A Writers Tale

The soft embrace of freedom is all I really need, The freedom to be, the freedom to see, the freedom to become, Why hold ourselves down by mass expectations? Why do we cage ourselves in boxes of our own creation? Why do we make our life purpose revolve around riches? Why do we fail to listen to our own inner guidance? True freedom, I believe, lies in freedom of thought. It lies in seeing the world as it is and accepting it for what it is, It lies in realising our happiness is not dependent on our status in this world, but on how we value ourselves and how we choose to experience life as an extension of that personal value. I consider that many people desire complete financial freedom, I understand the energetic influence of paper assigned with value, and digits on a screen, I see what money can buy you, but I also see that which is priceless, that which you can not put money on, can be what is most valuable. The world would be nothing to me, If I were to close the doo

I am a wallflower, Here I sit, Watching the world through this walls slit, I see all and yet not many see me, I watch what is real, And I never resist to be, For being a wallflower is a duty unto itself, Something left unwatched, may cease to be… and a wallflower such as me, may cease to watch, If someone were to deny the truth of the observed, All my claims could become absurd. I would be ripped from the wall of which I grow And I would be no more. Until upon another wall I grow, to observe the world once more.

Here I stand,  24, feeling less than alive... Trying to hide behind the light even though the light is exactly what illuminates the lies I tell myself, When I'm awake in a personal nightmare which is both creating a beauty beyond belief and also crushing all the beauty that had previously been, Such backwards logic, unjust thinking, You can't hide behind that which illuminates.  I once saw the world with a glimmer of hope, a belief that everything works out on the whole, I felt wonder in all shapes and forms,  Nobody was truly evil, nobody was truly as bad as the world made them seem, I was just a girl, shrouded in dreams, Of a world that may never be...  Silly of me, really...  For perfection lies between the lines of imperfection.  I see this now... There is no such thing as a more perfect world than that of which we live, I am just a girl,  a tiny insecure blim of nothingness...  And I am wishing and praying that my wishes and prayers may

Blown Away Like the ocean breeze brushes past my face, My inspiration seems to float away. I stand upon this cliff edge, gazing out at the brilliant turquoise ocean before me, And I gasp at the magnitude of it all, I face the wonder of it all, And yet here I stand, in a state of anxiety… A state of overwhelm at the future of the all in my hands, The gift of entirety, is entirely too much, Or yet it seems it at this moment. I’m listening to the oceans heart beat and the sounds of the tides rolling in, Minute by minute, Hour by hour, I stand frozen by the effects of time and the sounds of every consecutive wave echoes on in my mind for what feels like an eternity, I guess an eternity of being one with the sea can only provide me with the soothing, healing purity of the most sterile and the most awe-inspiring oceans cold, Where the sea creatures which dwell at the depths of such, are beyond our understanding of what conditions are required for

So I've failed to do this 30 day challenge... maybe I will continue it.. but honestly it's just been taking my passion out of writing. I agree that in order to get where we wish to go in life it requires consistent work and effort, my personal struggle is in maintaining a balance in life. Knowing what to prioritise, knowing how to use my energy sparingly.... I find it absolutely amazing that people can take on so much within their days, that they can push themselves to do so much and to utilise their time so well...  Now I know, we all have the same 24 hours in a day and yet I find it amazing how we all apply ourselves differently in that time, we prioritise differently, we integrate our wants and needs within our schedules and I think maybe some of us need more rest than others...  I work around so many people in my average days and I absolutely love my job but due to my nature as a human, I do need time to process all the stimuli I am around in your average days... I am li

Day 13 Think of the worst pain you've ever felt. Now give your protagonist a papercut and over-exaggerate the pain using your own descriptions. I can't see through the streams of salty liquid spilling from my eyes, all that I see is a blur of colours and blemished shapes. My stomach is turning repeatedly as if I am going up and down at speed in a broken elevator and my heart is beating faster and harder than I ever knew could be humanly possible without going into cardiac arrest. I can hear the pulses of each beat in my ear drums. I have been sick twice already and I still feel nauseous. I have debated slicing my wrists to end the torture... "Down the river not across the stream" I remind myself, although people tell me that my actions would be extreme and that it would be selfish for me to take such drastic measures, but it hurts so much. I guess, instead I'll just curl up in a ball and snivel myself to sleep. Why would it come to this? How could I let th

Sometimes the past can catch up with us, Sometimes good people are lead to do stupid and ridiculous things. Like feigning friendship in aid of revenge, Slithering snakes liable to infect you with venom, Who come to your side to drain you of your energy and resources, Claiming friendship is their goal when clearly being a thief of time is their one true calling, Preying on the goodness of one's heart, For the sake of what? To occupy their free time in hell. Sometimes people tread the waters of the unknown, They put themselves in situations they do not fully understand, Living free of responsibility, with a complete lack of understanding and drive, Summoning and making deals with entities for the good of the brotherhood. Yet not realising that what goes around comes around, Some people do a good job of creating illusions of happiness. They lead people into the depths, To find their doom and darkness, To be dragged down deep and to be sucked into the void. So the nex

