“A sestina is 39 lines, 6 stanzas with 6 lines each plus a tag. Begin with 6 words of your choice.Take those words and rotate them at the ends of your stanzas. They rotate in a round with the last word of the last line being the last word of the first line in the next stanza. Your lines can be any length, though it just looks nicer if they’re quite regular.”
Princess wishing for saving but her mind,
Changes thought after awhile left waiting.
Time goes by and the princess, she contrives —
Better plans to be herself, to fulfill dreams.
Caring not if Prince Charming’s attractive,
She drugs the dragon, starts ever-after.
In boy’s clothes, leaves for her ever-after,
Princess shunning a dusty castle mind —
Focused on the path past the moat, awaits,
Challenges, aspirations, contriving —
And listing, all she desires to do, dreams —
A life that is hers, no dull prince, unattractive.
She swims easily through water not attracting —
Guard who had watched her forever-after.
She climbs past the moat, into sunshine, mind —
Reeling at the brightness of dawn; she’s waiting,
To slip into the forest contriving —
Survival though sheltered, planning her dreams.
Who should come to ruin her heartfelt, desired dreams?
But a mean grumpy prince so unattractive —
Manners, pretty, not her ever-after —
She kicks fragile parts; she has a sharp mind —
Laughing, runs to whatever in life awaits,
Inexperienced but smart, she contrives —
Her new life, with hidden coins she contrives —
To buy a home, train for job of dreams.
Countryhome and teaching school, sounds attractive,
Her imagination’s wild ever-after,
It’s the person she is, needs no prince, minds —
Respecting him — an awful fate waiting,
Though the dumb prince chases her, she’s waiting —
Min peered at the downpour outside her front window. The rain added to the river’s violent movements beneath her house.
When she and her son, Sam had moved here, Min hadn’t thought the river below them was dangerous. She’d believed the quiet river had brought her serenity. It’s gentle babble once opened Min’s mind to dreaming.
However, later that night the river water was at the bottom of Min’s house. She groaned when water began trickling in over the wood floor and carpets.
“We have to leave now,” Min told Sam, “The water keeps climbing and if we leave it too long we’ll be trapped on the roof.”
Sam tried his mom’s cellphone. “The cell towers are down so we can’t even call for help. We shouldn’t have stayed, Mom. We should’ve left days ago.”
Min rubbed Sam’s shoulder before they both grabbed their pre-packed bags rushing out the front door. They had no choice but to wade through water that was hip deep. They sloshed down the bridge/walkway created between all the house’s built above the river.
When Min and Sam had reached higher ground away from their neighborhood, they sighed collapsing on cots in a school where some of the city’s refugees had began gathering. The river water had been up to Min and Sam’s neck before they had been able to climb uphill, away from the bridge.
Thank God they had taken the opportunity to leave when they did. Having a moment to spare Min stepped outside and prayed her thanks beneath the open sky and endless rain.
Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weavers writing prompt. Today’s prompt is to write making sense of ‘Nonsense’ and use the word flamhsures in a poem or story as a verb or a noun.
Credit: MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie – Michael
“You can’t go to school with your flamhsures showing,” Mina told her young son Todd.
He looked at her and rolled his eyes. For an eight-year old he had become too cool for his parents. It seemed to Mina that kids were growing up so fast these days and that it was a shame they were.
Mina watched Todd from the front door as he walked to bus to attend third grade. She sighed knowimg how embarrassed Todd would be as his flamhsures were still visible.
She knew the other kids would make fun of Todd at school for this so Mina quickly walked to the end of her driveway yelling: “Todd come back here a moment. I need to ask you something.”
Todd turned his head a moment and rolled his eyes at Mina. She dreaded the day that lay before him. She knew Todd arrive home upset and tearful. Mina wondered if he would still let her comfort him or if he would run to his room and yell at her after his bad day.
In some ways he was no different than his father Thomas when he was in a bad mood. Mina loved her husband but when he was upset he could be cold and distant. She was afraid that their eight-year old had inherited these traits as opposed to Thomas’s better traits. He was a good Dad and a good husband but just as Mina, Thomas had his faults too.
When he dropped by home to have lunch with her Thomas excitedly told her about his newest project as an architect and she told him about the latest painting she had been commissioned to do. She also mentioned Todd and his flamhsures showing.
