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[whelmed16]

10.  Letter to 13-year-old me

01/11/2023

Dear 13-year-old me…

We’re seventeen now, insane isn’t it.  We have our license, so we technically can drive which is terrifying. Dads still a piece of garbage and mom is…improving. We have three amazing friends that actually last, like I’ve had the same bsf for all of highschool. And we finally got our own room, so no more sharing with Lay anymore. There's a lot that has changed, like how we’re actually gay, nuts I know. Trust me it will be a huge journey of denial, to this day I still question myself. You’ll learn to deal with a lot about yourself in this time, and you’ll hurt too, you’ll hurt a lot. Unfortunately it’ll almost always be by someone we care about. However many things stayed the same, we still like all the same things from middle school, hell it's even cool now. We still move almost every year, we moved every year of high school. Speaking of.

Highschool isn’t like disney said it was. the freedom you are given is the equivalent to an angelfish’s light, it's pretty at first, but it's just a deathtrap. The workload is a thick bloody river that’ll drown you, the people you meet will either be the ones to pull you out, or the ones to suffocate you in it. Teachers will either make your day or make you wish dying by bus was less painful, their glazes are enough to make you fidget to resist the urge to cry. It sounds terrifying, but think of it like home, it gets manageable once you understand how it works.

Keep drawing, we do get better, like a lot better. all the practice actually really pays off and it’ll help with all the crap going on in our head.

I know I said a lot of scary things, you just need to take it a day at a time, keep working towards something, it’ll save your life. trust me.

Sincerely, 17 year old you...

[whelmed16]

9. Plot Graph

12/20/22 

Plotting the Short Story

STORY [working] TITLE:  A Realm Not my Own

Setting:   My story is in the:        past      present      future    

Point of View:   1st person             3rd person

Topic:   My characters are going to have to deal with:  external journey to gain an item to save the world.

Theme:   My character ends up transforming by realizing: they gained something more valuable on said journey.

MICE: My story/conflict is rooted in milieu, idea,  character, event ← also events drives the plot 

( Writing scenes that apply)

1. Introduction/Exposition:

*Must introduce the hero, the villain, and the world of the story, as well as the story’s dramatic question, and it must do this with enough energy to grab your reader’s interest right away

“In the beginning, the world had no light and no sand. roaring rivers and lush forests covered the lands. All was well and good until a being made of cold frost and bitter ice known as Shita’ (she-ta-un) covered the healthy forests with ice and snow.”

“Mother, why would they do that?” “

“Shh, little sweet flower, I'm not done.” the woman cleared her throat and spoke again.” The grounds of this once beautiful flourishing paradise become hard and crude with the years of endless winter. all hope might have been lost if not for a brave little Deeryid(deer-id), the little Deeryid found a mirror of great beauty and power.” “With this mirror I shall trap Shita’ and free the land at last.” “ The little Deeryid spoke loud and true. with the mirror the little Deeryid rose to the highest mountain in the lands where Shita’ ruled. with the mirror the little Deeryid defeated Shita’, and all lived happily ever after.”

“That story was amazing, mama do you think I’ll ever be that brave?”

“Of course sweet flower, and if you ever need help, I’ll always be here.”

17 years later.

I had that dream again, or was it a memory? “If you ever need help, I’ll always be here.”

What a beautiful lie that was mother.

Notes: this story is the explanation for the plot and a way to ground the Mc’s feelings towards the mother.

2. Inciting (complicating) incident:

*Beginning of the conflict/threat/trouble, essentially this sparks or begins the plot

The market is always busy, as long as I keep my head down and voice sweet I’ll get through the day.

“Excuse me, how many of these do you have in the shop?” an older woman with a shal and bright patterned dress spoke in a raspy voice.

“ We have about 50 in the back, its 5 bits a piece.”

“ Oh wonderful, I’ll take them all!” her eyes light up as if she were a child given cold ice in the middle of the sweltering summer.

“ give me a moment, will you, it will take awhile to pack it all.”

The back of the shop is always on the chilly side, it's quite pleasant compared to the endless heat outside.

I bend down to grab the first batch when a gust of cold wind crawls up my bare back, how is that even possible?

