9-27-85
9:10P

“Is there anybody out there?”
Pink Floyd

Suicide occurs when people have compounded pressures and
combined stress to form problems and if you can’t talk to anyone,
or won’t talk to anyone about those stressful situations. All it
takes somethymes is a kind word, a kind word with sincere meaning
behind it. But we are too wrapped up in our own worries. “Will
Tommy ask me to the dance,” to even realize that someone else
has a bigger problem. It is a shame to observe the insensitivity
humans show towards each other. So many people cry out silently
for help, but no one hears. Everyone needs a helping hand, or a
shoulder to cry on somethymes, but so often that comfort is never
found. It seems that no one is there, it seems if you are total­
ly alone in the world which doesn’t understand you. You are
frightened with no where to turn. So you do the only “logical”
solution. You kill yourself. All because there was no one
there.

9-27-85
9:10P

“Is there anybody out there?”
Pink Floyd

Suicide occurs when people have compounded pressures and
combined stress to form problems and if you can’t talk to anyone,
or won’t talk to anyone about those stressful situations. All it
takes somethymes is a kind word, a kind word with sincere meaning
behind it. But we are too wrapped up in our own worries. “Will
Tommy ask me to the dance,” to even realize that someone else
has a bigger problem. It is a shame to observe the insensitivity
humans show towards each other. So many people cry out silently
for help, but no one hears. Everyone needs a helping hand, or a
shoulder to cry on somethymes, but so often that comfort is never
found. It seems that no one is there, it seems if you are total­
ly alone in the world which doesn’t understand you. You are
frightened with no where to turn. So you do the only “logical”
solution. You kill yourself. All because there was no one
there.

9-25-85
10P

“All in all we’re all just bricks in the wall.”
Pink Floyd

Conform, why everyone does it is beyond me. I live to be
different, an individual. What fun is it to be exactly like
everyone else. Yet 90% of the people in the world are afraid to
be different because they are afraid of criticism and rejection.
They are afraid to be put-down and outcast from their peers.
Why? This is what I would like to know. Why do people conform
and become as little as they can be when inside there is a dynamo
of special, one-of-a-kind emotions that are just waiting to spill
out. So take the chances to throw a monkey wrench into the
systematic, hum-drum way of society. Raise a little hell and
show your true feelings not what you think your friends would
like you to be. Why cant people just be themselves?

9-25-85
10P

“All in all we’re all just bricks in the wall.”
Pink Floyd

Conform, why everyone does it is beyond me. I live to be
different, an individual. What fun is it to be exactly like
everyone else. Yet 90% of the people in the world are afraid to
be different because they are afraid of criticism and rejection.
They are afraid to be put-down and outcast from their peers.
Why? This is what I would like to know. Why do people conform
and become as little as they can be when inside there is a dynamo
of special, one-of-a-kind emotions that are just waiting to spill
out. So take the chances to throw a monkey wrench into the
systematic, hum-drum way of society. Raise a little hell and
show your true feelings not what you think your friends would
like you to be. Why cant people just be themselves?

The Krysianian…

More than just a symbol, it is a way of life…and death.
The only way out is through…
Believe and become…reality is only in the mind.
.
First entry in 10th grade English journal at FHS
9-17-85
8:49P

“One day in a nuclear age, they may understand our rage. They build machines that they can’t control, and bury the waste in a great big hole…”
Sting

So much I am still too young to understand. Why can’t everybody in this world get along? Families fight, so do cities, states, countries, and nations. But if two states were fighting against each other and a way between their nation and another broke out, the states would put their differences aside and band together to fight as one united nation. So why must a catastro­phe or a war break out before peace is achieved? And only a
temporary peace at that. Why is everyone so self-centered that they won’t accept a compromise. It is either that their way or no way. With an attitude like that nobody will ever get any­where. Nuclear arms may terrorize some but I find them terribly
silly in a way that not many will think of. What would cause a ruler of any country to destroy all of mankind? What argument could be so unsolvable, so irreconcilable that would force some­one to cause death to millions of innocent and uninvolved per­sons? Everything has a solution, there is no quarrel or problem so great for anyone to somehow solve, it just takes thyme and thought.