Thomas smiled, “Todd’s a big boy. He’s almost nine and he has to learn somethings for himself. He may have a terrible day because he didn’t listen to his mother but tomorrow he’ll know better because he’ll have learned.”
Mina sighed covering her face with her hands, “It’s difficult to think of him as more than the little guy he was such a short while ago. He is still so young and it bothers me that that kids can be so mean to others kids.”
Thomas comforted Mina holding her close and kissing her softly before heading out the door and back to work. Mina watched Thomas leave, perturbed when she saw his flamhsures were visible too. He didn’t hear her call out as he was already on his phone and back in work mode.
When Todd came home from school he ran in the door smiling. Mina approached talking to him with care, “It looks like you had a good day Todd? What did you do at school today?”
Todd rolled his eyes, “Oh the usual. Some math, some writing, gym, and recess. We played soccer at recess I like playing soccer.”
“That’s good maybe you want to play in the spring and summer again?”
“Maybe,” Todd says shrugging. “Can I have a snack? Some cookies?”
“Only if you have some fruit with your cookies. Did anything bad happen today, Todd?”
“Not really, Mom.”
“Well, I was just wondering because when I called you back from the bus it was because your flamhsures were still showing and I didn’t want you to be embarrassed at school.”
Todd giggled, “Well I didn’t really notice but then some girl pointed it out and I thought I would get made fun of but then two other boys said their flamhsures were showing too and everyone laughed. Then all the boys made their flamhsures show and we all decided to play soccer.”
Mina giggled, “Well I’m happy to hear that. Let’s hope your father has a similar good story. He came home for lunch and his flamhsures were visible too as he went back to work. Let’s hope he isn’t embarrassed either.”
Todd laughed eating his cookie, “Things like that don’t bother men, Mom. Look at me I’m a man and I survived. Dad will be good too.”
Mina tried to hold back her laughter, “So you’re a man now? Not my little guy, even at home?”
Welcome to my regularly scheduled bi-weekly interview series. I am pleased to share with you the blog of a talented writer, photographer, and world traveler. I have blogged with Yinglan for a while and am pleased to call her a good friend in the blogging world. Please visit her blog here: This is Another Story – About Life, Fantasy, and Everything In Between.
1. Hi Yinglan, Please tell us About Yourself?
Hi, my name is Yinglan Z. and the name of my blog is This is Another Story because isn’t every day in life another story?
I recently completed my second academic degree in Accounting and am currently spending a brief four months in my hometown of Zhongshan, China to get reacquainted with my relatives as well as the place I lived during the first decade of my life. When I am not in China having an adventure, I lead a pretty boring life in the suburb of Salt Lake City, Utah.
At the moment, I am a self-employed translator, working with my mom to update the Chinese version for a software guide widely used by schools around the world. However, my personal goal is to either become a full-time writer or find a job where I’m applying what I’ve learned from my two degrees because isn’t that why I got two degrees?
2. Please Tell Us About Your Writing and Blogging? What do You Hope to Accomplish in Writing?
I began writing in 2013 and the purpose of my blog (at first) was to post the speeches I’d written for Toastmasters, an international club for public speaking. Then, I fell in love with storytelling; thus, my blog for fictional stories began. I wrote fiction and participated in flash fiction challenges during summer of 2014 and discovered fiction writing was a way for me to relax.
Once I began participating in challenges the readership for my blog grew and in 2015, I made the decision to make my blog both a fiction and lifestyle blog to add more variety and so I could write what about whatever I wanted to write about. In late 2015, I made another decision — to change the name to something more fitting: This is Another Story.
“Then, I fell in love with storytelling and, thus, my blog for fictional stories began. I wrote fiction and participated in flash fiction challenges during summer of 2014 and discovered fiction writing was a way for me to relax.” – Yinglan Z
3. When did you really begin writing and blogging? Why is Writing Meaningful for you? Do You Find You Are Able to Help Others Through Your Blogging?
I began writing after I joined Toastmasters in 2011. That’s when I discovered my love for storytelling. Before that, the task of sitting in front of a computer typing and writing an essay or a story seemed daunting to me, although, I don’t know why.
Although I wasn’t diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) until early 2016, I’ve always known I have anxiety issues. I’ve tried various methods to relax – yoga, meditation, music – but none is more relaxing than writing stories.
