100 Challenge - 5. Rot

Rest In Peace Granddad - 6.12.10


Feeling a little better about this piece. Wrote in memory of my Granddad who sadly passed away recently. And I'm not so big as to admit that I welled up writing this. 


But read into it what ever you want. 

5. Rot

He's like an apple at the moment, he looks okay, quite shiny, clean, fresh looking, but inside he's rotten to the core. Riddled with worms and holes. The once rich, sweet flesh of the insides is now bitter, brown and off. But he's still getting on with everything. It's like nothing's wrong. Although we all know what's wrong, that a Crow has pecked at him, a shadow has taken him.

The skin of the apple is starting to show signs of decay. Just little holes here and there, brown and rotten holes, but if you turn the apple over it's like they're not there. He doesn't pretend it isn't happening, but he can feel his stalk waning, so tired from it all. But he's still there, seeing friends, seeing family, one last trip, one last chance. So tired.

It's looking bad now; the skin is puckered, no longer shiny and clean. The holes are bigger too, all over, can't hide from it any more, can't turn the apple over and show a better side, it's all rotten, from the inside to the out. He's weak now, can barely stay awake, his stalk, connecting him to the branch is so fragile, but just a little longer, stay a little longer. 

It snaps. The apple has rotted its self to the stalk and has cut away from the tree. He'll be buried in the ground soon, decomposed in the soil, but he knows his seeds will carry on living, growing on and up until they, one day, begin to rot.

100 Challenge - 4. Dark

This probably sucks. I'm not at all a poet, but I figure it's more a poem than a piece of prose.

I have so much anger in me today, so much it bubbled over into this mess. It's really hard to write down dark angry thoughts with out being labelled as something....5 guesses if you like...

I might come back to this one...



4. Dark

I want to feel my hands around your neck. 
I want to hear it crack.
I want to see the life leave your face.
I want to smell satisfaction with your death.
I want to taste sweet, sweet glee, knowing I got away with it scot free.

100 Challenge - 3. Light

I'm not 100% on this one, but it's probably the first story I've ever written that actually finishes its self within 1 page, a short story if you like. So that's got to be a bonus.

3. Light

Brrng Brnng. The bicycle bell rang out around the town and Ellen raced down the hill, flicking the bell leaver to make the silly little noise to let everyone know that she was up and that everyone else needed to be up too.

No one minded though, it was a sleepy little rural village full of farmers and wives who were up at the Dawn Chorus anyway, but Ellen always like to race round on her little bicycle, finding her perfect spot on top of Rose Hill to watch the Sun make it's sleepy rise into the skies.
     "Come on, you can do it, wake up." She encouraged the sun, not that it needed it, painting the night skies brilliant pinks and oranges. Ellen frowned a little and remembered the tale

Red sky at night; shepherds delight,
Red sky in the morning; shepherds warning

"You wouldn't make today an awful day would you Sun?" Ellen asked the now rising sun. Of course she got no reply. As it rose further and further her smile widened until had settled its self near the tree tops furthest away. "Good Morning!" She bellowed out to it and it in return gave a nice settling wave of heat, which was good thing as she had put on her yellow summer dress today, and little white lace up shoes.

Ellen hopped back onto her bike and rode down the hill, taking her feet away from the pedals and enjoying the speed and thrill. She rang her bell again three more times and bid good morning to anyone she passed. "I swear she must have been a cockerel in another life," One farmer remarked to his wife, "always up at the crack of dawn, waking everyone up." Ellen heard this and just flashed them a beautiful smile in return, she knew that the farmer meant no harsh words so she took none.

"Ah, Ellen, here before I am as always," the stout looking Shop Keeper Mrs Bane stated as she waddled out of her house and around to the shop. Ellen smiled and nodded.

"How can you sleep through that?" Ellen asked, pointing to the skies, spinning around in the suns luminescent rays. "Every waking hour is a blessing we should take." Ellen placed her bike up against the wall of the shop and followed Mrs Bane in.