I look down to see..ICE? my breath is now visible and my hand start to cover in frost, screams and shocked gasped can be heard out the store.

What is going on?

Notes: giving a “simple” slice of life to the Mc, before introducing the conflict

( I also added the intro to the love interest in the story itself here in editing )

3. Rising Action: 

*Once the story has begun, it is important to create tension by raising the stakes. You must raise the stakes along the way and create obstacles of ever-increasing intensity while keeping your eye firmly fixed on your conclusion

“so your telling me that, that stupid story my mother told me as a child was real?:”

“yup, any other questions love?”

“Just a few, who the hell are you? how did you get into my house, what the hell are you wearing? and what's with your accent I've never heard someone speak so odd”

“ My name's Maraline Fox, your..cloth isn’t exactly a sturdy door, this is my uniform, and I reside up in the north.”

“Well that's wonderful, I have a pirate in my home.”

“ I'm more of a captain, but well..” my glare could have frozen her in place better compared to the storm outside.

Maraline clears her throat, “Ghaba, I need your help, your a Deeryid, Deeryids can gain access to the mirror.”

“ Oh for the love of god, listen pirate, sorry captainnn, but if you looked around you, there is a village full of Deeryids.”

“ yes but none of them are related to your mother.”

“What could you possibly know of my mother? she left me years ago!”

“ She was a mentor of sorts, your family has a special connection to the mirror since your ancestor was the one to trap Shita’ in the first place.”

This can’t be real, it isn’t real. my mother abandoned me because she didn’t see me as useful, why now? and why mentor some pirate in the north.  

“ I’ll pay you!”

“what?”

“ If you help me, I’ll pay you, more than enough to well..afford a door.”

This is insane, surely I’ll get myself killed if what she's saying is true. I look outside to see the raging storm. The only thing keeping me warm is Maralines device. I have nothing else.

“ Alright Fox, You have a deal.”

Notes: establish Mc internal conflict (feelings towards mother)

4. CLIMAX: 

*The pinnacle of your plot…this is where the protagonist either succeeds or fails i.e. the “boiling point”

I'm face to face with a figure made of ice tall and slim, an angular face and sharp clothing, Shita’. No, No, No, not now please not now. We don't have mirror. Maraline draws her blade and charges for Shita’ head on. “Come at me, you big popsicle” Maraline yells as she runs.

“MARALINE DON'T!” Shita’ shifts slightly and Maraline is sent flying into a wall of ice.

I try to run over to Maraline to see if she alright when a cold chill grabs my body. “ Well, well” Shita’ giggles “So, your the little Deeryid that's going to stop me?”

Shita’ conjures a blade made of nice, “ then take a stab at it.” they giggle menacingly once more “pun intended.”

My body trembles in place, what do I do? Shita’ gazes at me with anticipation and amusement. There is nothing else I can do. I charge at Shita’ just as Maraline once did. The blade stabs Shita’ in the gut and they fall to the ground.

Is it done?!?

Shita’ cackles and rises once more. “Now that was a good laugh, I haven’t had this much fun in eons. Now.” Shita’ slowly glances towards me. “it's your turn.”

I look over to Maraline who is finally conscious, I can only think of one thing left to tell her.

“RUN!”

my body tenses, my vision blurs and everything is so  cold, I look down, I’ve been impaled with a spike of Ice. Now I feel nothing, its dark.

Notes: meeting/facing the external conflict

5. Falling action:

N/A

6. Resolution: 

N/A

she dies so, no ending :)

[whelmed16]

8. Genre Prompts

12/05/22

Horror:

While Lily may think she is in the safety of her room. a being creepily crawls out of Lily's closet. Its massive wings drag on the floor, leaving inky puddles of black goo along with it. Its piercing eyes bore into Lily's back, though she is not aware of it. And Its claws slowly raise towards Lily’s small and innocent neck. With a toothy grin.

****

Lily is six she loves to dance and play in her mother's garden. Spinning with all of the butterflies and the bees and seeing, smelling and touching all of the beautiful flowers, grass and warm air. However, to its irony Lily hates moths. The creatures could be wiped off the face of the earth, if it was up to Lily. Her mother and friends tease her relentlessly due to this little fear.

