Hopes and Fears

In our lives there will always be hopes and fears popping in and out of our heads. Some nights they dance about as I try to shut my eyes and scatter about the room as I toss and turn, trying to settle my mind. When I wake up I’m in a daze before they come rushing back.

I try to wake up feeling excited versus anxious, about the things to come. I try not to think of the ever-growing list of things I need to do for the day and take my time getting ready. Still by the time I realize I’m running behind schedule, these hopes and fears are there waiting by the door. I try to keep them locked up but they must have figured out how to climb through the window.

No matter. I can always stick my headphones in and ignore them. The music will drown them out…although I do like the hopes very much, so I let them dance while I walk to the rhythm of the morning. They’re warm like the sun and brush gently across my skin. They make my heart pound heavily, but the heaviness is nice…it lets me know that I’m still alive and as I get lost in my hopes I pull out my phone and suddenly fear sinks its teeth into me.

Being late, not having things done, forgetting something back at home…all of the little fears that poke and pick at me throughout the day. Sometimes it’s easy to ignore them and other times I can’t. I think about kicking them, or stomping on them…but at the same time being so carefree isn’t always a good thing. Things need to get done. I have places I need to go, people I need to meet, work I need to finish…and the ever-growing list of little fears pushes me to get them done. My heart races when the fears start to slither about. They slip between my ankles, wrap around my throat…they nearly suffocate me…and yet I’m still alive.

My hopes  tug at me and my fears start to pull back. Both clawing at my arms and legs and face. I can’t seem to decide which way to go, so I sit in the grey…and I wait. I procrastinate. I pretend everything is nothing, and that nothing is everything. It’s a numb place to be, and very boring…there’s no music or colour. There are no hopes and no fears…so I let them back in and let the battle begin, until night-time comes again and I begin to dream.

Advertisements

The Fall

the-fall

The Fall, O. Ryder. Sept 26th, 2016.

The Fall

By O. Ryder

I realized that I didn’t own a hairdryer when my sister’s wet towel brushed against my skin last night. It was cold. It soothed the pain in my bear arms but I moved it away, onto her lap. Whenever someone wore a towel on their head I imagined the Virgin Mary.

“It’s cold.”

She looked at me, big eyes glaring. “I just washed my hair.” Always glaring.

In that moment I felt stupid. Glaring eyes often made me feel as though I’d done something stupid.

Always glaring. Always stupid.

I felt uneasy as she pressed her back into my pillow. The olive green towel reminded me of my sweater: how it hung on her and how her gold strands clung to it as she rested against me.

I wasn’t attracted to blondes, I told myself. She was pretty but plain. I liked dark hair. I liked dark hair and warm eyes. No glaring. Never glaring.

My sister elbowed me. Woke me from my trance. Told me Dad wanted to talk.

My eyes left the green and my hands found the phone. I wondered why I had been in such a daze. Wet hair was soft, I thought. I haven’t worn that sweater in a long time.

I talked. He talked. He hung up.

Whenever we spoke lately he felt as though he was keeping me away from something. I just had trouble finding things to talk about. I wanted to hear warmth in his voice.

Everything died in the Fall. The plants, the insects, Granddad. Even some of the Angels died in the Fall.

Love blossomed in the Fall, but made me feel dead.

I was not fond of the weather. It was deceiving. Deceiving Canadian Fall.

The weather was as schizophrenic as our identity. Some said they felt it was bipolar…perhaps…perhaps.

Always glaring. Always falling. Always stupid. Always dead.

I wondered how anyone could rest their head in such a messy room. It smelt of burnt popcorn, wet towels and cologne.

And those golden strands had smelt like summer.

She was the Summer. I the Fall.

For once I had fallen, she had fled. As the warmth does when death comes.

She was Life. I Death.

Despite wishing, I represented the end.

“I love this sweater.” she said.

I said nothing.

She wrapped her fingers in mine. It felt uncomfortable.

“Wanna cuddle?”

I remembered the wet green towel. My sister was asking for the phone back. I placed it in her hand. I watched the television. You could get lost in the television. No thoughts. Always glaring. Always stupid. Always wishing.

Writing Update!

It’s been a while since I’ve posted anything, so I’d like to begin this post by apologizing for that. I was really hammered with assignments for school. I’m on break now so thankfully I’m able to focus on my personal projects again.

I’ve got a short story that I’d love to share with all of you. It’s the first one that I’ve written other than a children’s book that I find decent, however it’s currently being marked so I can’t share it until I’ve received it back. I don’t want my professor to think I took it from someone named Orion, even though we’re the same person.

I was extremely shocked by the way my story turned out. Some of my YA fiction contains scenes with violence but my short story had an intense amount of it. I’ve never written a story like this before. It’s slightly creepy and slightly exciting all at the same time. If I look at it one way, it means that I’ve grown as a writer…look at it the other way and it means that I might have some deep dark aggression buried within me. Either way…shocked by the result.

I’m also hoping that I’ll be able to get lots of work in on my series that I’d like to post online throughout the week. I’d like to include pictures with the story, and if I’m lucky I’ll have it up by the end of the month. It needs a lot of work though, so I don’t want to make any promises. I’d really like to finish the first section of the story before I go back to school though. Once it gets closer to exams I’m going to have to manage my time better.

It’s getting late and I’d like to get a bit of work in before I fall asleep. I’ll blog again real soon!

Stay golden!

— R.

I woke up at 2 am…

So because I’d been up really late all week I ended up going to bed around 8pm yesterday. I had this really intense, slightly sad little dream and woke up. Now I have an idea for a short story! Hooray!

It was sad though…and I’m not sure how two characters one from a show I watched when I was 7 and one from a show I just started watching, could at all be best friends? That’s bizarre.

It was so sad….

BUT I HAVE SOMETHING TO BRING TO CLASS TOMORROW.

I don’t have to be that awkward kid who’s like, “Hi…um…yah so…I couldn’t think of anything so I’m like…kind of…just hanging out…with my notebooks. Just trying to pick and sort through to see if I got something I can turn into a short story.”

THANK YOU RANDOM DREAM!…but why so sad? Why?

Like…I shouldn’t eat sugar before going to sleep. I also shouldn’t have chugged juice when I woke up because my stomach hurts now.

YES! YES! YES! I have something! I’m so happy!

Well…I guess I’ll try to get back to bed around 5 or 6.

Denmark

imagesCAR9LC2J

Oh morbid Denmark, you wreak of rotting flesh. Blood stains the tapestry that hangs in your castle.

In your state, all that once flourished, withers into nothing: even, rue, the flower of repentance cannot grow here.

This dreadful prison, was once home to a prince, who mourned for his father daily. Now the ears of this head have become filled with poison, and all who caught the disease now lay in an eternal sleep.

Bodies lay in rows, dressed in white, but the purity of their garments touches the filth of the earth.

Even the clouds growl at the sight of Denmark, where the prince once walked, dressed in black, up and down the looming halls. His words bounced off each wall, crumbling them; crushing those who were too slow to get away.

Now the castle lies in ruins and worms eat at its flesh.

All is rotten in this state.