Fire Blind

((Last night I finished the first draft of my short story for my Speculative Fiction class. It's about 12 pages long, so I'm not going to post it all here, but I will post the first couple pages.))

Dear Reader,

            If you are in possession of this story, it means I have escaped. And I’m sure by the time you have started reading this, you’ve heard the tales of Nadalia the Rebel, or Nadalia the Cunning. Maybe even Nadalia the brave. From all great events come great stories, and always written by the victor. Unfortunately, at this time, I cannot tell you who the victor is. I can, however, tell you that these stories are false.

            I did not start out for fame or recognition, or to prove myself as a female in a man’s role. There was only one thing I wanted; freedom. Ironic, as I have obtained the very opposite. I can only hope now that my people have followed my lead and risen up against Him. But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let me start from the beginning.

            Long before I was born, my people settled the land isolated between to large mountain ranges. They gave us partial protection from the sun, and the thick clouds from the storms that rolled in from the south provided the rest of the protection. Even now my race is dwindling, so I suppose you may not have heard of us. We call ourselves the Shadow Walkers. Humans and other being fear us, and for good reason. They fear the darkness, and we are simply an extension of it. We blend in perfectly, with every aspect of our appearance being black, from the hair on our heads to the nails on our toes. Even when we grow old and come close to death, we simply fade. Without the darkness, we become weak and lose years off our lives. When those years are up, a Shadow Walker will find a spot in complete darkness, and stop existing. I can imagine it would be hard for a human to understand, and what they cannot comprehend, they fear. So they lit of their cities. They brought in powerful mages to keep the lanterns burning, all day and all night, and worked people to death in the coal mines to provide fuel for thousands of fires. They even tried to cover up their fear with mockery by giving us the name Darklings. We were driven out of the great cities, where we used to have a haven in the dark alleys and basements of homes.

            Out in the open we were vulnerable, and eventually we scattered off into groups to protect our race. Some went to the great forests in the East, and it’s said they joined with the ancient spirits of the trees. Others went south to the storm islands, but they soon died of starvation from lack of cultivated land. A few even ventured north to the great ice sheets, but no one has heard from them in centuries. My people went West, their spirits uplifted by the mountains that provided a natural barrier to human settlement.

            They lived peacefully for two centuries, and a new generation came along to bolster our population. I had only turned one hundred and sixty three when the first human came. I and the other children found him very amusing. He brought with him mages and knights and beautiful ladies. They seemed interested in us too, but our elders refused to let our races mingle. They told us the stories of the horrors that humans had put us through, and gradually the children lost interest in the human. He never forgot about us though.

            He lived away from us, in a large house hastily built into the side of the mountain to the East. From our town we could see the smoke from multiple fireplaces curling upward to meet the low hanging clouds. One time the smoke had been so thick and black it could only mean that the house was on fire. When the human’s men came to ask for assistance, all we could do was point them toward the lake we got our fish from. The children, who had never been exposed to fire, were curious to see what it looked like. Those that were not being carefully watched by their parents were able to sneak off. They came staggering back the next morning, their skin so translucent that even we almost mistook them for shadows. There were great patches of their skin that remained solid and dark though, and upon closer inspection, it was decided they were burns, something the elders had only seen on humans. It didn’t take long for the children to curl up in a corner of their home and vanish into the shadows. It was the first time in our community that a Shadow Walker had died from a human wound.

((And as usual, I claim copyright. Even if you wanted to steal this, you don't have the rest of the story...

It would also be great if I could get peoples' opinions. I don't like the title, so any suggestions for that would be great.))

Respect

I've been meaning to make a post about this for a while, so here it is: A list of all the people I respect for what they do are who they are.

1) Drivers.
Simply those that drive as a career, whether they're bus drivers, taxi drivers or even parents. I recently started learning how to drive, and I hate it. I find it difficult to get into first gear and I'm constantly stalling or burning out. I also find it very stressful and after only half an house I get out of the car and I'm shaking. So anyone who is able to do that every day for several hours, in good or bad conditions and often with rude people, has earned my respect.

