Untitled story part deux

So the last post I had part of my story that I started. I have since gotten a little further in it and have realized that yes, it is a supernatural story. It involves witches and magic. I wanted to post it here so you all can see my progress. It’s actually going good and I’m super excited for the story to turn out the way I want it to. It has no title as of right now.

****

The world is a scary and dangerous place. When you aren’t paying attention, the world will swallow you whole like a black hole. When I learned that my parents had passed away, I was sitting in a café, eating cake and enjoying my second date with this guy named Tristan. I was just getting into the story of how my cat had swallowed an entire bag of pills, when my Aunt Kristy walks through the door of the café. She looked disheveled, which was very uncharacteristic of her, since she always seemed to be put together. The look on her tiny pixie like face was one of worry. Her green eyes seemed to water when she spotted me across the room.

There had been a fire in the house and my parents weren’t able to get out in time. I knew then that my life would always be one crazy whirlwind after another. The only good thing was that my little brother of four years old, Tyler, was next door at his friend’s house when the fire happened. In the blink of an eye, we had become orphans. That left us in the care of Aunt Kristy, the successful writer of two bestselling novels and now the parental unit of a four year old and a 17 year old.

People were always treating me like I needed help, when I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. They always say, “Poor Tricia. She needs all the help she can get with her parents being gone. I know, let’s make a casserole!” People are always making casseroles. As if that will make my parents come back from the dead.

It’s not that I’m ungrateful for their help; it’s just that you need some time alone now and then. Tyler thinks that Mom and Dad are just on some holiday to Heaven. I’m jealous that when he looks back on this time in his life he won’t remember much of what went down.

It was the second week of staying with Aunt Kristy when we started off at the new school. We used to live in San Francisco, but Aunt Kristy lives in San Rafael. It was the end of October, so we had to start in the middle of the school year. I had been going to the same school with most of my classmates for my whole life. It felt odd to suddenly be taken away from everyone I knew and loved. I even tried convincing my aunt to move to the City. But she wouldn’t hear a word of it.

The first day was uneventful, in the grand scheme of things. Went to class, had lunch, and went home. Other than a few teachers making me go up in front of the class to introduce myself, I didn’t really talk the whole day. It was the second day that started the whole thing.

I was walking to my first class of the day when I bumped into someone. I mumbled a small apology, hoping to get as little human interaction today as possible. I’m about to walk away when a hand grabs my forearm.

I turned to look at the person and noticed that he is staring at me with some crazy purple eyes. The guy’s eyes were a dark shade of purple and what was even more surprising was his white blonde hair. He was wearing a blue button up shirt with khakis. Most importantly, however, was his attitude. I could tell that he was upset by what happened and that he somehow took offense to the tiny apology I gave.

I was terrified. Not just by the fact that his hand was still holding me to the spot, but there was something sinister in his eyes. The moment seemed to drag on. I was about to say something, when he just shakes his head and releases me. And then he walks away.

Chapter 2

I’m still shocked as to what happened. I try to focus the entire day, but I couldn’t help feeling that there was something sinister about him. The day seems to be going on longer than usual. Finally, when fifth period comes around, I see him again. He’s in the corner of the classroom, fiddling with his pencil. I don’t see any open seats besides the one next to him, so I cautiously take a seat. I can feel the tension as I wait for the teacher to begin. The teacher, Mr. Jakobs, is getting some kind of slideshow ready for the class period.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see that he is just as transfixed as I am. And yet, I can tell that he is kicking himself for not saying something. The class seems to drag on. The teacher’s lesson just white noise in the background. The clock above the white board seems to halt. Suddenly I’m aware of the itch on my nose, the way my lips are so dry they’re cracked and the uncontrollable urge to fart.

The bell rings with a sudden trill. I quickly put my stuff back in my bed and head out the door. I’m a bit disturbed by what happened, so I leave campus early, skipping out on my last two periods. It’s a sunny day, which is quite unusual for someone who came from the City. I ended up cutting my jeans into shorts this morning to be a little more comfortable and wearing my black spanks underneath.

