we need an awakening

Stop & think for a moment.

Think about your thoughts--the things you may tell yourself on a daily basis. Are they all your thoughts? Are they things that you should be thinking?

I ask that, and some of you may immediately think I'm talking about profane and dirty thoughts, but that's not exactly what I mean.

I'm talking about the thoughts you whisper to yourself in the dead of night. The thoughts that float through your brain when you're alone, lost, and scared. The thoughts that you'd never tell anyone else because they make you sad. Perhaps you've told yourself these thoughts are true over and over again, and maybe by now you believe that. Perhaps you use them to remind yourself of "your place" in life and society. Perhaps... perhaps.

I've had those thoughts, too. I've had these thoughts:

But you know what I've realized? I'm not the one saying them. When I'm lying in bed late at night, my thoughts spinning and these ideas whisper through, they are NOT my ideas. They are the Devil's. They are Satan's. He's been whispering them to me for years and I've had enough. I'm not going to take them anymore. I know for a fact that those are not true [though I know I can be annoying at times =P]. I'm not going to let Satan mess with my head and my walk with God this way. I'm going to stand firm and tell myself His mighty truth.

I was stuck in a rut but now I'm breaking free. Are you?

If Life Were Backwards

Then things would be quite interesting, don't you think?

In the book Slaughterhouse-Five by Kurt Vonnegut [which I have to read for English], the main character Billy Pilgrim watches a movie backwards. Don't ask me how because I'm not exactly sure except that Billy is jumping between different moments of his life. It's all rather weird and confusing in the way that some books can be. As I read the backwards movie, I couldn't help but chuckle slightly at the absurdity of the film. I've re-typed the passage below so feel free to give it a read through:

American planes, full of holes and wounded men and corpses took off backwards from an airfield in England. Over France, a few German fighter planes flew at them backwards, sucked bullets and shell fragments from some of the planes and crewmen. They did the same for wrecked American bombers on the ground, and those planes flew up backwards to join the formation.
The formation flew backwards over a German city that was in flames. The bombers opened their bomb bay doors, exerted a miraculous magnetism which shrunk the fires, gathered them into cylindrical steel containers, and lifted the containers into the bellies of the planes. The containers were stored neatly in racks. The Germans below had miraculous devices of their own, which were long steel tubes. They used them to suck more fragments from the crewmen and planes. But there were still a few wounded Americans, though, and some of the bombers were in bad repair. Over France, though, German fighters came up again, made everything and everybody as good as new.

When the bombers got back to their base, the steel cylinders were taken from the racks and shipped back to the US of A, where factories were operating night and day, dismantling the cylinders, separating the dangerous contents into minerals. The minerals were then shipped to specialists in remote areas. It was their business to put them into the ground, to hide them cleverly, so they would never hurt anybody ever again.
The American fliers turned in their uniforms, became high school kids. And Hitler turned into a baby...

The bolded section is my favourite.

As I was reading that, I couldn't help but think, what if we took other stories and watched them backwards? What changes in their plot would that bring.

So, here's Beauty and the Beast: re-written by me [and yes, I know I've left some things out]:

Image via Google

Belle and Prince What's-His-Name were in love but the castle was under attack. So in order to protect their love, the Prince transformed into a Beast. Then Belle ran away back to the village followed by all the villagers who were angry at not having found the prince. Belle locked herself and her father in the cellar to be safe from the villagers while they rioted outside with the magic mirror.

They released Belle and gave her back the magic mirror before returning to their houses. Belle hugged her father goodbye and then snuck off to the Beast's castle to be with her beloved love. The two are having a grand old time together until the Beast gets hurt fighting wolves to protect Belle. After that, their friendship is gone and Belle is locked in her room. After dinner one night, she sneaks into her room where the Beast finds her and yells at her to come to dinner.

Then Belle is taken to the dungeons where her father appears and tells her he loves her and that she should go back home. So Belle leaves the castle with Philip and goes through the woods back home while Maurice is trapped in the dungeons. Back home, Gaston proposes to Belle who ignores him.

Maurice returns from the woods with his invention and Belle walks through the town while singing, oblivious to everyone else around her.

Meanwhile, somewhere in the woods, the Beast greets a fairy lady and accepts her rose. In exchange, she changes everyone into humans. The End.

Well, that was a lot more interesting than I imagined.

So, if you feel so inclined, I'd love to hear your backwards stories in the Comments!

A Writing Snippet!

I love to write. This is no secret. Sadly, with all the work I have with school, sometimes my writing time gets cut down or even deleted. It saddens me greatly. Last night, I decided that I would at least write something! My fingers were twitching as they always do when I crave to write and I felt an idea at the edge of my mind.

I didn't write for long, but I like what I created. It's a short snippet of a greater story that remains unknown. I'd love to hear what you guys think of it and your ideas for what could happen next. It's all one big mystery!

