and desire in their lives, but Lady Jane having already possessed this quality; there was only one thing that she desperately longed and dreamt of intensely—love.

 

Lady Jane, compared to her outstanding beauty, did not require much in a lover—it would be more reasonable to say that she could not require much in a lover, for her potential lover would have to arrive at the center of the threatening forest voluntarily, without the acknowledgement that he might attain love from a breathtakingly beautiful creature. Lady Jane could not leave the forest herself, since she was bound to it from since she was born. She could only wait for somebody to discover her.

 

She did find a lover, eventually--a rootless vagabond with fatigued eyes--not a pleasant sight, however she was delighted to welcome anyone that traveled her way. Her heart, spacious with what seemed like perpetual solitude, was open and kind enough to believe that love does not set its roots in physicality. Yes indeed, it did not. It was a peculiar match, the River Saint and the vagabond; but there were no pairs of eyes near to judge the two, deep in love.

 

Lady Jane was eager to show the vagabond her talent. It was a particularly gloomy day; perhaps it was too gloomy for the event to have taken place. If it had been some other day, a day with splendid weather conditions, maybe our story could have finished differently. Lady Jane, an object of anticipation and excitement at the moment, set her quivering foot rather tentatively on the calm surface of the lake. Her lover's eyes intently followed her every movement; her steps, ever so light, like the pond skaters that would gracefully walk on the water after a torrential rainfall. The black mass of water did not even seem hostile that day. It seemed like it was caressing, protecting her delicate feet from something more than perilous. And as if drawn by some arcane force, as if he was struck by a secure belief that the water would be amicable to him as well, the vagabond stood up and took his filthy foot and placed it on the water to follow Lady Jane. As he lifted his other foot also to place it on the water, the vagabond was devoured by the lake. Lady Jane turned around alarmed, in her lover's direction, but it was too late. He was long gone under the surface, already drowning down below.

 

Heavy tears fell guiltily as the years passed by. Lady Jane, the beautiful creature now stained with tears, spent every second drenched in insurmountable sorrow. She could not comprehend the need to stay alive without her lover by her side—every breath she took was a source of undying pain and guilt. Even though her vitality was cut in half by a knife that also penetrated her heart in doing so, she still hadn't implicitly lost hope in a re-encounter with the vagabond—Lady Jane was determined to find him. Convinced that her lover had become a creature of the sea when he was submerged under the frigid water, she made an irrevocable decision—to cut off her feet and jump into the deep herself—for she could not venture underwater with her feet; her porcelain feet repelled water.

 

The rich crimson liquid that oozed out of her ankles, trickling down to her feet, was already soaking the ground around her. She had found a rusty blade that the vagabond had left behind and with that, she cut off her feet from the rest of her body; it was a painful, and a most arduous task—snapping off one's bones with their own hands is not pleasant to say the least. When she finished her amateur amputation she was waist deep in utter anguish. To get rid of the pain surging through her body that started from her legs, and were rapidly proceeding to her abdomen, Lady Jane dived into the lake. The black mass of water seemed to devour the crimson liquid; and as it pitied the deplorable sacrifice, Lady Jane turned into a fish.

 

Even though her soul now inhabited a rather unconventional shell, the peculiarity of the scaled species couldn’t help but succumb to Lady Jane’s inalterable beauty. The scales seemed to possess a mind of its own; iridescent, its colors changing continuously—sometimes cerulean, now violet, and then green as the leaves that awakened spring—even at the absence of sunlight that would kiss them obligingly. The scales now served as the sole illuminant of the river, which were no longer virgin to sunlight since the metamorphosis.

 

Lady Jane, the River Fish’s exquisite complexion, surprisingly, did not allure people—that was the general idea—but rather repelled them. When people come across an object of such tremendous beauty, they conjure a pellucid sphere in their minds, so fragile and undefiled, that they are afraid to even touch it with the lightest of words. Even though they enjoy the myriad of colors that the sphere generously omits, they cultivate a great fear of tainting, or even breaking the sphere. Lady Jane—we do not know if it was against her own will or not—established herself solidly as one of the spheres in people’s hearts. Afraid that they might tear that fine film of fantasy, to them, Lady Jane was inapproachable—all were extremely tentative to get attached to an animal of beauty that they could never match.

 

But, as every situation turns out to be, she was met with a man that passionately supported the contrary. When some are afraid even to touch the lucent sphere, there are people who seek to conquer it, to uncover the secret formula of its unconquerable beauty, although they have realized, by prior experience, that the radiance of it will vanish as soon as violence comes into view, they cannot help capitulate to their egocentric interests and slowly slip into the roads of destruction. There was a man exactly, if not more, like this. A member of a state from a faraway land that harshly ordered people to fulfill his, and only his requirements. He ordered his men to get Lady Jane’s head on his plate; and yes, his loyal servants carried out the task faithfully. They killed little Lady Jane.

 

Perhaps the sense of emptiness that crawled into his stomach along with the sad remains of Lady Jane was not because of the absence of beauty, both its physical or mental form of it, but by the words of an emperor that mercilessly peeled off the husks of his vanity. The emperor was the only man who wouldn’t understand—even though that the truculent gastronome thought that he has finally got his prize, he was burying the existence of another fish in oblivion. Lady Jane’s lover, the lonely vagabond was still swimming through the frigid ocean with a desperate stare—looking for Lady Jane.

 

I love it! It's beautiful!

 

Welcome to the MFC!