October Writing Challenge: Day 14


I’m worried I’ll be in a dead end job with incompetent managers. I’m worried I wont be content with what I have. I’m worried I’ll die knowing how it started. 
As much as I say I don’t miss uni, I miss the memories. I miss avoiding all responsibility. Skipping lectures to eat with your friends. Have no cares even though I should care. Not worrying about what’s next. 

Even though I only work part time, maybe less than part time. I just wanna blow off work one day and do everything I’m not meant to. Pull a sickie and then meet my friends to chill and grab dessert. 

I hate that I need to think about what’s next. I hate that I have no clue. I hate there’s a voice inside me that I’ll spend my whole life trying to figure it out. As a result I hate that I might never be happy with this grating voice. 

I just worry that I’ll never do what I want. 

I worry I may never find what I want.

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October Writing Challenge: Day 13


What inspires you? My goodness, I’ve exhausted this topic but here we go… 
I don’t have a specific person or thing which inspires me. I get my creativity in bursts from different factors.

Usually while I procrastinate maybe watching a TV show or even listening to a song, I get an odd spurt of inspiration. I had so much motivation while reading Bakuman (a manga) a few years ago, the guy in there was so admirable. While in highschool a classmate got him to team up to become a mangaka. As a result, he had to keep up with education  (the exams in japan are an actual craziness) and still spent most of his days aspiring to be a mangaka. He was constantly working to his goal and it inspired me to do what I love.
Another time was when I was watching a kurt cobain documentary and seeing nirvana rise to fame really inspired me.

Other than fictional characters or people I don’t know, my family. They constantly inspire me. Like I know them so well but they can tell me something about themselves which surprise me and make me respect them more.
My mum’s unconditional love.
My dad’s jack of all trades personality.
My brothers determination.
They all inspire me.

So while I can’t guarantee one thing to inspire me, I have many things that do. And many things in the future that will.
Without doubt, my inspiration comes down to me trying to better myself. I’m not the person I want to be, not yet at least. 

October Writing Challenge:Day 12


It seems these challenges want me to continuously talk about my faults, all the problems I’ve faced past and present have all stemmed from me. From my own doings, my very own actions. 

The most recent problem I’ve had was actually today. On Saturday I used my laptop all day after neglecting it for a month, I wrote some fiction and updated my latest short story. My brother wanted to use my laptop so I logged out and let him log into his own account and BAM black screen. My confident “nah man don’t worry, give it a minute.” 30 minutes passed and nothing. Literally just a black screen. I spent the entirety of Saturday trying to figure it out. Eventually, I got a blue screen and unsuccessfully could not get it to reset. Like nada.
I don’t know of you have this ego thing where you just feel like you can do it. Like with no unearned confidence but nevertheless you convince yourself you know what you’re doing even if you’re a complete novice. That was me, I preserved, I watched many youtube videos and read endless forums. Alas, I did not prevail. I spent Sunday admitting defeat and in the evening had a burst of confidence once again leading to me trying with no outcome.
I decided to leave it to the big guns. Go to the place that sold me it. I was reminded of Carrie going to the Tech Support and being hella extra by wrapping her computer in a pashmina while being rude to Aiden.

I think I mention my love for Aiden too much but look at him, he’s great-look at that level of support.

Even the person there couldn’t fix it.
So I had the hardest goodbye of my life so far. Bidding adieu to my laptop. For about 6 weeks, max.
I don’t rely on my laptop for much but when I have a burst in writing creativity or job applications it’s there. So for now I will have to update blog posts solely on my phone like I did when I first started my blog. However, work I previously had on it will now be gone. Believe me when I say that no best sellers on it but even if it was crap, I like to read over my work. For nostalgia at the very least.

Moral of the story, always back up.

Sometimes it astounds me shes a writer who claims her life is on that computer yet doesn’t know the term back up. Before anyone says it I understand she’s fictional.

October Writing Challenge: Day 11

This connects back to day 5 which highlights the fact that there are quite a lot of areas of my life I would like to improve. Just to save time here are a few goals that I wanna make sure I stop ignoring. 

1. Do a blog post twice a week
2. Start writing, 2 pages a day
3. Exercise 3-4 times a week
4. Get a new job by 2018

Nightfall: Part 2

This is two days late but better late than never, I guess? This is a continuation of my previous post, and the October Writing Challenge: Day 10.

The warmth of the mug radiated to my hands. I stared down at the hot tea, oddly entranced. I felt the condensation trickle to my fingertips. There was an odd comfort in a cup of tea. The steam raised up warmed up my face as I slowly took a sip. Familiarity, is all I could think.