The Krysianian…

More than just a symbol, it is a way of life…and death.
The only way out is through…
Believe and become…reality is only in the mind.
.
First entry in 10th grade English journal at FHS
9-17-85
8:49P

“One day in a nuclear age, they may understand our rage. They build machines that they can’t control, and bury the waste in a great big hole…”
Sting

So much I am still too young to understand. Why can’t everybody in this world get along? Families fight, so do cities, states, countries, and nations. But if two states were fighting against each other and a way between their nation and another broke out, the states would put their differences aside and band together to fight as one united nation. So why must a catastro­phe or a war break out before peace is achieved? And only a
temporary peace at that. Why is everyone so self-centered that they won’t accept a compromise. It is either that their way or no way. With an attitude like that nobody will ever get any­where. Nuclear arms may terrorize some but I find them terribly
silly in a way that not many will think of. What would cause a ruler of any country to destroy all of mankind? What argument could be so unsolvable, so irreconcilable that would force some­one to cause death to millions of innocent and uninvolved per­sons? Everything has a solution, there is no quarrel or problem so great for anyone to somehow solve, it just takes thyme and thought.

Nisha – The Death of a Horse Jockey

(Story of Ayesha)

Confused life

What do I want? I don’t know. I want dreams and liberty securi­ty and happiness.
Ayesha

m-t since you

With playful eyes you danced away your pain
Why did you have to go?
Girlfriend? Not.
I’m not finished yet.

Abandoned building wreck girl of my dreams made real. Dancer of
glass and non-realities frozen in thyme for an instant. Elegant
and impish fiend of the sun and friend of the nite. Did I ever
know you at all or were you the dream girl everyone says you are.
Confusion in life or live and trials and other letters commonly
mistaken for true. Whatever they know needn’t matter because I
believe in you and always will.

I love you Ayesha

Nisha – The Death of a Horse Jockey

(Story of Ayesha)

Confused life

What do I want? I don’t know. I want dreams and liberty securi­ty and happiness.
Ayesha

m-t since you

With playful eyes you danced away your pain
Why did you have to go?
Girlfriend? Not.
I’m not finished yet.

Abandoned building wreck girl of my dreams made real. Dancer of
glass and non-realities frozen in thyme for an instant. Elegant
and impish fiend of the sun and friend of the nite. Did I ever
know you at all or were you the dream girl everyone says you are.
Confusion in life or live and trials and other letters commonly
mistaken for true. Whatever they know needn’t matter because I
believe in you and always will.

I love you Ayesha

RYA – episode 2

At thirteen I was a new high school girl. I attended the
“prestigious Ashwood Academy in Brentwood, Maryland. Ashwood was
a high school that catered to the religious moral of it’s stu­dents wealthy parents. Stodgy and strict and staunch. Rya’s
guardians, however didn’t pressure her to attend this white
gloved institution of higher learning. She wanted to go to
Ashwood. She wanted to have the opportunity to go away to board­
ing school and all of the advantages that a conservative prep
school could provide.

Ashwood was a girls school which for 9 months of the year
was home to 350 young women. They were taught sewing and baking
and social etiquette as well as the educational fundamentals.
Everything to round out the perfect little socialite.

It provided a wonderfully peaceful setting. It’s classrooms
located in grandiose fashion in an old Maryland estate. It’s
dormitories settled in quaint but quite luxurious cabins housing
15 girls each. There were velvety lawns and caped forests filled
with the fullest conifers and a fabulous lake filled with plump
fish and green lily pads.

On the other side of the lake there was Overdale Military
Academy. A stern military school and sibling school to Ashwood.
They held dances and ice-cream socials and prepared each individ­
ual for a life in the sheltered fashion.

Rya settle into school quite nicely. She made a few friends
who admired her straight-forward personality. She was well liked
but no one could predict what she was going to do next. She
enjoyed riding horses and joined Ashwood’s elite Black Horse
Troupe. A riding group that preformed synchronized saddle rou­
tines nationally. Everyday she went to the stables after class­
es. Going through the precise drills over and over until they
were very near perfect. She enjoyed this. She likes the quite
thyme this gave her and she liked interacting with her horse,
Eclipse.

