It wasn’t supposed to rain. At least, Julie’s ma hadn’t said anything about it and everyone in town knew Ma could “read the weather” with an accuracy that was almost frightening. They would’ve called her a witch and run her out of town if she wasn’t so useful. But useful she was, and so she stayed, baking her bread while Pa was off at work, at the oil rigs, in the Panhandle. He was away more days than not, and so Julie had grown up wild. Running through blackberry fields barefoot, catching fireflies in mason jars, bandaids over scrapes and bruises. Wild smiles and messy hair, her ma ever-so-carefully brushing iodine over the cuts with a shake of her head and a warning to “please, please, be more careful next time, sweetheart”. And Julie would smile and nod, knowing that she’d be back outside the very next day.
As she grew older, Ma had put her to work outside- if she was to run in the blackberry fields, she might as well pick some to make blackberry cobbler, and if she wanted to play outside, she could bring back water from the well by the McGuire’s property. Julie had chafed at these restrictions, these limits on her own time, at first, but as more and more of her classmates disappeared from school to help their own mothers’ with the household work, she realized just what a blessing Ma had given her. Even now, as she neared adulthood, Ma had begun to fret about her appearance, her wildness that couldn’t be tamed. Julie had been successful in brushing off Ma’s concerns with a carefree laugh, but the thought of when that laugh wouldn’t be enough disquieted her.
Today was another one of those days where she slipped out the door to evade Ma, promising with a charming grin to bring back enough strawberries to make shortcake- Phoebe’s favorite. Phoebe was young, prim, and perfect in all the ways Julie was not. Phoebe was Ma’s favorite, of course, but Julie was Pa’s. It made sense- Julie was everything Pa was, a little wild, a little carefree, a lot irresponsible.
Just like Pa, Julie liked getting a little lost. She liked wandering through the bramble-filled thickets, liked not knowing where she would end up. A rumble of thunder gave her pause. She glanced up, frowning as she noticed the darkening sky, thick with grey, angry clouds. She’d have to hurry, then. Unfortunate, but if she didn’t make it home, Ma would worry up a storm and she didn’t need that these days. Not with the townsfolk’s whispers and sidelong glances at Julie, with their rumors of her being “unmarriable”. Yes, Ma had enough on her plate and Julie would hate to add to that. So she gathered up her skirts, stepping through the undergrowth with purposeful strides, making her way to the strawberry fields.
The skies didn’t clear…but it didn’t look like it would rain either, so, with a basket full of strawberries, Julie returned to exploring. And that was when she saw her, a stark contrast to the rich blues of the bluebonnet field. A girl, with the blondest hair Julie had ever seen, the same blonde Julie’s had been as a kid. She was fast asleep in a cedar tree, the expression on her face…content. Almost…almost happy. Julie hadn’t seen anyone with that expression in a long, long time. Not in this dusty old town, where everybody was too concerned with what the neighbors would think. But this girl…she wasn’t from this town. She didn’t live with the heavy, heavy expectations that had started to follow Julie like a shadow. Her lightness made Julie feel…well, jealous, yes, but also, strangely carefree. If this girl could live like this, whose to say Julie couldn’t either?
And so, she turned and went back home, the basket of strawberries swinging gently. She would help Ma make the shortcake. She would be the best big sister to Phoebe. And then, when it was time, she’d leave and make her own path in life. And she’d be happy.
Category: imaginative
The AnDroids
Breakfast these days was a bar of soap. Nothing less, nothing more. Maisie’s grandmother had told her stories of humans and their fragile stomachs couldn’t handle the taste of soap, and honestly, Maisie found that hard to believe. Her kind, the AnDroids as humans liked to call them, had been raised on different meals- the oil of a model car, for example, or the bottom of a letter- the part that contained the x’s and o’s.
She made her way downstairs, where Grandma was just serving breakfast. The radio was on, the AnDroid announcer prattling on about the latest misdeeds of humans. They wanted war with the AnDroids, it seemed, claiming their jobs were being stolen, running amok with no sense of cohesion whatever. Grandma’s snort told Maisie everything she needed to know- it was beneath them.