After being lost in this place, the “reaper” lead me to his house and gave me tea, after I insisted. I would never go to a stranger’s home, but considering I still refuse to acknowledge this was real, I made the exception. It was homelier than I imagined. On the outside, it looked like a small bungalow but inside it was oddly spacious. The minimalist composition further added to this sparse look. There were no walls, you could see from one end of the room to the other. As I came through the doors, the small kitchen particularly stuck out. It differed from the house which was dark and stylish. The kitchen cabinets were white and the walls were a pale yellow. It also meant he had to eat and that there were places around to get food from. Both were a comforting fact.

The rest of the house was dark, which suited him. Even the couch I rest on was black. Behind me was his bedroom, with black bedsheets and a black bed frame. The walls were an array of grey.

My trance was cut short from the harsh steps of the so-called reaper. Before I could look up, I could see him pacing back and forth in my peripheral vision.”I don’t understand.”
“You and me both, dude.” Finally relaxed and embracing the new warmth, I gulped down the hot tea. I stretch on his couch and began to lay down.
“No, no” he rushed toward me before my back could rest against the leather of the couch, he placed his hand on my back and pushed me up. “No,” he repeated. “Don’t make yourself comfortable. You’re going heaven or hell. Or anywhere. But you don’t belong here.”
“Well, you’re apparently the expert, so you tell me.”
Clearly, I was a novice at this whole dying thing. He tried to retaliate he quickly stopped himself, knowing he had no argument.  “Why are you relaxed now, anyway? Ten minutes ago, you were frantic, cursing me out.”
I shrugged. “Ten minutes ago, you were level-headed and carefree. Frazzled much?” I knew I was pissing off my only hope to get out but I just felt so serene. “What usually happens when someone dies?”
“I get a name and when I read the name I can see the person’s face. I wander out to the forest and in the middle of the plains, I see a body lying there. They are unconscious, laying in the place, every time. When they wake, they can’t recall their life at all but I know their life. But now, they’re in a strange place and we begin. I guide them through these wastelands, where they start to recall events and their life. When they know the truth, then they have reached the end. For each person, it’s different but it’s a gate, a gate to the next life. The final one.”

“Interesting. But it proves I’m not dead. I remember everything, my whole life. My house for example, it’s nice. Not too big but not too small. There’s the porch door which is white and leads to the black tiles and that is where we keep our shoes. Then there’s another door, a cream colour. This leads to our hallway. There’s two doors, the one with a glass pane leads to our living room. It’s all open, so we have a long room and the kitchen at the end. Above the kitchen is a skylight, which you can see from my room. The kitchen has a lot of light which I always hated a bit because it blinds me first thing in the morning. The-”
“Okay!” He cut me off clearly agitated, “I get it! Maybe just the events leading up to when I saw you?”
“There were the same shopkeepers. Nothing out of the ordinary there but the rain. I took a shortcut again not out of the ordinary. It was raining before I came here, heavy rain, it even had the same rain smell mixed with petrol and mud. And of course, weird rabid dog panting which I thought came from you.”
His eyes widened. “Hellhounds,” was all he muttered. “Did it bite you tear you limb from limb?”
“No, I ran.”
“No one could ever outrun a hellhound, especially how unfit you are from how I saw you hunched over from running. It is just so weird.”
I let him think about it, making a conscious effort not to make any sound. I good ten minutes passed and I felt his tension only increase.

I extended my hand out as a sign of friendship. “As you know my name is Alyssa. I just found it odd that we haven’t been formally introduced.”

He was wary but graciously accepted my act of kindness, remaining silent.

“This is the portion of the evening where you say your name.”
“I’m reaper, I guess.”
“That’s not a name, you must have had a name once. A life aside from reaping.”
“This is all I know. All I have ever done. I am but a reaper.”
“So how long you been doing this gig?”
“What is with the interrogation?”
“I’m trying to be friendly.”
“I think I preferred when you were threatening me.” He sighed, “as far back as I can remember. The beginning of time, I guess. I don’t know. There was no life before this for me, and there will be no life after.”
“De-pressing,” I said in a sing song tone.
“I am sorry I don’t get the same luxury as you pathetic humans.” That hurt me more than anything he said so far, I was questioning if I went too far.