When I was attending school full-time, working multiple jobs, I would come home to write because it would mean I was able to let my mind drift to another reality even if it was only for a few minutes.
4. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation to Write? Why is Writing and Blogging Significant to You?
A lot of the inspiration for my stories comes from around me – television shows, movies, current events, (etc). There’s always a story going on in my head and if I let it stay in my head, it’ll drive me insane. Maybe it goes with my stubborn personality? Also, it’s important to record my thoughts and feelings because bottling them up won’t help me or anyone.
“Although I wasn’t diagnosed with General Anxiety Disorder (GAD) until early 2016, I’ve always known I have anxiety issues. I’ve tried various methods to relax – yoga, meditation, music – but none is more relaxing than writing stories.” – Yinglan Z
5. What Are Your Most Current Writing Projects? Have You Ever Had Any Writing Published?
I am currently finishing a few short stories for my collection called: A Light in the Dark. I am also in the process of expanding a short story into a novel. Both of those things are progressing slowly due to the number of events I am attending in China but they are coming along.
I published a story in an online newsletter for NLSC – National Language Service Corp – a few years ago about the Mid-Autumn Festival and that was the only piece I have ever published other than blog posts. My future are noted above, to publish a collection of short stories and a novel. Who knows, maybe I’ll submit a piece to a magazine or something when I have time.
6. Can You Briefly Describe Your Writing Process? Do You Prefer Certain Areas if Writing and Reading Genres?
I’m still trying to figure out my writing process. I write whenever a story pops into my head which is usually night time. I’m not sure why, but my imagination feels blank during the day. Maybe it’s the fact I’m tired and my mind is getting ready to dream?
I am also a huge fan of the suspense and thriller genres because those are the stories that keep me at the edge of my seat. I also enjoy investigative and crime-solving stories. I used to like to read Young Adult fiction and the supernatural genre but lately, not so much. Maybe I’m growing up?
“I am currently finishing a few short stories for my collection called: A Light in the Dark. I am also in the process of expanding a short story into a novel.” – Yinglan Z.
7. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Bloggers and Writers?
My advice for new writers and bloggers would be to don’t give up. Keep writing! Most people do not become famous with their first story. Keep trying. Also I encourage you to visit other blogs and comment on other bloggers’ posts. Participate in challenges and sooner or later, other bloggers will pay you a visit and almost always this starts a chain reaction. You discover new blogs and bloggers and their followers may also follow you in return. As well, leave your link and some information at blogging parties and learn to network through and with other bloggers. Be willing to look at other blogs and learn from them as well.
8. For fun, do you have any particular blogs you follow? What Do You Like About Them?
Oh wow, that is difficult to choose since I follow thousands of blogs. I will say my favorite kinds of blogs are photography, travel, and flash fiction. I like these kinds of blogs because I can often learn a thing or two from them.
“My advice for new writers would be to don’t give up. Keep writing! Most people do not become famous with their first story. Keep trying.” – Yinglan Z
9. Can You Please Share With us a Few Favorite Links from Your Blog?
I wrote this poem a long time ago (about 14 or 15 years old) and decided to share it about two years ago. It was written during the phase when I wanted to be a singer-songwriter.
By Yinglan Z.
Your yesterday is gone But your today is here sooner than you think You wish you haven’t gotten everything wrong And you wish you can make all the bad go away And you say
Tomorrow Things are going to be okay Tomorrow It will all change
Your today is gone And you have made no commitment To bring changes Oh and you just kept on saying that
Tomorrow Things are going be all right Tomorrow It will all be bright
Day and day went by You just sat behind your table Waiting for changes to come to you You say, “It’ll be okay” And I say “it’ll be okay when you start making changes for yourself” And you say starting tomorrow
Things are going to be all right Tomorrow It will all be right It will all be bright It will be the day when I set thing right
Thank you to Yinglan for agreeing to be interviewed and for sharing about her writing and her life.
Just to note: Yinglan has returned from her relatives in China and has been visiting my home country of Canada in Alberta checking out The Rocky Mountains in Banff and around Lake Louise. She was recently in Yellow Stone National Park in the U.S. and if you follow her blog, Yinglan’s photographs of her travels are also a huge highlight when you read her posts. She is talented at taking beautiful shots of scenery while traveling and finding interesting places abroad and from around her home.