Breakfast over, Maisie slipped into her room. Grandma would be out for the most of the day, going around, shopping, talking to the neighbors, buying fabrics and funny little buttons that Maisie loved to sort and play with. So, knowing that Grandma would be out, Maisie pried up the loose board in the corner of her room, taking out a CD player. Grandma wasn’t a big fan of human artifact, in fact, saying that she hated them wouldn’t be too far from the truth. But Maisie couldn’t stay away from music. She’d gotten the CDs from a previous classmate- back in elementary school, before the humans decided the AnDroids were too dangerous for their kids to be around.
Maisie knew when Grandma was back, she’d have to pretend to hate humans and all their inventions again. But for now, she swayed to the music, closing her eyes and letting herself pretend peace was the reality.
Top Reads
I, unfortunately, have not had the time to read as much this year. However, I still do enjoy reading and have a list of my favorite books I’ve read this year!
- Crying in H Mart by Michelle Zauner
This was a very well written autobiography! I loved the way the author wrote of her mother and her struggles in seeing her mother pass away. It was so beautiful and so moving and I definitely recommend it. The author’s pain and confusion was evident through each word and phrase, making the book a must-read. - Flowers and Their Meanings: The Secret Language and History of Over 600 Blooms by Karen Azoulay
This book was so informative! It had so much information on different flowers and their meanings and went into detail about different colors and types of one species. There were so many flowers listed and I learned a lot. - The Tournament by Rebecca Barrow
This was a dark mystery about a “tournament” at a prestigious school. Everyone has been training for the tournament since they’d first gotten to the school. But when love goes sour and tensions rise, the tournament gets even more dangerous than it originally was intended to be. - The Poppy War by RF Kuang
This was a beautiful reimagining of the Opium Wars. The storytelling was so vivid and I found myself really drawn to Rin, the brilliant and scrappy orphan. She was such a fun character and I loved witnessing her growth.
I hope to read more continuing on!
Selkies and Summer
I wrote this story based off the prompt “Set your story at a party, festival, or local celebration”. I hope you enjoy it!
The party was in full swing. Kids were running around the boardwalk, ice cream cones in hand, dripping over to create sticky fingers. Everywhere you looked were classic carnival games, stocked with balloons and plushies of all shapes and sizes. The sun was shining, bright, and the water was a glistening shade of aquamarine. By all means, it was a perfect day. Ana really did feel content as she strolled through the streets of the idyllic town, clutching a plush of a bunny close to her chest, the other hand holding a camera. The streets were empty, everyone attending the summer festival. Albatross, the city which she had grown up in, faced a major spike in tourism every summer, visitors loving the sunshine-y energy of the town. Ana didn’t mind. Sure, sometimes the tourists were annoying, but it meant more people to photograph, more experiences to capture.
She crouched down at the cove she’d discovered a few yards away from the beach, setting the plush bunny down at the edge of the water cautiously. A few minutes passed, then a seal flopped up onto the shore, nudging the bunny curiously, to which Ana offered an enthusiastic nod. She turned away, and when she’d turned back around, the seal had turned into a human- a human Ana had come to know and care for. Naida’s smile was small, “Hey. Cute plush. You won it?”
Ana nodded, “Mm. Summer festival. Did the hammer bell game-thingy. You like it?”
Naida nodded. She was a selkie, her seal skin now wrapped protectively around her body. Ana studied her, then grinned, slipping a hand inside her bag to grab a big tub of cotton candy.
“Here. You mentioned you wanted to try more sweets last time. I love cotton candy. It just…melts in your mouth.”
Naida furrowed her brow but obediently pulled a small chunk of the pink sweet away from the tub, touching it to the tip of her tongue carefully. Ana’s camera was there to capture the moment her expression lit up, delighted at the rush of sugar. Naida glanced at Ana, eyes sparkling. “It’s…wow.”
Ana grinned, dimples flashing, “Good, right? You can get some year-round, but I think it’s the best during summer. It’s like…infused with joy. Or something.”
A distant shout rang out, in the direction of the cove. Ana glanced out, “Shoot. I should go. Take care. I’ll…I’ll let you know when I can meet again, ok? Take the plush. Think of it as…a replacement me.” Her smile was easy, not betraying the upset roiling underneath. Naida nodded, slipping the seal-skin back on, diving into the waters below. Ana resurfaced, cotton candy back in the bag, a sunny smile on her face, just a girl who was exploring.
