Ryan Elyse Morgan

[Ryan Elyse Morgan]

THIS LIFE HASN'T TURNED OUT
QUITE THE WAY I WANT IT TO BE

^{» Your Alias; Fionn (pronounced 'Fen')
» Age: Sixteen
» Years Role playing: About a year by now
» Random Fact about yourself: I have to look after 3 children 5 days a week. I hate children.}

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I WANT A BRAND NEW HOUSE
ON AN EPISODE OF CRIBS

<sup>» First Name; Ryan
» Middle Name: Elyse
» Last Name: Morgan
» Nickname(s): Ry, Anna, Ellie, Morgy, Remy.

»Age: Seventeen
»Gender: Female
»Sexual Orientation: Straight</sup>

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I WANT A NEW TOUR BUS
FULL OF OLD GUITARS

<sup>» Face Claim: Megan Fox

» Height: 5'8
» Weight: 106lbs

» Natural hair Color: Dark brown
» Current hair Color: Dark brown
» Eye Color: A startlingly bright blue

» Birthmarks: Small freckle-like spot on the back of her neck.
» Scars: N/A
» Distinguishing Features: Several tattoos.

» Tattoos: Text - on her right hip 'we will all laugh at gilded butterflies', and left side of her back down to the bottom of her ribs 'there once was a little girl who never knew love until a boy broke her heart'. Crescent moon and star on the inside of her right leg, above her ankle. Random design on the inside of her left wrist.
» Piercings: Just ear lobes.</sup>

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MY OWN STAR
ON HOLLYWOOD BOULEVARD

» Likes:

• Coffee
  
• Being bossy
  
• Singing
  
• Dancing
  
• Acting
  
• Writing music
  
• Being able to read music
  
• Cotton candy
  
• Carnivals
  
• Nature
  
• Reading
  
• Nights out with the girls
  
• Nights in with ice cream and a good film
  
• Candles
  
• Praise
  
• Walking in the rain

» Dislikes:

• Being ordered around
  
• Harsh tones
  
• Sappy guys
  
• How everything has a happy ending
  
• White wine
  
• Dogs
  
• Wearing flat shoes
  
• Being made to 'cover up'
  
• Her foster brother
  
• Tea
  
• Chocolate
  
• Eggs
  
• Fire
  
• Smoking
  
• Yellow
  
• Hot nights

» Bad Habits:

• Chews her lip
  
• Twirls her hair
  
• Is immediately defensive meeting new people
  
• Sings along with the radio
  
• Cleans too much (OCD)
  
• Criticizes everything

» Random Habits:

• Twirls around in circles when she's bored
  
• Clicks with her tongue when everything goes quiet
  
• Folds over the top of her page in a book so she doesn't lose her place

» Secrets: She killed her mother and father. And it wasn't an accident.

» Random Fact: She tends to have a very hot temper, especially when she hasn't taken her pills.

» Favorite Smells: Mown grass, earth after it rains, lilies, bleach, salt water, black-currants, paper hot from the printer/photocopier.
» Favorite Movies: Any chick flick, rom-com or thriller. She's not a fan of action/adventure films.
» Favorite Foods: Marshmallows
» Favorite Words: 'Seriously?' and 'Bugger.'
» Favorite Colors: Light blue, pink, red and black.

» Hobbies: Singing, acting, dancing, reading, tormenting her foster brother.

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I'M GONNA TRADE THIS LIFE
FOR FORTUNE AND FAME

<sup>» Parents:
Miranda Moorcroft´´ 36´´ Mother´´ Deceased
Paul Moorcroft´´ 41´´ Father´´ Deceased

Kirsten Morgan´´ 38´´ Foster Mother´´ Accountant
Nicholas Morgan II´´ 43´´ Foster Father´´ Lawyer

» Siblings:
Richard Taylor Morgan´´ Eighteen´´ Foster Brother´´ Student [Politics]

» Good Memory: First meeting the family that would take her in for good.
» Bad Memory: That night, back when she was ten years old.
» Random Memory: Being in a small, white room with nothing to do but talk to a stuffed animal.

» History: Ryan Elyse was born to Miranda and Paul Moorcroft at quite an early stage in their relationship. They were still getting to know each other, and had been married only seven months before she was born. She was a surprise, at first, when they were off on their honeymoon and Miranda came from the bathroom, white-faced and barely remembering to breathe.

However, when she was born, two weeks earlier than she should have been, on the 3rd of February, Miranda and Paul seemed to be nothing but the most doting and loving parents a child could ask for.

She had anything her heart desired, though she could never vocalise these things until she was 10 months old, when she learned to say 'Yes', 'No' and 'More' even before 'Mommy' and 'Daddy'.

