Why am I drawn to horror films so much?
I think it's too confront my fears, but also to avoid the worst fears of reality
I'm not sure.
I am afraid of the weather that is about to come. It sounds very awful with bitter cold and icy roads. It will be depressing, and exhausting. Because it will be too bitter and cold for me to leave the house, or ability to drive. This shits gonna be as isolating as the Bates Hotel, or motel.
That is all I have to say. Thank you for reading.
An update on how things are going. .
Change can be hard sometimes especially when its sudden and unexpected.
It will howl like the winds, and crash down like the waves in the ocean.
Sometimes change can be easy and fluid, like a leaf or a stick gently following the direction of the river.
Right now there has been many hard changes in my life. The winds give way to the fire, before being extinguished by the violent current the waves.
I sit and stare at the ceiling to look for that peace. Eventually maybe I will find that peace by becoming lkke the leaf which follows the direction with the current.
#feedback #similie #poetry
The man with the bucket...
It was a fine day in England for the maiden; the sun was shining, she had a filling breakfast of bread, meat, and wine. She hadn't eaten that well for days... She got dressed in her frock, pulled together the laces from her corset, put on her skirt and pouch, and left for the day. She tucked her hair back into a bun, as she would be working hard at a farm that day. She knew it was dangerous work, as her father had done it before. However, he died shortly after.
Although young Meridith hadn't had much sleep for the past few days, she felt a rush of excitement for her new job. She walked to work and when she got there, she started tending to the animals and plants. It was silent...
Then all the sudden she hears a man screaming behind her, she bolts around as he announced, "Bucket man here! Come relieve thyself with me bucket for but a coin!"
Meridith twisted her nose at the vulgarity of his announcement, however she did need to freshen up. She stood up walked over to the Bucket Man and quietly asked, "May I use this bucket? I have a coin in my pocket," she said.
The man with the bucket turns towards her, "Payment first and ye can't leave me sight. Not to long ago a lad stole me bucket and it costs," he said.
She stood there bewildered that a man would ask for her to do something so undignified. Then she said, "How dare you? Such a perverse request of a lady, as myself."
"Well from looks of it, wool spinning and farming ain't ye only job," he said.
"Are you accusing me of adultury and being a harlot!?"
"Women like ye shant work. Men do the real work," he said.
With that Meredith lost it. She stamped the man with the bucket on the foot and punched him in the eye. Then she left for home, as she wouldn't be seen around the perverse man.
If you like Meredith let me know in the comments and I could make another short story for her. Maybe you want a background or a situation, let me know down in the comments.
If you like this story and would like to read more from me, check out my blog at https://aliengirlonline.wixsite.com/website-1/blog
I'm sorry for putting myself through the hell of my own insecurities. How I let them manifest into huge fears; cameras, microphones, being seen without the perfect outift or makeup on. Fears of being around others and meeting new people. Fears of not being happy in life, or being homeless again, not measuring up academically or socially.
I put so much worry into checking all the boxes, Link Crew, NHS, GHS, NAHS, FBLA, Musical, AP Classes, on top of my extracurriculars of writing, music, and art. Not accounting for doing what makes ME happy, mentilly healthy, motivated, physically healthy. . .
So I'm sorry and I will try to do better. Stress less and take care of myself. Especially physically and mentally. It's been a rough go this year and I need to give myself a rest.
If one looks over to the people who are seemingly "imortal" because they outlive those around them, one will see that they are not entirely happy. They experience loss through violence, disease, starvation. Loss of loved ones who cant replace. It is extremely painful, in some cases.
Then one looks forward and sees all their goals marked with the ever-consuming deadline of when they won't be able to keep pushing. The deadline may be known or it may not be. Either way it tends to create a huge feeling of anxiety. The loss of one's self. . .
If it weren't for my fear of death, I'd prefer a natural life. Because I already know what it's like to outlive somebody, and it is very lonely. I couldn't imagine having to experience that forever.
So I will begin to stream some stories once I can figure out my microphone. I’ve been trying for weeks... But anyways since I can’t do that I am going to scribe all of you this story of the Trees.
Before start I don't recommend anyone looking at my stupid\unstupid actions and replicating them. I cannot guarentee similar results.
For more context, the Trees is a special place where the stoners, hippys, druggies, smokers, vapers, occasional partiers, etc... all hang out. Reasons being it’s off campus, so one might have slightly less awful punishments for breaking rules. For example vaping at school is a 3 day suspension possible expulsion - that’s a no-go. However, vaping at the trees and getting caught, most times you just get a look of disapproval from people. Through these stories I give you a peek into the magical world of the Trees. Names and locations won’t ever be revealed.
Imagine a map with several little hideouts. The Trees, Tunnels, Sunshine, Campground, Ditch, Storm Drains, Jumps, Fort 1 and 2, Giant Ass Tree, the weird abandoned cars, and Bubblegum.
The true origins of Bubblegum aren’t for sure known. Currently the story is that a kid lost some bubba-kush or a pack of bubblegum with weed in it. However it hasn’t been really talked about for a few years. Back before Bubblegum eroded a lot, someone got caught smoking, and someone broke a fence, it was a pretty chill place to go to. Lot less sketchy than it was this year. It was still nice however, people still went and smoked. No one really looks for the “lost weed”. I haven’t heard of anyone greening out recently but I’m sure someone will eventually.
This is just backstory to Bubblegum I will start putting in old stories there too.
Oh it’s been a while... So here is a short update!