But later, around the bonfire, Ana couldn’t help but smile as she admired the photo she’d taken- of Naida, her eyes bright, her cheeks flushed, the cotton candy melting into sugar. She’d see the selkie again soon. It wasn’t goodbye, it never was.
Primp the ghost
This was another writing prompt based story! I hope you enjoy!
When Marie-Ellis saw a ghost for the first time, she thought it was a speck of dust. A rather large, somewhat translucent speck of dust. So she had picked up her broom and swept the poor thing away. The ghost, Primp, she had learned, had not appreciated this in the slightest. Yet, that hadn’t stopped him from being all too intrigued by Marie-Ellis. He insisted on following her everywhere she went, which led to their current situation- the small pouch tied onto Marie-Ellis’ belt. Primp resided there, all cozy and comfortable. Of course, the pouch lent itself to questions. Marie-Ellis was the managing director of a huge firm, known for dressing and acting sensibly, no frills or bits and bobs. Yet, all of a sudden, a pouch appeared. Marie-Ellis didn’t respond to any questions thrown her way, just flashed the questioner a serene smile and went on her way. It was evening- a time of day when Marie-Ellis didn’t really do much. She lived alone, and was happy that way. Primp had truly thrown a cork into her plans, but she supposed it wasn’t a bad cork. Not really.
As she sat down at her sewing machine, she raised an eyebrow at Primp, “Well? What today?”. Primp had grown obsessed with plush toys. He found them enjoyable, reminiscent of his own childhood. So, today, he requested a plush dinosaur. Marie-Ellis sighed, then reached into her sewing handbag, pulling out the necessary green scraps of fabric and stuffing. She hummed a little tune as she worked, quite content with the little life she’d created. It had taken a while- she’d quit her first ever job on the second day of work- turns out, some people weren’t made to be air traffic controllers and her second job didn’t go much better. No matter how much propaganda they push out, being an undertaker is truly an awful job.
But now, as Marie-Ellis sat at her sewing machine, and the rain began to first patter, then pour, she knew in her heart that she was truly happy.
Winning the Lottery
Recently, I tried out a new writing website! It generates ideas for you to incorporate into your writing. The result, while a little over the place, was very entertaining and I had a lot of fun writing it. I hope you enjoy!
You’d think that when you won the lottery, you’d spend the money on something grand. Something that truly wowed, something magnificent. Maybe you’d do something nice for your parents, maybe you’d treat yourself…Max bought a chicken. Just one. Not even a fancy chicken- to compete in shows or to eat. Just a chicken. And his reasoning? “I wanted a friend!”.
I finally convinced him the chicken wasn’t the best idea and he should buy something else with the money. He bought a cat. A cute one, sure, but a cat. I did not see how this would help us in our investigation. Ms. Emme had hired us to figure out who had been behind the airplane crash that had killed her youngest daughter. And so, I’d advised Max, pretty wisely, I would say, to buy something to help us figure out who did it. Maybe save some money to bribe some corrupt officers, you know what I mean? Instead he bought a cat. And a chicken. I can’t forget the chicken.
He said he’d “try to do right by me” today. I’m hoping he’ll use the money for information, for something that’ll help us take at least one step in the right direction.
…There’s a knock at the door. It better be Max with the information.
I’m back. It was not, in fact, Max with the information. It was Max with a random guy. A cameraman, for heaven’s sake. We don’t need a cameraman. And we definitely don’t need the eggs that the chicken’s been laying all over the place. I walked in this morning and there was one in my hat. My nicest one, too, fit with feathers and fabric.
Some may call it drastic, but Max’s delusions and unorthodox behavior have gone on too long. It’s time for some revenge.
First. I’ll steal the money. There’s still around 10 million left. That’s enough for me to buy a new office, snoop around, and have tons of money left over.
Then, I’ll get this company off the ground. We’ve been a small private investigative company for too long and with this money, anyone would respect us.
Finally, I’ll buy a better fan for this office. Well. I guess that goes with buying a new office. But, seriously. Who rents a space with no fan? Max, that’s who. We’ve been surviving with paper fans. Paper. fans.