Enjoy!

Feet pound into the earth. Thud. Thud. Each step sends shock waves of urgency jarring through her body. Mud clings briefly to bare toes, painting them brown before dropping off like flakes of snow in her wake. Dirty droplets splash up the back of her body, painting a polka dotted design on her clothes. Faster her feet push into the earth as if trying to break free of the ground altogether and soar into the sky.

Short gasps of breath squeeze from her lungs as she races up the hill. Sweat trickles down the sides of her face and her back. Stumbling, she falls into the muddy slope, her fingers and toes both scrapping at the dirt. She scrambles to her feet, ignoring the scrapes and cuts that mare her legs and arms. She lifts her eyes ahead and frowns in determination, her thin brown eyebrows coming together in her small face.

Orange and red lights flicker over the horizon, painting a foreboding image on the fading blue sky. She pushes forward towards the light, her arms pumping furiously at her side. Dark strands of hair escape from her pony tail and drop forward before her eyes. She pushes them back behind her ears and forces herself onward.

She slips twice more as she climbs to the top, her faded blue t-shirt becoming unrecognizable due to mud and grass stains. The fabric sticks to her sweat ridden body, displaying her muscular and starved frame. With a mighty shove, she uses the last bit of energy she has to force herself to the top--to the flickering lights.

Her eyes close shut for a minute as she fills her lungs, breathing hard and fast. At last she stands and turns to face the scene before her. Grey eyes widening in horror, she takes a step back.

"O great mother, what have I done?"

a poem

Written Oct 31, 2008

Alone in darkness she patiently waits,
for captors with knives and evil with pain.
No glimmer of light will come to her aid,
rusted shackles cling to frail arms in chains.

Grit covers floors while water seeps down walls.
The stench of mildew still lingers around.
Critters watch her with glassy eyes like dolls.
She cries out in pain and prays to be found.

Here they come with their blades, and whips, and spikes,
Satan’s silent sentries, juggling death’s flame.
Suffering in their wake--they are black knights
stopping at nothing to play their cruel game.

Alone she cries out from dark prison walls.
Lifting her voice, to Lord Jesus she calls.

NaNo... Update and Snippet

Well, it's a week into NaNo and I'm already a full day behind. Yay... o man. At this point, I have no idea if I'll even finish. The teachers are really loading up the workload and I will be so busy in the next coming weeks. I'll do my best, but like I said before I started, I am not putting NaNo above my school work. At this point in my life, my school work is much more important.

With that in mind, I'm really liking where I'm going. Over the past couple of days, some really great ideas have emerged and I have really enjoyed exploring the new twists and turns my story has taken. Though I don't have time to super edit, here is short excerpt from one of my favourite scenes so far!

I hope you enjoy it! Please comment and let me know what you think:

Disclaimer : Not my Photo

As she sat down and closed her eyes, a night ware emerged from the shadows, binding the Time Keeper with a thick paste. Opening her eyes in shock, the Time Keeper looked around herself in fear. Upon seeing the night ware, her lips curled down and she moved as if to push him from time. She tugged at her arms but they remained nestled at her side. Glancing down in alarm, she saw the paste and her eyes widened in alarm.

“That’s right, little keeper,” the night ware sneered, his voice scratching and grating against her ears like fingernails on a chalk board. “Struggle all you like but you cannot free yourself from its clutches. You are trapped in our web and you will not be able to escape so easily.” He began to laugh, his cruel voice jarring as it bounced off the folds of time.

“What do you want with me?” she demanded, her voice dripping with poison. “I cannot give you anything and I wouldn’t even if I could.”

“Oh, that’s where you are wrong, dear girl. You can give me something. You can give me the secrets of time.”

Her eyes widened for a moment and then she snickered. “And how do you suppose I’ll do that?”

“Don’t play ignorant with me, witch! The book of secrets! I want the book. Give it to me!”

She spat at his feet. “I don’t have it.”

A loud slap rang out and her cheek glowed red. “Don’t lie to me, wench! I know you made it.”

She smiled grimly. “That may be so, but I do not have it any more. It’s somewhere you will never go and it will be found by someone you do not yet know.”

“More lies!” he growled, pacing back and forth.

“Believe what you like. You cannot get what I don’t have. Search all you want, but you will not find when you don’t know what you seek.”

“SILENCE!” he turned on her and bared his teeth, leaning close to her face. She could smell his putrid breath and feel the evil growing and churning within him. “If you so refuse to tell us the secrets, you shall tell no one the secrets!”

The night ware pasted her mouth shut then hoisted the Time Keeper on his shoulders. Glancing around swiftly, he then jumped through the time rift and disappeared into the unknown, the Time Keeper gone with him.