Hi everyone,my name is xeyah and i am also on twitter(http://twitter.com/xeyah_seanblog) and on facebook( www.facebook.com/j.xeyah ) .to know more about me you can add me on facebook.

My date of birth is September 2,1995.

You can also call me by my nicknames which are – xee,z,xia,yuka,Anaya,Jyoti,june,hourglass.

i write much about dark romance themes that include themes ranging from betrayal to sex and seduction.totally into its realms and enjoy reading your fanfiction and reviews.

laurel k. hamilton, lord byron, percy bysshe shelley , samuel taylor coleridge , shakespeare are the writers/poets i admire a lot!

also writing a novel series named STYGIAN BLACKS with 5 parts

here is the preface part of the first part.the title of this part is STYGIAN BLACKS: THE RED VOIDS...

BROKEN DREAMS

“under the shade of a maple tree…..

in happier times.. I remember.. we used to sit, trying to find out what does eternality and love means………..

but now neither is your presence nor those beautiful coloured leaves which you used to run over my cheeks ………..the only thing which is left is my broken heart , which used to be with you………secured and warm with yours…the soulless and dried branches of that same hapless tree symbolize- me……me , the one who’s ready to be no more for the sake of his love . I try to fade these memories out as I walk alone in the stygian land of my broken dreams……………but would I be able to……………..?”

PREFACE

In a far off place , away from those beautiful meadows and forests , I was standing in a dark cavern , staring stupidly and innocently at the walls of that dark enclosure decorated with cobwebs. The silence of that place echoed in my mind , but that quietness ...I know won’t be so long to me.

With that same stupid and innocent gesture again, my eyes caught the sight of a bat – a bat … maybe the evidence of the horror or a pleasing sensation it was going to witness , including me.

With tears in my eyes now , I stepped forward , but hesitant to move in any direction , I closed my fists and ran my fingers on the skin of my right forearm , near the point where my wrist-line ended. The blood , stained my fingers and curiously made a flow , as if it prepared itself for whatever was coming for me . My eyes , blinked and then completely lost their consciousness, urging me to do the same too . But , at that same very moment , I felt the touch of something very cold , enough to shiver my whole body .

This sensation forced my eyes to open and as they struggled themselves to keep up , his red irises were staring mine . He didn’t uttered a word out of his mouth , but the extraordinary smile on his face was enough to help me guess for what he was there . With no patience, he pulled me more closer to him. His left hand round my waist and the palm of his right hand coordinating with my left-hand palm , prevented me from making any movement in myself . His eyes were still figuring out my powerless body.

Was that his lust? Or the end of my life ? These questions , haunting me second by second , got the hint of their answers as he kissed my throat. His kissing gained momentum when his lips crushed mine. But the fact that there was not a single percent in my soul which wanted him to stop of what he was doing , I began kissing him too.

The way his lips touched mine , made me sure of the point that he was not a thousand pace near of getting over. But this point wasn’t bothering me anymore. His touch provided an unusual satisfaction for me – the type which I hadn’t experienced before.

I don’t know after what period of time his grip loosened and he moved some steps away from me. And the moment the link between our bodies broke , I fell on my knees. There was no amount of energy left in me which could support myself . He as much as I could see with my eyes , faded in front of me and only I could see was a black smoke – the smoke or the selfless proof of his disappearance. Ready to lose the battle of mortality , I……… for my last moment , reached for my pocket knot case and disclosing it took out a ring hooked in a withered tulip – the tulip bearing both the burden of its worn-out life and my soul.