It wasn’t long before he spoke again. “I apologise for my outburst. But I have seen a lot of people. I have seen their deepest darkest secrets and all their desires. I see how truly flawed they are. I am not the one to pass judgement. But I see it. I can’t pretend like I haven’t seen it.”
“I don’t want to make this about myself again but can you see anything about me, even a glimpse?”
“That’s exactly it. I see nothing. You’re blank. Usually, I see everything and when I look in their eyes I see their souls. The eyes are a window to the soul, never underestimate how true that is. I see what they don’t know about themselves. Just to summarise, paper, vision, memory lane which then leads to the gate. I’m a glorified delivery boy. With you, there’s nothing, I didn’t even realise you came here, I didn’t know your face, I know nothing about you. it irks me.”

“Maybe it’s just a delayed reaction. What if you look in my eyes like really look in them?”

“It couldn’t hurt to try,” he said with an unexpected smirk. This was the first time he even came close to a smile and I couldn’t help smiling back. We sat opposite each other, my legs were folded and he sat upright. As he stared into my eyes, I could see him once again reaching a disappointing blank. “You have black eyes,” he whispered.

I know he didn’t see my years unfold before his very eyes because I saw his. The entirety of the reaper’s existence flashed before my eyes. But he was no reaper, he may be one now, but he wasn’t from the start as he believed. There is more to his story, that he has yet to learn. A sad story, a boy born destined to live a normal life, he lived a boy but died before he became a man. As my vision became clouded and I felt a dampness on my face, I could barely see his face change. Empathy. Something he hadn’t felt in years despite the thousands of people who previously broke down in front of him.

“Micah,” was all that came from my lips.

He looked at her in disarray, completely unaware of all that she had seen. He began to wipe my tears with his thumb, which I know that he hasn’t ever been compelled to do this for any other soul. That only made me tear up more. I abruptly stood up, startling him slightly. My back was turned to him, and quickly wiped my eyes with my sleeves.

I felt eyes behind me staring a hole through the back of my head, as I tried to regain my composure around this stranger a second time today. I dug my hands deeps into my pocket and felt a roughness at the bottom, which I brushed over with my thumb. I took out the foreign object, which was a scrunched-up piece of paper which I had never seen before. As I unfolded it, it revealed the new name I had just learnt.

I could decipher my new role which I really wish I didn’t have to take.

Shit.

 

Nightfall: Part 1

Another fiction piece to continue the October Writing Challenge. This is Day 9.

My feet hit the pavement with the same relaxed pace as always, it was too calculated. The same route, I would be late but no one would realise. I arrive at work as always, the same day I had for the past two years. I would be late and they would say nothing, therefore I will continue to take my time. My footsteps grew heavier as the same unease shot through me. This town was too plain, almost too ordinary. Nothing ever changed, not the people, never their routine. There were the eyes of the barber peering out of his glass shop front. There was the same awful aroma coming from the real estate agents sucking their morning fag. Then the barking of the dog with his owners resting on the bench. All mixed continuous familiar bustle of cars in traffic. This isn’t where I’m meant to be, I had always thought. This just doesn’t feel right.

A singular rain drop fell, I even knew the weather. I came prepared and sighed as I pulled the umbrella from my bag. It didn’t take much longer and the rain to become heavier before the streets were cleared. Usually, I could take a bus but all the vehicles were at a standstill due to the “unexpected” rain. Thus, I chose to walk, in the shower of rain. Because why not? Because at least people were not around. I was enjoying my solitude, cutting through the park as m usual shortcut until I heard an unfamiliar sound of footsteps running through mud. The footsteps were coming toward me fast and as it neared a heavy panting could also be distinctly heard. The rain dropping on the ground muffled some of the sound but there was no mistaking it, the footsteps were close.

My pace had already quickened but not fast enough, before I knew it I was in a full out sprint. I could no longer hear anything aside from the sound of rain on grass. I hunched over still with the umbrella in my hand and tried to catch my breath. My throat ached from the weather and the most exercise I have done in years, breathing hurt yet I was hyperventilating. It felt as if my chest was on fire, and there was a twinge of fear instilled into me. I felt a cold bony hand on my shoulder. “Finally,” it echoed. The voice was deep, coming from a man towering over me. He stood up straight making his six foot demeanour even higher. He was very much composed unlike me, there was no uneven breathing, just serenity. He was completely unfamiliar. I looked up his face which was almost illuminating from its sheer paleness. His dark attire did not help his complexion, he wore a long black jacket with a hood over his head with strands of long damp black hair peeking out. However, the most unsettling thing were his black eyes staring down at me.

“Why were you running?” he asked.

This invoked an anger within me, the fear had completely subsided when this question was asked.  “Excuse me, you came running at me at full speed, panting like a rabid dog. I think the logical thing was to run.”

He laughed. It seemed so odd, so unnatural. “Please, honey, I don’t run.”