If you would like to be a part of my bi-weekly interview series please let me know via my Contact Page. See you in two weeks with another exciting interview 🙂
Today’s NaPoWriMo prompt is to recreate a myth in a poem. The A to Z Challenge quote from GoodReads has an author with a P in their name. Also, thank you to Bikurgurl for hosting last week’s #100WordWednesday.
” I moan with pleasure.
“Did you just have a foodgasm?” he asks, wiping ricotta from his lips.
“Where have you been all my life?” I ask the beautiful panini.”
― Stephanie Perkins, Anna and the French Kiss
There are those who believe the Greek gods left,
Went away, didn’t return, disappeared.
Where there was greed, pride, avarice, lust, and war,
There was no longer, because these gods were,
Never gods, more like spoiled children who were —
Tolerated for a while until the —
God who is the God, decide that they,
Need find another place to play, beyond —
Olympus, and Athens, and Rome — and then,
Came the Popes and the Cardinals, more sin.
They had always been there, but now they —
We’re warriors and wise men, judges and —
The Greco-Roman gods and goddesses,
We’re invisible, ethereal, just air.
It’s what becomes of beings that ‘are,’
But aren’t real, they’re missing a certain —
Quality that means that in some form they’re —
Alive; full of heart, blood, bone, marrow, soul.
But these gods were but mythology so they,
Faded as much mythology does.
Legends of all kinds and all cultures who
Have been, before and after them, or so —
I was told, ’til I began to see such surreal —
Things in town, at dinner talking with —
My dad, about life, and school and then,
Beside us was this old man; and his eyes,
We’re blue and twinkled, he had such,
Vigor for his age, he smiled at me while he —
Talked to his friends, other gods he said.
Not the God, but gods, he said who had been,
To me they were all invisible; he said —
Long ago in Greece and Rome, he was king.
As Zeus or Jupiter, but now they —
All blended into humans, they had their —
Special places where they could go, greeting —
Their old friends and eating what gods do.
He ate panini, talking loudly,
Today it was Aphrodite, he also —
Said he was eating Ambrosia, the food,
Gods required, and an extra plate lay,
Near his hand, licked clean; he said that his son,
Phallon watched the fish swim in the pond his Grandpa had installed in his backyard. He enjoyed visiting his Grandpa each Saturday. Grandpa had put the pond in because young Phallon loved the fish so much as a toddler; ‘fishes’ had been his first word.
Now he sat with Grandpa who asked him about school and of course the girls in his school. Uncomfortable, Phallon wished Grandpa didn’t ask him about that.
Grandpa simply laughed,”Phallon, I’m only teasing you. It’s good you have friends who are girls and that there are girls you like. This Jennifer, have you asked her out?”
Phallon’s face turned red, “Yeah we’ve gone to a movie together and bowling. I want her to be my girlfriend but her parents say she’s too young to have a boyfriend.”
Grandpa nodded a smile on his face, “You’ll find the right one when you’re older. When I saw your Grandma the first time, my heart lept out of my chest. I wonder if I will ever meet that right girl of yours and see you marry her?”
Phallon felt uncomfortable again, “Why wouldn’t you be there Grandpa? You’re only eighty-one?”
Grandpa patted Phallon’s hand then squeezed it, “You know, my boy, I’ve been sick a long time. It’s a battle I’ve mostly conquered, but my strength is waning these days.When you get married someday, think of your old Grandpa, okay?” Phallon nodded feeling a lump in his throat.
Two-years later Grandpa succumbed. Phallon was sixteen and felt raw inside. He returned to the fish pond in Grandpa’s back yard. He noticed the fishes were floating and the reality of life made tears wet his cheeks. In the mess of the last two weeks including Grandpa’s funeral, no one had remembered to feed the fish.
Good Morning! I’m thrilled to share with you another blogger and writer for my bi-weekly interview series. For personal reasons The DifferentOnecannot share her true name. But she is a talented blogger trying to find herself in life through her writing and blogging. Her blog is called: Standing Out As The ‘Real Me’.
1. Please Tell Us About Yourself?
I used to use the pseudonymAirg but now I go by The Different One. I’m from the USA but my origin is Indian. I can’t share a picture of myself for personal reasons, but I am a girl.
