Diary Excerpt: ‘Asian Gathering’

 

April, some years ago, Age 9

Today was great! We went bowling, and then we went to an asian gathering, for the harvest festival. We had dinner there, and we danced. I’m at home now. Tomorrow, we start practising our puppet plays!

It’s a Wednesday….diary excerpt time!

We are still treading the benign waters of my pre-adolescent years, and will be doing so for quite some time. Hope you enjoy 🙂

Harvest festival??? What in the world was I on about? Continue reading

Diary Excerpt: Puppet Plays

April, some years ago, Age 9

Today, we got to watch Miss Jamieson’s class do their puppet plays! We have to do ours as well, next week. Ours is called ‘the wild dog chase’. I’m going to have dinner soon.

My mother recently uncovered all of my childhood / teenage diaries. This was quite a find, as I genuinely thought they had all been sucked into that mysterious black vortex that exists in the homes of those who like to hoard  hold onto things for sentimental value (I am included here…). Continue reading

‘Thoughts of a Sidelined Sister’

In the end, it was never about her, but me. Nobody stopped me from dancing – but she danced so well, all eyes drawn to her swaying hips and joyous expression, I gradually began to sit down more and just watch. I felt as though I was doing the right thing in joining others in their adoration, and ignored the small niggle saying otherwise, dismissing it as selfishness. The microphone always passed to me as well on the family karaoke nights, but she sang so well, with time I thought it best to just pass the mic along so that everyone could take pleasure in her voice for that much longer. That high school summer when we both qualified for the temp job in the library, I backed out of the interview so she could claim it, and told myself it was fine – she needed the experience. Continue reading

Poetry draft: ‘A Witch’s Visit’

I’m back!!! WordPress was banned in China but now in Hong Kong…see sidebar for the travel blog, there’s an update 🙂

Here’s a poem draft to kick things off! See what you reckon…I made up ‘Rivenbrook’ (or so I thought…I made it up using common bits of English village/town names) and a quick Google reveals it’s an electronics store somewhere, lol.

This is the first time in years I’m attempting to use rhyming verse to tell a story (last time was at school!), I’d like to get better at this, as I think it’s a really fun type of poetry!

A Witch’s Visit

On one fine golden autumn day,
When leaves turn red and brown,
A young witch did visit Rivenbrook,
’Til then a prosp’rous town.

Seeking to join the harvest feast,
She came not to trick or con,
But witches are of ill repute,
And the people wished her gone.

“You’re not welcome!” came the cry,
Not one man wished her there,
And they refused to hear her speak,
As she walked towards the square.

Her heart then filled with fury
At this unjust discourse,                                                        
And cursing all of Rivenbrook,
She left with no remorse.                                        

That eve a spark of fire,
Strayed too far and set alight
First one thatch, then another,
And soon the town burned bright.

The night was filled with terror,
And with dawn tolled the bell,
Survivors spoke in hushed voices,
Of the witch’s “wicked spell”.

No-one remembered their spite,
Or the witch’s affronted look,
And witches are still unwelcome,
In the remains of Rivenbrook.

My partner particularly didn’t quite think one verse flowed that well (he liked the concept/rest of it!), but I thought I’d put the whole thing out there as a draft and see what you guys think! The title is a working one also.

I am SO GLAD to be back and will be reading all of what I’ve missed soon on my favourite blogs 🙂 🙂

Thanks for stopping by!

Ro x

Poem draft: ‘Confidence’

She would have liked to have lived

as she dreamed, deemed as brave

awake as in slumber,

As wise in day as in darkness,

As sure of intent and as pure of heart

as her subconscious counterpart

but alas! She lacked

not these virtues, nor good sense,

she simply had not the

Confidence.

Playing around / experimenting 🙂 thanks for stopping by!

Ro x

Excerpt: Nita’s Story

So this is taken from a novel I’m writing. It is still in ‘first draft’ form. Nita’s name may yet change.

When Nita thought about those months now, she realised that there had, of course, been signs. She supposed that there were always signs in situations like the one she had been in, it just depended on whether or not you looked for them. She had not looked, because she had been clinging to hope, desperately, even as it inevitably slipped through her fingers as surely as cupped water will if held for more than a few moments. But she had been holding onto the hope for so very long; how could she have just abandoned it?

The first sign was in fact in the immediate aftermath of the party. He seemed distracted, not quite present in their conversations the way he had been. It wasn’t the same as when his concentration wavered due to the stress of impending exams, even though that’s what Nita told herself it was. He would switch off partway through one of her stories, smiling absently to himself, clearly lost in a pleasant thought that did not concern her. When that happened, panic would curl its unwanted fingers around her heart, but then he would drift back into the moment with an apology, sometimes even an attentive question to show that he had been listening. The fingers would relax their grip, she’d smile, and things would go back to normal.

Perhaps the subtlety of this clue was why she had missed it, and Nita still often convinced herself that this was the case. However, she could not excuse herself for ignoring much of what followed, the ever inventive excuses, the clear agitation laced through what had once been easy, flowing conversation. He had always been effortlessly charismatic, both publicly and privately, and he remained so in others’ presence – just not in hers.

On the day her world collapsed, they didn’t even notice her standing in the doorframe for a solid thirty seconds. That they didn’t see her was almost more painful that what she witnessed; she had been invisible her entire life and not minded, but she minded then. And even as they did notice, a split second before she turned on her heel to leave, even as the tears streaked down her face, she knew she had no real right to be affronted.

Feedback will be very appreciated. I have a plot in mind and am moving that along, but realised I was struggling a bit with characterisation. Part of that, I think, is understanding characters’ pasts. So, I thought I would put one of the ‘reflective’ bits I’ve written for Nita, a main character, out into the blogosphere and see what people thought 🙂

Ro x