Archives

Poetry Time!

Hello All!

As I wait for my professor to resolve the technical issues that inevitably occurred this morning – I have yet to experience the entire hour and a half of this particular class – I felt compelled to write out my frustration in the hopes that I would be able to channel some of that frustration elsewhere. Now, I don’t pretend to be a poet, but that doesn’t mean I can’t enjoy the art form. People sing even when they are tone deaf, or they dance even if their feet are lacking any kind of coordination. Why? Because it’s fun! It’s just one of those things that people do, usually without cause, and being able to do it well or not does not matter in the least.

So, using my grade twelve English poetry skills, I present to you a poetic tale of a university student who tries desperately not to make a scene.

State of Flux

I sit here, butt sore from a hard chair, eyes blinded by a blue screen.I wait … and wait … and wait …

Chatter, clatter, and a vibrating phone in my pocket.

 I continue to wait … and wait … and wait a little more …

The teacher speaks, and I look up in expectancy … only to face the disappointing glow of the blue screen.

To my great displeasure, I am forced to wait yet again …

The lecture flashes briefly on the screen, igniting hope that it will finally commence!                                                                          

The moment arrives, and passes just as quickly, replaced by that glaring blue screen.

Should I continue to wait?

Apologies and excuses, after a mind numbing 30 minutes, and a slowly numbing butt.

Can I continue to wait?

The screen goes from blue, to green, to blue once more.

I’m not waiting anymore.

I open my mouth, frustration and fatigue controlling my cognitive functions.

As I prepare to protest … Oh, she has begun the lecture.

I sit back and stew in a metaphorical puddle of my unreleased anger.

I detest being in such a state of flux.

I hope that was able to give you at least a little bit of an idea of how I felt this morning. I’m the kind of person who actually smiles at the prospect of going to school everyday, so experiencing this level of frustration is a rarity in my case.

That’s all for today, and as always, happy reading!

Cheers 🙂

Advertisements

Sherlock Holmes, You’re My Kinda Guy

This is one of my first attempts at writing a song that actually ended with me feeling satisfied with the results. Unfortunately, when I tried to put it to music … well, let’s just say it would be best if I stuck to writing 😉

This song was inspired by non other than the infamous Sherlock Holmes. One of my friends invited me over to her house to watch this show that she thought was absolutely amazing – I felt rather skeptical, having little interest in the crime solving detective – and that I would absolutely love it once I watched it. I figured why not, I could watch it for a little bit and see what it was all about. My reaction; WHERE HAVE YOU BEEN ALL MY LIFE BENEDICT CUMBERBATCH! BBC really knows their stuff, and it shows in their modern day version of the crime solving detective who not only has the looks, but his acting is perfectly suited for the part. If you haven’t given it your attention, I would suggest looking it up as soon as possible, because it’s coming back for a third season next year and you will no want to miss it! Here’s a link to a promo trailer I found on youtube, just to give you a little taste of the show:

BBC Sherlock Holmes

Okay, enough rambling, here is the song that this brilliant television series inspired, and I do hope it will inspire your creativity as well.

Sherlock Holmes, You’re My Kinda Guy

By Emily Manns

On a dark and stormy night,

The killer makes his move.

Leaving no trace of the crime,

Whatever will we do?

 

When things get out of hand,

And the law just won’t do.

There is only one man for the job,

Just let him follow the clues!

 

Chorus:

Oh Sherlock Holmes, you’re one of a kind,

No one compares to your brilliant mind.

Oh Sherlock Holmes ….

You’re my kinda guy!

 

Nothing is ever what it seems through his eyes,

When he’s on the hunt, there are no lies.

A mere pen could be the weapon of murder,

If you need assistance, look no further.

 

No romance, no friends, no time to be social,

His personality almost seems to be artificial.

But with Dr. Watson at his side,

Hope for his humanity remains.

 

Chorus:
Oh Sherlock Holmes, you’re one of a kind,

No one compares to your brilliant mind.

Oh Sherlock Holmes …

You’re my kinda guy!

 

You may have been framed and made to look the fool,

But even at the end you didn’t lose your cool.

Come back to us to reclaim your fame,

And to rid your sorrowful John of his pain . . .

 

Chorus:

Because Sherlock Holmes, you’re one of a kind,

No one compares to your brilliant mind.