I attend school and afterwards I share my experiences during the day on my blog. I’m told a have a pretty mature mind for my age. Sometimes I act my age. I only let people who know me well see I’m your average girl. I suppose I’m afraid to see certain people’s response if I don’t act maturely most of the time. I’m smart and intelligent, but other kids didn’t especially appreciate this fact. Particularly, during my preteen and teenage-age years, life was tough for me.
Something interesting about me was that I wasn’t supposed to be born. There were issues at my birth. The Doctors said I’d lose an eye, lose a leg, or die during my fourth month of life. But this didn’t happen thankfully.
I was born two-months premature at about seventeen-inches, weighing only a pound. But despite having issues at birth and when I was a small baby, it doesn’t affect me now. I had a blood infection when I was born. But, I survived and today I’m your average girl.
2. So How Do You Feel About Yourself Today?
Some people receive gifts or talents such as strength, beauty, or intelligence. Although, I’m smart, I’ve never felt pretty. Sometimes you see people walk by and think, “That person is pretty.” But it isn’t the case with ME! I don’t pay attention to what others think of my appearance because beauty is not my gift.
I have a medium brown complexion, which I think is an unattractive feature for a person to have. I used to worry about it. At school even though people don’t particularly try to be rude, Ican tell by their facial expressions what they think of my appearance.
It is and was difficult to be a girl who isn’t attractive. I wanted to standout at school and be noticed for my looks as some girls are. But, one day I realized beauty isn’t important, nor what others thinking about my appearance. I’m just me. God gave me, myself as a gift and I’m satisfied with her.
By the way, I don’t believe in popularity and certain religious principals and beliefs. I do believe, however, God gave me life, guides me, and allows me to take a hold of my life in the direction I best see fit. I guess you can tell now, I don’t talk as a person of my young age usually does.
” [O]ne day I realized beauty isn’t important, nor what others think about my appearance; I’m just me. God gave me myself as a gift and I’m satisfied with that.” – The Different One
3. When Did You First Start Blogging and Writing? What Value Does Writing Have To You?
I started blogging a few weeks before my birthday on June 23, 2016. Writing means a way I can show people who I am. A way they can appreciate me for who I am. I write to share my experiences and journey through life. Perhaps I write to find the real ME, I’ve been searching for her for a long time.I want to be able to act like myself and not feel judged.
4. Where Do You Find Your Inspiration and Motivation to Write?
Whoa! This is tough! I started writing to find myself as I mentioned above. I was going through a stage trying to figure out my purpose and who I am; an experience everyone goes through at sometime. For me this stage occurred earlier than I expected. Nothing particularly, motivates me to write except myself sitting down and writing. I write for me, alone, if that makes any sense.
My inspiration is my cousin Nimi. She’s the reason I can say I’m happy to go through this stage I’m experiencing. We have always had this sisterly connection since I was six-years-old. In a way, she inspires me to be the person, the human being I am today. In this way she is an inspiration to me when I write. Other wise, I honestly don’t know what inspires or motivates me in my writing.
“Writing means a way I can show people who I am and they can appreciate me for who I am. I write to share my experiences and journey through life. Perhaps, I write to find the real ME I’ve been searching for, for a long time. The me I can’t act like at the moment, but I want to be able to act like.” – The Different One
5. What Time of Day Do You Most Enjoy Writing? Is There a Purpose To Your Writing? Have You Ever Had Any Writing Published?
Well after 3:00 pm is the best time for me to write because that’s when school ends. Mostly, I write from 6:oo pm through 10:00 pm. My purpose or project is to find my path in life, at the moment.
I have some writing pieces which I thought about publishing before. People at school used to try to act cool. To me it was as if they were acting so ‘sunshiny’ all the time; they weren’t authentic. They were hiding behind a shadow. I wanted to explore this shadow people hide behind and find out who they actually were. I approached my writing as if I was trying to get to know these people and their personas. I guess when I wrote, it fell into the topic of human psychology. But I don’t do that kind of writing anymore on people’s false personalities; however, I do plan writing more about human psychology, growing-up, life, and my beliefs in the future. That’s my ‘thing,’ my area of expertise.
6. On Your Blog, Do You Have Any Publishing or Writing Process You Go About? Are There Any Writing or Read Genres You Prefer?
I have no idea how I publish, even on my blog. I just write stuff and see what comes out. Publishing for real is something that will come much later for me. I have no writing process really. I am not writing as a professional. I want to write like me, to express myself and what I’m going through. I write,write,write and post it on my blog if I feel like it. That’s about it.