"Too cheerful for your own good sometimes, you're nearly seventeen, you should be growing up." The grumpy old woman grumbled.

"Never." Was Ellen's reply, smiling still. Mrs Bane just hacked a laugh and gave the girl the papers that were to be delivered today, and Mrs Hart had ordered a knitting pattern and could it be delivered. "No problem," Ellen slung the messenger bag over her self and got back onto her bike, ready to deliver the morning papers. 

The sun was now getting higher into the sky, reaching over roof tops and becoming larger and warmer. Not a cloud in the sky. "Thankyou!" Ellen yelled up to the sun, for it didn't seem like it was going to be a rainy day at all. The girl raced about her paper round quickly, ran into her own house for a bite of breakfast and a kiss to her Mother before racing around the town again, fetching and carrying, picking up and delivering anything anyone asked. 

It was near eight when the Girl raced to the top of Rose hill again to whisper her goodnights to her best friend, the Sun. She thanked it for a wonderful day and promised she'd meet it again tomorrow so it'd better get some sleep. 

Ellen got back onto her bike and could see the town getting ready to go to sleep, street lamps were one and curtains were drawn, the town was following suit like the Sun. 

People say The Sun blamed it's self for what happened next. It had gone to bed too early and the van didn't see the girl with the yellow dress until it was too late because it was so dark. The girl died at the scene, a perfect, peaceful smile on her face. But the Sun didn't rise the next morning, or the next. It shrouded itself in winter clouds and didn't come out until late spring, but it never looked bright anymore; it missed the girl with the yellow dress.

100 Challenge- 2. Love

What I felt I should write about love. 
Love is actually a difficult thing to write about! I mean I feel it so deeply everyday but when it comes to expressing it in words that make sense I get gibberish and garbage.


2. Love

I remember exactly when I told you I loved you. Okay not exactly. Not even roughly. Scratch that, but I remember where we were and what we were doing. It wasn't a planned moment, but it felt so right to say it to you. 
   
I think we might have been going out some months; I'm not good with numbers, however you already know that. But I remember we were in town, don't know what for, but I remember I had to go to Wilkinsons for a few bits, so we made a bit of a day of it, decided to have a look in a few other shops. 

I also remember that you insisted on carrying the bags, full of stuff I had bought. It was the first time we'd been out properly I think, together, in a shopping situation, and I was so taken aback by this silly little act of gentlemanly way it nearly made me cry with happiness. But I buried it, just in case you weren't ready, I really didn't want to scare you off with my ridiculous acts of Love. 

We got to Wilkinsons and I had found and paid for what I needed (probably wall filler and spray paint) and as we were leaving I remember I just sort of blurted it out. I was happy, and I could feel my heart bursting with pride, wanting to declare to you that I loved you. And I did. I think it might have come out a little fast and rushed, and I think I probably blushed. But you smiled, took my hand (with your free one, for you now had another bag of mine to carry) and said you loved me back too and that you had wanted to say it to me for a very long time, but you were worried I would be scared by your ridiculous acts of Love. 

I wouldn't have been and never will be.
OK. Half a Heart. Pinky Promise.


(For those intrested, this is the DeviantArt group I found 100themeschallenge.deviantart.com)
I'm currently doing Variation 2 as I preferred more of their Themes.)

100 Challenge- 1. Introduction

100 Themes Challenge is a new years resolution I started way back in late December 2010...So far I've managed to do 20. It's not looking good as a finished project for 2011.


(For those intrested, this is the DeviantArt group I found 100themeschallenge.deviantart.com)
I'm currently doing Variation 2 as I preferred more of their Themes.


This is the first Theme Introduction
This is pretty much how it went, I tried a few hundred times to write the dam thing out before this strange little idea came forth and I just ran with it.

