So obviously I’ve fallen behind with the ‘write something creative and publish it every day thing’.
To be honest, I can’t even use the excuse that I’m so busy that I don’t have time. When I have been doing the creative writing, it’s been on Crysiline. I don’t know why, but that story just gets me. I just love writing it, even though it’s going nowhere. I mean obviously it is, but normally I rush through the beginning to get to the exciting bits. But with this story, I’m happy to take my time and really work through it, editing bits I hate etc.
One thing that worries me is that by posting it on here, I won’t be able to publish it eventually. Maybe I never will get it published. I don’t know. It’s whatever.
Only next year, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to work on a book, probably this one and eventually get it published. Hopefully.
But yes, this was a lame excuse of a post, and I should have been writing more often. The only reason I’m writing now is because I have work to do.
On the soft quilted leaves beside me, Ama was still. Her breathing was soft, yellow shone through her eyelids and tendrils of dark hair curled around her. Shards of coloured light hit her skin through the distorted crystal windows. I sighed. This was the last time we would share a room together just as best friends with no politics involved. It was completely quiet in the Crystal houses; everybody was asleep – apart from me. Normally, people took turns to sleep – there was never enough light to distinguish between night and day so we worked throughout both. But tomorrow was an important day, and everyone would be needed.
Silently I rolled my leaf away from me feeling the sting of the cool air and checked that nobody had stirred before climbing down the ladder, out of the Crystal house and on to the mossy forest floor. The noise instantly engulfed me, chirps, squeals, rustling, roars, echoes, wails, creaking, buzzing. Careful not to step on the plants that slept on the ground, I made my way to the Biggest Lake – the one which marked the edge of Naidis. Across that lake were the rocks which nobody dared venture close to; we often heard the cracks and rumbles of them tumbling down.
Last night I was determined to finish reading 1Q84, so I skimmed it. I hate doing that, but I reeeeeally wanted to know what happened, and who the Little People were and if Aomame and Tengo ever met. So I did, and no good came of it. The book ended and I was no closer to understanding what was going on.
It left me with a sense of fear of the world around me, a feeling that you never know who’s out there, waiting for you. I knew I had some work to finish off, but I didn’t do it. I felt the pressing need to get the last installment urgently.
So I pulled on my coat, grabbed my key and phone and went downstairs. As soon as I got outside, I felt the refreshing cool air and was glad that I’d left the house- I hadn’t realised how warm it was in there. Quickly unlocking my bike, I wheeled it out from the tangled mess of bike metal, flicked the lights on and began to ride.
It was very dark out, even though it was just half past seven. The street lamps were on but they gave the road a deserted and ominous atmosphere. They weren’t bright, so large shadows were cast on the bushes behind, creating a deep, dark black space.
I cycled as fast as I could along the deserted street, past the creepy Historical building, the Theatre, the Music Hall and round the corner to the centre of the Village. The centre is never lit, but behind it lies a large Museum which has street lamps attached to the sides giving off an eerie glow. As I cycled as fast as I could through the cold, I saw it. A silhouetted figure sprinting, but faster than I’d ever thought possible. I was sure they were male, but he was small and his legs moved with incredible speed in the direction I was travelling, his head turned in my direction. I swerved round and raced to the library entrance, jumping off and not even bothering to lock up my bike. It felt as though there was something sinister out there, waiting for me.
I shoved open the heavy oak doors and there infront of me was a huge figure, shrouded in darkness. I don’t think I’ve ever screamed so loudly in my life. The lights slowly flickered on. A man stood in front of me looking very emebarrassed.
‘Err sorry- didn’t mean to scare you,’ He said, before shuffling off.
I don’t think my heart’s been the same since.
Here is the first part of the story I promised.. I edited it from the original which was short, sketchy and rushed in my excitement to get to the good part. I’ve created most of this from scratch today, but I think this is near enough to how I want it.