The city feels so dull and empty. I head to the trail behind the school, so I can be alone. The school is situated next to a big hill that easily could have around twenty different hiking trails. I travel as far as the nearest trail will take me, which means that I can see the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, part of the Bay, and a whole bunch of sloping hills that hold tiny suburban homes. I feel the need to yell and so I scream at the top of my lungs. Complete nonsense, I know, but the feeling in my stomach starts to fade from anxiety to a small, rhythmic swaying.

As I’m looking around at the small clearing I’m at, I notice a silver box beneath a bush. I pick it up and examine it. It’s rusty and I can sort of make out Big Bird’s face on the front. Upon opening, I can see a bunch of folded pieces of paper. There’s also a toy soldier in it as well, which looks like it’s been chewed on through the years. I open the first piece of paper. It’s a letter.

Dear Luke,

I’m sorry I cannot explain what is going on. I can’t write to you anymore. I hope you understand that. There is just so much happening right now that I shall not risk putting you in more danger. Know that you are always in my thoughts. These past few months that I’ve been in contact with you have brought me hope for our family. Your father would have been proud. But please, keep your head down and don’t contact me again. I’m only worried about your safety.

Love always,

Mom

The letter was dated two weeks ago. The second letter looked to be from three weeks ago. I wonder who this Luke is and why his mom wants to keep him out of danger.

Dear Luke,

I’m glad school is working out for you. Remember when you used to beg me to let you stay with me at work? You were only seven and you would attach yourself to my leg and not let go. Your dad had to pry you off with the promise of ice cream after school. Boy, did you love ice cream. I’ve missed being able to watch you grow up. These past few years have not been good for our family. Remember your friend Tricia? Oh man, you guys were inseparable. It’s a shame what happened to her. You should contact her. I think she might know something. Sorry honey, but I’ve got to cut this letter short. Thinking of you. Love always, Mom.

That was kind of confusing. I wonder who this Tricia is, the one with my name. I’m about to pick up the next letter when I hear a rustling sound nearby. I shut the box, put it back where I found it, and run. I’m halfway down the hill when I hear this voice.

“Hey! Wait up!”

I keep running. I pass by this trail that veers to the left. I am about to go the other way, since the trail is cast in shadows, when I hear the voice again. I run down the trail and hope to God that there is a way out. The guy is pretty fast, I have to admit. I can hear him on the trail behind me. I get scared by a rabbit jumping out of the bushes, almost knocking into me in its rush to get to the other side of the trail. I see some light ahead, but as I near it, I realize that it’s on the other side of the trees. The pathway ends in a cul-de-sac.

I can a shadow in the distance. I do the one thing I can think of. I hide behind a tree.

I hear his footsteps slow to a standing position. I can hear his breathing coming in shallow beats. He’s just as winded as I feel.

“I know you’re there. I just wanted you to know that I know about your parents. I’m sorry that had to happen to you. It’s my entire fault. I know you can’t remember me, but I was your best friend. I still am. Tricia, I didn’t want this to happen to us. I’m going to leave, but I hope you know that I would never intentionally hurt you.”

With that, he walks away, leaving me confused. I’m unsure of what to think.

 

*This is a little later in the story. Probably near the middle.

Its lunch time and I’m in the library, working on Mr. Fredrick’s essay on why history matters. I’ve gotten through most of the essay, when I see a familiar patch of black hair in one of the stacks in front of me. I don’t see much movement, except for him treading his fingers through his hair every now and then. I find it strange to see him in the library. He’s never seemed the bookish type and I’m pretty sure he skips class almost every day.

I go back to my work, only to be interrupted by the owner of that black hair. He sits down in the seat in front of me, tapping his fingers on the table. I ignore him. The essay is due in two periods and I have yet to come up with my conclusion. And I’m sure Mr. Fredrick will get pissed if I have to ask for an extension. He’ll probably put me in front of the class as an example of what a bad student looks like. It’s not my fault weird things always happen to me whenever I even begin to start homework. I’m cursed.

“Eh-hem.”

I ignore him again and continue on to my essay. His finger tapping gets louder.

“Are you just going to sit there and ignore me?”