The relationship that Rya and Eclipse has was unique as
well. To view the final result of her riding it seemed she had
complete control of the horse, commanding ever movement it would
make. To watch the whole process you got a greater understanding
of why the girl and the horse worked together. When she would
practice it was never with a saddle. She needed to feel the
horses reaction to what Rya requested of it. She respected the
horses requests and in return Eclipse respected her.

Rya’s auburn hair darkened to raven black in the past year
so it matched her mounts mane and coat. The richness of the
blacks made her pale skin all the more luminous and she had the
beauty of the fine aristocratic English beauties. In August, the
Troupe had its first showing at the Brentwood Centennial Parade.
The girls riding proudly. To the read of th horses the boys of
Overdale marched in pressed gray uniforms, white gloves and caps.
Like miniatures of the officers that many would become they
strode, the Troupe preformed their maneuvers brilliantly. Their
procession together was flawless. The military troop went in tot
he ring afterwards and proceeded through rifle maneuvers. Twirl­ing and marching in much the same fashion that the girls did with
the horses. All to the staccato bear of the percussion.

In the third line there was a gent that caught Rya’s eye. A
boy with large deep black eyes and ebony hair to match hers.
Much loner that any of the other boys there. In a military
academy long hair was a defiant no-no. She watched the creative
and exuberant performance of the drills. His eves distant as if
he were bored and thinking of someone or somewhere else.

Rya stared intently at the unknown boy. MARVELING HIS
FEATURES. Trying TO CATCH HIS EYE WITH HER MIND.

THE EYES CAUGHT. Damon faltered with his rifle.

He approached her afterwards while she was grooming Eclipse.
They talked. He invited her to the lacrosse match on Thursday.
She applied for a pass, hard thyme. She gets it and goes to the
meet with her friend Sandy. She crosses the bridge over the lake
to Overdale. Guys eyes stare, She watched the match. Damon
plays fullback. They go walking. He is quite a gentleman. Is a
sophomore has always attended military school.

As she crosses bridge back to Ashwood, the purple dusk she
stops on the bridge. Hears crickets and stares out into the
reflection of the world in the lake. She decides with an unfal­
tering senses of accuracy that Damon would be her first lover.

It was just a matter of thyme she knew that. She would just
sit and be patient until she as gathered enough knowledge to feel
the thyme was write. But until that thyme she would write. She
would keep track of her emotions and her feeling throughout this
whole ordeal so that it would be recorded for posterity as they
looked back upon these days.

The next day before classes she bought a notebook to write
in. In her first class, art. She lined it’s walls with purple
satin and covered it in fine grain leather. It was gorgeous and
the art teacher helped her gild the edges of the paper in silver.
It was gorgeous and on the inside cover title page she carefully
lettered in a romantic script the words “Expressions of Rya
Dunwych.”

She turned the page and began to write;

I am Rya, according to the worlds standards I am young. Only 13 but the ideas in my head have to be older that. What fills my mind are much more than childhood dreams. I am very conscious of all that i feel and all that I do.
This journal is to keep a written record of my feelings as I ascend into my womanhood.

The feel­ings and thought I have, my phantasies, my erotic dreams. All that I feel shall be written here.
For it is my desire to search for the knowledge of truth. To bear all and experience a life in it’s naked entirety. I want to experience everything in my lifethyme…so I guess I should start now.
And she closed the book and placed it on the shelf above her study
desk and next to the old burned picture of her parents.
9691:820A

RYA – episode 2

At thirteen I was a new high school girl. I attended the
“prestigious Ashwood Academy in Brentwood, Maryland. Ashwood was
a high school that catered to the religious moral of it’s stu­dents wealthy parents. Stodgy and strict and staunch. Rya’s
guardians, however didn’t pressure her to attend this white
gloved institution of higher learning. She wanted to go to
Ashwood. She wanted to have the opportunity to go away to board­
ing school and all of the advantages that a conservative prep
school could provide.

Ashwood was a girls school which for 9 months of the year
was home to 350 young women. They were taught sewing and baking
and social etiquette as well as the educational fundamentals.
Everything to round out the perfect little socialite.

It provided a wonderfully peaceful setting. It’s classrooms
located in grandiose fashion in an old Maryland estate. It’s
dormitories settled in quaint but quite luxurious cabins housing
15 girls each. There were velvety lawns and caped forests filled
with the fullest conifers and a fabulous lake filled with plump
fish and green lily pads.

