Post by caitlynn jane catalyst on Nov 26, 2009 8:09:05 GMT -5
( caitlynn jane catalyst )
AGE :: 14
BIRTHDAY :: December 5th
GRADE :: Everyone stopped counting at eigth.
GENDER :: Female. Do you have some problem with your eyes?
CELEBRITY :: She bears startling resemblance to a miss Sar Benett.
NICKNAME :: For short, she's called Caitie, or just Cat.
ORIENTATION :: Meatetarian, though she doesn't actually eat human flesh.
SPECIES :: Phasma, or in simpleton terms, Ghost.( momma didn't teach me )
THE 'RENTS ::
- Maria Cuthbert, deceased, dress maker
- Henry Cuthbert, deceased, stock broker
THE SIBS ::
- Clyde Cuthbert, deceased, older brother
- Owen Cuthert, deceased, younger brother
THE SIRE ::
She happens to be a ghost.. she doesn't have one.( 'cause you're such a prick )
LIKES :: darkness, death, the color black, the twenty-first century's scene style, impeccable grammar, playing mind games
DISLIKES :: vampires, werewolves, uneducated air-heads, being undermined because of her age, sunlight
PET PEEVE :: people picking on her because they think they're bigger or stronger
BIGGEST FEAR :: judgment day
BAD HABIT :: killing people when she gets angry
FLAWS :: quick-tempered, malicious, antisocial, morbid
POSITIVE ATTRIBUTES :: intelligent, trustworthy, loyal( you think you're a model )
HAIR COLOR :: Black, with streaks of red, orange, and bleach blond. But it changes a lot.. don't expect it to be the same tomorrow.
EYE COLOR :: Green, though most times, it's hard to see them underneath all the eye liner and shadow.
ETHNICITY :: Caucasian.
SKIN TONE :: Fairly pale, though she does turn more of a peach in the summer.
HEIGHT :: Four foot eight.
WEIGHT :: A whopping ninety-eight pounds. Well.. back when she weighed anything.
PICTURE :: omd, it's a link?!( every story starts the same )
COME IN SCREAMING?!
Cat grew up in a very exciting century. While there were lots of jobless citizens, and the Great Depression happened, it was also the century in which baseball became popular, the Wright brothers flew their first airplane, the telephone and computer and television were invented... plenty of different things. The date marking Cat's birth was December 5th, 1904. Now, she didn't have access to television and the internet when she was a child. Her parents didn't allow listening to the radio at their house, either. Rather than waste her time with such mind-numbing nonsense, Cat played with her older brother Clyde. She and he would make villages out of cardboard boxes and milk bottles, inhabited my little corn kernel men. They'd also make box cars with barely functional wheels and race them down the hill outside their house. Clyde was four years her superior, and had already learned to read. Each night, he would sneak into Cat's room after their mother had ordered lights out and read to her by way of a candle.
When she was old enough, Cat accompanied Clyde to school. She learned to read and write for herself, tracing letters in her primer. Each time she learned a new word or phrase, she would go crazy and write it everywhere. In the dirt outside, in chalk on the large boulders in the back yard, in pen on every scrap of paper she could get her hands on. She would read all the signs traveling into town for groceries with her parents and have them explain to her what things were, what they meant. She never wrote any of these things down, but she absorbed them. One week later, after not dealing with money once, she could tell you how to make change for a dollar in every way possible, from one-hundred pennies to ten dimes, and everything in between. She started putting words together for herself, writing stories. She took all the adventures she and Clyde'd had in the yard and wrote them on paper. Her language was poetic, and far more advanced than a girl of her years. She never shared her writings with anyone, but kept them in a secret journal bearing the title, "What I Want to Do When I Grow Up."
