Thursday, November 29, 2012

Plot Twist.

The doors rush by as his feet pound the pavement. Gasping for air, his lungs burn and ache as his feet slap the rough ground. Propelling himself forward, he vaults over a low chain-link fence which rattles as his foot clips the edge, and the hard wire bites into his hand. His foot hitting the edge has knocked him off balance and for a frightful moment he hangs, suspended in air. He crashes to the ground hard, his shoulder cracking painfully against the cobbles. Flaming agony spreads through his shoulder, up his neck, and his arm goes hotly numb. Gritting his teeth, he pulls himself to his shaky feet and forces himself to take the steps forward, clutching at his senseless arm.

Just then, the police sirens came wailing up the alleyway. He panics, and adrenaline forces his feet to take him to the end of the alley, turn and dash up the empty back streets of the dystopian city. The sirens slowly fade as his energy finally wanes and he takes three more heavy steps before he collapses on a doorstep. 

The young woman who resides in the house hears a heavy thud on the steps leading to her house. Shocked and slightly wary, she pulls the door open as far as the chain allows and peers around for the creeper that she thinks has come to her door. Instead, she sees the unconscious man on the ground. Gasping, she slams the door closed.But after hesitating, she unlatches the chain with shaking hands, and pulls the door back open again. She kneels and touches the man’s shoulder. When he doesn’t respond, she peers worriedly at his flushed face and touches it gently, hesitantly, with pale fingers. Sweat sticks to her palm, and heat radiates from his feverish face. Inhaling sharply and pulling back, she straightens and turns to go inside, grabbing her cell phone from the side table, and dialling 9-1-1, quickly giving them her information and the situation. When she comes back outside, he has returned to consciousness. She gives him a glass of water and, after asking how, if any way, she can assist him, strikes up a conversation with this strange young man who has appeared on her porch. 

The ambulance and the policemen arrive at her house at the same time, and six months later, she still visits him in jail once a week.  

Tuesday, November 27, 2012

Fix you

When you try your best and you don't succeed
When you get what you want, but not what you need
When you feel so tired but you can't sleep
Stuck in reverse

When the tears come streaming down your face
When you lose something you can't replace 
When you love someone but it goes to waste
Could it be worse?
~Fix You, by Coldplay

Meh. Music. Sometimes I love it, sometimes I hate it. It's like food. I love it one day and the next I can't stand it. It helps me so much sometimes but makes me depressed/sick the next.

I cried on our dining room table today and no one was witness to my agony but my textbooks, the candlesticks, and the oversized wine glasses. The festive holiday tablecloth and my oversized sweatshirt  soaked up my tears. I'm relying on God to get me through this overly long week. Stress is overcoming. The strain is overwhelming. If I make it without breaking, it will be a miracle.

Even if a day feels too long
You feel like you can wait another one
You're slowly givin' up on everything
Love is gonna find you again

Love is gonna find you, you better be ready then

You been kneelin' in the dark for far too long
You've been waitin' for that spark, but it hasn't come
Well I'm callin' to you, please, get off the floor
A good heart will find you again

A good heart will find you, just be ready then

Tethered to a bird of sorrow
A voice that's buried in the hollow
You've given over to self-deceivin'
Your prostrate bowed would not be leavin'
You've squandered more than you could borrow
You've bet your joys on all tomorrows
For the hope of some returnin'
While everything around just burnin'

Come on, we gotta get out, get out of this mess we made
And still for all our talk, we're both so afraid
Well will we leave this up to chance, like we do everything?
Love is gonna find us again
Love is gonna find us, we gotta be ready then

~Bird of Sorrow, Glen Hansard

Tuesday, November 20, 2012


Just a little something that came flowing out of my creative juices this morning :-)

A pair of ghosts met outside the local coffee shop today.

He ran forward and swept her up into his arms, holding her close, burying her face in her long, soft hair.

Her arms wrapped around his neck, and when he set her down, she rested against his chest with a smile spread on her face

I smiled, watching them just stand and sway in the parking lot.  The waitress came over to my table and set my cappuccino on the table next to me. Looking up, I thanked her and picked up the warm mug, turning back to the lovers outside.

But they were gone.

And it made me wonder if love is a ghost.
Just like them.

