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dreamofstyles · 4 years

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In a world of black and white Eliza Lister feels too much, too deeply. She sees the shades of grey and feels the enormous pressure of her family legacy. The question is, will she survive?

‘ I lean against the counter as I wait. Eyes close for a second and I see it all just as it used to be. The kitchen busy in the morning, grandma insisting on making pancakes, me eager to help her, my mother sitting at the small table with a cup of coffee in her hand looking over the flowing fountain, grandpa coming in from just walking the dogs and grandma telling him to take off his muddy wellies while trying to keep me from spilling milk all over the kitchen counter.’

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#love #romance #family_issues #novel writing #story #fiction #family #family_history #family_secrets #trauma #friendship #harry styles #nature #pressure #struggle #psychological

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dreamofstyles · 4 years

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Harry Styles covers the December 2020 Issue of Vogue

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dreamofstyles · 4 years

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There is No Right Way How To Start a Story

‘There is no right way how to start a story. You just have to do it. Great teachers and lecturers, even writers won’t agree. There always is a right way for those who follow the rules and appreciate the traditional. I, however, tend to hover on the side of unusual and disturbing, and not in the goriest sense of those words, but in the way how I see the world around me. Many people chose to see the world in black and white because it’s easier that way, there is right and wrong and when the lines are blurred they don’t question what’s in the middle. So, that is where it comes from, the idea that there is a right way how to start a story. The black and white, night and day, heat and cold, good and bad. But what about everything that comes in between? Once we are able to look past the boundaries of ordinary life, we realise that this world is so much more complicated than the simple notions that surround everyone’s daily life. No, wait, that is a lie. Everyone’s daily life is surrounded by miracles and deep struggles but since most human beings are oblivious to things beyond their black and white, they will never know what it means to truly live. The full human experience as one of my lecturers used to say, we have to live it, we need the pain and the suffering, otherwise, and I live by this, we are not completely human, there always is a part missing.’

I pause to look around the room. The setting sun is shining through the old oak trees illuminating the study. Laying it’s warm on the exposed book spines and layer of dust that has been collecting for a while. No one can be bothered to clean, and by no one I mean me. There is too much else on my mind.

A far away, serious voice disturbs my thoughts.

‘May I ask where that came from?’

I glance at my laptop. She is staring at me. He eyes weary and mouth pulled tight. I know she is wondering what’s really on my mind.

‘Hmm?’

‘What’s all this talk about a story? As for the black and white, we have been over that a couple of times. I do agree that this world seems awfully bland and uninteresting when you put in a box like that but not everyone is as much in touch with their emotions to see the grey undertones and what hides in the margins, you know that.’

She plays with her pen and looks at her notebook. I nod and brush the hair out of my face.

‘Yes, we have been over that. I’m not saying that everyone needs to see the world in grey but it’s unforgivable to be so emotional stunted that everything in this world appears to be okay.’

Indeed, we have been over this topic before. It’s my warpath, this agenda of black and white, and grey. It’s a major issue. She frowns, I cross my arms in response to her hostility.

‘Let’s talk about the bit where you mentioned how to start a story, Elizabeth.’

‘Why do you insist on calling me that? Eliza is fine.’

‘Very well, Eliza. Now what about that story?’

I glance over to the window again. Oak leaves are trembling in the light autumn wind, the world outside is warmed by the timid autumn sun and my thoughts are miles away, sitting in a tree somewhere, blowing across water like wind and flying to the south like flocks of birds.

‘Dr. Elm, have you ever wanted to tell a story that’s been living in your head forever, but when ever you trying to form the words all that comes out is silence? It’s quite funny actually. It’s like a silent film, I see the picture and all that plays in the background is elevator music.’

I look at the screen again, Dr. Elm is scribbling in her notebook. I’m sure I have said something impeccably interesting and extra worthy of jotting down, or perhaps, she’s cursing my name and how absolutely uncooperative I am. She is supposed to be helping me after my mothers request. I don’t see why I need her help. I’m perfectly fine. Except, perhaps, since my mother lives in the world of black and white, it’s torturous to have a grey thinking daughter.

‘Elizabeth, ugh, I mean Eliza. What about this story? Where does it come from? What is it about?’

I roll my eyes, she adjusts her glasses.

‘And here I was thinking that you are supposed to listen to me. I told you, I see a picture but there are no words.’

‘And why do you think that might be, Eliza?’

A pinch in my stomach, I wince. Sudden shudder runs though my body.

‘Frankly, this is none of your business.’

My cheeks blush, I need this conversation to be over but I see her part her lips.

‘So why bring it up if it’s none of my business?’

That’s it. The last attack I can bear. Enough. I shut my laptop and get up from the blue velvet chair. I pace the study trying to catch my breath, a fight similar to Don Quixote and the windmill. I can’t win.

‘Slow down.’

I hear his voice in my head. A soft whisper, so easy to miss.

‘Slow down, it’s okay. Just breathe. You are okay.’

My feet get slower and slower with each step as I finally stop in front of the enormous bookshelf, it stands there in all its glory, rivalling the bookshelves of the greatest libraries.

An unwilling whimper escapes my lips. My knees weak, breath steady. I fall to the ground. My face pressing against the wooden floor, knees up to my chest and eyes wetter than all the oceans combined.

‘It’s okay,’ I whisper and close my eyes.

It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m okay. No one can touch me, no one can hurt me. The only person who can do that is me. I’m in control. I have always been in control. I will always be in control. I’m okay.

Minutes feel like hours. I open my eyes and get up from the floor. The house is quite, it’s quite odd. But why am I surprised, I let everyone go months before. That’s why all the dust. All the doors unopened. All the dried up dead flowers in their vases. And me all alone, in a house filled with memories. All alone, in the middle of nowhere. An hours drive to buy groceries, yet the satellites make sure I have internet connection. How stupid is that? And so it brings me back to the black and white. I’m the consequence of black and white and perhaps so are you. I think we all must be.

I close the heavy study door and make my way down the dimly lit hallway, old rugs covering the floor and dead ancestors looking down on me from old paintings. Not a single living thing in this house besides me, but then I might be unaware of rats and mice, and maybe an occasional pigeon in the attic because that is what they show in films, isn’t it? I might not be as alone as I think I am. Or as alone as I prefer to be. I enter the kitchen and turn on the kettle. The kitchen window looks over the overgrown park and the trees that desperately need a trim. Perhaps, I ought to hire a gardener? The nature around the house is the one thing I would hate to lose. It’s been growing for hundreds of year, it would be a shame a throw it away. But who would be willing to go out of their way to come here? Not a sane person anyway. The water is done boiling. I pour it over my green tea teabag, the smell of lemon fills the air.

‘Ugh.’

I must have bought the wrong kind again. What is wrong with me these days?

#love #romance #family #fiction #novel #family_issues #family_history #family_secrets #psychological #trauma #friendship #nature #pressure #struggle

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dreamofstyles · 4 years

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What's your sexuality

stupid

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dreamofstyles · 4 years

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