“Yes I am. Since most of my grade relies on this silly essay and Mr. Fredrick will probably fail me the second I try to give another excuse.”

“I don’t think you have to worry about him anymore,” I hear him mutter under his breath.

“Why not?”

“Oh I didn’t say anything.”

“Yes you did. Anyways, I don’t have time to listen to you. I have this essay to finish.”

The bell rings. I save my essay, but worry that the small two sentence conclusion I have is alright. It will have to do.

As I go to pick up my backpack off the ground, Luke reaches over to grab my forearm. I want to slap his hand away, but at the same time I’m comforted by his touch.

“Don’t worry about it. You will be fine. Good luck. See you later.”

With that he walks away.

 

Fifth period goes by and then it’s time for sixth period. On the walk to class, I notice the girl sitting next to me in the class. I walk up to her.

“Stacey right?” She nods. “Did you finish the essay for Mr. Fredrick?”

“For who? What essay? I did not know there was an essay due today.”

“The one Mr. Fredrick was going on about yesterday. You even asked to see him after school.”

“I know you’re new here, but there is no Mr. Fredrick here. But we are going to be late. Ms. Balboa won’t like it if we are late.”

She walks towards class, leaving me stunned at what she said. I know I’m not crazy. Mr. Fredrick was really adamant about turning the essay in on time. I walk towards class and somehow make it to my seat right before the late bell rings.

The person who walks through the door is definitely not Mr. Fredrick. The woman who walks through the door is maybe in her late forties, with the demeanor of someone who doesn’t take any nonsense. Her hair is graying and there is a slightly off putting mole on the side of her face. I want to ask where Mr. Fredrick is, but judging by the tone of Stacey’s voice earlier, I think I’d be instantly put into an insane asylum.

I look around the classroom and realize that no one seems to be surprised that there is a new teacher. They all look bored. I turn to the girl behind me and ask her where Mr. Fredrick was.

The girl looks at me weird.

“Who? You must be thinking of someone else from your old school. There is no one by that name.”

I know that sometimes I am a bit forgetful, but I know that I could not have made up the way Mr. Fredrick would call on me every day just to make an example out of me.

The teacher, Ms. Balboa, goes on with the lesson, as if she’s always been here. And maybe she has and my grief riddled mind is just playing tricks on me. But somewhere deep within my soul I know that something is definitely wrong. For one thing, the teacher never once picks on me and when she’s addressing the class, her eyes seem to pass me over. By the end of the period, I’m a little on edge.

The bell rings, signaling the end of the school day. I wait for everyone to shuffle out of the room. When Stacey finally stops talking to Ms. Balboa, I walk to the front of the class. I am going to figure out what is happening if it’s the last thing I do.

Ms. Balboa is shuffling papers around, leaning over her desk. Maybe I am wrong. But there is something in the way she is leaning over her desk that makes the back of my hair stand on end.

“Excuse me, Ms. Balboa. I was just wondering when Mr. Fredrick is coming back.”

“Who is Mr. Fredrick? I’ve never heard of such a man. Now, I don’t have time to chat. I’m going to be late for a faculty meeting.”

With that she leaves the room. I can swear that her eyes turned green right before she turned away from me. I don’t mean just the pupil, but the entire eye.

 

Obviously I’m not going to find answers to my questions from anyone in school. Maybe Aunt Kristy was right. Maybe I need to see a counselor about this. I mean its one thing to think you’ve had a teacher who doesn’t exist, but eyes that turn green? That’s just bonkers. I head towards the front of the school, hoping to catch the bus before it leaves without me.

When I get outside, however, I can see that the bus has already left. I guess I’m going to walk again. I start down the road and see the orange cat from across the street. It’s hanging by the side of the school, playing with something. I go over to it. The thing it is chasing is a necklace. It’s a silver heart with a dagger through the middle. It’s kind of a warped looking Cupid’s arrow. The cat pushes its head out towards my hand, waiting for me to pet it. As I go to pet it, I notice that it had gotten the necklace inside its mouth. I rub its mouth and it releases the necklace into my hand.