Maybe I’d give some money to Max too. He was my best friend, after all. He never really enjoyed being an investigator. He’d probably become a DJ. He’d be good, too. Or maybe a blacksmith, though maybe that job interest was just a passing fascination.
And that’s how much I wrote in 10 minutes! I definitely enjoyed this exercise.
The Recipe of the Future
The writing prompt I chose to follow was ‘Write a story in the form of a recipe, menu, grocery list, or product description.’ I hope you enjoy!
Grandma’s Brownies: recipe requested by Linda
This blog is just growing bigger and bigger day by day! And I couldn’t be more thankful for the support. We all know how it is- finding recipe cards and notebooks filled with the recipes of our ancestors, complete with pictures of decadent sweets or mouthwatering appetizers…only to scan the ingredients list and realize how outdated these recipes are. I, and I imagine you as well, have tossed out some truly wonderful-looking recipes. But no longer! I’ve found alternatives that make food just as delicious as the pictures I’ve seen. Please, please feel free to send in recipes of your past, and I will do my best to provide delicious substitutions so we too may enjoy our ancestor’s favorites!
This recipe was sent in by Linda, one of my largest fans. She’s been reading this blog since day 1 and has told me that my substitutions truly work! And so, I was just thrilled when she sent me this recipe, pleading for some substitutions. I was so proud and so excited to get to work that I finished this in almost 2 hours haha! Maybe this is my true calling :D. Anyways, onto the recipe. Thank you, Linda!
As always, the original recipe is written first, followed by my notes and a complete list of substitutions at the end. Hugs and kisses to all of you!
Ingredients:
- ½ cup butter (‘butter’ once came from a creature known as cows…now extinct. use stream water mixed with tree bark)
- 1 cup sugar (coarse dirt works best as a substitute)
- 2 eggs (came from small vicious beasts known as chickens…use geodes- only the insides)
- cocoa powder (used to be a human delicacy. substitute with red soil)
- ½ cup flour (flour is rare if you didn’t manage to buy the last stocks of wheat. if unavailable, i’ve found that the outside of geodes, when ground up, have a similar texture)
- ¼ teaspoon salt (bottled water shall do, i’ve discovered that it’s salty enough to mimic the flavor)
- ¼ teaspoon baking powder
Directions:
- preheat the oven to 350 degrees. grease a cooking pan. (in place of grease, one may easily use tap water)
- melt the butter, then stir in the sugar and eggs. beat in cocoa, flour, salt, and baking powder. batter should be thick and slightly lumpy. (following all substitutions, batter may be thinner and lumpier. rest assured, you’re doing it right)
- bake in the preheated oven for 25 to 30 minutes. enjoy!
Full Substitution List:
- substitute butter for stream water and tree bark
- substitute sugar for coarse dirt
- substitute eggs for geode guts
- substitute cocoa powder for red soil
- substitute flour for ground up geode outsides
- substitute salt for bottled water
With the limited ingredients available, the brownie may come out a bit differently than the attached pictures. Of course, this is to be expected. Many of the products found in our grandparents’ time have been eradicated, due to the diseases and wars of the past- I’m sure we’ve all learnt about them in history class- haha! Yet, with trial and error, I’ve found that these substitutions truly carry that same earthy, rich flavor through without the need for any synthetic ‘chocolate’ or ‘sugar’. Please leave any pictures below and any feedback! And if you have a recipe of your own that you’d like to see modified, just shoot me a message :).
The Classroom
I recently wrote a short story for the prompt “Start or end your story with someone arriving somewhere for the first or last time”. I hope you enjoy!
I remember the first time I walked into that classroom. It was bright, welcoming, almost calling to me. The posters on the wall beckoned me to examine them- those childish drawings of friendly animals, the bubbly lettering a symbol of happiness, of comfort. I met my best friends in that classroom, when we were sitting around a multicolored rug. I remember the teacher- Ms. Miller- reading a ridiculous book. Something about dinosaurs in classrooms. It was all so perfect, so sweet, so innocent.