Lily, like most children, also fears the dark. It's a black empty hole that never ends and never begins but Lily knows something is watching her within the black depths it holds. Of course Lily’s mother reassures her no such thing could ever harm her and doesn’t exist.

Yeah, despite these fears, Lily seems to have a little friend of hers. He only comes to visit at night and brings little gifts along with him. She named him Mothy. Mothy  has a tall figure with big black wings and big red eyes. He listens to Lily, while she explains about the warmth of the sun and the smell of the beautiful flowers and the touch of the damp grass after a slight shower. It would seem that Mothy likes to listen to Lily's little stories.

At the end of each day the sun sets, the bees, and the flowers go to rest, and so must Lily.

Lily's  mother has put her to bed, kissed her good night and tucked her into the warm and open blanket she knit herself. The wind outside Lily’s window wrestles softly, and Lily can feel her tiny body slowly start to calm and fade. 1..2..3 out like a fireflies light.

It seems Lily will be a fine meal for the shadow moth tonight.

Fantasy:

July 18, 1877,

Hello, or is it goodbye. I can't exactly decide, but what I do know is that I'm sorry, if you are reading this, I'm dead.

********

“Marina Catacomb! If you don’t leave now you’ll be late!”  my mother cries out for me.

I wake up from that dream again, but instead of dissecting it like usual, I jump out the soft covers of my bed. I don’t have time today. Today is choosing day.

I dress in my riding gear and jump on Luno, my rat familiar. I remember the day I got him, my mother had just come from battle with the mages across the border. The battle was brutal and her wounds made it seem we would lose her, when all my hope was lost. I heard a squeak from my bedroom, when I entered the room a little white rat with red eyes looked up at me. He was no bigger than my thumb at the time. Mother always said when you get your familiar they bring good fortune. And she was right, mother healed shortly after that day.

Luno is now the size of two fully grown horses, so definitely riding ready. Luno and I are trotting through the town located just outside my door, since housing is expensive now, we live right in the middle of a busy street. Wagons and carriages are always threatening to step or run over Luno.

We finally made it to the ceremony at the center of town. Choosing day is when children who turn 18 of age get their “hammer” . A hammer is a weapon that chooses them and carries special properties that are suited to you.

One..two..three..the anticipation is going to make me drop dead, but it's finally my turn. I get off of Luno’s back and make my way to the table full of weapons. There is a bow and arrow with gold feathers attached, and blade with a rat crescent on the handle, and lastly a spear with a chain connecting the sharp blade at the top to the pole itself.

One..two…….three…..nothing is happening! This isn't normal, the weapon is supposed to immediately choose its person.

Before my heart can sink further down in my chest, the Mage horn sounds.

War has been called.

[whelmed16]

7. Writing “music”

11/17/22

Original:

Halloween Writing Prompt: “He turned the page of the book. Chapter one had been pretty exciting. Interesting. There was a blank page before chapter two. He turned the page again and saw the spot of blood on the page and realized . . .”

A new book was always a thrill, because Malcom was a reader. He would sit in library after library hiding from the world. On a halloween evening he entered his local library and went straight for the horror section, it was his favourite. There was a new set of books released so Malcom was definitely dedicating the rest of his day to reading. He grabbed a book with a withered cover, “I could have sworn these were new?” he wondered aloud, making sure not to draw attention to himself. He opened the book and began to read. He turned the page of the book. Chapter one had been pretty exciting.

“Weird” he spoke in a hushed whisper, there was a blank page before chapter two. He turned the page again and saw the spot of blood on the page and realized just how quiet the room was. A snapping clicking noise could be heard to his left. That noise wasn't human. Malcom looked slowly to his left, a being 7ft tall with peeling grey skin with the texture of slime,  looked him right in the eye. “What are you?” Malcom muttered with a soft broken shaky voice. “I’m your savior.”  

New:

A new book was always a thrill, because Malcom was a reader. He would sit in library after library hiding from the world. It was Halloween evening when he entered his local library. Malcolm went straight for the horror section. It was his favourite. There was a new set of books the library released. Malcom was dedicated to reading them all for the rest of the evening.  He grabbed a book on a shelf at the back. It had a withered and beaten cover, “I could have sworn these were new?” he wondered aloud making sure not to draw attention to himself with his deep voice. He sat on the floor in the secluded section in the back, opened the book and began to read. He turned the page of the book. Chapter one had been quite an exciting experience. A mist circled the library, however Malcolm chalked it up to it being a last minute halloween decoration.