Oh Sherlock Holmes …

You’re my kinda guy!

 

Oh Sherlock Holmes, when will you realize,

There are so many puzzles yet to materialize.

Your journey has only just begun,

Oh Sherlock Holmes …

It’s elementary!

 

 

Life is a Rose

This is one I wrote for a Write’s of Passage competition in High Sch0ol. I thought it gave a pretty interesting perspective from the mind of an elderly woman who hates the fact that she’s in a retirement home, and who has nothing left except her memories of youth. Enjoy 🙂

There are so many old people in this place! I swear, the last time I was around this many old people was at my first birthday party. And what’s with all these drab clothes? Would it kill them to bring a little colour in here? It’s as plain as a glass of milk, like the one I spilled eighty years ago . . . was it eighty? My mother was so upset with me. That was the last time I ever drank milk near my mother’s good coat.

“Hello Mrs. Paddy.”

I can’t stand those people, always patronizing me. You’d think I was some kind of helpless child or something. Why, I could teach them a thing or two about what it takes to be a real woman. Now, I wonder where my slippers are . . .

“Mrs. Paddy, it’s time for you medication.”

Yah, you’d like that, wouldn’t you? Giving me something that’ll make me forget. Haven’t I forgotten enough? Now, I wonder where my slippers went . . . it would help if I wasn’t sitting in the brightest part of this damn building!

“Hey Paddy, you up for a game of chess? I’ll bet my own dentures that I’ll beat
you this time.”

Ah chess, now that’s an old person’s game. Why must they treat me like I’m about to fall into a coma at any second? Damn! I wish I could find those stupid slippers of mine . . I remember back when I was a kid; when I was allowed to walk down to the store all by myself and buy a bag of really good candy. I wish I could remember what that candy tasted like. . . I wish I could remember how to taste anything.

“There are some flowers here for you, Mrs. Paddy.” For the first time that day, I actually looked up at the lady in blue. She was leaning close to my face, a hand on the side of my wheelchair. My eyes slowly wandered to the flowers, and I nearly cried; half a dozen of the deepest crimson roses ties together with a silver silk ribbon.

“They’re beautiful,” I whispered, remembering how to make my voice work. “Who sent them?”

“I do believe they’re from your son, Timothy.” Oh, my sweet little baby boy. I took the roses with shaking hands, and never took my eyes off of them. All of my memories seemed to come flooding back to me. My first porcelain doll, garbed in a silk red dress . . my first ride on the big red steam engine . . . my first kiss wearing my mother’s ruby red lipstick . . . and the birth of my son, crying until his cheeks were as red as these roses.

“Are you ready for your nap?” I nodded, still gazing at my bouquet of roses, not caring that I didn’t have my slippers as she wheeled me into my room.

The Horror!!!

This is something I had started writing in high school, while I was experimenting with different genres, but I stopped because it gave me nightmares. Who would have thought that you could scare yourself with your own writing? So, if you like horror stories, then proceed, but if you tend to lean to the squeamish side, then I recommend you wait for a less frightful one to be posted. I just figured it was suitable for the Halloween season, so enjoy 🙂

The woods were still, not a creature stirred among the brambles. The ground was bathed in darkness, making it difficult for the men to see their footing. Their torches were growing dim as the oils ran dry, but it was enough to light the fear on their faces.

“I think we may have taken a wrong turn, Krom,” his voice shook as he gripped the sleeve of his partner, who looked equally as fearful. “I don’t recognize a stick or stone in these parts.”

“I think you may be right Mirkum,” he stopped, squinting his eyes to try and penetrate the darkness. The baldness of his head shimmered in the firelight, illuminating the beads of sweat that trickled down his face. “None of this looks right.”

“Sh-should we turn around?” Mirkum tugged on Krom’s arm, emphasizing his feelings of unease. His eyes were wide with terror, giving him the appearance of a scared puppy. The sounds he uttered mimicked his appearance, but Krom ignored his whimpers and kept moving forwards. Not wanting to be left alone, Mirkum tightened his grip on his friends’ shirt and followed in his deep footsteps. Having taken a fairly muddy trail, it wasn’t too difficult.