There was a strange anxiety, if the footsteps didn’t belong to this stranger, then there is something else out there. I looked around, expecting to see the same red bricks from the wall. The path that would lead me to work. There was none of that, the heavy downpour had stopped but the grey sky remained. It was darker than I recalled. I still scanned around hoping to see anything familiar. There was a railroad a few hundred yards away, almost completely concealed by trees. In a distance a large long building could be seen. It was an odd kind of forest.

I was speechless as I continued to stare at my new surroundings, I felt the eyes of the strange man in front of me who I almost forgot about. He stared at me and attempted to break the silence. “So, what are you, like a witch or something?”

“What did you call me?”

“Not a witch. You can’t be a reaper too. Sure, you’re pale enough but your eyes are brown.”

“Excuse me. I’m not going to stand here and be insulted.” I was ready to turn around and leave but didn’t know where to go.

“I guess you’re small enough to be a fairy.” He smiled at his quip, then saw my expression, I continued to glare at him. “That can’t be it. There is hate in those eyes, you are nowhere near sparkly enough to be a fairy. With those eyes, you must be a siren.”

“Hey freak. What the fuck are you talking about?”

There was silence. He stared at me as if I were the strange one.

“Actually, you know what I don’t have time for this. Just tell me where I am so I can go work.”

“Nightfall.”

“Where am I?” I repeated.

“That is where you are.”

“Nightfall is not a real place.”

“Look around, darling. That is where you are.”

“I am lost in a strange place with strange man.”

“I am no mere person. I am a reaper.”

I fell to the ground and uttered the most pathetic words: “I’m gonna be late for work”.

“So, you’re new in town?”

“I’m going to die here.”

A silence crept across us again. He didn’t leave, he just stuck around. It was a kind gesture but I wanted him to leave more than anything.

“Hate to break it to you but if you’re here then you’re probably already dead.”

God, why could he not leave. “Earlier when you said you were a reaper. Did you mean like grim?”

“Is there any other kind?” a proud smile spread across his face, as he bowed slightly.

When he hunched over I grabbed his collar. “You bastard did you bring me hear. I’ll fucking kill you.”

“What a horrible misconception.” He sounded hurt and easily escaped my weak grasp. “Reapers don’t kill people, they only guide them to the afterlife.”

“Genius, are you meant to guide anyone today.”

“I usually get a name, one second.” He gestured with his index finger as he pulled out a crumpled piece of paper from his breast pocket, unfolding it neatly and read it. He glimpsed at my ID badge and finally, his eyes widened.

Shit.

October Writing Challenge: Day 8

This is a piece of fiction because I am so sick about writing about myself. I hope you enjoy. 

I looked over the floor where the shatters of glass remain in the same place. They were scattered over the room, towards my bare feet which were still bleeding. I hugged my knees tight into my chest. The moisture from my face stinging the open wound on my legs. I hoped that when I looked up the glass ornament would have repaired itself and that this was merely a dream, a nightmare. She loved the glass figurine more than she had ever loved me. It was an ugly thing, it was a fish on the ocean floor, it had a blue tint, it was so elaborate and large. And just dreadful. I had always hated it. The fish was fat, and not at all pleasing to look at but she had loved it. Now it was there on the floor looking more beautiful that it had ever been. With the brilliant shards illuminating in the light. The singular ray of sunshine which streamed into the room from the small crack where the curtains were drawn but not completely shut from sloppiness. The light bounced of the broken pieces of glass which danced with the blood dripping on it, coming together and swirling around. It was breath taking. It was terrifying.

As the minutes, hours, however long it was stared at, it didn’t come back together, yet it still felt so surreal. Then the truth had to be shared when there was shuffling that began in the next room. Footsteps which gradually came closer to the door. When finally, after all the anticipation, the door had opened. More light flooded into the room, revealing what I had done. What had been broken. I prayed that she would comfort me and secretly hated the broken thing too. Instead when her eyes darted across the room, she let out a loud shrill scream. A chill went down my spine, and I saw what she was looking at.

She didn’t seem to care about the glass, it was the amount of blood. Then I remembered this blood wasn’t mine. She was staring at the body in the corner of the room.

October Writing Challenge: Day 7


In ten years? Mate I don’t even know where I wanna be next week.
I guess I hope to be happy, healthy. I wanna finish writing one book, at the very least. 

I want to experience all new things. I want to travel.

I’d hope to gain professional success too. 

I would love to not be so awkward and be at ease with people. Be confident and don’t overthink.

Enjoy things more. 

So in the end, in ten years all I can do is hope for the best and do all I can by then. 

