A Short Life Short Story

Hi guys – no wedding stuff to talk about lately, so I will share with you a short story I have just started working on. See what you think:

Narrow streets, lined with grey and brown cobbles, swept around the white, smart-looking wooden buildings. Flashes of colour blurred past as people tended to their business. Purples going into the grocers. Orange going towards the lake. Greens walking hand in hand talking. Blue walking into the local news agents. That’s all they were to her. A blurry, rainbow getting in the way of her view. The dull cobbles and the greying sky were a much better view. Still. Honest. Constant. The cobbles never moved, abandoned you or let you down. The sky was always there no matter what had happened. The flashes of colour were fickle. Just as your eyes began to feast on them, they were gone. Just like her self-respect.

Yes, living in a grey world matched her mood. She had become a spectator of life lately. Watching it happen through her window. They say eyes are windows to the soul, yet hers were firmly shut. Her soul was a prisoner of her body; her body a hostage of her mind. Trapped wasn’t the word. She had everything at her exposure: money in the bank; physical beauty (whatever that was worth); freedom to do what she wanted; a sociable personality – so she was told, when she actually went out into the colourful world. But it was all tainted like a summer’s day with a looming, dark storm cloud over it.

She used to be happy. At times, optimistic and jubilant too.  But that was all before. Because one thing she didn’t have: her health. Well, she had a limited amount of poor health left. It reminded her of when you play a computer game and your life bar is slowly, slowly going down. She needed some sort of ‘life’ or bonus points to help it go back up again. But this was the real world – and hers was drained of colour and hope.

                                                    *****

When people realise they have a limited amount of time left on earth, they do one of two things: give up or live life to the fullest that it can be. I chose a magical, third option. Knowing I only have 12 months to live has given me a purpose. It has given me a voice. It has given me reason to do things I should have done a long time ago. No, not go to friggin Disneyland or to finally try sky-diving. Or to visit all those beautiful, exotic, faraway pieces of heaven. No. I was even willing to give up my place in the actual heaven, if it so exists. I was going to use my time left on this planet to make things right. I was going to make a list of everyone who had wronged me and make things even. We all like a balanced world, don’t we?

It is only a first-draft of the first part, but I’m enjoying toying with this idea of revenge and a limited time left. And also writing as a villain is interesting and a little different for me! Any comments are welcome. Thanks.

xsxs

The Writing’s on the Wall

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I have been writing in other ways lately. In my head mainly – thinking that I need to get in down on the page; paper or computer! Decorating has been taking up some of my time and ever since I was little, I have loved writing messages on the wall. Onto the bare, un-papered wall may I add! (Not to the newly decorated blank canvas!)

I guess the modern version of this is the quote transfers you can get to add as a personal touch. I love this idea, as any excuse to add more words to my life!! But, no I am talking about the hidden messages, that lie under the wall paper, leaving messages for the beyond. I  dream of people discovering my messages years later and trying to guess what certain kind of person I am/was (and my crazy family of course!) I think the other main reason, that I love to write messages on the wall, is that I get an urge when I see a completely blank surface and have to put something on it!

I would like to say that it all started with a rebellious childhood, where I naughtily crayoned onto my parents’ pristine walls. But no, I stuck to paper – and usually stuck inside the lines too (the good girl I was)….. and when decorating happened, I was encouraged to write my little thoughts and pictures on the wall. So, maybe it is a case of, if you are allowed to do something anyway, you don’t rebel against it. Another example being, I was allowed a sip of alcohol whenever I would like one as I was growing up – meaning I didn’t rebel and go out and get drunk on the streets as soon as the teen years hit! (mmm…. no, we did it properly and went to bars and pubs underage !)

So yes, my old bedroom is littered with messages from the ages. And since we decorated quite a few times whilst I was growing up, I got to see my old messages. A bit like my younger self writing to my older self. (reminds me of my old post:https://samanthagray9.wordpress.com/2012/11/03/to-my-14-year-old-self/).

As we decorated our living room recently, I wanted to continue this childhood tradition. Honestly, me and my sis would draw whole muriels and write numerous things on it – so that every inch was covered!  I don’t think we will decorate our living room again – as we hope to move on eventually. But I hope whoever discovers these messages, has a laugh reading them – just as we did writing them!

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The teenage boy’s quote. One word sums up life: bacon!wall pic2

 
Adding to the confusion of future decorating!

Take a look at some of these messages…. you never know, you may discover these exact ones some day! I don’t think there is anything better to leave behind than words!

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A cousin’s announcement of family love to the world!
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A begrudgingly written note! haha
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Boo to big boobs: crossword lovers!

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Mmmmm…..

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hehe

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I dare you….

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Doctor Who fan sharing with the future generations!
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The only thing my Dad ever wants to write about!
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Finally: A motto for life!