Thursday, March 1, 2012
It's Up To You
Ok, so in my quest to try and figure out what I wanted to say I literally racked my brain for inspiration. I conjured up the most thought provoking questions that my noggin had to offer. What is the meaning of life? Who has inspired you? If you were in your last hours of existence how would you live them? All good questions, nonetheless, but deeply thinking about a question that cannot scientifically or spiritually be answered just isn't my cup of tea. However, my cup of tea is filled to the brim with great writing.
So for this blog post we will simply write. We will collectively create a story with whatever WE want. Every new post will be a new twist to the story. I will start with the first part of the story and you all will add to it. Then, once everyone has posted we can watch our drama unfold. All I ask is that you keep a cohesive aspect to the story. I also ask that you be as creative and whimsical as you please! So this is a challenge to you all to add sugar, honey and maybe even stir furiously to make the boring cup of tea a lot more concentrated. So, here is the beginning to the story...
P.S. “All great deeds and all great thoughts have a ridiculous beginning.” — Albert Camus
“A truly creative person rids him or herself of all self-imposed limitations.” — Gerald G. Jampolsky
Heavy on her shoulders Meera carries the burdens of the world. Evey new worry strikes her soul and deepens her emotional black hole. No one can possibly understand what she has seen, only in Paradise which she dreams. Paradise, a place where the hatchet is buried deep into the luscious sand. A place where worries are the least and happiness prevails. The air is sweet with the scent of pure imagination. Every night Meera lays her dark locks on her pillow hoping that she will go to Paradise. When her eyes open she is there but only for a while...
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BY THE WAY you can post as many times as you like if you find you enjoy what someone else has previously added. Happy writing:)
ReplyDelete....As her dreams dissapate into the very air around them. Her stormy eyes brim with tears at the stinging pain in her back, in her chest, in her heart; a direct result of a self-inflicted fate.
ReplyDeleteThis day was no different from any other in this sense. Meera woke, her sweetest desires in the form of ruthless, rampant thought dissappearing with a crack and revealing a gray world around her. The down comforters that swaddled her in slumber lost their yellow glow, and the soft warmth of the small, neat room seemed to grow stale and chilled. A big window, clear as day, even portrayed the sadness and anxiety Meera felt around her; bleak, dead-colored clouds swamped the sky and blotted out the sun while also accomplishing the tedious task of swirling all the world's colors with a bit of black.
For it seemed that not all the light in the universe could chase away this dusty coating that covered Meera's world, or so she believed so far....
... Until the minute she found what would set free her inspiration, and ultimately set her free from herself.
ReplyDeleteAs it seemed like every other day of her life, she closed her eyes and waited for Paradise to come floating back to her; it did not come back today. Her alarm clock buzzed annoyingly in her ear,and she shut it off the way every other teenager does: she smashed her fist onto it, just soft enough to not break it. It died out, and Meera opened her eyes again.
The world was then as it was before: it seemed drained of its color, and even the sun seemed to be hiding from her. She got out of her bed, wandering to the big, dull window, and peered out at the tiny portion of the world her window let her view.
It was normal to her, to see no color in such a colorful place like southern Florida, where every house is a different hue. She looked on, mortified by this realization that even when she tried, she could not find a permanent paradise, where colors cried out lovingly to caress her every movement.
This moment, in its darkest point, was when her inspiration found her: it came in the form of a pair of Sun Conures. The lovebirds perched right in front of her, on the branch of the orchid tree that sat day after day in front of the window, longing for the company. They cleaned each other and cuddled their heads together.
Meera's eyes grew to be the size of dinner-plates. She looked inside her room and saw her paintbrushes, previously unused, and her camera, used almost too much. She looped her fingers through the string on her camera and pulled it close to her body. She waited until the birds were in the perfect position, and snapped a beautiful picture.
She waited a moment, silently praying for a miracle, and then pressed the button that let her view the picture. ..
(sorry i wrote this last night to go after sarah's)
DeleteShe looked into the digital picture, and realized that even a camera --supposed to be the greatest invention ever-- couldn't even contain the beauty he saw. It was dull, the picture she took. Lifeless, lackluster, plain. All of which how she felt in her little world, the one most wouldn't even bother to peer into, or wouldn't even give another glance. Or better yet--give a second chance. But Meera WAS willing to do so.
She posed the camera ever-so-slightly and turned the lens. And at just the right moment...click. The birds flew away in a flurry of feathers and Meera once again looked at the photo.
Not quite perfect. Or "picture perfect" as one might call it. Just good enough. 'Something like that,' she thought. Yes! A thought! Something to awaken her muffled morning brain. Maybe now she could get ready for the day...maybe.
The picture resonated, piercingly awakening parts of her long forgotten. Tears cascade against the glass-protected viewing screen, shattering into dispersement and raining down on other parts of the camera. The image burrowed its way into her existence as she sat on a nearby bench. Colors. The vibrancy, like a free-form dance, gave way to no restrictions, no governing laws of nature. The picture made its own choices, and Meera was one of them.
ReplyDeleteA deep, lingering breath. A sense of weightlessness. Peace.