It’s really pretty and whoever owned this must be missing it. Looking at it, I have this strange feeling like I’ve seen this before. I’m shaken out of my thoughts when I hear a rustling nearby. I ignore it at first, thinking it’s just a rat or something small. But the cat hisses at the sound and runs away. I put the necklace in my pocket and stoop to tie my shoes. The rustling continues.

This time, I hear a scratching sound, as if someone was scratching a boulder. I am getting the feeling it’s getting closer to me. I take the nearest trail up the hill, hoping to get rid of whatever is following me. If anything, it is getting closer.

I pick up the pace, hoping my legs don’t give out from exhaustion. The rustling is getting louder and somewhere behind me I hear a voice call my name, almost like a hiss. My bag is digging into my side, so I ditch the bag on the side of the trail. As I continue up the hill, I hear a sound coming towards me. They’re probably trying to corner me, whoever they are.

I pause for a second as I notice a fallen branch on the side of the trail. I pick it up and luckily I can hold on to it without much effort. The person in front of me is getting closer. I continue walking, holding the branch in my hand, ready to strike if provoked. I see a shadow walking towards me, its face covered by the branches of the trees. I hear my name from behind me, in that same slithery voice and I act fast. I swing the branch into the figure in front of me. Wham!

“Ow shit! Tricia, why are you hitting me?! That fucking hurt!”

I know that voice. As I move back so he can move into the light, I see that familiar head of black hair.

“Why are you following me?” I ask.

“Following you? Why would I… ow.” He doubles over in pain. I kind of feel bad for him. Well, if he wasn’t following me, that is.

“You’re saying you weren’t following me? Then why are you here?”

“Does everything have to revolve around you? I was living here way before you came here. If anyone is following anyone, it is you.”

“Yeah well, you’ve been kind of creepy since I met you. So you never know.”

“I’m creepy? I’m just trying to understand you. Anyways, what are you running from?”

As I’m about to respond, I hear the rustle and scraping sounds from behind me. The “Tricia” being more drawn out. I look at Luke, hoping that he’s as confused as I am. However, his facial expression seems like he knows exactly what is coming for us. And it’s not good.

Luke grabs my arm and pulls me behind him. The footsteps seem to be coming closer. Than they seem to stop in front of us. I take a look at what is there from behind Luke’s body, when my heart seems to stop. In front of me is a warped looking version of Ms. Balboa. Her skin is now the color of blood and her feet and hands are shaped into talons. The worst part of her appearance was her eyes. They looked like they could kill me at any moment.

****

So basically Luke knows something and Tricia is very clueless as to what it all means. I wrote part of it just as a backbone for the story, since I know I have to go and edit the wording. But I wanted the main parts of the action to be there so I can go in later and edit.

I hope you guys liked the story. I will be going home for the holidays!!! I’m super excited!!!!

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100 post celebration!!

Here goes my 100th post! I can’t believe I’ve posted in this blog 100 times! I have 92 followers and so far I have a decent amount of likes on my page. I really want to express how much that means to me. I am in no way a professional writer and most of what I put in here are personal tidbits or drafts from my stories. As I said I would do something interesting for this post, I wanted to share a video of me singing.

It’s a song that really holds true for me. Since my grandma passed away, I’ve been kind of contemplating the meaning of life and death. I’ve never really experienced anyone close to me dying, so this is all new to me. I wanted to sing this song because of her. It was the day we got to see what the real estate people did to her house when we were putting it on the market. Everything looked new and interesting. Except when you go out back, you can definitely see my name in the concrete.

The memories I had in that house were pretty cool. I remember going over my grandma’s house every summer and getting to hang out with her. She always did Tai-Chee (not sure how you spell that, but that’s how I say it in my head) and we got to help sweep up the backyard. My favorite parts were when we got to get some Ching Chung Fun and some fruit jellies.

Since I believe that the dead can see what we do all the time, I want to write a little note to my grandma.

Nana,

It’s been almost a year now and there is not one day that goes by that I don’t miss you. I love you so much and I hope you’re in a better place. Your family loves and misses you. We think of you often. I’m having a great time here in Wales and have even lost some weight! I know you’d be happy about that. Anyways, I love you so much.

