Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Wednesday, March 18, 2009
Writing Piece #2
Leah’s Past
The woman’s name was Leah. Dusk was falling as she finished scrubbing the deck of the ship. It was hard work but she enjoyed it. She loved the open sea, the sleepless nights, the intense training, and endless dire missions. She loved the fact that she was doing good in her life, something of purpose, of value.
When all of her chores were done and all crewmen were accounted for; she crept into bed and pulled out a book, a book of pirates and their maiden voyages. Leah was intrigued by their courageous battles and narrow escapes. She ended the chapter and slipped the forbidden book under her pillow; forbidden as marines and pirates were unquestionable enemies. She blew out her candle and drifted away.
Leah awoke in darkness; casually scanning her surroundings, she let out a soft sigh. She aimlessly starred into the night sky, bright glinted specks imprinted onto a dark indigo mat/canvass. She wanted to sleep but her mind was alert, so eager to plan out the day’s events. A warm comforting breeze seeped through the windowsill, furling around the curtains; it was playful, swirling in and out of the ruffles and tufts. It weaved and swooped, gently residing upon her forehead. Her eyes glazed and she was at the beach. The sun soared high, at its zenith, brightly its rays sprayed on the water’s surface. A strong wind streamed past, her hair flattened, and her eye’s watered.
The young Leah asked, “mommy, where does the wind come from?’
Her mother replied, “from the sea darling, deep into the sea.”
Cheerfully smiling Leah cried, “I’m gonna find that spot one day, far into the sea!”
From a distance the sounds of chiming bells rang and echoed through the walls, distorting when reaching arches and hallways. Leah’s perception blurred and warped back into the marine barracks. Shades of dark blue were now vivid hues of orange and red. Rays of light refracted through the glass planes causing the palette of colors to dance on the adjacent walls. The bells skipped a beat and then constricted into a shrill yet loud clatter, it was an alarm, code for emergency distress, a rescue mission. Marines of all ranks bolted past in every direction, organized chaos. Leah carved her way towards the left flank pier, saluting her captain before joining the crew.
The island was a mere 3 hrs away, close. A stream of smoke crawled its way up the sky; though it was faint, clouded by a dark fog. As the ship drew near, the dark fog became clear, a clustered haze of scattered debris and fallen ashes. The village was desecrated. Leah couldn’t bear the sight, instead simply gazed over the starboard ledge as the waves crashed gently crashed against the island’s rocky barrier, as if they were mourning the island’s demise.
The ship drifted into the harbor colliding into broken wooden planks, floating fragments of what would’ve been tables and chairs. A tarnished flag, embroidered with the island’s crest, swayed, lifeless on the cerulean surface. Emotions flooded into Leah, a tremble vibrated throughout her body, the pain, the sorrow that lay before her, a tear seeped down her cheek. She couldn’t help from her hands from shaking; uncontrollably rattling on the railing. Her mind raced, paced for possibilities, hope that there were survivors.
Without precaution, without hesitation, she sprung from the vessel and sprinted towards the village. Once, streets full of merchants and food stands, now remained scorched, deserted, stripped of humanity. She progressed further, reaching where a beautiful plaza once stood, where people would do most of the marketing, share information, and relax near the most extravagant fountain, decorated with elaborate sculptures and moldings. The image was lost, forgotten, now displayed an array of destruction and misery. Leah frantically foraged through the rubble for survivors, for some sign of life, of hope. She madly blew her whistle and yelling at the top of her lungs. Before long her throat become raw and fatigued, unwillingly she rested against a broken pillar. Then somewhere in the distance, she heard a strange noise, closing her eyes she concentrated and focused. It sounded like a cry. She walked forward and noticed a church hidden by foliage of sycamore trees. She crossed through the broken wall as the gate was caved in. Skeptical of building she crept behind the door and observed before stepping in. The roof was fallen in, vines consumed the hole, pools of light formed where sunlight shed through, shadows of leaves grazed the floor; almost peaceful amongst the destruction Leah thought, smiling for moment at the irony. Then the same cry crackled from back of the church. There was sacristy behind, a wooden column blocking the entrance. Leah bent beneath, wedging herself between the column and the adjacent wall, retracting her legs she sprung the column out of place. In the corner cowered two young girls. Slowly, carefully slowly, she crept towards them; bearing open arms she embraced them with a comforting hug. She told them that were ok to cry, that there was nothing to fear anymore, and that they were safe. They hugged her tightly and she hugged them back just as tight. They remained there cradled within each other for a moment, cherishing the time/period. After a few minutes she rose, carrying them out onto the church terrace. The light blinded them, causing them to squint, they felt reborn. The warm sunlight brought joy into hearts. When the sun subsided behind some clouds and they’re eyes adjusted, they noticed that most of the fires were put out and the marines were already preparing for departure.