Day 12 Take the first line of your favorite novel. Remove and replace the nouns and verbs, and write a story that begins with your new line. Delete the first line. "The alchemist picked up a book that someone in the caravan had bought. " The alchemist traced his fingers over a book that someone in the caravan had hidden under the supplies. How foolish of that young traveller, the alchemist thought; to hide such valuable books in obscure places and assume nobody would find them... Or did the alchemist have it wrong? Maybe this is exactly what was meant to happen... The soul of the universe communicates in such ineffable ways, and the alchemist was more than aware of the nature of existence. The leather bound cover was in amazing condition, the gold laced over the cover conveyed an intricate pattern and symbols completely unbeknownst to the alchemist… A feeling of familiarity washed over him as he traced the cover, he recognised these symbols but he couldn't re

Day 11 You are now a dragon. Describe your hoard. Deep under the ocean surface I can be found, Guarding the tunnels of which lead to my mound, A mound of treasure, I speak of, you know, A mountain of precious gems, silver and gold. Let it be known there lies a deeper treasure than this, For the trinkets and shiny things may look most valuable to thee, But there is something much more precious to me, Deep within my hoard you see, lies my kindred, armoured eggs, a three. If one were to try swim to invade, I would snap at them with my gnarly teeth, For how dare they try to loot my keep! This is why I nest down in the deepest caverns of the sea, For there are not many who dare to venture so deep! Lucky for me, I have evolved like so, Many on the surface, know not what goes on below. They think me dead, they think me a myth, Just wait 'til my babies and I  are unleashed! We shall soar the skies once more, just wait and see... Until then believe not in me,

So, I'm losing my passion for writing. I don't feel any desire whatsoever to write so instead of doing the challenge I think I just need to write about what I know and what I know is that right now, I don't feel like I can write about anything rather than this. Lunar ran out today, she has yet to return. I am slightly worried because we're right next to a train track, hopefully she's street smart enough to make it home. I don't know if it's the cannabis and alcohol from last night speaking but I feel pretty damn... dampened? like my fire has been put out... I almost want to conjure up more fire by blaming everyone but nobody is responsible for my irresponsibility with fire. It saddens me what is happening in Brazil... my grandad has informed me that apparently the amazon rainforest provides 5% of the oxygen in our atmosphere. Only a matter f time before the norm on this planet is to walk around with a gas mask and to live in an oxygenated base, li

So today my challenge is to write as if I am a dragon and I am describing my Hoard. To be honest, I'm not feeling up for this challenge today and feel like I should give it more thought. Even so, I wanted to still make sure I write something. I have not flunked on today, I just need to take some time out for myself as I started a new job this week and it is taking me a while to adapt to my new routine and to get my writing in as wholey as I can. In other news, I thought it was absolutely uncanny that todays challenge was dragon related... I swear to god when I wrote yesterdays challenge I did not even bother reading the challenge for day 11 it was just the only mythical creature I could see realism in and so chose to write about it. I quite enjoyed that challenge! Anyhow, for anyone reading this; I hope you have an absolutely beautiful evening and I will see you tomorrow... or you will see me... whichever. Ciao :D

Day 10 Try to convince your reader that the mythological creature of your choosing exists. Why is it that in so many cultures... Chinese, Welsh, Indian, Japanese... there is this recognition of dragons? Where did the idea for the dragon even come from?  I often wonder this. When you look at the 12 zodiac animals within the Chinese culture... 11 are known, real, recognised animals... But then... there is the dragon sign... Unless they're referring to those little bearded dragons you can get as pets but they're hardly something to celebrate every year for a new years party... maybe the bearded dragons are all that remains of the original dragons... but over the years they've genetically evolved to be smaller, for whatever reason. Why,  in Wales have we decided to put a red dragon on our flag? Who came up with this design and what were they thinking? Something must have inspired this image of the dragon! On top of this there is evidence that even the ancient Greeks

Day 9 Turn a Tweet into a haiku . So... I'm not a Twitter-er and as such I have no clue who or what or where to find such things as "tweets". BUT  I can develop an understanding of what a Haiku poem is. Traditional Haiku Structure The structure of a traditional haiku is always the same, including the following features: There are only three lines, totaling 17 syllables. The first line is 5 syllables. The second line is 7 syllables. The third line is 5 syllables like the first. Punctuation and capitalization are up to the poet, and need not follow the rigid rules used in structuring sentences. A haiku does not have to rhyme, in fact usually it does not rhyme at all. It can include the repetition of words or sounds Five syl-a-bles makes The first line of a haiku. Poetry varies. I do not twitter, It does not do much for me, No need to twitter. First, five syllables, Second, I type seven more, Then another five! Beau

Day 8 Take a nondescript sentence such as, "How are you?" Write the same line from at least five different points of view. "How are you?" You alright?  How are you feeling? Are you good? Are you okay? How do you feel today? Is everything okay? "What do you think?" Share your thoughts. Where does your mind wander? What is your opinion on the matter? Penny for your thoughts. He exchanged a confused glance as if requiring explanation/ What is on your mind? Where does that thought train go? Edit: I misunderstood what was meant by point of view "What do you think?" "What does he think?" "Where did her mind wander?" "What did I think?" "What were they thinking?" "What is on your mind?" Taken from: 30 Day Writing Challenge