On the other side of the lake there was Overdale Military
Academy. A stern military school and sibling school to Ashwood.
They held dances and ice-cream socials and prepared each individ­
ual for a life in the sheltered fashion.

Rya settle into school quite nicely. She made a few friends
who admired her straight-forward personality. She was well liked
but no one could predict what she was going to do next. She
enjoyed riding horses and joined Ashwood’s elite Black Horse
Troupe. A riding group that preformed synchronized saddle rou­
tines nationally. Everyday she went to the stables after class­
es. Going through the precise drills over and over until they
were very near perfect. She enjoyed this. She likes the quite
thyme this gave her and she liked interacting with her horse,
Eclipse.

The relationship that Rya and Eclipse has was unique as
well. To view the final result of her riding it seemed she had
complete control of the horse, commanding ever movement it would
make. To watch the whole process you got a greater understanding
of why the girl and the horse worked together. When she would
practice it was never with a saddle. She needed to feel the
horses reaction to what Rya requested of it. She respected the
horses requests and in return Eclipse respected her.

Rya’s auburn hair darkened to raven black in the past year
so it matched her mounts mane and coat. The richness of the
blacks made her pale skin all the more luminous and she had the
beauty of the fine aristocratic English beauties. In August, the
Troupe had its first showing at the Brentwood Centennial Parade.
The girls riding proudly. To the read of th horses the boys of
Overdale marched in pressed gray uniforms, white gloves and caps.
Like miniatures of the officers that many would become they
strode, the Troupe preformed their maneuvers brilliantly. Their
procession together was flawless. The military troop went in tot
he ring afterwards and proceeded through rifle maneuvers. Twirl­ing and marching in much the same fashion that the girls did with
the horses. All to the staccato bear of the percussion.

In the third line there was a gent that caught Rya’s eye. A
boy with large deep black eyes and ebony hair to match hers.
Much loner that any of the other boys there. In a military
academy long hair was a defiant no-no. She watched the creative
and exuberant performance of the drills. His eves distant as if
he were bored and thinking of someone or somewhere else.

Rya stared intently at the unknown boy. MARVELING HIS
FEATURES. Trying TO CATCH HIS EYE WITH HER MIND.

THE EYES CAUGHT. Damon faltered with his rifle.

He approached her afterwards while she was grooming Eclipse.
They talked. He invited her to the lacrosse match on Thursday.
She applied for a pass, hard thyme. She gets it and goes to the
meet with her friend Sandy. She crosses the bridge over the lake
to Overdale. Guys eyes stare, She watched the match. Damon
plays fullback. They go walking. He is quite a gentleman. Is a
sophomore has always attended military school.

As she crosses bridge back to Ashwood, the purple dusk she
stops on the bridge. Hears crickets and stares out into the
reflection of the world in the lake. She decides with an unfal­
tering senses of accuracy that Damon would be her first lover.

It was just a matter of thyme she knew that. She would just
sit and be patient until she as gathered enough knowledge to feel
the thyme was write. But until that thyme she would write. She
would keep track of her emotions and her feeling throughout this
whole ordeal so that it would be recorded for posterity as they
looked back upon these days.

The next day before classes she bought a notebook to write
in. In her first class, art. She lined it’s walls with purple
satin and covered it in fine grain leather. It was gorgeous and
the art teacher helped her gild the edges of the paper in silver.
It was gorgeous and on the inside cover title page she carefully
lettered in a romantic script the words “Expressions of Rya
Dunwych.”

She turned the page and began to write;

I am Rya, according to the worlds standards I am young. Only 13 but the ideas in my head have to be older that. What fills my mind are much more than childhood dreams. I am very conscious of all that i feel and all that I do.
This journal is to keep a written record of my feelings as I ascend into my womanhood.

The feel­ings and thought I have, my phantasies, my erotic dreams. All that I feel shall be written here.
For it is my desire to search for the knowledge of truth. To bear all and experience a life in it’s naked entirety. I want to experience everything in my lifethyme…so I guess I should start now.
And she closed the book and placed it on the shelf above her study
desk and next to the old burned picture of her parents.
9691:820A