The three of them watch ruined the village as the vessel plowed its way out of port. Leah knelt beside them and asked them their names; Mina and Rayne. They were both orphans who grew up with a local merchant, who fed them and gave them shelter, they knew nothing of parents. They sat enjoying each others company. In just the few hours back the girls talked about their memories, sharing happy experiences in their village. Leah told them about her home town and her mother that she lost when she was a kid, that she too was an orphan of the village. At that very moment Leah felt a strange connection with Mina and Rayne. She felt compelled to be with them to see that they were happy and taken care of. She wanted to be that person, to bring joy into their lives. Although she felt sad giving up her dream as a marine, she had found a new happiness, a joy that she had not experienced before; being a mother.
Upon returning to her village, the towns’ people doubted her motives, told her that she was too reckless to adopt children. That she would do more harm than good to them. Ignoring their groundless comments Leah decided to trust her instincts and allow time to be her judge. At that moment the wind began to blow, the same warm comforting wind that has always been with her, guiding her. This time it was different though, instead of just the scent of the sea, it brought touch of someone familiar, the touch of a kiss from far away, from long ago; it was her mother.
Leah smiled and said to the wind, “I finally found my dream mom.”
The woman’s name was Leah. Dusk was falling as she finished scrubbing the deck of the ship. It was hard work but she enjoyed it. She loved the open sea, the sleepless nights, the intense training, and endless dire missions. She loved the fact that she was doing good in her life, something of purpose, of value.
When all of her chores were done and all crewmen were accounted for; she crept into bed and pulled out a book, a book of pirates and their maiden voyages. Leah was intrigued by their courageous battles and narrow escapes. She ended the chapter and slipped the forbidden book under her pillow; forbidden as marines and pirates were unquestionable enemies. She blew out her candle and drifted away.
Leah awoke in darkness; casually scanning her surroundings, she let out a soft sigh. She aimlessly starred into the night sky, bright glinted specks imprinted onto a dark indigo mat/canvass. She wanted to sleep but her mind was alert, so eager to plan out the day’s events. A warm comforting breeze seeped through the windowsill, furling around the curtains; it was playful, swirling in and out of the ruffles and tufts. It weaved and swooped, gently residing upon her forehead. Her eyes glazed and she was at the beach. The sun soared high, at its zenith, brightly its rays sprayed on the water’s surface. A strong wind streamed past, her hair flattened, and her eye’s watered.
The young Leah asked, “mommy, where does the wind come from?’
Her mother replied, “from the sea darling, deep into the sea.”
Cheerfully smiling Leah cried, “I’m gonna find that spot one day, far into the sea!”
From a distance the sounds of chiming bells rang and echoed through the walls, distorting when reaching arches and hallways. Leah’s perception blurred and warped back into the marine barracks. Shades of dark blue were now vivid hues of orange and red. Rays of light refracted through the glass planes causing the palette of colors to dance on the adjacent walls. The bells skipped a beat and then constricted into a shrill yet loud clatter, it was an alarm, code for emergency distress, a rescue mission. Marines of all ranks bolted past in every direction, organized chaos. Leah carved her way towards the left flank pier, saluting her captain before joining the crew.