Sorry for the long time - no write. I was focusing on finishing up school and sorting through some personal problems of mine. I’m back now. Just graduated high school with some surprising awards. Legit like my self esteem was hella boosted from the senior awards, haha.
I'm gonna go to my local community college the first year or two to get the basics out of the way for a cheaper price. I seriously don't know why I was so desperate to go to a "pristegious" college, just about a year ago. Those colleges are expensive and it's just not my type of people to be around. There is nothing wrong with preppy rich kids, I just don't vibe as well usually. I try but there is usually a barrier. My people are the tree people (aka hippies) and those are very different worlds of perspective.
Community college was the best choice I could have made given cards I have in the situation. No parent's help to go (I don't know if that's normal or not cause I live in a rich area but am not rich), but I like to think I have their support. I do have some savings, though not enough. However, all those AP classses, Alien girl kisses her knowledge muscle lovingly. AP German, Lit, Lang, and US History. Will all probably count towards college credit. If the community college accepts it the transfer has to too. It'll save lots of time. Then on the cash side I did get some scholarships and financial aid. I am also working a job on the weekends now, and trying to find a weekday one before school starts. Hopefully I can save enough to be able to work less hours during the school year.
Without further ado... I bid you all farewell till my next post.
I'm thinking the next one will be a short story or scene. Maybe leave suggestions in the comments below and I'll just pick one to write. If you wanna see me blog, go to my profile and enter the link.
The Purple Pouch
A gift passed down from a mother to a son. An heirloom coming from love. Sitting her son down by the couch she gives him the best gift, a little purple pouch. Her eyes are warm with pride for he has grown before her eyes. A boy to a man with a full life ahead. He looks at the pouch confused and perplexed. Questioning her intentions, he says “What’s this?” She patiently waits for him to open the bag. Curiosity took control of his hand.
Within the purple pouch are several small papers all written up with different answers. “That one is my great grandmothers card.” the mother said, “It’s her self-relization.” The grandmother had learned that she cannot lie she would rather just be honest and kind. “This heirloom is a collection of advice, passed on from generations of our kind,” she said. He was a bit bored but kept an open mind and started going through the cards. One at a time.
Keep an open mind. Always value yours and others time. Don't live to please others, live for yourself. If somethings to good to be true, it's probably a lie. He came across his grandfathers card, "Don't poison your body, life is short as it is already. Take your time to explore and see the world for your own eyes." he teared up remembering his grandfathers battle with lung cancer. Precious advise from long gone relatives made him more thankful for the time he had with them.
Flipping to another card, his mom interupts.“That one is mine,” she says nugging her son. “It says everyone is one of a kind.” He smiles at her then keeps going through the truths of life. “This one is blank. Why is that?” the son asks. “That one is yours, my boy. To write when you discover your truth. It might take awhile but when you do write it down and share with me and your kids to spread it’s use.” the mother says while happily hugging her son. He chuckles at the thought of having his own kids but hugs her for the new perspective.With a new appreciation for family in his heart, he carefully puts away the cards. Tucking them in the little purple pouch, and placing it safely in his pocket- to keep by his heart.
Ringing, a constant ringing in my ears and I begin to wonder what silence feels like. What does it sound like?
It's nearly impossible for one to escape the noise. As we carry that noise in our thoughts.
Sounds for a fast paced life of work and progress.
Sounds for the racing mind, ringing with worries and ambition.
Noise, never content with the gifts we are given and always searching for answers to our questions.
Could silence be for those who have grown old and wise? Who know when the quiet is right?
Sounds to spread lies and misinformation; or sounds for excitement, cheer, and celebration.
Ravenously consuming all the sounds, as if they are fleeting. Never taking the time to hear nothing.
Perhaps only the wise know that nothing can be something.
Is it reserved for only those who have passed on? Does it feel like the reminicence of past times?
Feelings of sadness, grief, a mournful quiet searching for lost loved ones.
Feelings of nostalgia, the quiet allowing one to reflect.
Or maybe silence is reserved for the silenced.
Silenced by fear of standing out.
Silenced by oppression.
Silenced by the societies that claimed to be free but speaking out leading to punishment.
A moment for those whose voices were taken.
Surreal silence maybe it's found in a dream or rather a nightmare.
The quiet first peaceful transforming into desperation for sound, music, connection. Filling the hole with unspoken terror.
The absense of sound in a loud world might open a new perspective. Scary at first but soon accepted. Maybe it brings a new light that's reflective.
A little bit of explanation. I have had ringing in my ears for as long as I remember. When I was younger maybe 4-5 I remember the ringing making me feel trapped and unallowed to speak. I eventually realized that I could talk.The ringing used to be intermitent but now its constant and the only time I don't hear it is by drowing it out with sound. I've always wondered if people can really hear nothing (assuming they aren't deaf) or if there is too much noise in this world to do that. If there is a real silence, would that be masked by thoughts? Maybe this curiosity is morbid, I'm not really sure.
Fingers running across the strings, for a moment the darkness fades away as he plays.
A passion neverending the notes always ringing.
His eyes, normally dull are bright with hope.
He plays his guitar fearlessly and the crowd responds cheerfully, for he is what they came for.
The curtains close and the concert becomes a ghost.
No one knows where he had to go.
Without the music doubt clouds his mind.
He can only see the bad he left behind.
If only he could see why the crowd cheered for him.
He dismisses their cheers for anyone other than him.
He's blind to the good he has done because his eyes are dulled to what he has become.
A shadow of his former self.
Hopefully he will see the potential to regrow and rebirth himself.