I enjoy writing about experiences in life, human behavior mostly. I always write something about humans and how they feel and react. I love reading biographies about famous individuals such as Anne Frank. I also enjoy reading realistic fiction or diaries which have been published.
“People at school used to try to act cool. To me it was as if they were acting so ‘sunshiny’ all the time; they weren’t authentic.They were hiding behind a shadow. I wanted to explore this shadow people hid behind and find out who they actually were. I approached my writing as if I was trying to get to know these people and their personas more.” – The Different One
7. Do You Have Any Helpful Advice for Other Writers? Is There Anything Else You Would Like to Share With Us About Your Self or Your Blog?
I don’t specifically have any helpful advice for other writers because I know some people might not listen to my advice. All I can say is for bloggers and writers is to write whatever you want.Be who you are and write, even with mistakes and spelling errors. Simply write and whatever comes out, comes out. Write like you!
I feel my writing journey will end sometime. I won’t write until I die on my blog. Once I figure out who am and deal with the realities of life bothering me, than for me, I’m done. I’ll remember writing and blogging as a ‘finding me,’ exercise in life.
My best friend died about a year ago. March 15,2015. I remember it very clearly. My grandparents called and it was 11pm night in USA.It was awkward because they never call at that time, we would be sleeping, But,that day my family was busy with stuff.
Phone : Beep beep
Mom: Your grandma might be calling. It’s late!
Grandma: Saying stuff.
Mom: Aww. Poor thing. When? I can’t believe it. When we used to visit India it was always there. *******( my name) loved him. I won’t tell.
Me: ( I was thinking it might be about Tyson. He was getting old. And dogs don’t live that long) Mom anything happen? Tyson?
Mom: No,no, he’s fine.
Me: Mom c’mon!
Mom:(Saying in a language I didn’t know to my dad random stuff.) I heard Tyson’s name though.
Me: Tell me! Is he dead? I started crying a bit.
Dad: No! He’s just in hospital. Stop crying.
Few days later I go on Facebook. But, now I don’t have it anymore. I see a post from my uncle’s account. It was posted March 17,2015 12:56 pm or am. It had a pic of my dog wearing sunglasses. It said something like” not forgotten”. I was like” huh”????? In the comment section everyone was saying “Rip”. I was like wtf. Something is totes wrong!
I called my uncle even though it was 2am in India. I screamed and cried. He said no no. They were kidding. Nothing happened. And all that shit. But, I believed it though.
That summer when I went to India I saw my uncle. I asked him at the airport what actually happened to Tyson. He told me this shitty story about a doctor having a lot of loans, so he took all the animals and ran away, Tyson was with them. I’m like stop! Tell me. But, at that point I knew he died. I just wanted to hear it from my uncle’s mouth. He said Tyson is dead. I started crying.
The whole 2 hour drive I cried. When I reached my grandparent’s house my face was crispy and dry, gooey at some edges.
I visited his graveyard and prayed. I learnt that he was sick one day. He threw up. And usually my grandma cleans it up. But,she just came from the hospital ,so my grandpa did. And he was staring at my grandma. Then he slept for a while, and wasn’t replying. My uncle was on tour. And my grandma called him immediately and said something happened to Tyson. And Tyson was my uncle’s son. He rushed back home but 6 hour drive though. My uncle’s friend came and in a blanket carried Tyson to ambulance.
After a few minutes in the ambulance, the thingy that shows if they are breathing normal was going straight. Then the nurse said,” Sir he is no more!” My uncle’s friend came with the bad news. And everyone cried. My grandparents fell sick because they were in grief.
My grandma closed his eyes and after my uncle came back they did his funeral. They dug him up near a field near our grandparent’s house.
Every time I go there,I see his graveyard and pray and cry.
But, time goes on. I can’t go on praying to God to see Tyson one more time. It won’t work. I kept saying,” Take my life. Not his”. But, c’mon guys. He’s gone alright. Gone.
This summer in India I got a key-chain with a piece of rice. It had his name on it. I put all my sadness in it.
