Tag Archives: fiction

Turning into a Monster

2030-

As we knew them Vampires didn’t exist…but, in another form, they were very much real. Thin pale skin, blood red eyes, nails like carving knives on the end of their fingers. They were nothing like the romantic, smiling, sparkling creatures the world had been admiring on the screen and in their books.

Scientists weren’t sure what caused or created them. No one knew if they began that way or something more like us. No one knew whether it was magic or a virus or evolution. How they began however had no effect on how dangerous they were. They had been wiping out the human race, countries at a time. The feudal class system had returned and who had been determined the elite of our society was hidden behind high, impenetrable walls while the rest of us were left to be slaughtered. Every branch of the military was in action. All over they were trying to figure out how to combat these monsters. Of course, everything in fiction was wrong. They attacked during the day, silver had no effect on them, garlic seemed ridiculous. Unfortunately the only thing the tales had gotten right is that they seemed to be immortal. Beheading them did work, but good luck getting close enough to behead one. They had lightning quick reflexes and were deadly.

As aforementioned no one knew how they came to be…but I knew they were like us once. Living and breathing humans. With feelings like love…and remorse. With families. How did I, just a commoner among the new hierarchy system, know all this information? I was turning into one. I first noticed when I had a dull, aching pain in my gums. Like a toothache starting up. The very next day as I was looking in the mirror I noticed it. The tip of a fang poking out.

Now, just two days later. I could see my skin paling, getting thinner. My pupils had gotten red to the point I needed to wear contacts. I had to hide it as long as I could. Long enough to tell the Emperor. You see, I was one of them. I knew how they evolved into their form. However, because I was turning into one, I also knew something vital to the survival of all mankind. To the survival of my loved ones…I knew how to kill them.

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Just wanted to write a quick short story. I was thinking about leaving it there but let me know if you want me to continue it into a longer story. Thank you all for the support as well!

 

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Beach Vacation

So I talked a little bit in a previous post about how much I love the beach and the ocean and how it helps with my anxiety and helps me de-stress. Well I found out recently that I am actually going to the beach in late July. Work and life has been particularily stressful lately and I think it will definitely help.

I will make sure to take pictures and share them from the trip and hopefully I will remember to schedule some posts for when I’m gone.

I talk about the negatives of anxiety and how it’s affected my past and my relationships in a negative way but I also wanted to share the positives of how you can relax and some things that can help your anxiety even if they can’t cure it. I think being close to nature and the ocean helps us just reconnect to our souls and focus just on us and the universe and Earth and just brings us peace and calm. At least it does for me.

I also am beginning to appreciate classical music and the lack of words. Just listening to the instruments is surprisingly calming. Reading is helping a lot too and I’m currently in the middle of re-reading the Harry Potter books that brought me so much joy in my childhood, hoping that I can bring back that joy and those feelings I experienced as a kid. It truly is magical.

To end this post I would like to share a quote from one of my favorite fictional characters, Albus Dumbledore

“Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of time, if one only remembers to turn on the light.”

Lost

Many years ago I knew a young lady. Her name was Hazel Moss. Her and I would joke countless hours about how her name pretty much described moss. She would argue that it was creative. I would argue that her parents were drugged up hippies when she was born. She never argued with the latter.

Hazel loved to take walks. She’d walk in the woods. Walk around the lake. She’d walk anywhere as long as she could take the camera I gave her for her birthday with her. She loved taking pictures as much as she loved walks. She would give me her camera and ask me to develop her favorites.

Hazel didn’t have a job.  She said that working with people brought her down and exhausted her soul. She preferred to be in nature. Whenever we met we would meet in the abandoned shack in the woods that she called home. She frequented the free boxes at yard sales. All of her furniture, decorations, and necessities came from yard sales with the exception of her pictures. She hung her pictures everywhere. She said they made her feel like she was in different places at once. Like she could fly.

For many years Hazel lived in that shack. She loved it and maintained it as well as you could for a jobless person who lived in an abandoned shack. One day a few drunk teenagers came across Hazel’s shack while she was taking a walk in the woods with her camera. They kicked her furniture. They tore down her sheets, and smashed her ceramics. They peed on her bed and poured gas on her clothes. Maybe this could have all been forgiven. Maybe if they had left after all that I wouldn’t be writing this story. Unfortunately maybes have yet to turn back time. They burned her pictures. They took each one and torched it in the flame of a lighter. Such a small flame and yet, it did such damage. After all her pictures were a pile of charred ash and only a few colorful corners remained, they burnt down the rest of the shack. The wood charred and discarded on the forest floor. I don’t know Hazel’s reaction to this. I don’t know what she did when she came back and witnessed what had become of her beloved home and her treasured pictures. She might have cried and cried. The wailing mixing with the birdsong. She might have yelled and threw whatever was left until her throat was sore. Knowing Hazel I find it most likely that she sat on the forest floor. Quiet for a very very long time.

I do however know what she did next. You see I know what happened to the shack because it was in the news the next morning. I was sitting there with my morning coffee and a cucumber sandwich halfway to my mouth when the story flashed across the screen. It was in that same news story that showed my darling Hazel, laying at the bottom of a cliff off of highway 10. She had jumped, of course, because she would never had ridden in a car. Besides there were no other debris besides her fragile body, now broken.  She was in a better place now I suppose. One positive thought to brighten the pain and sorrow that I felt. At the very end my darling Hazel had learned how to fly.

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So first let me say that this story is entirely fiction and made up. The names are made up, the highway is made up. Even the cucumber sandwich is made up as I’ve never had one in my life. This started as a story to a picture writing prompt that showed only some bare wooden trees. I started out with a very different idea but I definitely like this one better. Please let me know what you think! Thank you very much.