She'd always been a frail child. As soon as the weather grew chilly, Cat would take ill and have to stay in her bed for weeks at a time. That was when she got most of her writing done, in between fever-induced fainting spells. She was sick when her parents brought her little brother Owen home. Cat was eleven at the time. Once she was back on her feet, her mother made Owen Cat's responsibility. She had to spend every free second she had tending to Owen, feeding Owen, making sure Owen's diaper was changed. For her, it was torture. Her mother was convinced she was doing Cat a kindness, preparing her for married life. Cat bit her tongue. If that was married life, she didn't care for it. She'd rather die an old cat lady like Mrs. Price down the street. But she couldn't look Owen in the eye and say he wasn't the cutest little thing she'd ever seen. She grew quite fond of the little tyke, and ended up not minding so much when her mother pulled her from her reading to tend to him.
Then came 1918. A fever the doctors called the Spanish influenza spread around. Cat's mother knew right from the off that her daughter was going to fall ill. Sure enough, the day of her fourteenth birthday, Cat was on the floor retching, hot as an oven. Doctors were summoned, and paid well to give her the best treatment they could without taking her to the hospital. All the same, Cat's parents knew she was going to die. She wasn't strong enough to battle such a fierce disease. In truth, Cat knew too. She just wouldn't let herself think about it. A week later, she climbed into bed after a warm bath with a spiked fever. Her head was on fire. The pain grew more and more intense until the insides of Cat's eyelids were bright orange. She squeezed her eyes shut tight, took in one last shuddering breath, and let herself go. She was slipping into the darkness. Slipping, slipping, slipping.CHARLIE BIT ME?!
And.. waking up? No, that couldn't be right. Cat was supposed to be dead. She sat up, flexing her fingers in front of her face. They moved the same as they always had. Cat pushed back the bedsheets, hopping to her feet. When she stood, it didn't feel as though she were supporting anything. Like she was floating. Cat turned around and cried out in shock. There, lying stone cold on the bed, was her. At least... her body. But she was also there. Unless this was some sort of projection of her. That's when realization dawned. This wasn't just a projection, she was a ghost. She'd died, but she hadn't been ready to. For some reason, she was still tethered to the earth. To be honest, the prospect of sticking around until she resolved whatever unfinished business she had wasn't thrilling. In Cat's mind, she'd been ready to die. She'd almost wanted it. Mostly because she was in pain. Now, the pain was gone... but so was her human body.
If she could move it, dispose of it somehow, she might be able to carry on life as normal. Cat wandered over to her bedside. She tried to slide her hands under her body and get a grip.. but when she lifted her arms, her fingers passed right through. That's when it occurred to her that carrying on life as normal never would've worked. She was supposed to be aging, growing visibly older each year. If she were to pretend to be alive as a ghost, she wouldn't get any older. People would start to grow suspicious. Someone might try to hug her and end up falling straight through. Besides, everyone in her family already knew she'd been doomed to die. She might be able to pretend somewhere else, but not here. Cat would have to leave the only home she'd ever known. For her, that didn't seem so bad as it might for most of you homegrown sprouts out there. Sure, she loved her brothers and sisters well enough, but she'd always been the loner type. Cat didn't need help from anyone else to survive, much less have herself a good time.
While she was considering this, someone crept up the stairs. Cat heard the footfalls at the last second and panicked. She wished herself to disappear, so that whoever was coming wouldn't see her and ruin everything, squeezing her eyes shut tight. She opened them again when she heard a very startled Clyde drop an "oh my God!" She'd been spotted. Clyde was staring and pointing.. but not at her. Well, at her body. But not at the essence that had been left behind. He walked straight through Cat on his way to her bedside. It felt like receiving a punch in the stomach. All the air she hadn't been breathing was forced from her lungs. She watched with curiosity as Clyde brushed her body's cheek with his fingertips, traveling down to her neck. He pressed the back of his hand against it, feeling for a pulse. There wasn't one. Tears were pooled in his eyes as he turned to call over his shoulder for mom. Cat figured that was her cue to get out of there. She ran straight at the window and threw herself headlong from it, floating down to the grass on the other side. From there, she took off running.
