Plautdietsch

Right now, I'm really struggling with something. My parents and most members of my dad's side of the family speck Plautdietsch, which is essential the Mennonite language. I am Mennonite, and I don't like the fact that I can't speak Plautdietsch which I perceive to be a part of Mennonite culture. I have asked my parents in the past to teach me and they haven't. My mom tried for a little while to answer my questions on how to say certain things, but she says she's not that fluent in it. And unfortunately, there is no online course or tool to help you learn.

To be honest, in some ways I'm pissed that my parents didn't teach me it growing up. It would have been so much easier. I grew up listening to it, and I know some words and understand what is trying to be conveyed when some speaks it, but I don't know how.

This goes back to another issue I've been dealing with, which is the dying out of cultures and evolving society. Should we just let it happen? Is it the natural course of life to let languages and cultures die out? To what extent should we try and keep the culture or language? It feels wrong to let something die out, considering that we still have pieces from ancient Egypt, Greece, Rome, etc, but should we let it happen.

I feel like I should speak Plautdietsch. Maybe I would like to because it would make me different and unique, maybe I just have a desire to be connected to something from the past or maybe I just want to feel more Mennonite. I really don't know. Either way, I'm upset that I don't know it, and I'm upset that my parents didn't teach me when I was younger and won't teach me now.

-Asiemens

Child of Eternity

Here's a look at my newest project. Now, if you remember my first article (on vampires) I did some more research into it and came up with a pretty awesome idea. At least, I'm happy about it. I wanted to do something different so I came up with this idea of an Egyptian vampire. Ok, a bit weird. I know, but I think it'll be fun to write. Here's the intro into the story. (A huge thanks to people on writerscafe.org for letting me win some awards. Little things make my day)

The torches flickered as I walked by, down the cold, dank passageway. Flanking me on both sides were two of the men who had created this marvel and gifted it to me. One an architect, and the other the master builder. They were the only two who knew all the secrets to my underground palace other than myself, and for that they would pay.

The two men showed me around trying to impress me with the skill in which my palace was built. I wasn't entirely impressed, but it would have to do. After all, it was the best mortals could do.

I would rid the world of all morals if they were not so essential. They were the essence of life, an almost an ambrosia for immortals. Without them we would not be immortal. Instead we would fade away into little piles of dust. Disgusting little buggers.

Sadly, I was not yet immortal. I still had to suffer in this infernal form before I could truly live. My father, Ra, placed this curse on me as a punishment. In order to regain my immortality, I was forced to live a mortal life.

Being mortal repulsed me. Every time I looked into my polished, bronze mirror I felt ill. Mortals are such weaklings. They are like fragile pots; even if you try to put them back together they are still disfigured. Mortality was a plague of stupidity and death. They were fools. All those mortals were fools. Luckily they died soon enough; such a short and meaningless life span.

"This is your throne room, your highness." The architect practically leaped over the builder to say so.

I looked around. It wasn't bad. In fact, I had to admit that the mortals did a pretty good job. However, they had made an error. Beside my throne were two life-sized Anubis statues.

At first I was ready to make them pay for such a grievous error, but I soon had to chuckle at the irony. Anubis helped on the mortals journey into the afterlife and I was never going to the afterlife. At least, I wouldn't complete it. I would defeat him and take from him an eternity. We were enemies of the worst kind.

"Well done." I told them. They beamed with pride. Arrogant little buggers. Like they could ever accomplish any great feat without a superior leader to guide their hand.
I frowned at their arrogance and pride. "Unfortunately, your task is not yet finished." They stared at me, wide-eyed with their mouths hanging open. "I require more."

I stepped towards them, grinning as they tried not to turn and flee. Maybe they knew what was coming. Maybe their tiny brains had broken through the confines of their mortality and had suddenly realized what awaited them.

I lunged towards one, pulling a hidden dagger to his throat and drawing it across. Blood spurted everywhere, and he fell down to the ground, a gash in his throat. I turned to the second one. He started to plead and beg like those substandard beings that all mortals are. I didn't care. Before long, he joined his bloodied friend on the floor.

I knelt down and dipped my flinger in the still warm blood. I pressed it to my lips and tasted. It was good, so full of life and fresh. I couldn't wait till the day when I could drink from their veins and gain power. I licked my lips just thinking of it.

I climbed up to my feet and walked out of the throne room, glancing back only to admire and envy for what could have been and what was. Walking down the passageway, for the first time I noticed how the air was still and musky; smelling like that of an ancient tomb. I smiled, knowing that it was not yet ancient, but I knew that all to soon in the life of an immortal it would be. Death wasn't going to stop me. In face, death would free me. I would finally be an immortal one; a child of eternity.