Yours forever,
Jillian.

I wanted to also tell you guys that there will be more book reviews soon! I am currently reading a bunch of series that take up most of my time. I like to review an entire series as a whole. I hope there are more book lovers reading my reviews.

I also want to show you guys something else that I’ve started. It’s not really thought through that much, but here is what I got. I haven’t titled it yet.

*

The world is a scary and dangerous place. When you aren’t paying attention, the world will swallow you whole like a black hole. When I learned that my parents had passed away, I was sitting in a café, eating cake and enjoying my second date with this guy named Tristan. I was just getting into the story of how my cat had swallowed an entire bag of pills, when my Aunt Kristy walks through the door of the café. She looked disheveled, which was very uncharacteristic of her, since she always seemed to be put together. The look on her tiny pixie like face was one of worry. Her green eyes seemed to water when she spotted me across the room.

There had been a fire in the house and my parents weren’t able to get out in time. I knew then that my life would always be one crazy whirlwind after another. The only good thing was that my little brother of four years old, Tyler, was next door at his friend’s house when the fire happened. In the blink of an eye, we had become orphans. That left us in the care of Aunt Kristy, the successful writer of two bestselling novels and now the parental unit of a four year old and a 17 year old.

People were always treating me like I needed help, when I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. They always say, “Poor Tricia. She needs all the help she can get with her parents being gone. I know, let’s make a casserole!” People are always making casseroles. As if that will make my parents come back from the dead.

It’s not that I’m ungrateful for their help; it’s just that you need some time alone now and then. Tyler thinks that Mom and Dad are just on some holiday to Heaven. I’m jealous that when he looks back on this time in his life he won’t remember much of what went down.

It was the second week of staying with Aunt Kristy when we started off at the new school. We used to live in San Francisco, but Aunt Kristy lives in San Rafael. It was the end of October, so we had to start in the middle of the school year. I had been going to the same school with most of my classmates for my whole life. It felt odd to suddenly be taken away from everyone I knew and loved. I even tried convincing my aunt to move to the City. But she wouldn’t hear a word of it.

The first day was uneventful, in the grand scheme of things. Went to class, had lunch, and went home. Other than a few teachers making me go up in front of the class to introduce myself, I didn’t really talk the whole day. It was the second day that started the whole thing.

I was walking to my first class of the day when I bumped into someone. I mumbled a small apology, hoping to get as little human interaction today as possible. I’m about to walk away when a hand grabs my forearm.

I turned to look at the person and noticed that he is staring at me with some crazy purple eyes. The guy’s eyes were a dark shade of purple and what was even more surprising was his white blonde hair. He was wearing a blue button up shirt with khakis. Most importantly, however, was his attitude. I could tell that he was upset by what happened and that he somehow took offense to the tiny apology I gave.

I was terrified. Not just by the fact that his hand was still holding me to the spot, but there was something sinister in his eyes. The moment seemed to drag on. I was about to say something, when he just shakes his head and releases me. And then he walks away.

Chapter 2

I’m still shocked as to what happened. I try to focus the entire day, but I couldn’t help feeling that there was something sinister about him. The day seems to be going on longer than usual. Finally, when fifth period comes around, I see him again. He’s in the corner of the classroom, fiddling with his pencil. I don’t see any open seats besides the one next to him, so I cautiously take a seat. I can feel the tension as I wait for the teacher to begin. The teacher, Mr. Jakobs, is getting some kind of slideshow ready for the class period.

Out of the corner of my eye I can see that he is just as transfixed as I am. And yet, I can tell that he is kicking himself for not saying something. The class seems to drag on. The teacher’s lesson just white noise in the background. The clock above the white board seems to halt. Suddenly I’m aware of the itch on my nose, the way my lips are so dry they’re cracked and the uncontrollable urge to fart.

The bell rings with a sudden trill. I quickly put my stuff back in my bed and head out the door. I’m a bit disturbed by what happened, so I leave campus early, skipping out on my last two periods. It’s a sunny day, which is quite unusual for someone who came from the City. I ended up cutting my jeans into shorts this morning to be a little more comfortable and wearing my black spanks underneath.

