Erlina Lorne



I scream for the alive, the ones to die. The people who are nieve in my district 6 I try to keep them in line, or to be warned. But they dont listen to a 17 year old. No, no, no. I am a banshee, so I am clearly female.


It's your complexion if that's what it's called


The mirror usually shows no form of character. The ugliest person may be the kindest, the most stunning, the most ugly on the inside. Yet, when you look at Erlina, her gaze seems to infiltrate the being and show something.

She is freaking insane.

Her hair may be the first major give away; A naturally reddish color, only in a more... strangled looking way. It swirls around her head in a tornado like fashion, pieces of hair sticking away from its candy apple red remnants. It has a wiry texture to it, making it stick out in some form in pretty much anyway.

Her hair cut is fairly average, with sweeping bangs and a cut falling to just below the shoulders. It just hangs there like some form of syrup, almost giving something to her overall... insanity, perhaps.

Next comes the skin tone. Pale as a ghost, she claims. Well, it is true. Her skin is very pale, even to a fault. It seems... artificial; Too sanitary, more a pride thing. She maintains this paleness to such a key, it throws her in an offset every time she gets a burn. Oh, trust me, the skin burns.

Her eyes are next, a bright blue color. They are large, and a bit oddly shaped. Surrounding her eyes, dark circles dwell; Almost in an eerie appearance, with dark circles around them, creating something hollow-looking.

Erlina’s nose is rather pretty in particular. It could be considered one of her best attributes, the straight, rather simplistic nose; Nothing that could point to a mentally scarred person.

Her mouth is another decent attribute of her face, a curved shape, that she paints with bright red lip paint, because it makes her look more ghost like. But, she fails to admit it. She says it is au natural, even she is not fooling anybody.

Her body is very thin. Not in a good way, a way that shows she is indeed verging on starvation.; All angles, jutting ones. Her ribs are visible to the most degree, and she is almost skeleton-like.

She is a rather short person, standing at a meager five foot two inches. This height is mostly in the torso, thus, causing her to have fairly short legs.

Her clothing items are the most elaborate of it all. She wears a dramatic white dress that’s ends get dirty, but she doesn’t care. She looks like what she is (in her mind) a banshee; In our minds, a mentally insane person.




I know it by heart your banshee song

She believes she is a banshee. Completely, she thinks that she is the Gaelic myth of a ghost of a woman who wails when somebody is about to die. She is convinced of her ehm, species. If that is a way to classify it.

Of course, she is not a banshee. She is a normal human being, just like you and I. Well, physically.

Mentally, she is a whole other ball of wax.

Unstable. Mentally unstable, at that. Something that is completely believing in herself, understanding she is a banshee. Yet, she doesn’t listen to other people when they shoot her odd looks when she starts screaming.

She believes that when she screams, the people who she screams for die. Just like her parents did. Erlina honestly believes she is a mythical creature that is actually dead, and warns the alive of their death.

She also has some, odd tendencies. She likes going the same way that she goes everyday, even if it is a longer one. Erlina also has the odd clicking noise that she makes in the back of her thought if she isn't screaming, or doing something laborious. It isn't a large noise, but one enough.

She is decent at making hats, though. She can crochet them using some wool that she buys with her leftover money (a very little amount, but some, none less) and she is able to sell them. Or was. Until she screamed at the lady who was buying one of the hats and.... she screamed; Thus, ending the business forever.

Erlina is not a rational thinker into the slightest. She is unable to mentally imagine herself being human, or her dying. She just cannot see the things that are actually real, with her mind, she can only think of the things that are indeed fictional.

I guess Truth is stranger than fiction.




I am ever waiting, you are out there wailing



It all started when Erlina was born. Erlina was born on what day? What can I recall from her own evidence of that day? Oh, yes. It was a Friday the 14th. Nobody can really recall the date, honestly. Well, she might know, but honestly nobody else does. Ask her, she might remember.

But, her parents were Rodi and Gregory Lorne, with nothing mentally wrong with them. Well, minus the fact that Rodi was eccentric with her inventions and Gregory was allergic to pretty much everything... well, yes. Average enough.

The sort of.... how do we say this? Obsession with banshees started in a picture book, A Gaelic lore book that her great-great-great-great so many times over grandmother had owned. It was a worn picture book, with a cloth cover, green, half faded away and thick creamy paper with thin, even script inside of its pages. It also had colorful pictures, now faded to a monotone type of book.

Yet, it was the first book Erlina learned to read. A time can be read that her and her Mother, who looked quite similar, sat on the torn and faded leather couch and read through the cloth covered book with every bit of integrity a five year old child could muster out of a piece of text.

"Now, Erlina, this is the story of the banshee." Her Mother had said with her clear ringing voice. Erlinas Mother read the first five or so sentences of the banshee story, her red hair falling down her shoulders, rustling into position.

"Banshees are women with red, wild hair
The ghosts that call when one is to die.
Its true, it's true. Yes, indeed.
The things we say do not have impact
Unless they are a banshee, of course.
They wail. And scream.
And bring death to me."

Erlina savored each bit of the banshee story, her mind holding onto its flicking flame of a tale, one woven by its own reality. Pale skin, red hair, it seemed to be Erlinas very reflection.

As Erlina aged, she seemed to be more impressed by the story that she had heard. She sometimes would play games involving banshees, her eyes flickering in excitement as she would run across the places in her district, crying out for fun.

She would tell the man on the corner that sold food that he could lower the prices since the grocers had it for a little bit less. She would tell children on the street corner that their parents were looking for them. She was something of a messenger amongst those who knew her. They deemed her "The Little Banshee" since her wails were loud and clear.

But, as she grew, something happened. Her mind actually started to believe she was a banshee. She would wail. She would do whatever she knew banshees were supposed to do.

She screamed for death, she just... screamed. She would go up randomly to somebody, scream, then dash away.

Oh, but dear, this is not the end of it.

When she turned fifteen, it took a turn for the worst. She screamed to her pet goldfish.

Erlina stood up, middle of the night. Sleepwalking. Sure, she'd done it before, it was something that ran in her family; But, when she reached for the kitchen knife that they had. The knife was sharp, one that her Mother usually used for cutting raw meat, or something along those lines, A black handle, rubbery in texture. The knives blade was perfect.

She slipped her hand into the goldfish bowl, pulling out the golden fish from the clear water. Holding the knife to the goldfishes' body, she sliced it open, and then dropped the fish onto the floor.

She went back to sleep.

Then, she woke up.

Her fingers were stained with blood. She figured she probably scratched herself sometime during the night and her fingers went numb, sending blood, or something along those lines. She got up, put on her school clothes and saw her fish, whom she named swimmy.

Dead was a word that she didn’t enjoy thinking about. Yet, she then thought. "I told them they'd die. I am a banshee. And I cry for the dead."

Those last words struck her one by one.

And little does she know she was the one responsible for her parents murder.
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The timing of the screams: Odair