We live in a small village on the edge of the third layer of our planet Naidis. Our homes no longer face out onto the falls as they used to, for our Ancestors piled heavy rocks in the grooves along the edge, far higher than the loneliest clouds, blocking out the suns but also, the Others. The rocks are immovable, as they have been sharpened to slice the skin and removing one will result in the rest smashing down, killing instantly. There is not much light down here. What little we have comes from the craters in the floor of the layer above, the Fourth Layer, and it shines down like spot lights in every bright colour imaginable. There are plenty of life forms, but none like that of the Old World my ancestors came from. Our Layer, Crysiline, is mainly deep forest, filled with the sounds of trickling water, swaying branches, the chattering of the Moving Creatures and the waving of the heat. Our plants grow happily in the dark. They grow into tall trees, higher than the tallest mountain, their leaves always a deep, beautiful red and glistening from their sweat as our layer fluctuates in heat intensity. Others become great flowers, as tall as they are wide, decorated in mysterious patterns, shapes and shades. Some grow slender limbs covered with soft, light feathers allowing them to fly through the forests, planting seeds for future generations. And all are conscious. I have lived here my entire life, but I know that one day, things will change for me. I can feel it.
I entered the photographic competition last week. The idea was to take a photograph of something which had a word or a symbol in it. So I went out with my friend Andy to Oxford Street and then on to the Winter Wonderland at Hyde park. It was freezing cold that night and we could see our breath and the tips of my fingers turned red. He took my small camera, and I used my playbook. These are my favourite three images:
I entered the last one, and didn’t win. Everyone told me not to enter it, but there was something I really liked. I think it was th group of people caught in the shot, with the hearts hanging down over their heads, and couples lining up to buy things. I liked the Santa over their heads with his sleigh and the lights just below him. I suppose I like it most because it reminds me of what a good day I had, and it actually meant something to me.
I’ve had writer’s block.
I know it’s ridiculous, but the whole point of this is to get me writing at least something once a day – and I fully intend to do so. This weekend was busy, and I couldn’t get to a computer at all, so it hasn’t been my fault. Then I got bogged down with work etc. so i couldn’t write. But now I’ve done everything I need to do (except the washing) and there really is no excuse not to write.
Hang on, let me just go do the washing.
Ok, so with all of my washing out of the way, there really is no excuse. But I still can’t find anything I want to write about.
I mean, I could tell you all about the weather and how we’ve suddenly made that transition from early autumn to deepest winter in one night, complete with dense, wet fog and ear freezing temperatures.Or I could tell you about how I’ve started the guitar, and can now play – G7, D7, D major, A major, G major, E minor, A minor and C major. Pete and I had a real bonding session overe the guitar over the weekend. He bought me a new string (D) AND gave me one of his books. Or that I just had pilates and my activity regime along with fruit is making me feel good.
But nothing seems interesting to me.
SO I’m just going to go with what I know. I can’t remember if I mentioned it, but I want to be a writer along with a photographer or a film maker. And I think one of the traits you need most to be able to do any of those things is (gag) ‘passion’. I suppose I have it for all three of those things. I’m at my happiest when I’m doing them. Not now obviously- I’m really not a fan of personal blogging/vlogging. I have a zillion stories on my old computer, but only four here. SO as part of my next post, I’m going to put the start of one of them here. I’m going to edit it and make it better, but that’s what I’m going to do. Just as an important note, I have never shared any of these with anyone, and they are not for judging. These were purely for fun, so putting them up here is a big thing for me.
Anyway, this failure of a blog post is finished.
So a few weeks ago I went to the library to return a book (which I hadn’t read, but it was overdue by a month) and I thought
‘I want to actually read a book this time. All I do is spend time online. I really think it’s time I just sat down and relaxed the old fashioned way.’
So I searched for a book and pretty quickly I came across ‘1Q84’ by Haruki Murakami. I’d never heard of the author before, but the book was new and looked good from the cover, so without reading the blurb, I signed it out.
Reading the first few chapters was easy. I totally got into it. The whole feel of the book is slightly surreal, and you can understand the characters (to an extent), but the whole book has a dark undertone to it. I’m not saying that ‘s a bad thing- I love it, it’s one of the best books I’ve read in a long time (I’m just moving on to book 2).
But today I had a marathon read. When I started, I’d read two chapters at a time, but today I wanted to get through it some more. And as I read, I was more and more absorbed into this neat and clean style of writing.