At five years old, it was hardly a miracle to find out that the perfect family wasn't as perfect as they made out to be. Around two months after her fifth birthday was the first 'encounter'.

In the dead of night, her parents snuck into her room and shook her awake. They took her into their room and proceeded to do things to her that she shouldn't have encountered until, say, twenty years later, and then made her do the same. Children are impressionable at that age. They learn right from wrong by following their parents' footsteps.

This continued for five long years, and all three acted as if nothing was wrong, though one of them didn't KNOW it was wrong.

One day, though, Ryan just snapped. She stayed awake when she was sent to bed, and she snuck up to her parents room just half an hour before she knew they'd come down for her. Once there, she lit a match, and held it to the bed sheets. They ignited immediately, and Ryan ran back into her room, lying in bed pretending to sleep before 'waking up' to her mother and father's screams.

Running out of the house, tears streaming down her face, a neighbour held her close as the sight of two burning people was seen through the bedroom window from the lawn. Despite the emergency, it took the Fire Service nearly an hour to reach the house, by which time the people inside the house were well and truly burned to cinders, as was the whole third floor of the house.

For a few weeks, while the police and everyone else searched through the house for possible causes, Ryan stayed with her neighbours. After that, though, her belongings were packed, and she was sent to a foster home.

There, she started to have violent fits that started whenever she felt a rush of strong emotion (generally only negative), and she was prescribed pills by the doctor.

She still has to take these, and these are the reason that so many families sent her back to the Home. They couldn't deal with her when she refused to take them.

Now, at seventeen years old, Ryan knows that it's important to take her pills, though she tries not to take them so much, in a bid to wean herself off them. She also has a new foster family, whose name she has taken. This was also a ploy to become a new person. Who wants to be associated with 'The Angel of Death'?</sup>

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HEY, HEY
I WANNA BE A ROCKSTAR

» Sample Post:

Magdalena didn't know anything about this house other than that people liked to stay well clear of it. She hadn't counted the rooms, or heard any of the goings on downstairs, and so saw nothing mysterious about the house at all. Haunted. Yeah, right. There were no such things as ghosts, ghouls, spooks or monsters. It was all a load of hogwash made up by superstitious or malicious people that didn't like the owners of the house.

Her hands stilled on the piano for a second as two faintly flickering orbs of light circled her hands. Slowly, she drew her hands away, and stood up from the piano. Trying to be as silent as she could, she backed away from the instrument, all rationality out of the grimy window. In a trembling voice, she asked a simple question of the lights that seemed more than content to follow her. "What do you want of me?" Her hands were behind her, blindly feeling her way away from the phenomenon. However, she hadn't accounted for the trunk on the floor that was too low down for her hands to feel. The dark wooden chest upended her, and she landed inside it with a loud thud, as the lid was open. She was sure it had been closed when she came in.

Her hands shook as she stood up, and her voice trembled even more. "I have done nothing wrong." She claimed. "Leave me alone!" Suddenly angered, she swatted at the spherical light sources. They dodged her hand, and she tried again. This time, her hand connected with one of the orbs. Wait... Connected? Light wasn't solid!! She looked more closely at the thing that had frightened her so much. Hm. They were no more than a pair of glow-worms.

Laughing at herself, and shaking her head, she strode back to the piano, now no longer afraid of making a noise. Haunted. Huh. Just goes to show how subjective some people can be. She laughed again as she sat on the stool, still amused at how easy it had been to scare her. This time, though, her merriment was abruptly stopped as a clearly deeper and more malevolent laugh reverberated round the large storage room. Magdalena gulped and took a deep breath. An echo, that was all. A distorted one, because of all the boxes and stuff, but still only an echo. Nothing to be scared of. Nothing. There was nothing in this house that could do her any harm. Nothing, and no-one.

So, of course, when Magdalena was part way through another tune and then stopped by a voice, Magdalena jumped up, upsetting the piano stool violently enough that the noise it made echoed round the room, and the cushion split from the wooden frame, revealing pages and pages of fading script and music. If Magdalena wasn't so petrified, she would have noticed it. "Get out of my house!" There was no one place that the voice could be coming from, and Magdalena looked around, bewildered, expecting there to be an elaborate sound system installed in the room, just to prank people like her. Nothing. Except dark shadows. Dark shadows in every corner of the room that now seemed more prominent and threatening than ever before.

"The lights. That's all it is. Bad lighting." Magdalena told herself, muttering in Swedish to calm herself down. "More light." This short phrase was in English, and it conveyed exactly what she needed. She wasn't going to get it, though, unless she did something about it herself. Doing the only thing she could think of, she dismissed the voice as the imagination of an over-creative young teen, and crossed over to the small window. Using her sleeve, she attempted to wipe away some of the grime and dirt that had accumulated in the centuries. It was to no avail, though, as all that happened was that her shirt sleeve turned a greying, filthy colour.