The day before yesterday our family went to the beach. It was 8-9pm. I took the key-chain put all my emotions in it and threw it away. It kept coming back though, so finally I took it out of the box and threw it. I realized that he’s not dead to me anymore. He’s a part of me from now on. I shouldn’t be sad because I can’t see him. I believe he’s always there watching. When I grow up I’ll realize he wasn’t watching, I said that to make me feel better. I do know he isn’t. I know he’s dead. But, who said I can’t lie or believe in something to make me feel better about him.
I buried a letter about him in the sand. Whoever reads that years from now on will know about this foolish girl and her best friend.
Yes, yes, a dog as a best friend is foolishness for all of you guys. But he was my closest buddy until I was 3 years old. Don’t you all think I loved him like crazy?!
His death or absence made me look at animals differently. I don’t get too attached anymore because I don’t have that much left in me to get hurt. I am not tough, or strong physically and emotionally. I’m sensitive and emotional. I can’t go through anymore deaths.
I don’t believe in having multiple BFF in life. Have one for once and for all. Tyson will always be my best friend forever. Humans, nah, anything could happen. Lol. To be safer and happier I’d stay with one forever.
9. Here Are A Couple of Additional Links to A Different One’s Page:
Thank You To A Different One For Sharing With us her writing views and her journey to find herself and her path in life through her writing. I wish her all the best and hope that she finds writing not only helps her as she struggle through a difficult time now, but as she grows older. Once again here is a link to The Different One’sBlog:
Thank You for coming back and reading my bi-weekly interview series. I so appreciate your visits and those of you who have participated sharing about yourselves and your writing processes, whatever part of life you are in. If you would like to be featured in my bi-weekly interview series please reach-out to my on my contact page. Thanks and see you in two-weeks.
Alice was home from school. She hated boarding school, but she hadn’t had a choice. Her father had insisted his daughter have the best education a girl could have. This meant school was not merely academics as it was for boys. Her boarding school was an all girls boarding school and a great deal of focus was put into “the finishing school” aspect of education for women.
She needed to learn how to be a proper hostess and wife; those were the ideals of the Victorian woman. She needed to be the angel in the house, the moral compass of her household.
Alice spent countless classes based on the proper religion for an English girl. The God her school taught about, was an an angry God; judgemental and all powerful. He didn’t seem particularly forgiving. But she was told doing her duty as woman would make God happy.
Alice and her best friends Margaret and Prudence, often liked to cause trouble. They played tricks and sometimes skipped their more tedious classes. The girls were often punished with rulers smacking their hands soundly until they couldn’t feel them. Or writing lines of verses from The Bible until their fingers were too numb to write or days.
All in all, the school couldn’t punish Alice and her friends how the would’ve punished other girls. Her and her friends were daughters of enomoreous patrons of the girl’s school.
That being said, Alice was excited to go home for the summer. She thought fondly of her childhood, her dreams that always wandered to her childhood fantasy world Wonderland.
When the carriage dropped her off, Alice approached her home with a bit of trepidation. Her mother had been angry she had left flowers all over the headmasters office. The man had almost had a heart attack and Alice had laughed and laughed when she heard what he discovered. Bringing her suitcase with her, she opened the front door.
Suddenly, the house started to move in various directions from the front entrance. Staircases opened from every way, along with doors leading to God knows where.
Alice had a peculiar feeling, she was travelling back to her childhood world. Staircases continued to rumble and groan as they moved. Leaving her suitcase, Alice jumped onto a staircase leading to a familiar giant golden door knob with a large decorated keyhole underneath.
Suddenly, the door knob sneezed. “You again. I thought I’d seen the last of you.”
“Alice, yes? I remember. I had a cold last time you were here too; although, you’ve grown since then. Thinned out too, you were a bit fat for awhile, all that bread.”
She gasped, “Excuse me, the ideal woman these days, has a round body with childbearing hips, my teachers told me and my mother agrees. And you aren’t even real. I’m dreaming.”
“I wish the staircases would stop moving and the rest of the house weren’t so confusing. I have no idea where to go and I really was looking forward to a nap, ” Alice complained.
The giant door knob sneezed again. “No Alice, I know you and you know me. You know us all. It’s been a while and you’ve blocked us out. We tried to visit, but you convinced yourself we were all childhood dreams, despite having been to Wonderland twice.”
“You do play delightful tricks at school, I must say –you, Margaret, and Prudence. You should’ve brought them along . . . Then again, they wouldn’t believe Wonderland is real either. They don’t believe in magic, but you do. Oh, you deny it Alice but you do believe. You wouldn’t be back here if you didn’t,” the door knob lectured.