The moons rays were cut off by the thick layer of clouds that drifted lazily through the sky, creating an even darker atmosphere that did nothing to comfort the two lost men. They moved on, stumbling on roots and twigs that stuck up from odd places, and it was only their longing to get back home that kept them from staying face down in the mud.

“You know, I do believe that I was the one that pointed out that going through the forest was a bad idea,” said Mirkum, speaking at almost a shout as he fell slightly behind due to a snagging branch. “But no, you wanted to take the short cut so we wouldn’t miss out on the village celebration. Well guess what? According to the sky, we missed the celebration hours ago, and if we had just gone around the forest, we would have long since gone back to our houses and –”.

“Okay!” Krom stopped dead in his tracks, and almost as suddenly stumbled forward as Mirkum collided into his back. He spun around, his face an inch away from Mirkum’s as he spat out his frustration. “I get it, I made a mistake, and now we’re stuck paying the price. Now, if you want to get out of here by morning, I suggest that you stitch your lips and follow me!” Without another word, Krom began to make his way through the mud once more, the squelching from his shoes being the only sound that filled the silent air.

“Didn’t have to be so harsh,” Mirkum muttered indignantly as he continued to follow. It wasn’t long, however, before Mirkum began to start up another one-sided conversation.

“You know, I don’t know why they don’t just build a road that leads directly through here. I mean, it’s just so much quicker and convenient, you know? It’s like I’ve been saying for years, Krom, that the townspeople need to be taken into consideration whenever Lord Goroban decides to make another Law. I don’t even remember the last time Goroban even came down to the village to see how we were doing! He just ignores us as if we’re some kind of irritating pest that will go away if you leave it alone.”

“I share a similar problem,” Krom mumbled to himself, trying to hear over his friends complaints. It was then that he noticed that the trees were becoming denser, allowing what little light their was in the sky to filter through the leaves. Relief swept through him, but it was a relief short lived. There was something eerie that made him shiver.

“What’s wrong Krom?” said Mirkum, nearly running into Krom once more as he stopped. This time, Mirkum maneuvered around him, placing himself on Kroms’ left in order to see what was making him freeze up. “What did you –?”

“Shush!” Krom held up a hand to keep Mirkum quiet as he tried to listen to a sound he wasn’t sure existed. They waited, holding their breath. Krom was in the motion of taking a step forward when the sound of rustling leaves echoed through the trees. Mirkum jumped back, nearly choking Krom as he grabbed his vest collar. Krom did not see anything move, but there was no doubt in his mind that there was something else in the forest with them.

“Do you think it’s a beast of some kind?” Mirkum whispered, digging his fingers into Krom’s shoulder as they moved forward again. This time, they had only managed to take a couple steps before another rustling sound was heard. This time, they could see one of the trees swaying. There was no breeze to speak of, and the tree was not moving of its own accord.

“My guess is as good as yours,” Krom gulped, holding what was left of the embers burning within his torch to see what was up ahead. Unfortunately, the flame only lasted long enough for them to reach a small clearing before flickering and dying. Dropping his torch, he yanked the wooden instrument out of Mirkum’s hand, raising it high above his head. The clearing was void of all life, excluding the few saplings that were struggling to free themselves from the soil and become like their surrounding brethrens.

“I don’t like this Krom,” Mirkum’s voice was beginning to shake with fear once more as they took a step forward into the clearing. As his foot made contact with the soft soil, the sound of a child’s laughter echoed around them. They turned around, thinking instinctively that it had come from behind, but there was no one there. He would have assumed it be his imagination playing tricks on him, but Mirkum appeared to have heard it to. There is no way they both could have had the same illusion. Then, the laughter came back, and when they turned their heads back around, they jumped back from what they saw.

Sitting on the ground, legs crossed and her hair gold and curly, was a little girl playing with her doll. Her face was hidden by the shadow that fell over her face as she looked down at the little doll clasped within her hands. She was stroking the doll like you would a tamed animal, and as the two men moved closer to get a better look, the little girl began to sing. Krom and Mirkum stopped to listen;

 

“Red yellow green blue,

This is a song that’s just for you.

Green blue red yellow,

Sing it to a pretty fellow.

Tic tock, watch the clock,

Sitting on a curly lock.

Blue green yellow red,

When this song is sung. . .”

