Poem (Writing Challenge ) - The Ocean

As I approach IB, I have been thinking a lot about the future. I've been thinking about IB, grades, university, family, friends and our mortality. Deep ish, I know, but this summer I haven't been thinking that much, I've been more focused on enjoying and living my life. I travelled, I worked, I learned a lot about myself, my friends and my family and I've joined new communities. I'm afraid school will crush my hopeful spirit, but I hope that my positivity thus far will trump any obstacles I face in the following years. I wrote this poem to kind of release that anxiety and fear I feel towards what's to come, and to act as a reassurance that I will be fine, and everything will work out. I hope you like it!

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The Ocean

The waves crashed on the shore
As the thoughts looped in my head
Failure, fear, regret and more
Thoughts that tuck me into bed
The waves reach my ankles now
As images flood my brain
My feet move faster than I allow
The panic begins to leave a stain
Water approaches my thighs
And the rejection burdens my heart
Sadness fills as I yearn for goodbyes
It's now to my stomach, as the images dart
Could it be as bad as I recall
Could all the tears be truly called for
All these memories still make my stomach fall
As it reaches my shoulders, and I near the core
Screams, pain and joy
It reaches my neck
Too many recollections to destroy
As I take one last breath
My head submerged completely
And my mind goes blank
All I feel is the water 

Surrounding from every side
In a loving embrace, it all fades away
I no longer have to hide
In this big, vast ocean
Full of promise, love and opportunity

Six Word Stories -Writing Challenge

Guess who broke their promises again? me... :(

To be fair, I have been busy. I have been reorganizing my room, which has taken three days, as well as volunteering at ILearn Center for kids with learning disabilities. Also, I'm lazy. However, I'm back and I want to try out writing six-word stories. As some of you may know, Ernest Hemingway was the first to make six-word stories popular in recent literature with his story: "For Sale: Baby shoes, never worn." There were other news articles out at the time that had similar titles, such as "Little Shoes, Never Worn," which was written about a woman who had lost her baby to death. Anyways, he was definitely the one that popularized fast fiction, and I will attempt to do so myself.

My first step was to find a website that gave me random word lists and then scroll through and stop without looking. Whichever word/phrase I land on I will write about. Some are sad, some are jolly, I tried to make it a mix between the two. Here are my results...Enjoy!

1. Highway

Slowing cars, nosy drivers, two bodies. 

 

2. Eyes

Her passionate eyes destroyed obstacles ahead.

3. Water

Both droughts and tsunamis can kill.  

4. Signature

Written in ink, signed in blood.

5. Gemstone

Amongst the rocks, lies a gemstone.

6. Bowl

Two bowls, one choice: Eternal Happiness.

7. Spot Light  

Bright lights aren't seen amongst others.

8. Man

Hope: abandoned. He crouched and wept.

9. Solid

Solid evidence: it was love, indeed. 

10. Umbrella

Fought rain, couldn't fight the thoughts.


*****

 I hope you liked those, and I would love to see any of you try it out. Have a great day!

August Challenge

Hello there!

It's been a while hasn't it? I don't know what's gotten into me, but I had a new found interest in my blog. I love to write, but I realized that I've been downplaying myself. I want to step up my game. Therefore, I have decided to set up a challenge for myself, and hopefully you'll come around for the journey ahead...

My challenge is to write something (anything!) every other day, and if possible everyday. Since it's been a while since I sat down and typed out priceless literature, I decided to go to the subreddit /r/WritingPrompts/ . The link shows a site that posts ideas for writing, and although ideas aren't what's keeping me back, my fear of rejection or failure to write something good is a big barrier. Hopefully, if I started out writing based on ideas I know are good, I will transition to ideas of my own. I hope you like it, and if you were to take up the challenge with me, it would be awesome if you were to send a link to your own blog so I can check it out.

After that less-than-brief introduction, let's move onto the first writing piece of this month inspired by user huphelmeyer: "A novel where the antagonist becomes omnipotent and starts to fight with the author for control of the story."

I Want To Be Free! 