Turning slowly, she braced herself, thinking she would see something frightening. She was right. Despite having braced herself, Magdalena screamed, and tried to find a way out. She was surrounded by people. Ethereal people. Ghosts, premonitions, paranormal entities, whatever you wanted to call them. They were circling around her, hungry looks in their eyes. Their lips sneered at her, whispering to each other, things she couldn't understand. She spun as they did, the opposite way, looking at all the faces, and their outfits. Some were wearing what looked to be chef's whites, and were wielding carving knives. Some were wearing doctors outfits, some wearing lab coats, and some, the scariest of them, looked like patients. But this wasn't a hospital, was it? It was... An asylum. It must have been. The crazy glint in their eyes, the shuffling gait, the nonsensical muttering.... That wasn't the only thing that happened here, though, was it? Not with all the stitched up cuts, missing limbs and gaping wounds.

The doctor types experimented on them, right? She asked herself, panicking as the circle grew smaller, and closer to her. They weren't real, they couldn't hurt her, right? Hesitantly, she reached out to touch one of the apparitions. She hastily withdrew her hand, though, as it hissed vehemently. "What shall we do with it?" Magdalena's head whipped around to locate the one that had spoken. It was a patient, or she assumed so from the way she was dressed. She looked to be about Magdalena's age, or a little older. Her hair was brown and ratty, or it had been in her past life. Her teeth were stained and uneven, and she was missing her left hand. Her formerly white nightdress was splashed with blood, and fouled with vomit, faeces and urine. She grinned at Magdalena, and the frightened pianist shuddered and backed away.

Stopping suddenly, she remembered that there were spirits at her every turn. "Fillet her. Turn her into prime beef. Sell her at the market."

A leering voice came from her left, the sound of a knife whipping through the air as it punctuated the sentences. Magdalena found her voice, then, and yelled out, hoping that she had been wrong in her assumption that there was no other living entity in the house. "Help me!! Somebody, please!" What she didn't know was that she was standing in front of a thin plywood board covering a chute that used to house a dumb waiter. That had long since decayed, though, and so it was an empty tunnel that magnified sound, even through that thin board.

"There's no-one here to help you, little girl." This claim came from a man with a greying beard and an even worse smile than the girl had had. The beard tickled the top of his pot belly, and his yellow and ridged fingernails looked like claws as he reached out his hands to her. She flinched involuntarily, but didn't dare move away. Anyway, they weren't real, they couldn't hurt her!!

The man withdrew his hands, and Magdalena began to look optimistic. That was the wrong thing to do, though, as the man was just readying himself to speak again. "No-one here but you, us, and the Master." He cackled, his fingers drumming on his bloated stomach. "He'll be here soon. You'll become one of us." The specters took up the chant 'One of us', and one by one they showed just how they had died. All in gruesome and unthinkable ways, but Magdalena was drawn to two bloody chasms in particular. The first belonged to the man that had last spoken. He had parted his long greying beard, and behind it, there was a gaping hole in his chest, and it was empty. He was devoid of a heart. The second was infinitely more gruesome in its demonstration. He was a fairly young boy, in his day, perhaps 21 or 22. He bowed to Magdalena, but rather than raising his cap, for he had none, he lifted off the top of his skull. There, where there should have been a lump of grey matter, there was nothing. Nothing but air.

Screaming without realizing, Magdalena tensed every muscle in her body as the ghastly gang drew slowly and slowly further forward, closer and closer to her. It was wishful thinking, perhaps, when she heard footsteps that she thought she would be saved. "Good evening, my friends, and welcome to the show." A voice boomed. It seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere all at the same time and again, Magdalena looked around, bewildered. The ghosts, if that's what they were, stopped, though, and for that she was thankful. "Sh-Sh-Show? What show?" She stuttered, looking around at the faces for an answer. They revealed nothing. Their faces blank canvases, they all turned to the spot where the amassed shadows were darkest.

From there, Magdalena saw a pair of red eyes. Nothing more, nothing less. She could think of nothing that could explain this, save, perhaps, a nightmare that she hoped to awake from soon. The shadows flowed into the centre of the room, and began to slowly take shape. The shape of a man. The red eyes were gone now, and the man that stepped towards the large group looked friendly. In his late thirties or early forties, he was well-groomed and looked to be quite wealthy, though his attire was dated, to say the least.