“Weird” he spoke in a hushed whisper, there was a muggy blank page before chapter two. He turned the page with soft, hesitant fingers. Yet again he saw a muggy page but this time with a spot of blood. His vision was starting to blur, and fizzle out. Malcom realized just how quiet and empty the library was. It was filled just 2 minutes ago. Malcolm was about to get up to investigate. He suddenly heard a snapping clicking noise sharply to his left. That noise wasn't human. Malcom looked slowly to his left, a being 7ft tall with peeling grey skin, it was the texture of slime, rotting wings with tar filled feathers. And Its “face” was filled with eyes, piercing into his soul.  Malcolm  looked It right into its eyes. Run. Please move. Malcolm was paralyzed on the ground, so he held his arm slightly covering his face as sort of protection. He couldn't take his eyes off the creature. And his body nearly facing through the floor. “What are you?” Malcom muttered with a broken shaky voice. The being bowed down. It was now at his level. It opened a gap in what Malcom could only assume was its mouth. It spoke in an angelic clear tone resembling  a mother.“I’m your savior.”  

Explanation:

I added newer, more descriptive language to make sentences stand out, “being 7ft tall with peeling grey skin with the texture of slime, rotting wings with tar filled feathers. Its “face” was filled with eyes, piercing into his soul.” I wanted a better description for the creature to truly bring my vision to life. The idea of the story was that Malcolm was always a lonely kid, evident by him rather reading alone in a library than going trick or treating. However the library had a gas leak that night and Malcom started hallucinating the pages. Soon dying. The creature is what I imagine an angel to look and sound like.  I shortened sentences that were meant to add clarity to something and make it less of a run on. The sentences “run” and “please move” were brief so a reader could feel the sense of urgency and fear in Malcolm's thoughts. I overall tweaked the story to sound more suspenseful and coherent.

[whelmed16]

6. Choice: (Gothic) Queer Romance

11/16/22

“ I swear if you pull any tighter I’ll regurgitate brunch” I sternly reprimand Madam Luciel. “ Well if you wouldn’t Indulge in all the scones, it’d be less painful”

I silently huff, not exactly wanting to bring up her insensitive point.

The dress I'm being forced to wear is a velvet black, with red lace on the bodice and skirt, broad shoulders and flowy sleeves, all tied together with my prison known as a corset. My brunette hair tied up in a french braided bun, as a “respectable” daughter would. All to highlight my emerald eyes, as mother describes them “a man trap”, what a disgusting notion, as if anything about my current situation is anything but.

I am to be married to some snob to keep my family's riches intacted, never even laid eyes on the man. Apparently what lies beneath my undergarments is so frightening that this world feels the need to silence me with a man.

A wife.

A mother.

These were supposed to be terms I would look forward to, however now I dread them. Once Madam Luciel is done with her torture, I make my way to the dining hall where all of my family and soon-to-be in laws reside. Walking down the long staircase gives me time to inspect what i'm being thrown into, as my shoes hit the floor I can feel my mothers words crawl through my skin “gracefully” it says. I walk with my head high, shoulders back, and the most “elegant” face I can produce. And now I'm face to face with my future hus… wife?

Before me is a woman around my age, deep medium 3a curled crimson hair that fell to her back in a loose braid, an hourglass figure, with deep creamy dark skin. I look like a ghost in comparison, “ well we finally met m’lady” her voice is so rich, with a sweet rasp at the end of every word, she bows while still maintaining eye contact with me. She gently takes my hand and kisses it, “how rude of me, my name is Beatrice Crow” I can feel my once pale face turning as crimson as her beautiful hair, an action that causes her to grin. “ Im, well, I'm Madaline Lu” I manage to utter out.

“I'm confused, where is your son?” my mother barks out.

“Son? When have I ever mentioned a son? I said our children were to be married. That was all” my future mother in law speaks out. Mrs. Crow has tight 4c hair the same deep dark skin tone as Beatrice.