 

The girl gave a little laugh as she paused, her hand freezing in the motion of stroking the dolls curly black hair. The two men stared in horror as the girl raised her face, her features lit by the torchlight. It was not the face of any normal human child, for where eyes were meant to be, there were only empty sockets lined with pulsing veins. There was a flat stretch of skin over the place where her nose was supposed to be, and her mouth! It resembled the mouth of a snake when it dislocates its jaw to feast upon a rodent. Where teeth should be, there were hundreds of pointed fangs, and her face was the colour of a rotting corpse left out in the sun for too long.

As her upper and lower jaw met, an evil smile played across her face and she opened her mouth to finish the song. As she spoke, blood trickled from the corners of her mouth, dripping onto the ground without making a sound.

 

“When the song is sung,

You’ll all be dead!”

 

Krom could not move, no matter how many times Mirkum hissed in his ear. The sight of such a monster was enough to make a man feel as if he’d turned to stone. The only muscle that seemed to work was his eye lids, which kept blinking as if it would make the horrifying creature disappear. The creature continued to smile, blood now pouring from her eyes and ears. Both Krom and Mirkum looked down; the blood was flowing like a little stream, right between their legs. The torchlight was reflected in the blood, shimmering like the lake at sunset.

“Please, let’s get out of here,” Mirkum hissed, urgently tugging on Krom’s vest to make him listen. “Pl-please, while we still can.”

“Going so soon?” The voice that came from the creature now was much deeper, not like a child’s at all. It sounded as if two voices were speaking at the same time from a single mouth, making the creature seem more intimidating. “I thought you would want to play with me.” Krom finally snapped out of his trance and took a step back, taking care not to make any sudden movements that might put them both in danger.

“I-I’m sorry, b-but we h-have to get going,” Krom stuttered, trying to look away from the things distorted features. “I-it’s getting late.”

“I don’t like it when people are scared of me,” it spoke with the savage defiance of a child that’s not having things go their way. When she spoke next, her voice reverted back to the sound of a little girl and along with it, so did her features. She became rosy cheeked, blue eyed, and complete with a cute button nose. Krom looked down at his feet again, and was unnerved to see that the blood had vanished. “Now will you play with me?”

“I really don’t think that’s a good idea,” Mirkum whispered, but he obviously wasn’t quiet enough. He began to choke, gasping for air as he fell to the ground, his hands groping at his throat. Within seconds, his face had turned from blue to white, and he exhaled his last breath.

“Oh my God, y-you killed him!” Krom dropped to his knees, laying his hands upon the chest of his best friend as his eyes brimmed with tears.

“He didn’t want to play with me,” she said, looking completely undisturbed by what had just happened. She went back to stroking her doll.

“W-what the hell are you?” Krom rose to his feet, keeping as much distance between himself and the girl as possible without making her feel betrayed.

“You ask me no questions, I tell you no lies,” was her only response, which simply resulted in angering Krom further.

“Whatever the hell you are, I’m not going to let you spread your evil any further!” Reaching up, he snapped off a thick tree branch, holding it in front of him like a sword. To Krom’s surprise, the girl simply giggled.

“You’re funny, I like you,” she gently set her doll onto the ground and looked up at Krom with a cheery smile, showing her startlingly white teeth. “It’s too bad that I’m not allowed to be your friend anymore.” Bowing her head back down, Krom was able to sneak another glance at the body lying at his feet. It was only now that he truly regretted not having listened to his friend. Why did he have to be so stubborn?

Looking up, he saw that the girl still had her face focused upon the ground. This was his only chance, and he took it. Turning on the spot, Krom made a run for it through the trees. Curses flew from his mouth as the branches tore his shirt in several places. He didn’t stop to think, he just kept running. The only thing he focused on was the thought of getting home to his wife and crawling into bed with her. This comforted him, but not enough to remove the image of the creature from the forefront of his mind.

Sadly, he never did make it to that cozy bed with the woman he loved.

He could just make out the edge of the forest, the lights of the village houses visible at the top of the hill, when something snagged at his foot. Turning over, he watched with a yelp as the earth seemed to come alive beneath his feet. Vines wrapped around his limbs, cutting off the flow of blood to his heart. As he let out a scream for help, another vine shot out from beneath him and wound itself around his mouth, muffling his voice.

