Sunday, October 24, 2010


The truck was white. Her face was stained with blood. Nothing would stop him from hitting her. If no one came she would die. She yelled on top of her lungs, but no one heard, she cried but he didn't care. If she disappeared no one would even notice. Night would turn to day, and daybreak would awaken her little sister who slept close to the window. She slept with one eye open and one hand underneath her pillow, where a small pocket knife was cradled.

"Why do you sleep so close to the window?", the blond girl asked puzzled

"Because while your sleeping, I grind my teeth, waiting, wondering if Satans soldier will finally come and mutilate my body".

The blond girl laughed awkwardly, shifting her eyes then flipping her hair, "where's you're bathroom?"

The brunette smiled brightly at her; "we don't fucking have one".

Wednesday, October 13, 2010


Irena Sendler was a Polish Catholic Social worker who saved 2, 500 Jewish Children, smuggling them out of the Warsaw Ghetto. She provided them with false documents and sheltered them in different group children's homes outside the Ghetto.

It was easy to look like a Polish Catholic, but it was much harder to actually say the words, that I was one. The most difficult part was watching my people go off to die while I stood sullenly to the side, my hair in two innocent braids behind my ears. I wanted to burst into tears as I saw my teachers, my classmates, and my neighbours marching with their suitcases in the street. There were women, children, and babies among the crowd. The Nazis took everyone. I wanted so desperately to join the march to the Ghetto, so that I could share in their despair. I knew though, that if I did, I would definitely be shot. I was only thirteen, but I knew that even though it was wrong to pretend I was Arian, it was much worse to give up and die.

November 1943, Poland

Irena pulled the covers tight around my body the way I liked it most. She wiggled me after she was done and placed her finger on my nose.
"You must be good, Angela", she says with a warm smile, "be on you best behaviour".
I began to feel an inexpressible sadness come over me. I thought of my mother and father who gave me to Irena just a week ago. A tear falls gently down my cheek.
" Why do you cry Angela?", she says with a pained look on her face.
" I cry because I know I will have to leave you Irena", I say wiping my tears from my face "and I'm scared I will never see my parents again".
"Your parents would want you to be brave", Irena says with a pause "they would want you to fight".

She says goodnight, and leaves. I try to close my eyes but my heart is thumping too loud to sleep. I lie there wide awake, wondering where my parents are, and where my little sister has been placed. I squint really tight, and wish that none of this happened, that we could be a happy family again. When I open my eyes, I'm still alone in the small, cold bedroom.

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

Leave me, Lucifer

I don't recognize my hands. I see the world with bloodshot eyes, everything looks different. I feel possessed by the devil, taken over by Lucifer.

"God, please let him leave me...leave me Lucifer", I pray.

I see a cross hanging sullenly above a church. A surge comes from within, I cannot move. I feel stiff and he raises my arms and turns my hands into claws. My body shakes and I feel a shiver down my spine. I turn my head from the church. I keep walking.

I don't feel love anymore. I am a different person, my soul has been taken over. I wish I knew what happened, for some reason I don't know. I can't pinpoint when he entered me, I just know I went to sleep myself and woke up someone else.

"Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion,walketh about, seeking whom he may devour" (1 Pet. 5:8)

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

My Award

I just recieved this award from Primerica Financail Services and I can't wait to start building my business !

Sunday, June 27, 2010


My grandmother told me I was going to die. I will live a life of wickedness, and then never have an eternal life. I will turn to dust. Where am I? I am floating above the earth. I see my little brother, I take his hand, I feel his heart. This moment is frozen; time doesn't exist. I wish that there was something I could do to, but I am paralyzed.

I wish that love was enough to bring peace, and life was enough to bring happiness, but gloom hangs above us. My grandmother tells me the devil is bigger than us. Then what hope is there? Where should I go to die? I look for a tree, but I am in a desolate parking lot walking for hours, there is no salvation. I pray, but God says its too late.

My little brother stands alone, at the end of the parking lot. I run as lightning grazes my body. The thunder deafens me, but I keep going. I feel as though I am not getting any closer, he will always be too far. I will never reach him. Suddenly I hear his laugh; he now appears before me. I hold out my hand and then he takes it. We walk.