2) Cashiers
This means any cashiers, whether it's for retail, food industry or any other job. When I work, I'm most often on cash register, and I'm lucky that it's not too busy and our customers are almost always easy to serve and very polite. I cannot image working somewhere like McDonalds, where it's always busy and many rude and unbearable customers visit every day. So good job for all those people who can handle stressful jobs like that on a regular basis.

3) Teachers
I know a lot of people think that being a teacher would be easy, and that they are all overpaid, and perhaps for some people that' true. If you find teaching to be easy, then maybe you won't have the same view as I do. However, I am terrible at explaining anything, so the thought of teaching anyone, especially little kids who have to be taught the very basics, is a rather daunting task for me.

4) Writers
You knew this would have to show up eventually, right? Well of course I respect writers. They appear to live a very care-free easy life, no offices to go to every day, no early mornings, getting to make their own work schedule. Of course they have deadlines to meet though, and even more important, thousands of fans to please. Then there are the tours and book signings, which they have to be friendly and cheerful for. Honestly, I think I would snap after even two hours of signing... Not to mention my signature is terrible...

5) Stay at home mom's/dad's
I'm not a big fan of kids, so it's natural that I would respect anyone who stays home all day, or even tries to run errands, with a kid. Now I know kids can be a lot of fun and adorable at times, but they can also be horrible, screaming crying spawns of the devil, especially when they're young.

Me and Her

They call me Pale

                They call her porcelain.

They call me boney

                They call her skinny.

They call me nerdy

                They call her smart.

They call me boring

                They call her mature.

They call me sarcastic

                They call her funny.

They call me shy

                They call her cute.

And she is me and I am her

And they are friends

And they are family

And they are haters

And they are lovers

And they are me and her.

((Just a super quick poem I thought up while on the bus. For the record, the first part is roughly based on me, but exaggerated. I wanted to show that even if you're called things such as pale, boney, nerdy or anything like that, there's always a good side to it. And also that you can be the very one to be calling yourself these bad things, but you will also be the one calling yourself the good names too.

Finally, please don't take this poem, it's mine and I want to keep it mine.))

Canine Companion

Since I've started school again, this semester with three creative writing courses, I'm going to have a lot more writing-based posts, the first one of which is going to be today! Now I have to add that it's not finished, and it's far from being revised. It's something for my Advanced Poetry class, called a Prose Poem. Basically it's a very pretty paragraph. I also want to ask that no one gives me advice or suggestions on how to finish or revise this poem. I want to do the first draft all by myself, without any help. After I've had it workshopped in class, then go ahead, tell me everything that's on your mind. If you want, you can tell me if you loved or hated it, but that's all.

The best way to take a walk is with a strong-willed dog. She tugs me in the direction she wishes to go, and I freely follow, past the houses of old friend and new strangers. Up the shallow hill, along the lengthy road and across the broken sidewalk to the dank, dark forest, where the dog daringly proceeds without delay, and I delightedly tail after. Under the canopy of evergreen branches and dead winter trees, fat drops of rain worm their way through green needles and brown leaves to hit the target of my head. My dog pulls onward, stopping here and there to sniff a fern or a bush, and with a sudden sharp tug on the leash, we’re off again. I want to run, to watch the old dog playfully prance like a young puppy, to let her dance in a mud puddle as if it were a hot summer day. However, near the end she grows too tired, and trots slowly along by my side, acting like the obedient dog we never trained her to be. But although her flame has faded, it fans up again at the sight of a fellow dog. As she snaps and growls, I smile politely at the owner, say a hello and apologize for her jealous fury. They smile back in understanding and we part ways as slightly more than new strangers.

And of course, this is my work, so don't take it and claim it as your own. Actually, I would appreciate it if you didn't take it at all, even if you do give me credit.


Oh! I also want to say happy 1,000 views to my blog! Thanks to everyone who reads my tales and rants. It really encourages me to continue writing.