Week 1 Write a poem, style of which... you decide! Able to Create a way of Remembering Other Sorts and Types of Incredible Creations, Patterns Of which Every Thought is Rhythmically Yours to remember To be Happy As Never Known Yet to be Overly Understanding Taken from: The 52-Week Challenge Different types of poems

Day 7 Spoil the ending of your favourite movie without any context. And just like that, the last mortal man on Earth drew his last breath, with the entirety of the immortal new world watching on the big screen.  This is the precise moment where time began to reverse.  The Big Crunch. Nemo Nobody's eyes open once again, everyone and everything around him is happening backwards. He met this backwards nature of time with so much joy and understanding..  A smile overtook his face and a hard, choppy yet contagious laughter followed.  "Here we go again!" Taken from: 30 Day Writing Challenge

Day 6 Think of your favourite food. Try to make it sound as disgusting as possible. Forced to eat this godforsaken meal yet again.  Who ever decided to mix all these saucy ingredients all together in one dish was an absolute imbecile, it just seems to melt on a plate... A sad excuse for a meal! That blend of acidic, garlic-y, tomato sauce and mince meat... Such a disgusting mix. It just ends up being a chewy gooey pile upon your plate and don't get me started on the mushrooms! Who the heck decided to pick a fungus and cut it up and eat it! It's like chewing on slugs for god sake! As if it couldn't get any worse the Italians were silly enough to make sheets of pasta! As if pasta wasn't annoying enough to eat in the first place, with it's chewy and chalky texture... it doesn't even taste of anything! Blech! Why anyone would cook with pasta, I will never know... what a way to ruin a perfectly good mixture of ingredients!  This brings me to m

Day 5 The last liquid you drank has turned your protagonist into a superhero. What do your character's new powers allow him or her to do? Many of Sana's friends wondered why she never came out on the weekends when they invited her. They had all imagined her to be the type to order 'whisky on the rocks' by pushing ahead of a queue and shouting across a busy bar, nonchalantly. They imagined her to be the sort to shamelessly flirt with those mildly threatening, yet ruggedly handsome biker men playing pool at the pool table that nobody was ever able to play at because they always seemed to hog it. She seemed like the type of individual who would add fire to any evening and make it just that little bit more exciting than a standard night on the town. But the truth is, Sana couldn't drink alcohol... one drop of it did horrific things to her. Now, I am not talking the usual horrific, alcohol-induced type of thing; like turning into a blithering idiot falling ov

Day 4 Imagine that your protagonist has just turned into a statue. Describe his or her thoughts. Have you ever wondered how it would feel to be a statue? Maybe your first thoughts lead towards the horror of not being able to move or maybe you take a more comical stance at the thought of suffering an itchy arse and being hopeless to scratch it, pure torture... Absolutely petrifying. A statue. A solid, inanimate, unchanging structure. Completely devoid of movement and feeling. In the middle of the abandoned building stuck with its arms mid-wave in the air, like a crazed chimpanzee protecting a young-ling; was the Statue of Sana. Her feet were firmly glued and grounded on the rocky surface that she stood upon and her face was stuck with an expression conveying complete confusion, one brow furrowed the other slightly up from it’s usual place. Her mouth was open and curved down as if she had been mid-way saying, ‘What the f***!’ at the time that the stoney illness first began

Day 3 Now send your character to his or her grumpy grandmother's house for a visit. Write the scene of your character's arrival. Sana glanced out of the car window at the blurred forestry on her way to Granny Dot’s home that afternoon. Family duty was one of the most tedious lifestyle necessities in her opinion, but yet here she was, on her way to her demented grandmothers home like a good little red-riding hood. She didn’t very much like people, granny was no exception to that  rule . All humans were pretty much the same from Sana’s point of view, we all bleed, shit, cry and we’re all so darn needy. The last time Sana had seen her grandmother, she had been force fed tea cakes and jammy dodgers by the thousands, she had been made to sit on the old net curtain style sofa chair, sipping at a china cat mug of tea and feigning interest at Granny’s absolute shock that her good friend Dorris had fallen down the stairs and broke her fragile little old lady hips, resulting in 5 we

Day 2 Think of three people in your life. Give your character the hair and laugh of person 1, the face and bedroom of person 2, and the wardrobe and mannerisms of person 3. This is your new protagonist. Feel free to give him or her any other characteristics you'd like. Give us an idea of who your character is by describing only the first 60 seconds of the character's day. Sana spent the first 10 minutes of her morning fading in and out of consciousness. Restlessly repositioning herself in search of comfort. She spent a further 10 minutes with her eyes closed, contemplating her steps to get out of bed. As this was the ultimate chore for her. When she finally opened her eyes she realised she was lying on her bed upside down… She had always been the fidgety type, never being able to stay comfortable in one place for too long, this was no exception in her sleep. Sana had once woken up, her head on the floor with her body draped from the bed like a sock on a washing