October Writing Challenge: Day 6

I’ve previously said that I struggle to pick favourites. Instead, here’s a mess of heroes I love, there’s definitely more but I can’t remember them all at this point. This is definitely not in any order whatsoever. 

Firstly, Raven. From Teen Titans I’ve always loved Raven as a kid. She was a little bit different, a bit of an outcast. Not really pretending to be happy and somehow seemed real. Especially for someone like me who was acknowledged for being extremely moody. She comes from a shitty and complicated upbringing and has a hard time with people but still has the capability to love and fight for others. On top of all, this she has awesome powers and is effortlessly cool. Sure, she was flawed too but it’s all part of the charm.

Seriously look how adorable Raven is

This is another one I loved from a kid, Rogue. I can’t really explain why I loved rogue from the X-Men, I guess there was something just so tragic about her from her powers yet she’s still manages to be so badass. Her powers enable her to absorb people’s life force which gives her more amazing powers such as flight, however it comes at a cost. She even comes with some Gambit drama which I am all for. 

I needed to put the classic yellow outfit as the picture.

This is a kind of shallow one- Death of the endless. I saw her character design ages ago and loved it, and also having death personified is always intriguing to me. Death has an interesting role to say the least but the way she’s portrayed is different to how we’d expect. Her whole character is ironic and who doesn’t love irony? 

She truly is a vision… of death. 

I’ve always had a soft spot for the Robins but one in particular stands out for me, the boy (not so) wonder, Jason Todd. I think there’s a theme of slightly emotionally detached characters. Just a tragic story, from a very broken home taken in by the batman himself only to be killed by a wrench before his prime. The scenarios around this are all even sadder. Jason is the character I’ll always hope for something good to happen and whenever it does it gets taken away too fast. 

 Also how can we not love him when Jensen Ackles voiced him?

Continuing from the bat family I kneed to mention batgirl herself. The daughter of commissioner Gordon, Barbara. She’s just so badass, she’s got a strong sense of justice and is acting on it. She is motivated and resilient. The events of the killing joke don’t stop her, she becomes Oracle and it makes me love her character more. 
Barb, how cool you are even with the name Barbara. 

It also seems that tragedy is also a running theme as we look at everyone’s favourite punisher, Frank Castle. Castle has experienced some shit and has done a lot of shit. He’s a questionable character to say the least and certainly not a conventional hero but he’s going on the list. I remember watching the punisher movie with Thomas Jane, when I was way too young to actually watch it and it was so different to any hero I was used to. Jon Bernthal did an amazing job making Castle easily my favourite character in daredevil. The punisher is unapologetic, grim and definitely mean. Which is all material for great fiction. 

 I know this movie got hate but let me love it.

Last, but by no means least, is Rorschach. I know the 2009 watchmen movie gets a lot of shit but I would have never been introduced to one of my favourite (anti)heroes if it weren’t for it. Rorschach like the Punisher sees everything black and white and has no problem doling out the harsh sentences. He’s again a tragic figure who didn’t ever have a chance. However, he is highly intelligent and is shown to have human emotions. His whole persona is fascinating, even the outfit choice.

I’m not locked in here with you, you’re locked in here with me. (Side note: look at this bold outfit choice, that fedora.)

A very honourable mention to my main man Guts from berserk who’s doesn’t count as a hero but he deserves to. He’s been through a lot, like more than any other character I can think of. His backstory is enough to make me well up. 

BRB I’ll just be crying in the corner, see you after the hiatus.

October Writing Challenge: Day 5

OH MY FUCKING DAYS. Finally a time where I can bitch about how deeply flawed I am (just kidding, I do that all the time but I will never pass an opportunity to do it again). 

The habit which is the root for (mostly) everything wrong with me- procrastination. Everyone has this to some extent and if you’re procrastination levels are low, I both envy and applaud you. 

I procrastinated during my studies with tv shows, manga, drawing and writing. Now that I have time I’m even procrastinating starting a new tv show. Now that writing is something I have time to do, I never do it. I procrastinate what I’m meant to do, regardless if I want to do it or not. 

Everything stems from their really, spending too much time on YouTube, Instagram. Binge watching. Just in general not getting anything done. It puts a strain on things but I have no one to blame but myself.

Another bad habit is zoning out. Literally if I’m listening to anything longer than 5 minutes odds are I’ve not been listening to about 2 minutes of that. I really struggled to pay attention in lecture. 

Also it becomes a little bit rude. For example, if my friends are talking sometimes I get distracted or think about something else and it’s even worse because it’s obvious. My eyes glass over and I’m still. They realise after a while then I need to explain. 

There are others but to name a couple.