The city feels so dull and empty. I head to the trail behind the school, so I can be alone. The school is situated next to a big hill that easily could have around twenty different hiking trails. I travel as far as the nearest trail will take me, which means that I can see the top of the Golden Gate Bridge, part of the Bay, and a whole bunch of sloping hills that hold tiny suburban homes. I feel the need to yell and so I scream at the top of my lungs. Complete nonsense, I know, but the feeling in my stomach starts to fade from anxiety to a small, rhythmic swaying.

As I’m looking around at the small clearing I’m at, I notice a silver box beneath a bush. I pick it up and examine it. It’s rusty and I can sort of make out Big Bird’s face on the front. Upon opening, I can see a bunch of folded pieces of paper. There’s also a toy soldier in it as well, which looks like it’s been chewed on through the years.

*

That’s what I have so far. It’s a work in progress. Anyways, if you guys could pass the word about my blog, that would be great! Love you all so much! 🙂

Magnus Chase and the Sword of Summer review

Although typically I like to review the entire series as a whole, I wanted to write a special review for this book. “Magnus Chase and the Sword of Summer” by Rick Riordan is a book you can really sink your teeth into. I’ve always loved Rick Riordan’s book series. I mean, I haven’t finished the Lost Hero series or even the Egyptian ones, but his take on the myths are really enticing to read. I hope the rest of the series is as awesome as this first book.

The book is centered on this guy named Magnus Chase. He’s going to die, which we literally learn on the first page, which is why I say it here. Magnus dies a “hero’s death,” which means that he is taken to this place called “Valhalla,” which is the awesome place in Asgard. Yep, we are dealing with Thor and Loki.

However, there seems to be a mistake and suddenly Magnus is fighting for his life. There is so much going on in this book that I might just have to get back to this topic later. The thing I love about this book is that it dispels all of our understanding of Thor and Loki from the movie series. Although I think Tom Hiddleston did a great job portraying Loki. The Gods are not what they seem and the myths that pop culture has taught us about the realm of Norse mythology is taken into question.

Like any other Rick Riordan book, we are given the myths in a way that makes it exciting to read about. We are put into the real tales of these myths and explained them in a way that we want to learn more. I think that is a great way to help kids learn about important parts of education. Plus it’s exciting for us adults to read as well. But hey, I’m not really an adult. I just act like one on TV. XD.

Magnus is an interesting character and one you can really relate to. His friends are just as awesome. The book itself is amazing itself. Although since I am in the UK, I believe my book cover is different than the one in the US. But hey, don’t judge a book by its cover.

This book deserves every praise that it gets. Very imaginative and engaging. I give this book 5/5.

I just realized that my next post will be my 100th post on this blog. I will put in some time later to make that one as memorable as possible!

 

Dizziness: a night of debauchery and dancing!

 

I wrote this paragraph during a class I was shadowing yesterday. We were supposed to go through the Market and write about our experiences. While the class had such amazing things to say, whether they were stories or just small observations, I felt like I was the weird one. I mean, they were all undergraduates, but they each had some great ways of writing. I think the best thing for any writer is to not sit and compare themselves to other writers. You probably won’t be the next Jane Austen or even the next George Orwell. But that doesn’t mean that you’re not a great writer.

These past few months have taught me about my own strengths in writing. I kind of feel like I’m a fraud whenever I turn in something that means a lot to me. Cause somehow I think that I am not worthy. Writing takes time and effort. My classmates have helped me a lot with figuring out what kind of writer I am. My ideas don’t seem stupid when I show them my work. I even had someone said that I’m a pretty good writer, while reviewing my work. I am in no way arrogant, so that one statement really motivated me to think.

From reading other people’s work, I realize that I do want to expand on my own writing. I wrote a poem the other day, and while it is not completely finished, I will post it here. It is really personal to me and I feel like I’m putting myself out there for criticism, but I need to overcome that. Sometimes you will write about someone close to you and the topic might make you feel awkward since you know them so well and if they read what you wrote about them, maybe that will change their perspective of you. But writing is something that you have to realize is very personal and there is always going to be someone who doesn’t like what you have to say. So here is my piece called “Dizziness.”