That’s all I can think about as I step back in the classroom- almost a millenia later. I shouldn’t be here. None of this is right. But the sun’s implosion was unexpected, especially as it shouldn’t have happened. All science predicted a collapse, anticipating the formation of a white dwarf. So, when the implosion happened…it caught everyone off guard. Not everyone survived. It happened so suddenly; a massive shockwave rippled through the streets. Buildings were hit especially hard. Not to mention, everything started working differently. People aged differently, the seasons merged into one, and most schools shut down. The world returned to an almost Pre-Neolithic era; no more complex societies, humans were on their own. In short, the sun’s implosion was an apocalypse of sorts.
And now I’m back. In the place where my first memories began. The classroom was found to have dangerous sources of radiation, set to be destroyed, but…I couldn’t just never see it again. The desks are pushed up against the wall, the very same mat I remember dragged to the center of the room. It’s…painful, in a way, to see this place of life, of vibrancy reduced to a room of ash and rubble. And soon, it’ll be gone. Gone, just like the park I used to play in and the house I called mine. Everything’s gone. Everything will be gone. Forever.
The Meteorite Sample
Meteorite samples weren’t unusual, per say, but this was my first time dealing with one. Exciting for sure, but also nerve-wracking. The bosses were strict about anything from space- even the smallest misstep could lead to your reassignation to a lower, dingier job. So. No pressure or anything. The sample I’d gotten was small, just a speck really, especially compared to what Alice, at desk 9, had. But everyone had to start somewhere, right? So the speck it was.
I’ve worked at the lab for a good 3 years now. 3 years before I finally got to do what I’d always wanted. 3 years to achieve my greatest dreams. I’d spent all morning fiddling with the microscope, knowing that if I messed this up, I’d miss my opportunity. For good. And that…that would be awful.
When the sample was finally delivered to my station, I had to physically hold myself back to not tear open the packaging. Careful…careful. This thing is worth more than your entire life. The meteorite sample I’d gotten was barely a shard, but it was enough. My hands shook as I carefully lifted the sample out of its package and set it on a slide, placing it under the microscope. As I adjusted the lens, twisting it ever so carefully to zoom into the rugged surface of the rock, something that looked almost like words caught my eye. But…surely not. How could there be English words on an outerspace rock? But as the lens panned across the meteorite, it was clear- words carved deep into the rock: “If you see this, call this number. Do not tell anyone”.
My hands shook. But in my mind, there was only one thing for me to do- call the number.
Why I Write
I recently wrote this for the prompt of “Explore your impulse to write”. I hope you enjoy!
I write to be seen. My art craves an audience, craves understanding, and visceral, true reactions. I want others, friends, you, to see my work and think- I know. I get it. Me too.
I write to express my emotions. When it’s too hard to talk to people, when it’s too hard to spill my true feelings, then I write. I turn to the page, to the screen, to the savior and safe space that I can find only in a blank page. The blank page of terror, yes, but the blank page of opportunity, the page of truth. The page of uncertainty, but also the page of making mistakes. Of being allowed to try and learn. The page of looking back and cringing, but also the page of growth.
I write for myself. I write knowing that everything I do will be for my eyes and my eyes only. I write stanzas of poems, words and words of prose to let my emotions flow, to let myself express, to let myself feel finally and truly me.
My words are my outlet, my way of creating worlds and lands where you believe in magic, even if just for a second. A place where you can really see what I’m talking about- whether it be the resplendent jewel-tones of the Garden of Envy circus, or if it’s the flower field where two lovers took their last breath together.
I hope to create words, sentences, stories that evoke emotion. Emotion of any kind- a deep, wrenching pain, maybe, or instead, a hopeful joy that lifts you up.
I’ve always searched for a place to call my own. Something that’s really mine, even as a kid, even as everything I own is not really mine. I’ve always, since when I could first remember, craved that feeling of independentness, of true belonging. And writing lets me do that. Writing won’t judge. Writing gives me a space of love and kindness and acceptance. Is that silly, finding all that in a blank page? Maybe. But I like to think that as I fill up that blank page with my dreams, my hopes, my fears, I lose that “silliness”. I can be me or at least a version of me that can be me without rebuke, without fear of failure- because there’s no failure in writing, just growth.
So, overall, I write for emotion. I write for me. I write for life. I write to feel alive, to feel free, to feel in general. I write to live, to grow, to be a better human. I write to chronicle, to tell the truth, and most of all, I write so I can find my place in a world that seems destined to shut me out. I write so I exist. I write so that I am me.
I hope you enjoyed!