Alice stomped her foot, “You’re not real.”
“I am indeed, open me. Better yet, have some of that bread you like so much, in your left pocket first; it should do the trick.”
She gasped and frowned when she put her hand in her pocket and found the delicious bread. She nibbled on the edge. Alice hadn’t realized how hungry she was. She took a bigger bite of bread and sighed with pleasure.
“Not too much,” the door knob cautioned. She sniffed and raised her nose at him; she had shrunk in size considerably. Carefully, Alice turned the icky runny door knob nose, she needed no key. She stepped into another world; wiping her hands on her skirt, before gazing up in shock.
Alice truly was in the Wonderland of her youth. It appeared to be the same as she dreamt it to be. A path lay in front of her and she saw her body had become small. The grass and foliage around Alice was lush and towered over her.
She started to think of her old Wonderland friends when she came upon a catapillar on a large mushroom.”But you’re a butterfly now,” she said to the catapillar without thinking.
The catapiller sniffed at her and took a long drag from his hookah. “Whoareyou? Have you figured it out yet? Time does pass. My great-grandfather spoke of you. Time doesn’t move so fast here. He’s out flying about and I’m waiting until I can fly too. Why have you returned?”
Alice blinked rapidly. “I don’t know. I went through a doorway talked to a door knob, shrank, and now I’m here. It’s not a dream is it?”
The catapullar laughed, taking another drag. “I assure you. It’s all quite real. There’s a pathway going that way,” he pointed to his right. “You should go there. It leads somewhere important.”
“I see it’s a dock and we’re below it. It’s so large. Should I go below it in the sand? Or should I grow larger and go ontop of the dock. It’s quite big when you’re only six-inches tall.”
The catapillar laughed, inhaling his hookah promptly after . “There you go insulting those of us only six-inches tall again. Do you have bread in your pocket to grow taller?”
Alice searched in her right pocket, “No bread but I think the mushroom you are laying upon has one side which will make me larger. Alice ate of one side which made her shrink more, than climbed up the mushroom to eat off the other side. She grew until she was her normal size again.
“Curious and curiouser,” she said. “This is all too familiar. I hope there’s no seagull who thinks I’m a serphant ready to eat her young.”
“You can say that again,” the catapillar said smirking. He bowed his head as Alice walked off, having shoved a piece of mushroom in her right pocket for future use.
She walked ontop of the dock until there was nothing but a short stairwell leading to a row boat in the sea. She recalled this moment in her second journey to Wonderland. But there should be a sheep somewhere she reasoned.
On que a sheep appeared and they both rowed off into the sea, but it wasn’t really a sea. Alice thought it was more like a river. The sheep said: “Bahhh,” then smiled at Alice.”Hello Alice have you learned to feather yet?”
“Oh, that’s a rowing term. I understand now. Same with catching a crab. I was so young then, sheep. I reached for those rushes remember? They’re still look and smell lovely. You can never catch the most beautiful ones, they are free.”
The sheep bleated and sighed. “Do you ever think, Alice, that beauty is not meant to be tamed or kept?”
“It’s a curious question coming from a sheep. But I think beauty should be left to exist and shine. You’re saying I should leave the lovely smelling rushes alone?” Alice asked.
The sheep sighed again. “I’m not talking about rushes. You should pay attention Alice. That school you go to and those Victorian norms and rules of society, do you think they’re all correct? Do you believe everything you are taught without question?”
Alice wrinkled her forehead and thought. “No not really. My bestfriends don’t either. It’s why we play tricks, skip classes, it’s why I sit in class bored. I do not want to be a proper woman, a tamed or kept Victorian housewife with her brood of children. I don’t want to think God is always angry and mean; I think he’s benevolent too.”
“Ah, I didn’t think you agreed with your education. I think in the future things will be better, only wait and don’t grow-up too much. Don’t forget Wonderland –we’ll see you when you dream. We need your wildness, Alice.”The sheep bleated again and Alice instantly, woke up.
She was riding in a carriage to her house for summer vacation. She attempted to remember her dreams. Alice swore she dreamt of Wonderland vividly. But all she could remember was a sheep telling her to stay wild and untamed. She grinned thinking of the tricks she played at school. She wasn’t a tame women yet; never if she had her way.