I don’t usually like posting about drunken nights or anything that will be seen as non-professional, but I feel like this is a work of art. I’m not going to post about all of my crazy mishaps with alcohol, since I know that I want employers to read me in a positive light. But here is my one bit of admittance that I’m not perfect and hopefully that won’t hinder anyone’s decision to hire me or not.

1.

I’m drunk
More drinkssssss
Can’t say no
Spinning around with
this guy
Blue jacket, cute smile
Drink more       no more…

Other guy dips me
I’m
bumbling
around
making a mess of my feet

Then I’m in cute smile’s
arms and we’re spinning
It’s something magical

Then we’re holding
hands
and we are running
And I’m lost
in the deep fathoms
of his deep brown eyes

And I’m in a cab
I feel the
loss of his absence
through the thick jacket
I was so excited
to be put on.

 

2.

London is a beautiful place
And it’s the day before
Halloween
And I’m drunk again

He comes to the party
late with his “boy toy”
his hair is a mess
it’s wet
really cute

Try to come up
with something…
witty… yeah… that’s it…
to say but all
that comes
out            is
“Wanna dance?”

We twirl again
and then again
and his hand is in mine
with his other behind
my back, dipping
me…

Then we are out
the door
to see the world of
Baker Street
and a satellite for
waxy aliens.

 

3.

We are talking
after three beers
I’m fine
But where are
we going? I grab
the bottle of Whiskey

Down the hatch
and grab some more
….something that starts
with a J….
Or was it an I?

I talk some more
He’s annoyed
“Don’t touch me”
his eyes say
And I’m sad…

He’s aloof
and a little bit
hesitant

Less
inviting
and then
B L A C K O U T

Oh God
why am I …

in a trolley???

****

I hope you guys liked this draft of a poem. I think I want to continue on to the musical that I was writing. I feel like I have a better grasp on dialogue now, so I will continue with that and then hopefully collaborate with a lyricist.

Also, here is the piece I wrote when I was in the Market yesterday:

Walking into the Market building, I’m surrounded by this innate feeling of home. A place where people greet you with a smile and don’t try to rush you while shopping. A place where you can feel like a part of a community and a person of value. There is a definitive feel of what is Wales. The traditional Welsh cakes are new and different to me. It’s something I can take with me when I do decide to go home. The array of different cultures transports me back to the Ferry Building in San Francisco. I am the foreigner; the oddity. Yet in this market across the pond, I’m home. Parts of the market reminds me of my small town by the sea. It’s the cloth jewelry holders that remind me of what I’ve lost and the many months ahead to find the strength to move on.

Cheers from Across the Pond!

Cheers from across the pond! It’s been a while since I posted about my adventures here in the UK. I am having a blast over here. Seriously, it’s the best thing that has happened to me so far. Well, besides meeting Billie Joe Armstrong! Every day I’m reminded of how amazing it is to travel the world and to see new places. So far, I’ve only been to London outside of Cardiff, but I’m still happy to be here. And to have this experience. Halloween was such a crazy weekend. I have to say that it started out on Thursday for me, since I attended a friend’s party that night in costume.

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I’ve been to London twice so far. I wrote about my last London trip, so here goes my epic story of the second. It’s not that epic, but it’s awesome regardless. We left at 4:25 in the morning on Saturday. We had actually been partying really hard the night before, for my flat mate Harsha’s birthday. It was so fun getting to share in that moment with everyone. I had lots of fun at the party. I’m not really that big of a party person, but I’m sure no one even noticed.

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When we had gotten to London, we were all tired. But we couldn’t check into the hostel till two pm, so we walked around. We went to the London Bridge area and walked around. We even got to go on the top of the bridge and look down from the glass. It was so cool.

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When we finally got to the hostel, we were already divided. We were a group of ten so you know. We took a nap and then got ready to party. We went through Picadilly to find a club to go to. We had finally found one after an hour that let us in for ten pounds. Considering everywhere else was full and cost twenty pounds, I say we got a bargain. I admit I am not usually into the whole clubbing thing, but it was great to spend it with friends. Harsha wanted to go to a strip club, but none of them would let us in. We did get to see Chinatown and Soho though, so that was a plus.