Shuffling forward, not daring to meet The Master's eye, one of the ghouls produced a crisp white lab coat from the chest that Magdalena had fallen into what seemed like a lifetime ago. "We were just going to scare her, Master. We wouldn't touch without your permission. She is yours. All yours." A voice grovelled, but Magdalena didn't look at them. This man, this shadow, this entity, whatever he was, intrigued her. Did he do all of this? How could someone so deranged look so normal?

Checking his pockets, the man nodded. "I'm sure you didn't touch her, Albert. Because if you did.... You know what happens, don't you?" He warned, his voice nothing like how it had been before, though it now held an intimidating tone that made Magdalena wince. The crowd parted suddenly, and huddled in two groups behind her, muttering to themselves so she couldn't tell what they were saying.

The man stepped forward, two quick strides placing him right in front of her, just a few feet away. Calmly, he looked her up and down, and pulled out a roll of fabric. Unrolling it, Magdalena saw that it housed medical equipment, all of which looked to have been freshly sharpened. Her pulse raced, but she looked straight at the man while her mind was racing. Could she get to the door in time? Was there a trapdoor?

Her exits were soon foiled, though, as boxes suddenly catapulted themselves around the room, some landing in the middle of the floor, and some by the door. It would take tremendous force to open either door. "Don't worry, this won't hurt a bit." He smiled, genially. She didn't believe him. She saw evil in his eyes, and spite in his smile. Whirling around quickly, Magdalena ran through a gap that had appeared between her and the group of villains. Racing through the room, she heard chattering, and footsteps that were quicker than her own. Darting around, taking more turns than she'd be able to remember, she hid behind a large stack of boxes, whimpering and covering her mouth with her hand. All that she had never dreamed could happen was happening, and it was worse than she had ever imagined!

CRASH! THUD! Peeking around the boxes, she was rewarded with the sight of towers of boxes toppling to the floor as if they were empty. The noises said that they weren't, and that served to frighten her even more. The noises got closer and closer until she just HAD to run. Standing up, she revealed her whereabouts, but she didn't care any more, she just had to get out! That was easier done than said, surprisingly.

Magdalena lurched forward after narrowly avoiding falling over a box, and stepped heavily onto her right foot and fell straight through the decayed floor which showered her with rotting wood as she fell. Twisting in midair, Magdalena landed on her back, which knocked the wind out of her. For the second time in her life, Magdalena turned her face and blocked it with her arms in a cross over her face. The wood deflected, for the most part, off her arms and hands, but a few vicious pieces made their way to her slightly exposed cheek. She cried out as the splinters embedded in her cheek, but lowered her arms, pushing herself up.

Bare seconds later, the arrival barely registering, Magdalena was pinned to the floor by a huge shapeless shadow with blazing red eyes. Growling fiercely at her, the thing tore at her clothes and the little exposed skin there was. It felt as if fires were igniting all over her body as its claws tore through her skin as if it was paper. Magdalena wasn't sure of what she did, but she managed to get the beast off of her for long enough that she was able to get part way down the corridor, shuffling along by using her hands and feet to propel herself. For a moment, the beast seemed to just sit there and, for a while, it held the shape of a large, scruffy dog. It watched her go down the corridor, and Magdalena thought that he'd leave her alone. That wasn't the case, though. He let her get far enough away that she saw a glimmer of hope. She was stood up, now running full-pelt down the corridor, ignoring the rivulets of blood that were running down her arms, legs, and torso.

Fear deafened and blinded her as she just aimed to get as far away from the 'skugga fyrfota djur' or 'shadow beast'. She didn't see the lights flicker out, and she didn't see the staircase looming ahead of her. It lead down a floor, which could have explained why she didn't see it, but she never got the chance to run down them. She was two or three strides away when the shadow creature pounced on her again. It just was not giving up! Clawing at her back this time, it knocked her flying as if she was as light as a ragdoll. She tumbled down the stairs, having the sense to protect her head as she fell and banged every other bone in her body. The flight seemed extremely long before she finally reached the bottom, and didn't have opportunity to move before the beast was on top of her again, snarling and snapping, clawing and scratching, biting and growling like a rabid animal.

Between whimpering in pain, trying to fend of the creature, and shouting 'Help' at the top of her lungs, Magdalena found the time to think, though her panic-stricken brain wasn't working to its full potential. Eventually, she collapsed in a dead faint, perhaps from the numerous blows, the blood loss, or the fear, or perhaps in an attempt to get rid of the beast. It stopped assaulting her as soon as she fainted, and it did one last thing before slinking away into the blackness. It threw her into another dark corner, hopefully where no-one would find her, and shot her a look.

What WAS this creature?!

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Word Count: 2709

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» Anything Else?: N/A

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[Confuzzled]

^{Accepted
Please remember to reply to the face claim!}

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