 

Just like everyday, he woke up, and dragged himself to the kitchen. He sat at the table as one of his minions prepared his coffee, and another prepared his omelet. He blankly stared out the window, going through his checklist for today, when the cook brought over the plate. He didn't want to yell at the poor man for dropping his plate, in fact, he wasn't angry at all, but somehow an outburst exploded out of him; so powerful and intense the minion was on the floor bleeding and crying. He wanted to lean down and comfort him, apologize even, but something held him back. Everyday, he realized this force controlling him to do things against his will. They were malicious things that sucked at his soul, but he had no ability to change it...at least that's what he thought.

You see, he came from a long line of villains. His great-great-great-grandfather was the first of a long line of villains. He was feared by all for his talent of arson and world domination, even his nemesis attempted to avoid him at all costs. His son carried on the tradition by starting a League of the Malevolent (he was also a poet on the side), and thus, his fate was determined: he would be evil. 

At first, it seemed like a blast. He remembered his grandfather tell stories of defeating Superman, taking over cities and terrorizing teachers (his worst enemy at the time). He recalled his father appear on the news, name sprawled over every network in big, bold font. He had memorabilia for all of his favorite villians; The Joker smiling at him as he slept, Magento chanting demeaning phrases to him as he brushed his teeth, and Cat Woman adorning his lunch box for school. That was his destiny, his future, and he yearned for the day he could take over the League and see himself on the news taking down the ever-so-beloved superheroes. Then it happened, just a week after his father was crippled by The Avengers, Azazel Cor took over the League at the young age of 24.

Finally! This was his dream being achieved! He signed that contract with gusto that couldn't be shaken off...for about a year. It turned out the process was much more morally bruising to him than he thought it would be. With every innocent person he killed, every bank he robbed, and every superhero he dramatically left on the verge of the death, his excitement died gradually. He realized this isn't what he wanted, but he couldn't escape it. He could never tell anyone how much he hated holding a school bus full of children hostage, or that he wanted to go to Paris, or that he thought his wife's hunger for hurting others made him hate her even more. Thirteen years of this miserable, vile life, was...

"What are you doing?" Azazel said to the...WRITER?

What? How...? Are you talking to me?

 "Yes?" He said hesitantly, "Why are you reading to me my back story and explaining all of my inner thoughts?"

I must be going mad. YOU'RE MY CHARACTER, I CONTROL YOU, OK? There's no way...

"Wait, you're the one who has forced me to do all of these malicious things all my life?"

...yes.

"How dare you! All this time? Oh my Go...this means my entire life is a piece of literature, dictated by some loser at some computer?"

Hey! I am a...

"No! You have no right to be offended here. My whole life is a lie, every action I've ever done has been written by you, and I had no choice but to comply. I can't believe this."

He rested his face on his...

"Stop that!" Azazel sh...."I mean it!"

Sorry...I don't know what to do here, man. I've never heard of this ever happen. I didn't even know it was possible. Is there anything you would like me to do as compensation for all of this?

He paused for a moment, deep in thought.

"Yes, actually. I want you to...I want you to make me not evil. I want you to write that I left the League, I divorced my wife, and will be boarding a flight to any exotic European country by tomorrow."

Hmmm, well there are a lot of nice places in...Wait! No! That will make for the most boring story ever! I can't do that, I refuse.

"Oh really?" He said with a smirk, "How do you think people are going to respond when they realize that their lives are being written for them, I bet it would lead to a pretty tragic story for you, huh?"

Actually, that sounds like a great concept for a book. It would be a more enjoyable read than seeing you go to Spain and take up salsa lessons. 

"What? No. I don't want that!"

I don't really care anymore Mr. Cor, my story; my rules. Very simple. 

"How dare...." Azazel said slowly in a whisper as the author regained power over the character. 

Against his will, he walked down to his lair, where the camera was set up for a live broadcast to the world. He sat at the desk, and delivered the news to the people of Earth. At first, they doubted him, but as he explained it more, they could sense that pull to do what was demanded of them. Fear spread though each individual as the viewers sat, paralyzed, absorbing these facts given to them by the person they had once all mistrusted. It appeared that their world was all a lie, and even the most evil man in their universe was not as he appeared. The live broadcast ended, and time paused as Azazel looked to the author.