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We didn’t get back to the hostel till around 3 in the morning. It was so cold, but thankfully the bus stop wasn’t too far from the hostel. It was so hard getting everyone up the next morning. I even pelted a guy with a pillow. Hilarious. Sunday was spent seeing Big Ben and going to the Sherlock Holmes museum. Harsha and I went alone to the museum since everyone else wanted to see things we had seen on our previous trip. It was definitely somewhere I would suggest people go to in London.

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Even though I had been there only once, I found our way through the city pretty easy. What can I say. I remember directions pretty well. Other than the London trip, I’ve had some interesting times here in Cardiff. Just going out with friends is fun and exciting. I went with a friend to the Doctor Who Experience the other week and I had so much fun the second time around. It’s definitely way better than going alone.

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As for my course, I have to say that I love it. It’s so enlightening to be with people who are dedicated writers. I’m lucky that I didn’t go into business or science. We don’t have exams like everyone else. But that doesn’t mean that it’s totally easy. It’s hard to come up with ideas and to critique your own work. I think the greatest advantage to being here other than in the States is that since everything is so different, I can get material from that. I also gain a knowledge about what international readers might think about American writers. There are some things that I have to explain to them when I’m writing that I probably wouldn’t have to if they were American. And it works the other way around. So it’s interesting trying to make everything accessible for everyone.

I’m so happy that all of my friends are proud of me. I have yet to send out my postcards, but believe me, I will get to them. And I found a substitute for Target. Tesco has a big store near where I live that is basically like Target. It’s huge and kind of intimidating. A place I can get lost in, just like at Target.

I miss all of my friends back home and hope you guys can keep in touch. I love you all!

“The Heir” by Kiera Cass

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So I finally got to finishing “The Heir” by Kiera Cass. It’s the fourth book in the Selection series. However, this one is centered on Eadlyn, the eldest daughter (by seven minutes) of America and Maxon. I had huge qualms going into the book. I thought it was unnecessary for the series to continue. I mean, it should have just been a spin off series, like what Richelle Mead did with Vampire Academy. The Selection trilogy ended and shouldn’t have continued in the same series, since it is focused on a new character and time period.

The book itself was kind of dull. I started reading it when it came out, but could not get into Eadlyn’s character. She was the complete opposite of America. She was very centered on status and was very pampered. I mean, she grew up that way, so who can blame her? But still. Her character was so bad that I nearly wanted to ask for my money back. However I just loved the cover and the artwork in it, so I didn’t actually go through with it. So the past few months it’s been sitting on my bookshelf.

I decided to give it another go last night since my goal is to finish all the books I brought from home. I have to admit that it did pick up later on, but I still wasn’t very impressed. It was pretty cliched if you ask me. Although I guess in a way it’s not. The guy that the book sets us up to like isn’t the only suitor and that makes it kind of difficult to root for just one person. The original three Selection books made it clear who should win. But this one was harder to choose. I guess maybe because we are on the opposite side of the Selection in this book.

Some parts seemed hard to read because of the writing style, but I got through it. Sometimes for me I tend to dislike a book if there is even a page that is slightly confusing. The fact that the Selection is basically like the Bachelorette makes it interesting. If you are reading this and have no clue what the plot line for the series is, you can read my blog post on the Selection trilogy here. I think that the author did a great job at showing how taxing this situation would be on a future queen. I would have liked more scenes with Kile though.

In conclusion, if you are in need of persuasion to read the fourth book in the Selection series, I say read it. If only for the Maxon and America parts. Eadlyn gets less annoying as the book progresses, but I still dislike her. I get that she has her guard up all the time and that she can’t help the way she grew up. But I think to win over any reader, you have to have a quality to be liked. I very rarely found myself sympathizing with her and that kind of ruined it for me. Plus the fact that the Selection was changing her seemed to happen a little too fast for me. It felt rushed.

To those who have not read the series, I suggest you pick up the first book. It’s a pretty good series.