The viewing screen suddenly went black, and in a moment of panic Meera thought that her savior was gone forever. It took a reclamation of reality for her to realize that the camera had gone into sleep-mode after a period of inactivity. Inactivity...for the first time in a duration that she cannot recall, she lifted her sodden eyes from the camera and was thrust back into the world that she tries so desperately to map. The sun, light, the palette of colors, the harmony, herself: they all began to fade the instance she was part of this world again, and her futile attempts to grab at the fading memories only reminded her of how little control she possessed, her humanity, and how ruthless this world could be. She wondered, though, if this would be enough. If this is what she had been waiting for, searching for, longing for. She wondered if she was finally free in a perpetual paradise...
...when abruptly Anthony, her father, came violently charging through the door screeching with vulgar words disgorging out of his mouth like a waterfall. With every step he took the stench of whiskey and cigarets became unyielding and unbearable. I quickly reached over for my scarf to cover my nose from the aroma, it was working until he was less then an inch from my face and that is when...
ReplyDeleteOoooh, I like the twist, adding another character!
DeleteGave me some dark ideas! I love when a story turns brutal
DeleteThis man standing before her was one who had taken more from her than anyone else ever could. Her world had been ripped apart and gnawed at once again in that moment. Looking into his eyes she could see how much anger had engulfed his soul and she knew what that would mean for her. In a flash, her father shot his hand above his head and slapped her so hard that all the little remnants of life she held inside had fallen upon the floor like a glass shattering across a floor. Her body flew towards the ground where she laid listening to all his resentment towards her. Tears were useless just as feeling was. Her body becoming numb along with the rest of her heart grew and grew until she had finally blacked out...
ReplyDelete.. When she woke up the first thing she saw was her mothers big blue eyes filled with pain and tears. Karen was nothing like her husband, she was caring kind-hearted and she had the softest touch anyone has ever felt. After I regathered myself you could hear the door wham against the fram as Anthony left immediatly after my mom is yelling at me from across the room to pack a bag while she runs to get her own belongings. When Karen came back into my room with tears rolling down her face she said "From this point on, when we leave, things will be better I promise."...
ReplyDeleteI considered Karen's offer while my thoughts and ideas drifted away and returned to the surface of Paradise. My mind ostensibly welcomed this place, wherever it was; I could not quite build an image of its perfection, but it was simply the idea from which I dare not relinquish in my prospect for happiness. I stared off absently in the exhausted living room while the piercing shrills of screaming and knocking culminated and then dissolved almost instantly. The remaining echo of noise and the ensuing silence caught my attention; lifting my eyes from the ground, I caught a glimpse of the vivacious Son Conures that appeared insouciant to the terror within our emaciated shack. Trembling, I veered around and discerned the presence of Karen immediately; she whispered something inaudible and motioned me out the back door...
ReplyDeleteKrystal,
DeleteNot to interrupt the succession of our collective story, but I just wanted to say that this was a very creative idea and it was fun contributing to it.
I picked up my bag, and followed her. Where could she be taking us? Will this place be like the Paradise I so often dream about? Are we going to be safe now?
ReplyDeleteI didn't know anything, all I knew was to follow, and trust where Karen is taking us. It could be Wonderland or it could be the Mohabi Desert. Anywhere would be better than here. I just want to get out. I need to escape this hell hole. This horrible place where I have to face the whiskey and cigarette smelling Anthony. The guy that has ruined my life. He is the reason for my Paradise. He is the very essence of where I have gotten all my inspiration. I have channeled all of my anger into it.
It didn't always used to be this way. Believe it or not, Anthony used to be a pretty OK guy. Sure, he still drank back then but it was never in the excessive amounts like today. Karen and I moved in with Anthony when our house went underand got swept away by the hurricane. The day we left, I remember almost everything. I know the exact time, the smell, and I can even remember the sense of danger lurking overhead as the inevitable hurricane began its terror. We rushed out of there so fast that not even my dog, Fido, made it into the car. We moved into Anthony's apartment with almost no belongings. I didn't even have a pillow to sleep on the first night. This might have been when things started to change. When Anthony began to take advantage of our helplessness, it was as if he felt empowered. He began to threaten Karen and I, told us he'd throw us out on the street if it wasn't for Karen being pregnant.
ReplyDeleteHOLY POOP SHE'S PREGNANT?!?!
DeleteAnd, of course, it was his abusiveness that lead to Karen loosing the baby. It was supposed to be a boy. We were going to name him Toby and he would be my baby brother. But Anthony took that away from us just like everything else.
ReplyDeleteNow Karen was ushering me onto a bus. Not a normal one, one of those cushy ones you travel long distances on. The sign on the side said Miami to Orlando. And I smiled. Orlando was where we lived before the hurricane. It must've been rebuilt been rebuilt quickly since it's such a big vacation spot. We were finally going home.
I really like how it ended~ a nice sense of completion and relief.
DeleteIt's interesting how it progressed.
As the breath of the Heavens was carried on the wind, Connor looked before him at the beautiful sight of the valley, flooded with sunlight. Morning dew licked the blades of emerald grass as the smell of the newly grown leaves filled the air. The fairies danced in their circles of light as tiny pixies sipped the dew of the cherry red tulips. Laughter filled the air as the morning sun egulfed the valley. Connor's Valley.
ReplyDelete