“Mother, no need to cause a scene, I'm quite satisfied with this arrangement.” It would appear my mouth runs faster than my mind, how embarrassing.

Beatrice softly chuckles under her sleeve, giving me a devious look.

“Well how the devil will they have children” my mother snaps out.

“Simple, our family is quite special Mrs. Lu, you will get your grandchildren, and your riches” Mrs.Crow speaks

This is the first time I stop to think, what exactly do the crows gain from Beatrice marrying me?

“W-what do you gain?” I ask in a whisper, hoping no one heard me.

“Simple my dear, our daughter needed a wife and she chose you” Mr.Crow speaks in a rough tone, for the first time ,looking almost like a mirror image of Beatrice.

“Me?”

A chuckle comes from Beatrice “of course silly”

My heart flutters out of my chest.

“Well then I suppose we should discuss this wedding, if you'd follow me”

*********

“Your room is beautiful” Beactrice says while her hand slides across my shelf of books.

“Well some may argue you are” when did I become so forward?

She smiles and walks towards me, it's now that I'm sitting down on my bed that I can see just how tall she is, “beauty is not all that I offer my dear” her hand is now holding my cheek and her face is coming ever so slightly closer to mine.

Her lips met with mine causing my world to go blank, I didn't even realize she was now on top of me, in my bed. Beatrice rolled on her side and held my face once more, “I'm quite glad I chose you Madaline” with those soft secrets spoken in the sweet moonlight, I was enthralled in her body until the sun arose the next morning.

[whelmed16]

5. Extended Reflection

10/26/2022

When it came to the essay, what worked really well was the very descriptive language I used alongside the Imagery, Flashbacks, and an Extended Metaphor. Some were really easy and some made me question if I wanted to drop out of school.

I specifically used visual and tactile imagery with the setting of a stage and the feeling of a tight string around my body, that part was fun. Many times throughout the essay I had to refrain from crying, due to it being so long since I conveyed my emotions in such a way.

What was incredibly frustrating while writing the essay, was me constantly not feeling satisfied with it, and always wanting to do better. On its own this is incredible for development. However, when you’re trying to stick to a deadline and you’re struggling to

even get your rough draft done, there’s a problem.

In the end, however, I was incredibly proud of just how beautiful yet creepy, the extended metaphor I chose was. It really conveyed just how Erie these events were to me.

If I am going to be fully honest, I had no clue on all three literary devices going into the essay. I only knew that I was going to use imagery and flashbacks the extended metaphor with something that came in long after I had done 3 to 4 rough drafts. I decided to use the extended metaphor due to the fact that I wanted to have something elaborate and coherent throughout the story. I wanted it to be something you could tie back to you. Instead of just being a description of events with a monotone, ending.

From the moment the essay was introduced. I knew I wanted to do It on my depression. This has been something that has really been consuming my life for the past couple of years and while I haven’t expressed this to the adults in my life out of fear.  I wanted the essay to be a coping mechanism and sort of a patriot to teenagers my age who are going through what I’m going through on their own.

I knew I wanted my hook to be a question, but at the same time, still have that intrigue, so that a reader would keep on reading. So I landed on the.” when did her life become so exhausting?“ line. a little fun fact, I actually decided to write in third person as a last-minute decision. I felt it would be a lot more powerful coming from a third person or narration to remove myself. because removing myself would really emphasize the problem and the events on its own and then at the end, I realized it would be sort of a “twist” letting the reader know that this is my story.

The writing process was an excruciating one. While I absolutely knew what the prompt was, the execution was a lot harder. I personally really wish Google Docs could show the entire history of my work, because I completely forgot to create a rough draft after I had Redone my essay 3 to 4 times. So in total, I wrote the essay about five times. While this obviously means that I was really in depth with my writing process, It also made my life incredibly harder since of course I have other things going on.

The free write we did before we started the essay was incredibly helpful and was the main base for my essay. I wanted to quite literally start at the beginning meaning the beginning of when my mental issues started popping up or in a better sense, where they were rooted from. I then took this idea and kept going through every year, because personally in my mind and the way I was raised, I remember things based on years and age. I wouldn’t remember a TV show unless I remembered what year it came out or how old I was when I watched it.  Inturn I wanted my essay to convey how my own mind works while still letting a reader understand what was going on in a vague way.