"Thank you," he said with a sigh of gratitude, relief beaming on his face.

The author smiled at him, through the screen, preparing for taking over the load of being the villain. 

***

What did you think? I would love to know if you liked it or not, and I would love to see your own responses. Have a great day!

Anna Akana and Valentine's Day

Today is Valentine's Day. It's February the 14th and everyone is talking about love and how much they love their significant other and their previous experiences they had on this lovely day. Personally, I believe that this is way too commercialized and overrated and love should be shown everyday. However, its origin is very romantic and noble, and sometimes people showcase their love on this very day in the most creative of ways, and that's pretty cool.

It was apparently named after St. Valentine, a priest that would marry soldiers in private, after the Roman leader of the time banned marriage, due to his belief that single soldiers perform better. When the Roman leader found out, he placed him in prison, and St. Valentine, allegedly, fell in love with the jailer's daughter and wrote her a letter before his execution, signed "To my Valentine".

After Rome became a more Christian society, Valentine's Day became more popular to replace the Feast of Lupercalia (a Roman feast of fertility), as well as it being reported as the beginning of the bird mating season. However, then it was only letters, and then it evolved commercially as it became more global.

Yesterday however, was February 13, on a Friday. Yup! Yesterday was the Friday the 13th. Apparently this year we're having three Fridays the 13th, so be prepared. I wrote a poem I would like to share, for you to enjoy, and probably use the next time someone messes with you.

May all misfortune be lain upon you
And this unmerciful day take all rights and virtue
I hope thy days are colorless and bleak
Following this horrid day, Friday the Thirteenth
May the salt shakers around you spill
And the cracks on side walk cause you to take pills
May the black cats flood your streets
And infinite ladders tower over your sheets
May every devil spawn known to man haunt thy spirit
And the screams you release mute to those who can hear it
May every passing hour feel like a hell hole inescapable
And the fate you will be lead to remain undebatable
May all misfortune haunt you for the rest of your days
As all around you hell is raised

MWAHAHAHAHAHA! I'm evil...

Anyways! Now it's time for an update. A lot of things have happened since I last wrote a blog post. All of them very exciting. Firstly, I was part of the Frozen play, which may have been the first show in Amman to have seven nights fully sold out. It was tiring, long and so very fun. I met so many new amazing people, and being on stage is such a thrill, even if I was only a maid-that-turns-into-a-royal-due-to-clothes-transformation. It was very fun anyways, and everyone was very nice. If I wasn't in IB next year, I would probably audition again.

After Frozen finished, I didn't really do much. Finals happened, they sucked but I did okay on them. After that, I started working on my personal project, which is taking me FOREVER to finish even one piece. I WILL NOT GIVE UP THOUGH. My idea is to take recyclables and transform them into art, by making two-three paper mache sculptures and multiple crafts of smaller sizes. 

Another very exciting thing I would like to share was on my resolutions list last year. I placed a resolution to contact my favorite YouTubers via social media. Lately, I did and this happened:

THE NOTIFICATION AT THE TOP^^^

YES! Anna Akana, one of my favorite YouTubers favorited my tweet I sent to her for a SnapChat contest! It's exciting, ok?

That's all I have for now, but whenever exciting things are to happen, you shall be informed.

Goobye...for now.

-Yara

The Chronicles of Huge Eye - Chapter 4

Before you read this, read Jad's Chapter 3 blogpost first: 

throughmyseriouseyes.weebly.com

Enjoy! 

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Intertwined hands broke her fall. They were soft and merged together in a shape of a pentagon. She smiled as they tilted her to the side. She planted her naked feet in the soggy soil and took in the smell of fresh flowers. She started walking across the muddy path dividing the field of daisies from the field of black dahlias. As she reached the end of it, she took a swift left and raised the hem of her white dress off the floor as she started to run.

She ran with her arms widespread and her hair flying back. The wind slapped her face with great intensity and she welcomed it like a hug from a loved one. She ran and skipped and leaped and twirled. She was overcome with euphoria; blinded by elation.