Monday, November 12, 2012


Life is a blessing.
Why do so many people waste it?
Why do so many people throw it away?
Each day if a gift. We should embrace every day as a new and unique opportunity to bless someone, to love someone.
Let's embrace it.

Sunday, November 11, 2012

For such a time as this...

One of my closest friends has seen more in the last 24 hours than anyone should experience in his/her sixteen years. I am shocked at what he has experienced and my heart aches for him and the family that has been affected by what they have seen.

My small group leader told me that I was placed in his life 'for such a time as this', as it is stated in the book of Esther. But what can I do? I am a mere girl, helping an older boy with struggles I haven't faced myself, sights and images that I cannot fathom coming face to face with. But I know that I am here, I am in his life for a reason, and I have a purpose in being in this situation.
But what?

It will all come clear in time.

I know it will.

I have to trust that it will.

Friday, November 9, 2012


I love those moments, stillness within loud chaos.
When everything is just perfect, and there is nothing that is stopping it.

I love them.

Last night was one of those. So thank you so much to J.O., A.B., A.B., R.B., (It's okay, they're all related), and most especially J.P. for making last night fantastic, amazing, and memorable.

You guys are fantastic, and amazing. Don't forget.

Tuesday, November 6, 2012


Today is election day. It is a fact, and I will withhold my opinions on this election. Because I am only 16, I cannot vote (yet), but as a country, all we can do is pray for our future, and look forward to what lies ahead, because paradise lies await for us. What happens is not our doing or our choice. We can endure. 
(Thank you JBT for that insight today)

I've had a bad day. I'm not gonna lie to you guys. I've had people anywhere from fellow students to teachers say things these last few days that have hurt me badly and the aftereffects of it are painful. 
I'm surviving.


Monday, November 5, 2012


Loving the light at the end of the tunnel. Just wishing it was a bit closer, and a bit brighter. I just want to savour every moment, the little bits of peace that just come and transcend. 

God is good, people. And he is the best in the darkest times. 
Trust me. I know.

Hey followers :)
I'm not going to lie to you faithful people. Today was awful. 
But when you have friends, even only two or three, that actually care, it makes a huge difference.

I have amazing people. So thank you J.A., A.B., C.J.K.
You mean so much.

Saturday, November 3, 2012


The insanity has begun, y'all. I'm almost 5000 words into my novel and it's only day three! Woah!
I suppose you guys would like a snippet, eh?