The island was a mere 3 hrs away, close. A stream of smoke crawled its way up the sky; though it was faint, clouded by a dark fog. As the ship drew near, the dark fog became clear, a clustered haze of scattered debris and fallen ashes. The village was desecrated. Leah couldn’t bear the sight, instead simply gazed over the starboard ledge as the waves crashed gently crashed against the island’s rocky barrier, as if they were mourning the island’s demise.
The ship drifted into the harbor colliding into broken wooden planks, floating fragments of what would’ve been tables and chairs. A tarnished flag, embroidered with the island’s crest, swayed, lifeless on the cerulean surface. Emotions flooded into Leah, a tremble vibrated throughout her body, the pain, the sorrow that lay before her, a tear seeped down her cheek. She couldn’t help from her hands from shaking; uncontrollably rattling on the railing. Her mind raced, paced for possibilities, hope that there were survivors.
Without precaution, without hesitation, she sprung from the vessel and sprinted towards the village. Once, streets full of merchants and food stands, now remained scorched, deserted, stripped of humanity. She progressed further, reaching where a beautiful plaza once stood, where people would do most of the marketing, share information, and relax near the most extravagant fountain, decorated with elaborate sculptures and moldings. The image was lost, forgotten, now displayed an array of destruction and misery. Leah frantically foraged through the rubble for survivors, for some sign of life, of hope. She madly blew her whistle and yelling at the top of her lungs. Before long her throat become raw and fatigued, unwillingly she rested against a broken pillar. Then somewhere in the distance, she heard a strange noise, closing her eyes she concentrated and focused. It sounded like a cry. She walked forward and noticed a church hidden by foliage of sycamore trees. She crossed through the broken wall as the gate was caved in. Skeptical of building she crept behind the door and observed before stepping in. The roof was fallen in, vines consumed the hole, pools of light formed where sunlight shed through, shadows of leaves grazed the floor; almost peaceful amongst the destruction Leah thought, smiling for moment at the irony. Then the same cry crackled from back of the church. There was sacristy behind, a wooden column blocking the entrance. Leah bent beneath, wedging herself between the column and the adjacent wall, retracting her legs she sprung the column out of place. In the corner cowered two young girls. Slowly, carefully slowly, she crept towards them; bearing open arms she embraced them with a comforting hug. She told them that were ok to cry, that there was nothing to fear anymore, and that they were safe. They hugged her tightly and she hugged them back just as tight. They remained there cradled within each other for a moment, cherishing the time/period. After a few minutes she rose, carrying them out onto the church terrace. The light blinded them, causing them to squint, they felt reborn. The warm sunlight brought joy into hearts. When the sun subsided behind some clouds and they’re eyes adjusted, they noticed that most of the fires were put out and the marines were already preparing for departure.
The three of them watch ruined the village as the vessel plowed its way out of port. Leah knelt beside them and asked them their names; Mina and Rayne. They were both orphans who grew up with a local merchant, who fed them and gave them shelter, they knew nothing of parents. They sat enjoying each others company. In just the few hours back the girls talked about their memories, sharing happy experiences in their village. Leah told them about her home town and her mother that she lost when she was a kid, that she too was an orphan of the village. At that very moment Leah felt a strange connection with Mina and Rayne. She felt compelled to be with them to see that they were happy and taken care of. She wanted to be that person, to bring joy into their lives. Although she felt sad giving up her dream as a marine, she had found a new happiness, a joy that she had not experienced before; being a mother.
Upon returning to her village, the towns’ people doubted her motives, told her that she was too reckless to adopt children. That she would do more harm than good to them. Ignoring their groundless comments Leah decided to trust her instincts and allow time to be her judge. At that moment the wind began to blow, the same warm comforting wind that has always been with her, guiding her. This time it was different though, instead of just the scent of the sea, it brought touch of someone familiar, the touch of a kiss from far away, from long ago; it was her mother.
Leah smiled and said to the wind, “I finally found my dream mom.”
Writing Piece #1
The Sacrifice
I woke in a slump, my mind raced throughout the night due to the previous day's events, carnage and horror. I dragged myself through the bedroom, light filled the room, the orange hue imprinted on the blinds blinded me. Pupils dilated and retracted as I emerged into the dark bathroom, scratch here, sigh there, and ending with a neck crack. Checked the time, swigged back some whiskey to ease the pain, and crashed back into bed.