For the next week, Cat remained completely invisible. She shadowed some people, watching their every move and learning what she could about them. Then one day, she tried to pass through a wall - as she'd done many times - to shadow one girl, only to end up slamming into it. She flickered back into visibility, and every head in the schoolhouse turned to her. She offered them a sheepish look. One of the boys sitting next to her asked, "When did she get here?" Panicking, Cat promptly disappeared again. This time, she knew better than to try and get through the wall. Instead, she went for the door. She reached out and tentatively brushed her hand against the knob. Her fingers didn't slip through. With a smirk, she turned the knob, opened the door, and slipped through. The classroom behind her was soon filled with terrified shrieks and the pitter-patter of feet. Laughing, Cat carried on her way. She had some testing to do on these new-found powers. The results of these experiments - which included a wall and a handful of knives - showed that if Cat thought thin, she could pass through solid objects. If she didn't, she could pick them up, bend them, break then, etc.
A year passed. Cat spent it walking around the market places and playing with the local girls. She even tutored a few students. At the end of that year, Cat was attempting to help a [Buffy staked Edward] particularly snappish girl with her arithmetic. The girl kept nagging Cat for "using big words," and "criticizing her handwriting." The girl's voice was buzzing in Cat's ears for quite some time. To get her mind off it, she tried visiting the local playground. She was sitting on a swing, hearing the girl's voice nagging, when one boy looked up. "Maudy?" he asked, sounding frightened. Maudy was the name of the girl Cat was tutoring. Quirking an eyebrow, Cat sat up straight, dreaming up a response of her own in Maudy's voice. Of course it's me, you dunce. Who else would it be? The boy looked genuinely scared now. "Maudy, where are you? This isn't funny!" Cat wondered. If she could project thoughts to this boy, what if she thought an image? She pictured Maudy standing there in front of the boy, giving him the same look she gave Cat. The boy jumped back. "Where did you come from?" he asked, voice shaking. A wicked smile played across Cat's face.
Cat toyed with her powers for near a century, watching the world grow and change around her. First there came voices in moving pictures. Then there came color television. Then the telephone. And the computer. But before that, Cat made a point of hunting the doctor who'd attempted to help her. She never found him. A hundred years after her birth, in 2004, Cat killed her first victim. She found a doctor. Not the doctor, but someone of the same profession. She followed him home and waited until she caught him alone in his bedroom. Then she materialized. To him, she would've come out of nowhere. The doctor jumped, pressing his back against the wall. He asked who she was. Cat told him she was his worst nightmare. Then, without another word, she raised her hand and projected a high-pitched scream into his mind. The pitch was high enough to shatter glass, and constantly steadily rising. Blood vessels broke all across the doctor's body, until finally, the sound was too much. He exploded in a bloody mess. Cat didn't blink an eye. In fact, she drew a feeling of power from the explosion. The next few years were spent driving bullies, snobs, and preps so crazy, they killed themselves. The clique dichotomy had always been present, even back when almost everyone wore the same things. Cat had always hated it, and now she going to change things. That was when she found a new last name for herself.
catalyst - n. a person or thing that precipitates an event or change.
As the States progressed into 2007 and 2008, the scene style became more popular. Cat caught wind of it and changed her look. She started dying her hair, stealing scene clothes, and applying heaping amounts of eyeshadow and eyeliner. The scene style fit her, as she'd always been a pale child. It was also during these years that she heard about the Hotel California. Apparently, it was a hotel humans couldn't escape. Only ghosts could pass in and out of it. Even vampires and werewolves were trapped inside. Cat thought that sounded like a pretty good deal, so she traveled to California to check it out.( some other beginning's end )
ALIAS :: Emmy
AGE :: 13
ACCOUNTS ON SITE :: riley, asher, emmy, and my admin one
© 2009 BY EMMY OF HC