1. Introduction

Her head leant down at the desk, hair falling over her face, a groan escaping her lips. ‘This should not be this hard’ she thought inwardly, sighing and resuming her place in front of the glowing screen, staring at the mess of words typed in front of her. She looked down at the delete key on her keyboard and scrunched her face up thinking.

  

 ‘100 themes, that seems easy!’ she had thought before ‘100 different themes, write something about each theme, simple!’ Her enthusiasm didn’t stop there. She had set herself the mission to write about 4 paragraphs for each theme, or half a typed page. There were no proper rules set for the challenge she had found but she felt including her own rules would make it more tasking. ‘This will be easy as anything; I could probably get one theme done a day. Maybe two if I’m not doing much else.’

She’d been attacking the first theme for 4 days now. It was mostly what occupied her thoughts when she wasn’t thinking of much else. “Introduction” it was called and she was stumped. Her little voice in the back of her head piped up “Why not just skip it? Jump onto a few that really whet your whistle and then come back to it when you’re more creatively inclined?” It seemed like a reasonable and logical solution for this problem she’d gotten into.

   

“But it feels like cheating,” she had mused back to the voice, “I want to do them in order.”

  

 “But you’ve seen others start at forty four and eighty six, what’s to stop you from jumping a few?” The Voice reasoned back.

   

“I want to go in order. I just need to have a think.” ‘What does introduction mean?’ She asked herself. When her brain replied with a large shrug she went to Google and checked it on the dictionary there.  She hummed lowly and thought some more. ‘Ah! What about Jane Austen? And the Regency period? They’re always talking about introducing each other to one another!’ So she thought she had cracked it and went away writing some drivel in Mock Austen.

      “Oh my dear Miss Partridge, I simply must introduce you to my brother, he’s ever so dashing, quite the gentleman.”

    “Maybe so Miss Downing, but perhaps I should wait for him to introduce himself?”

    “No, nothing of the sort could ever be perceived!” She wailed, dragging her good friend by the hand through the throng of people of the Annual Higglebottom Ball.

    “Miss Downing, please!” Miss Partridge protested, bumping into people, excusing herself as best she could.

“That, my friend is probably the worst bit of writing I’ve ever seen you write...” The voice piped up from the back of her mind. “I think if Jane Austen were alive right now, she’d bitch slap you from here to Higglebottom...” The girl sighed, defeated. The voice was right, it was an awful bit of writing. She tried to tweak it about, introducing a wealthy Lady Dowager or a dashing Lord, but it just wrote awful.

   

“Okay, I admit defeat. What about the introduction of a big burly man? Something futuristic? He’s being transported to a high security prison and is explaining his story while going?” She offered to the voice.

   

“Bit Riddick isn’t it?” The voice chirped back and the Girl cursed aloud.

   

“I could give him a big, bushy beard?” But she felt the rolling eyes of the Voice on her already.

    

So here she was, slumped at her computer desk, down at the first hurdle. She began to think of packing the whole idea in; it wasn’t like she’d promised anyone she’d do this. “No, just yourself,” the Voice pitched in.

   

“I wouldn’t mind. I could always try again in a couple of months.” She’d just settled herself with the thought of quitting the 100 Themes Challenge when another thought sparked in her mind, one that was just a tiny ember at first, but as she thought some more on it it burst into flames and became a whole idea.

Her head leant down at the desk, hair falling over her face, a groan escaping her lips. ‘This should not be this hard’...

First Post

First post!

I'll be uploading (Most likely sporadically) what ever when ever...Because I'm that organised!

Currently doing:

100 Themes Challenge 
I started this as a new tears resolution (But it's turning out to be a bit of a longer stretch, maybe 10 years!)
I'll upload the themes I have done and keep posting themes that I do until I finish that sweet 100th.

Sketchbook(s)
I have about 3 or 4 sketchbooks on the go (As well as a folder stuffed full of doodles and sketches.) Again I'll load them as I go and I'll load some back stuff that I'm okay with.


Disclaimer
This is just my own personal stash. Don't be usin' it.