Good Week, Good Life

It's hard to believe I can actually be having a good week, as it's the start of school. As I said in my last post, my first day went pretty well. Yesterday was my second day, and I had Europe in the High Middle ages (Where the only thing I remember is that they ate a shit ton of bread), and Speculative Fiction, which is a creative writing class for things like sci fi, fantasy, those type of things. It was a lot of fun, and I think I'll like the class and the people in it. The only problem is that we're not allowed to write chapters or small parts of novels. We actually have to write a short story with a beginning, middle and end. Now I can easily do the beginning, but I feel like I need more then seven pages to get a whole story down, especially for fantasy fiction. But we'll see how it goes.

Today I only had one class, which was Introduction to Writing Children's Literature. I must say, I think it's been my favourite class so far, even though I know I'm going to struggle to come up with an idea for a picture book... My writing isn't exactly ideal for kids ages 4-8... However, next week we have to bring in our favourite picture books from when we were younger. I wanted to bring in three (The Monster at the End of the Book, Mister Got to Go and A Coat of Many Colours) but unfortunately I cannot seem to find the latter one, so it looks like it'll just be the first two.

I also have the best news I have heard all year. My favourite author, Brandon Sanderson, is coming back to my city to do a book signing for A Memory of Light, which is the final book in the Wheel of Time series. I was worried that I might have to miss a day of school to go see him, but it ends up the day falls right in the middle of my reading break. Even better, it's on February 14th, so I finally have plans for Valentines Day... Which is fairly sad, but honestly, I would rather go to a book signing than have a boyfriend. *pushes up nerd glasses*

Winter 2013: Day One

Today was my first day of classes for this semester, so I guess I'll do a really quick post on how it went. Fair warning though, it wasn't as exciting as last semester. My parents are home, and my sister was even home for the day to take care of my dog.

My first classes is American Literature: WWII and after, which starts at 12:30. It's a third year course, even though I'm still technically in my second year. I was told that it'll be hard, since my friend has already had the professor for a second year course. However, the course seems a lot like my Children's Literature class, so I think I'll be able to handle it. The books are quite a bit thicker, but we also have about three or four weeks to talk about them, which in Children's Literature we only had a week or two for each book. Unfortunately, after buying all the books and the course package, I spent about $124.00 on just that one class.

My second class of the day, Advanced Poetry Writing, starts at 2:30, ten minutes after American Literature ends, and just happens to be all the way across the school. I think it'll be fine though, since I know exactly where the classroom is. So we met today, and my professor was apologizing for the school making us come back on the second of January. Because of this, she's giving us Monday off. That means I'll be in school less than a week before one of my classes is already cancelled. It's also because it's a workshop class, and on Monday we'll have nothing to workshop, so don't start thinking that we're slackers and wasting our money.

When I left and was halfway to the skytrain station, I realized I had not picked up my transit pass from the college, so I had to pay using my change. Very frustrating, but I picked it up at the second campus, closer to my house. I really should figure our where the machines are that give out passes at the campus I'm at now...

And lastly, I've been looking for used copies of my textbooks to save some money. I got lucky this semester, and I only have one textbook over a hundred dollars. I might be able to get that one for $40 through Chapters, I just need to make sure it's actually the textbook I need.

Post New Years celebrations

Since New Years Eve was last night, I am very tired. I didn't sleep well because someone was snoring, and it normally just takes me forever to fall asleep. So I think I might have fallen asleep around 4:30 this morning... All in all, I am exhausted, and for some reason my keyboard is being stickier than usual, so my grammar and spelling may be a little off at the moment.

And for the record, I didn't get drunk. I had one cider and stopped, mostly because I don't like the taste of alcohol, and I don't want to make a fool of myself. So to make it clear, I am tired, not hung over.

Now, because I am feeling utterly non-creative today, I'm doing to dive into my list of blog questions I got from some website...

One thing that has always fascinated you

Well, quite clearly I have always been fascinated with fantasy fiction. I cannot honestly say I was always fascinated by books, since in elementary school they make you record what you read and answers questions. Reading was like homework, so naturally I didn't like it.

But actually, many things fascinate me, whether it's a pattern of pretty colours or a spectacular, once in a life time event. I can be entertained simply by looking up at the stars and moon. Perhaps the thing that has fascinated me most is writing. Not exactly on paper or on the computer, but just simply writing in my head, coming up with scenarios and stories, but never actually having the chance to write them down. I like to think of it as an advanced form of daydreaming...