“I told you we could no longer be friends,” came the little girl’s voice, echoing in his ears. Krom tried to struggle free, but the vines would not loosen their grip. He screamed into the vine as he felt something pierce through his chest. Opening his eyes, he could see one of the thick vines sticking right through him, dripping with his own blood. He could barely catch his breath. The pain made him throw up, but the vine binding his mouth would not allow the fluids to escape, so it simply oozed all over his face. Feeling his life slowly seep away, he also became aware of the dirt rising above his head. The vines dragged him into the Earth, and the last thing he saw was the smiling face of a little blond girl, waving at him with the arm of her little doll. . .

It All Began with the Spider in the Window

So, here is a little taste of my creative writing. I wrote it during my stay in Ottawa, and it was actually inspired by a spider I noticed sitting in someone’s window every single day. I hope you enjoy it, and I would like to stress how much I would appreciate it that you keep in mind that this is one of my original works, and I would like to keep it that way ^_^

It all began with the spider in the window.

Honestly, I don’t think I would have paid it any attention if the man in front of me hadn’t been dragging a trail of toxic gaseous chemicals behind him. I didn’t want to breathe, but after the failure of my swimming lessons of grade one, I didn’t feel it was wise to try holding my breath yet. As I turned my head to avoid the wafting smoke cloud, my eyes were ensnared by the furry black body hanging in front of . . . well, I’m going to assume they were yellow ducks on the curtain, but they definitely weren’t your average yellow ducks.

 

Anyway, it all began with the spider on the window.

If I didn’t know any better, and I can think of so many times where I don’t, I would have sworn that the spider was doing some kind of upside down yoga. It was kind of interesting to see, like watching a nature video, only without the dramatization of certain situations to make them seem more intense and dangerous than they actually are. I wonder if lion’s eyes actually glow like that . . .

 

Okay, so it all began with the spider in the window.

Normally I would stop and examine these types of things more closely, but it was one of those situations where I had someone walking uncomfortably close behind me, and coming to an immediate halt would have been just asking for trouble. However, I did walk a little more slowly. I tried to imitate one of those scenes in a movie where the character starts moving in slow motion, and somehow they’re able to see things from far away with absolute clarity. It would be so cool if we could actually zoom into things, taking in all of the little details and giving it some deeper meaning. Man, television has all of the coolest things.

 

As I was saying, it all began with the spider in the window.

As I moved slowly passed the window, my eyes focused unblinkingly on the spider, I noticed something odd. There was no doubt that it was a spider, but it wasn’t like any spider I had ever seen before. I’m not quite even sure how to describe it, if there is even a way to describe it. It had nothing to do with its physical appearance; it looked just as disgusting as any other spider I’ve ever seen, although maybe not as scary. I guess you could say that it gave off some kind of vibe, but how do you really describe a vibe? I just had this gut feeling that this spider was different, but whether it was in a good way or a bad way I can’t really tell . . . maybe it was stocking me! Hey, I’m sure there are people out there other than me who have felt those eight tiny black eyes following them as they walked by. No, I don’t think that is the vibe . . .

 

All I know is that it all began with the spider in the window.

I continued to walk past it, but for a short time I was able to keep an image of the spider in my mind. I just couldn’t shake off that freaky vibe . . . Actually, within the span of those few seconds, I came to realize that it wasn’t the spider that made me feel this weird feeling, but it was the fact that I had seen a face in the window behind the spider! I don’t know how I managed to miss something like that, but I knew after I thought about it that the spider was simply sitting on the window, admiring the world from its little square, completely vibe free.

 

So as you can see, it really did all begin with the spider in the window.

It ended, however, with the vibe from the face watching me from behind the window pane. The funny thing about all of this, whether there is any point to this story or not, is the fact that I can remember the exact appearance of the spider, and yet the face is just a complete blur. I don’t know if it had something to do with the fact that I’m terrible at remembering people’s faces, or if my eyes were just far too focused on that spider. All I know is that the spider made me feel a little less fearful of the face beyond . . . Oh, and now that I think back on it, I think that spider was missing a leg. Either that or it was hanging in a really funny position where its legs were overlapping to give it the appearance of a missing limb. Crazy acrobatic spiders!