Valtaseri: Alice in Dystopia
Chapter One

“I think you know the world’s gone berserk when job applications start asking you what race you are, if you’re fully human, or if you have prosthetics.” Suri Robwyn sighed. The cyborg revolution had created a fad, and now everyone wanted or had an electronic limb or something to increase their speed, sight, or strength. To be faster, stronger, better, was the trend and it became unescapable. Finding full-humans slowly became a rare occurrence, and more and more cyborg gang fights were breaking out in the deteriorating streets of Old Londinium—once known as London.
But the Stede Messenger’s Institution for Young Boys and Girls was not in support of cyborgs or inhuman beings. Well, if some stranger knocks at your door, you’d want them to be fully human too, now wouldn’t you?
The letter seemed official. The paper, thick, was of the highest quality, and the seal was real wax, not the cheap stuff at the grocery down the street. Perfumed too. Suri snorted. Pretentious rich people. But she was interested nonetheless. 
But because Allison Robwyn, who went by Suri, never had it easy. She’d been sick from the time she’d appeared on the banks of Valtameri, and her various health conditions had put her on that fine line between life and death more times than she’d care to remember or relive. The seizures hadn’t happened in months, but because they could be destructive and render her ill for days on end, many institutions, stores, and hostels had turned her down. She had gotten a job as a waitress and occasional kitchen maid at a hotel called “The Tree”, which offered temporary and permanent lodging as well as a bar and restaurant. A tall, looming, building, it was located in the middle of downtown, right by the train station, a fact she was reminded of many, many times a day. Like right at that moment. A train rattled through Londinium Station, the floor shaking, glasses and vases quivering as if a man took the cold, lower levels of The Tree hotel and rattled them up and down.
The basement of the hotel stretched far below the streets of Londinium- and right beneath the Londinium Central Train Station- the LCTS as the locals call it. Each time a train rattles through the station, the basement roars and the building shakes with the vibrations emanating from the passing train. 
Suri sighed as her cot shook and the train roared above her, the noise shaking her down to her core. She glanced over the application one last time, and put it on her nightstand. She’d have to talk with Madam about switching jobs. If the Stede Institute wanted her, they’d have to be desperate.
“Allison, darling?” Suri looked up and the sound of her name purring in silence after the aftermath of the train. She knew who it was. Only one person called her Allison anymore.
“Hello, Gracia.” Suri leaned back against the back of her cot and grinned at the other kitchen maid, a large, hispanic woman with a big heart and a kind, welcoming smile. They roomed together, sharing the small, cement basement room that was the closest to home Suri would ever get.
Gracia spotted the letter right away. “Oh, chica, what’s that?”
“A job application.”
“You’re leaving us?”
“I got asked to.”
“Asked?” Gracia sat down on her cot opposite Suri. It creaked under her weight.
“Yeah, but it’s no big deal. I don’t know if Madam will let me leave.” She picked up the letter, folded it up and tucked it in the drawer of her side table, standing. She stretched and started to pull of the waitressing uniform. She hung up the dark green blazer in the small closet and started to unbutton the blouse.
“It’s not nothing, chica. Getting an application from anywhere is a big thing for you especially. Think about it. Where’s it from?”
Suri pulled the blouse out from the skirt hem and put it on another hanger. “A messenger institute downtown.”
“The Stede Institute?” Gracia’s eyes grew wide. “That’s huge!”
“Mhmm.” Suri didn’t pay much attention, just pulled off the dark green pencil skirt and slipped on a cotton nightgown. 
“Allison! You can’t pass up this job! This is big, chica!” Gracia stood and grabbed Suri by her shoulders. “I’m serious!”
Suri sighed. “I’ll talk to Madam about it. Do they need me on the early shift?” She changed the subject, not wanting to talk about the application anymore.
Gracia nodded. “Yeah, they do. But think about it, okay chica?” 
Suri nodded and turned from Gracia, then sat at the small desk that doubled as a vanity. Pulling pins from her high bun, she set them one by one onto the vanity.  “Gracia, are you working night shift?” 
“Not tonight, thank goodness. I’ll go get us some tea and I’ll be right back!” She turned and left their cement room to get the tea that they sipped together almost every night before they went to bed
Suri unwound her bun, then untied the ribbon that held it up in a ponytail. She let the blonde mass tumble about her shoulders, and taking a coarse brush, ran it through the tangled locks. The application form simmered in the back of her brain. Should she take it? Could she take it? What would they have her do? Would she be able to do it well? Would the seizures come back? Frustrated, Suri flung the brush down and buried her hands in her arms. 
What to do? What to do? 
She took a deep breath and sat up straight, picked up the brush and finished yanking it through her hair. She pushed her ribbon and the pins on one side of the vanity. She looked at her reflection, a bland face staring back. A face made thin and hollow from illness and hunger. Dark blue eyes that echoed purple—dull from overwork and exhaustion, but a spark glinted from beneath them. Too-long scraggly blonde hair. She pulled it over her shoulder and braided it for the evening, tying it off with a ribbon. She went over to her cot and gazed down on it, peeling back the covers. No scorpions tonight. Suri sighed. That was a relief. Sometimes they laid between the mattress and the sheet. They got up to 4 inches long, sometimes bigger— and could cause death from poison. She slid between the coarse sheets and  straightened out the blankets on top as Gracia walked in, carrying a tray.
“Surprise! They had extra hot chocolate tonight so I got us some!” She winked at Suri and set the tray down on her table, sliding a mug onto Suri’s nightstand. For the first time that day, she smiled and took the warm mug, half full of still-warm chocolate, and sipped the warm drink. “Oh, Gracia! It’s delicious! It’s been so long since we had good chocolate like this.” 
Together, they slowly savoured the warm drink, then put their cooled mugs on the tray. Curling up in the thin sheets, they chatted until the electricity was rationed for the night and the basement went black. Then the one immigrant woman and the one mysterious girl curled up and let sleep carry them off.