Well, the essay might’ve been tough to write. I definitely enjoyed the process and am even more happy that it’s done.

[whelmed16]

4. Showing and Telling

10/18/2022

She's  17 years old. She has to live another day with herself. She picks and pokes at her face, she's struggling to peel the skin off her body, a body she doesn't want. Her textured hair makes her blood boil, why can't it be better?, there's a flaw with everything about her. She wants to melt into her bed, becoming an unbothered pool, she wants to be in a plain where her performance does not exist, where she won’t have to dance. She's curled into a ball, in a place where she can hide that she's pretending. She yearns to keep pretending. she despises that she aches for the girl that had a smile that now makes her stomach churn, she shouldn’t miss her. She loathes how she wants monsters that damage her stage, she resents the blacks pools of sorrow they bring. She is terrified yet desperately craves that disgusting love. She doesn't fight anymore. She starts to dance. She doesn't want to.

She's still  terrified that there is a chance that her liquid anguish will spill on the ground. She wishes her voice wasn’t a whimper. She didn't want to smile, she didn't want to draw, she didn't want to dance. She can’t comprehend why she deserved something so agonizing. She never could have realized the script would be so cruel. Clawing a hole out with her own hands to find a way to keep pretending it's great. Pretending that every moment of this high pitched orchestra isn’t a battlefield. Every pulk of a string, every tap of a key, every drop of blood, she is pretending. Pretending  that her goals and dreams will be enough to repair her tortured wounds. Maybe they will. She's blankly staring at the audience watching and enjoying  her downfall. She's in this fight alone. there's a soft ache. In the back of her head She is aching, aching to do this on her own. With the strings of her own denial, she's turning herself into a beautiful puppet of sorrow, spinning, jumping and dancing on glass. Every step is a relief, it doesn't hurt. She bleeds beautifully. She's not ashamed her blood is being painted on her curtains. She's not ashamed that her salty tears are making the rotting wood worse. She's not ashamed she's screaming so she’ll finally be heard,  no longer wanting to whimper. Her voice echoes and vibrates  through her auditorium. Her strings, no longer pure white when they arrived. It’s ok her strings are red, it's ok her arms are cut and a bruised purple, because my strings are starting to loosen. A little.

Original:

She's  17 years old. She has to live another day with herself. She doesn't like herself. She wants to melt into her bed and pretend she can keep pretending. she hates that she misses her, she shouldn’t. She hates how she wanted him to love her like he should have. She hates that she doesn't recognize herself anymore in them. She doesn't fight anymore. She tried to heal, she tried to be better and get better. It didn’t exactly work. She starts to dance. She doesn't want to.

She's still  terrified that there is a chance that her liquid anguish will spill on the ground. She wishes her voice wasn’t a whimper. She didn't want to smile, she didn't want to draw, she didn't want to dance. She doesn't understand why she deserved something so painful. She never could have realized the script would be so cruel. She is pretending. Pretending it's great. Pretending that every moment of this orchestra is a battlefield. Pretending that her goals and dreams will be enough to heal her wounds. Maybe they will. She's pretending that she's not in this fight alone, because she is, no matter what anyone says. She ignored Its warnings. Now there's a soft ache. She is aching, aching to do this on her own, because it's always been her doing it alone. She is holding herself with the strings of her own denial, turning herself into a beautiful puppet of sorrow, she's dancing on glass. She bleeds beautifully. She's not ashamed her blood is being painted on her curtains. She's not ashamed that her salty tears are making the rotting wood worse. She's not ashamed she's screaming in pain. No longer wanting to whimper, her voice is echoing through her auditorium . She's not ashamed that she's ignorant. I am ashamed that I'm ignorant.

[whelmed16]

3. Alternate ending to "Aren't You Happy For Me" By Richard Bausch

10/12/2022

“So young man, what exactly are your intentions with my daughter?” Ballinger said, trying to break the awkwardness of the dinner.

Ballinger felt a quick kick to his calf, Mary, his wife being the culprit as evident by her side eye in his direction.