Seven Eleven was extra busy tonight; in fact it's always busy at this hour, crammed with truckers, begging homeless, single mothers knocking off graveyard shifts. Pack of Camels, miss. Sigh, a good cigarette is like a breath of fresh air to me. N.Y. is damn cold this time of the year, cold concrete prison. We're all like mice scampering around this twisted labyrinth, unaware of what really befalls upon this city, what really stirs in the darkness, what creeps in the crevices during the day, what beasts lurk the streets torturing tormented souls.
It's been ten years since that day, ten years since she died, and ten years of repentance; for sins and betrayal I have committed. I have yet to conceive redemption, yet to gain forgiveness. The memories and her ghost's, haunt me, but also guide to atonement; leading me to those in peril and distress. I walk the crooked road of justice in this alternate city of shadows and darkness.
I always walk down this one road with no street lights. No matter how many times I stride down, it never easier, constantly attacked by this state of anxiety, feel like a small child. Slowly, agonizingly slowly, it crawls up my spine as cold sweat glides down, never ending cycle. Then there was scream and then a rumbling bellow. As I ran I went over my checklist, gun loaded, sword in sheath.
The scream became more distinct, but as I drew near I realized it was only an echoe that came from a sewer vent. I eased down the ladder cautious; my trained eyes scouted the vicinity. Light crept in, flickering beneath my shadow, defining the darkness, but not dispelling it. Stepping slowly into the mud and filth, without sound, I listened for some kind of sign, signal of some sort. I could feel the crude matter absorbing into my pants, progressing into my boots as I waited. While reaching for my lighter a loud crack splintered from around the corner. I sped through the tunnel, splashing putrid sludge against my sides.
I could feel its presence, pure evil, its dark silhouette against the darkness. It was huge, its body filling most of the sewer's space, its massive head craned barely exposing its glowing red eyes. It looked like some kind of bear, furred and grotesque. It stood glancing at my feet then waist finishing at my head as if examining every aspect of me. A fragile looking woman lay trembling next to the beast, her breath steaming in the chilly air. I gave her a knod of security, of assurance that I would get her out safe, she responded with a slight twitch.
I reached for my gun, the beast charged, its inhuman speed intimidated me. I breathed slow, gained composure and raised the gun, but it was already too late, the beast launched its monstrous fist into my ribs, the pain, unreal. My head face down in the sludge suffocating me. I limped up, balancing myself on the side of the wall, realizing I was facing the wrong way. I unsheathed my sword and contemplated my next move. Unexpectedly, the woman ran past me, the beast inches away from her, time paused for a hundred years. I didn’t know how to react, she's dead if the beast passes me. Panic arose, fear began to engulf my body as instinct came into play, I raised the sword and stabbed it through me into the heart of the beast. It let out a cry of pain, almost saddening. I looked down at my own wound, painless from the adrenaline, I saw thick crimson, developing, progressing down my leg, glistening with all its glory.
I eased forward and released the sword out of the dead corpse behind and through my own torn abdomen. I slouched up and squinted in search of the woman who ran past. Poised, metres in front of me, she gazed in horror and let out a shriek. I stumbled up and raised my hand to tell her everything was ok, but the words would not come and found myself falling, falling into the abyss...
Twelve hours later I wake here, in my room, cleansed and cured. Urging for a cigarette, I search for my Camels, light one up and smile in gratitude. I feel I have finally been blessed, forgiven of sins, for the moment. Reflecting on the current ideals, I gain that acting out of compassion and selflessness brings forth a more satisfying and rewarding outcome.
We cannot change the past but can create, but shape a better present and future. For all we can do is give it our best and helping those around us. There is always a choice, whether to let go and release ones’ will or retaliate with a vengeance and grab the reigns of control and in return we become infinitely stronger. These life trials we face, shape ones virtues and viewpoints of life. How they engage everyday situations, how they react to times of desperation, desire, envy, and fear.
Monday, March 16, 2009
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