And then I reached the end of book 1. To me, there was no ending and the book should have just gone on, but I had enjoyed my self. And then..
I sat there. Realizing.
All the characters have lives. Lives that they live. But they are empty. They’re missing happiness or severe emotion. They don’t go out for a laugh with their friends. They don’t ever sit down and watch tv or have a hug with their closest relative. They don’t joke about with anyone at work and they don’t go out to eat or shopping purely to have a good time. Their lives are empty.
And I realised – So is mine.
I’ve been feeling it for a while now. Not an emptyness as such, but as if I’m just waiting for something to happen. My life passes me by as I eat, sleep and work. Surf the net. Make awkward conversation with my ‘friends’.
I put my iPod on shuffle and listened to the first song that came up. Ironically it was ‘Feel’ by Robbie Williams (NO idea why that’s on there). I looked around my room at my possessions and it felt like they’d all suddenly turned a shade of grey. They had no meaning. What was the point? Why was I even studying? So I could get a job. Why? So I could live in comfort. Why? What’s the point when it will always feel empty. Kind of like something is missing. I stared at my clothes and thought of how much I hate them.
After turning my speakers on full volume with Robbie singing, ‘I don’t wanna die, but I aint too keen on living either..’ I sat down in the middle of the floor and started screaming.
So I get bored as easily as the next person. I sometimes just find myself sitting doing nothing but staring into blankness. But one day, I was typing a few things into Google (yes I use Google because IT’S BETTER THAN BING!) when I came across this amazing thing called Yahoo Answers. Whenever you want to know something, just type the question into Googla and almost garuanteed, the question will have been asked on Yahoo Answers. So I signed into my account and tried it out.
‘Four of my Fish have died in 2 Days?’ (that’s a story for another time)
I managed to receive around 5 comments in 15 minutes. After that, I was hooked.
I became extremely interested in the ‘Relationships’ section. People would ask what to do about their boyfriends, or if a person liked them based on their behaviour. And then it came to me. Why ask a real question? Where’s the fun in that? So that was the birth of my evening entertainment. The first question was moderately tame:
‘My Boyfriend is cheating on me with my Nan’
But it wasn’t the questions that excited me- it was the description that had me gasping for air, unable to breathe from laughing so hard. Here is my favourite one- it still makes me laugh now:
‘My parents don’t approve of my marriage to my Step-Brother.’
Description: I’ve been with my step-brother around two years now. We moved in together a year ago. We have the same dad but not the same mum, so it’s not incestuous or anything. I just don’t understand why they don’t want anything to do with the wedding! I want my dad to walk me down the isle and be there for the birth of their first grandchild (it’s a girl by the way).
I think writing that was the most fun I’ve had in a long time. Some of the answers indicated that these people didn’t get what was so wrong with this situation, and it cracked me up.
Of course, I wrote these questions under a fake name, and I still write them today. I asked one of my friends what question I could write next and she said:
‘I find it attractive when people eat their own pus- is this normal?’
And I thought I was twisted.
I was asleep, dreaming of..I can’t remember now, but it was a good one. Unfortunately I’m a very light sleeper. A creak of a floor board or a softly spoken voice can wake me up instantly, but that night was anything but quiet.
At first I thought it was the rain pounding on my window. My mind was still a bit hazy so I wasn’t very quick on the uptake. I started to relax again when the noise stopped completely before starting again. I lay completely motionless I’d become gripped by the idea that a bat was flying about making a loud rustling noise. In a few seconds, I’d come to the conclusion that turning on the light would only cause it to fly away, so I shot my hand out of the duvet and switched it on.
There was nothing there, but the noise stopped again briefly before continuing quietly. I suddenly realised it was coming from under my sink. I kept non perishable foods in there pasta and noodles and washing powder. And then I realised. Something must have come from through the gap between the wall and the wooden panel of the cupboard. A frightening thought crossed my mind. It could be a rat.
But then logic kicked in. I’m in the country, it’s unlikely rats are going to be running about when there are huge cities to conquer. And the gap in the cupboard is tiny – the size of a £1 coin. It was probably a mouse. Eating my noodles. At four in the morning.