“ Well sir..” William began to speak.

“ Daddy, I think this is unnecessary.” Melanie Interrupted, desperate to avoid conflict

“ Nonsense! I can tell Mr. Coombs here is very…traditional”

An Icy cold glare could be felt coming from Melaine.

“Sir”  William continued “ I very deeply love your daughter sir, and care for the future child.”

Ballinger felt his whole body churn, and bubbling rage had come along with it.

“ Yes, It's clear my daughter must have been a real teacher's pet.”

“JACK” Mary whisper-yelled.

“Maybe coming here was a mistake.” Melanie then motioned to get up from the dinner table with tears brimming at the corners of her eyes.

“ No! Wait!” a soft sigh came from Ballinger “ please…” he said almost in a whisper. “Don’t go.”

Melaine takes a seat, reluctantly. Wiping her potential tears.

“ We’re very happy for you honey.” Mary interjected, speaking in her always soft voice.

“ this, well, it's a lot to take in.”

“ How's retirement exactly William” Ballinger buds in.

“ Quite great actually, My grandchildren visit often” William speaks with excitement and precision

“ Right…grandchildren. I guess your grandchildren can now help with their baby uncle or aunt. Didn't you say the eldest was 19?” Ballinger sharply spoke, hoping maybe his words would cut into either William or Melanie.

“Yes si..”

“They’ll be very helpful!” Melanie harshly spoke back.

Dead silence consumed the table.

William finally spoke up “ I understand this is…strange, but I really hope we can be sival adults.”

“SIVAL! Are you kidding me! Do you know how old my daughter is?” Ballinger snapped

“ 23 sir.”

“ 23! 23 bloody years old! Whether she is a legal adult or not. She is still basically a child in comparison to us, for god's sake it would make more sense if she got engaged to one of your GRANDCHILDREN!”

“Daddy I don't understand why you're being so cruel!”

“ Cruel?!?!”  “Melanie, he could have been MY parent, does this not register to you?”

“ Of course It has, I'm an adult!”

“ This has nothing to do with you being an adult, whether you want to admit it or not. You are still VERY young.”

“ENOUGH!” Mary finally tired of the bickering, spoke up

The dead silence returned.

A frustrated sigh came from Mary

“ This is not how the night should have gone, Jesus Jack, this is why we're separating!”

“What.” Melanie said with pure shock and horror in her voice

“Well I guess since were all sharing such delightful news, yes me and your mother are separating”

“ Why didn't you tell me!”

“Oh? Like how you didn't tell us you're getting married to a 63 year old man who has also impregnated you” Mary shot back as if her words were venom. Ballinger had never seen his wife speak in such a way.

“MOM!”

“ No, I've heard you and your father bicker enough, no yelling” “Melanie, you're my daughter and I love you, and as your mother I won't lie to you.” “I don’t accept this. And I think you're making a huge mistake.”

“ Mom, it's just an age difference.”

“ No, It's more than that! Its power Imbalance, if you were in your thirties and did this it would be different, it really would.”

“ Has it even occurred to you why exactly a man his age would want a freshly graduated college student as his bride.” Ballinger softly added, not wanting to upset Mary again.

Melanie was again silent.

A rage filled William, he got up and motioned towards the door.

“ We're leaving. Now” William spoke with a stern tone.

“ Like hell you are!” Balinger said  almost lunging at William

William grabbed Melanie’s arm, gripping so hard a print will permetaly be there.

She was paralyed, William was now booking it towards the door.

The sound of rain and a car screeching down the road.

“ Jack…I think we should call the police.”

“Get in the car.”

[whelmed16]

2. I Am A Camera

10/05/2022

I hate this already. It's about 8:30am, and yet I can already feel sweat starting “ that's fantastic” I grumble, walking up the hill, giving a clear view of the school my sister is attending, the school looks about two stories tall, modern looking too. I assume they recently did work on the school. Children's high pitch and obnoxiously loud laughter can be heard. Unfortunately due to my spare taking up my first period I start school at the same time as the school 2 mins from my new home. How lucky. I'm walking past a bunch of families, one woman is holding a boys hand tightly. He is dressed in a baby blue cotton top with pink accents and a pair of simple washed jeans . A group of taller children up ahead and are walking from the direction I'm going in. Both sport simple sweaters and jeans. One of the girls is holding a journal with decorations that remind me of when me and my mother used to go to justice back when I lived in Scarborough. More children are running, and dragging their shoes on the rough sidewalk. Creating a scraping sound that makes me really wish my airpods were charged. The path is becoming less of a stretch once I pass elementary school.