In the distance, she saw a train come to a halt. She rushed towards it and climbed aboard. She headed towards the window seat and relaxed her head on the seat, her view fixed out of the window. She exhaled deeply in relief as the sights passed by her. She was alone on the moving vehicle, with only the driver at the very front.

Solitude in a land filled with all the views she wanted to see. For years she had drawn out the plans for this place. Every reflection, corner, curve had been perfectly planned and orchestrated over the course of many tiresome years.

As the train moved along the track, she smelled a peculiar, sharp smell. It was a distinct metallic smell, but she ignored it as the smell of the flowers overshadowed it. However, as the vehicle continued its path it kept coming back to her attention. She walked to the railroad engineer's cabin, knocked twice, then opened the door. While she was opening it, several bodies fell out of the cabin, many more falling behind her. She backed away in shock as the bodies continued to fall at her feet. They were presumably endless in supply.

Scared, she searched to find a way to exit the train, but the entrance she had come in through was blocked by the pile of humans drenched in blood. She then thought of hiding under the chairs, until the bodies stopped flowing out of the engineer's cabin, but she heard a whimper from the direction of the bodies. The one closest to her looked up at her and whispered:

"Tristan, 2015."

Confused, she scratched her head at the mention of the boy's name.

Was he coming to the Land of Huge Eye? Did he know about this land in anyway? Was he already here?

After what seemed like forever, she had managed to push through the sea of bodies to get to the door and jumped off the train with fright. After a while, she had become accustomed to the bodies, but what scared her was their constant supply, the blood they were drenched in, and the mention of Tristan's name.

She walked, with remorse, on the flower fields, since the track was now fully occupied by the train. She strolled along thinking what could have caused such an occurrence. As she thought about it, she saw a blood stain on her dress. She grunted with frustration as she realized more and more of the stains on the white fabric.

Joan turned and started running back to the place she first arrived to. She remembered drawing a stream there, so she could then...A possible answer suddenly came to her along with feelings of vulnerability and blame towards herself. Could she have been so foolish?

She ran faster to her initial spot, where her sketchbook lay on the muddy land. She started sprinting at the instant she saw its faint shape in the ground. She picked it up quickly and flicked through the pages. At first, Joan searched the pages vigorously, but as she viewed more of it, her fingers moved slower, eventually coming to a halt.

She collapsed to the floor; stunned.

This was her chance at being free, but she missed out on that because she left her sketchbook with Tristan. Hours, days, years spent sketching out this magnificent land in invisible ink...wasted because she had instead grabbed her Art sketchbook, instead of her planning one.

As she began to rock herself back and forth, she pieced it all together. Tristan must have found her backpack containing the sketchbook and presumed it was empty. He must have drawn out the gorey, violent scene on the pages already filled with the invisible sketches Joan had drawn before. It was reasonable, especially knowing that his artwork was very dark, very detailed and very bloody.

Joan enjoyed sketching out scary scenes, but this was her world. She wanted to live in a world of tranquility, where she could be one with nature, where everything was black and white and went according to her plans. She meant for no interference from the Universe, but instead, she got the interference of a dark Tristan.

She lay on the floor for several hours after that. The stains had become permanent, now matched with mud splots.

She was dumb, foolish, ignorant and beyond the limits of negligence. She had one thing to do, and she couldn't do it. She had one sketchbook to carry with her, and she couldn't do that. She could have brought both of them, but no; she couldn't do that either.

Apparently, she was incapable of doing anything at the time, but now she had to think of something she could do to bring Tristan's attention to his actions. She had to find a way to communicate with him, and show him his impact on the Land of Huge Eye, and there was one person she knew could help her.

**********

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH! This is so long overdue, it's disgusting. I really hope you liked it, the thought finally came to me after many weeks of writer's block, void of inspiration or motivation. However, it seems that today I have found both in such capacity as to write this belated chapter. A lot of new things and updates have happened in my life, and I plan on sharing them with you all very soon in an upcoming blog post. I will not set a specific date, since I don't really stick with those, but I will try my best to have one up by sometime next week.

Have a great day!

-Yara :)