*********************************

The blaring sun has made it clear to be my enemy, and I'm ready to declare war. There are cars on the side of the curb leading upwards. Their engines are giving off a high pitched screech so quiet yet loud, it's making me debate whether or not to sit in the road to be run over. The path was so beautiful at night. It was cool and dark, safe and secure, and I was drifting softly as I walked. Now I have Cement for my feet and I am being dragged down by the sun. I can feel the sweat on my back, armpits, and face. Which really is pissing me off since I spent a half hour on my makeup. At this point my rage can challenge the sun's heat. My only savior in this treacherous journey home is the wonderful japanese singer Ado blasting in my left ear. I'd be contempt on drowning out the senses of hell around me, however I think my mother might kill whoever runs me over with their car. As I walk uphill there are groups of people around my age, they too on their way home, yet don't seem to be in the same mental state I am.

*********************************

I'm finally home, the cold air of the AC hits my body like a tidal wave. I've never been so glad to be somewhere so bad. I’m about to enjoy being free from the heat and troubles of a new school, when I'm reminded of my poor luck. Just as the obnoxious laughter this morning gave me, my brother gave me an obnoxiously loud sound of rap music. Which can be heard all throughout the house. The sound is so ear bleeding that I can feel the vibrations of it as I walk on the pleasantly cold hard wood floors. All I do is retreat to my room. Luckily my room blocks out most noise. Lying in bed is peaceful, the sound of a light breeze which I can now appreciate, is softly blowing in the background. Sounds of birds and the comforting feeling of my bed is enough to calm the sensory overload my day has been. When I remember, “damn It! I have homework”.

[whelmed16]

1. Two Words

09/17/2022

“Congratulations _____”. Those words, those two simple words, a reality that I never could imagine. that confirmation that everything I've ever done was not a waste of time-a regret-or any of the things that voice has convinced me for so long. the years of sitting at my desk and letting my creations come to life, all the books and pencils I vandalised with my imagination. The sleepless nights, the victories and failures- almost giving up-right now in this moment, those words on this paper are telling me, “you've done well, all that strength and weakness is now being rewarded.” Something, something is not right, in fact, something is wrong, that pit in my stomach, the voices of cheer and happiness are fading, no, no, do not  go, come back.

Stop, It’s not real, they will get tired of you. it will end, it always does _____ ,you will wake up and remember that you mean nothing, you are nothing. skill? You think that you've improved?  You think that you will get that life you've dreamed of for so long? you are wrong. Stop it _____ I'm protecting you, protecting you from that pain, the pain you've experienced oh so many times before, do you not trust me, I'm the only one you can trust. Do not do it , do you hate me so, are you trying to hurt me? I've only wanted the best for you, this not cage it a blessing, no one can hurt you here, there's no need to leave, we can stay right here, it is warm here. It is safe here, this not cage to keep you in, no, it is to keep those who have and will harm you, out. If they are out there is no need to leave. Stay here.

No you are the lies, I want the truths, reality. I do not want this false protection, your false protection. It is a cage, this a cage, you are holding me down. Bring me back, give me freedom, your words do not own me, these are not the words I want, they are not here to help me. Bring back to my reality, the reality with my precious words, mine, mine, I say. You are a labyrinth of lies that hold my pain, you are the reason I can not let go, it is you.

” ______ are you still with us?” The faint call of my mother brings me back , outside that dark pit, “Ya, ya, Im here, right here,” I responded. I am here, this is my reality, THIS is the reality, I've worked for my whole life, all for those words. They are MY words, mine alone, no one can have them, they are not to be poked and prodded at, they can not be ripped away from me. I've climbed the darkness hills, grovelled, weeped, and bled, for those words, my words. I refuse to be anchored down and ripped away by a voice of empty words and black blood, a voice without humanity, a voice with my face. my voice.