Sunday, June 13, 2010

Contest Entry #3: Salem


Novel type: History and Fiction

Plot Description:
After his beloved sister is killed in a Witch hunt, David vows to hunt down the Witch Hunters themselves. He lives in Salem; a town of gossip, murder, and public burnings at the steak. This story follows several different characters and their tribulations in the Witch burning town of Salem, Massachusetts.
Introduction/ Teaser:
The blood was spattered carelessly about the room. Some of it was on the chairs, and others covered the bedding. The house was empty; only a faint dripping of water could be heard from the kitchen leak. The water fell into a single bucket, which was for daily chores. It was sometimes used to clean the floors, or clear the mud from the front step. It would be morning soon, and the pigs have not been fed for some time. Suddenly a voice could be heard coming up the cobblestone path, "Addie!", it called. It was a man of about twenty-four, holding his hat down as it flew off his head. He hurried into the quaint home, searching the rooms with his eyes. His head whipped from side to side, afraid to stare at anything too long; "Addie", he called out again. After not hearing anything, he quickly ran up the stairs. He headed for the small bedroom, then his heart pierced, as no one was in it. Then his eyes darted with intensity as they followed the drops of blood that sprinkled the furniture. He covered his mouth with his hand, and his heart filled with an inexpressible sadness. His sister was gone.

Saturday, June 12, 2010

Contest Entry #2: The Best Friend Chronicles

The Best Friend Chronicles
Novel Type: Memoir/Coming of Age
Plot Description:
A true life events of the many different best friends I've had. All friends in The Best Friend Chronicles have been real best friends and real situations. It depicts the tears and laughs, of a young girl trying to fit in and find herself in the process.
"I've had many best friends over the years, but never a friend that was the "best". "
Teaser/ Introduction:
Probably my first traumatizing experience with a best friend happened in the first grade. I looked on in horror while she ate an entire bag of my favourite popcorn. She shook the rest of the bags contents into her mouth, getting every single crumb into her esophagus. Which I had the strong urge to punch. Although upsetting, the shock didn't come until she threw the Ziploc bag at me, saying "bring me some more tomorrow". There was definitely something wrong with the friendship.My mom happened to be in the area, and seeing a portion of the events approached the girl. What happened afterward I only recall as a blur of embarrassment. All I could think about was the wrath my best friend would descend upon me after she left.
Throughout my life I have experienced the company of many different best friends. They've come in all sorts of cultures, shapes and sizes. Unfortunately these abundance of close friendships have always been a curse over me. My freedom felt lost, my life felt like a swirl of anxiety and paranoia. I never understood the act of friendship, or why it was so cherished. My greatest wish was always to escape it. My life has definitely not being boring, or conventional, because these are my best friend chronicles.

Monday, June 7, 2010

Contest Entry #1: Amazing Man

Amazing Man

Novel Type: Science Fiction/Thriller

Plot Description:

It's Russia 2030, and the European AIDS epidemic has become rabid due to increased immigration, prostitution and drug use. After the new Chancellor Roman Andre is elected the Russian government has decided to demand mandatory AIDS testing, resulting in a mass extermination. Adelina a young preteen and her grandmother Dora are poor immigrants from Spain. They speak English and Russian fluently but are easily pointed out as foreigners. They moved to Russia so Adelina could pursue her Ballet talent. After the mandatory AIDS testing both Adelina and Dora huddled with a group of others to an open field, where the AIDS positive immigrants are gunned down. With quick thinking, Adelina and Dora manage to escape the massacre, running into the forest. The two walk the wilderness for days, until they stumble upon a circus tent. Inside there are is an exciting show by different talented circus performers. One of the acrobatic performers, a young immigrant man from Kenya agrees to help them. He accompanies them on their escape, while leading an army of immigrants and ex soldiers against the Chancellors wrath. The journey is thrilling and their encounters are compelling and thought provoking. In a city of evil and cruelty, only one man can lead the crusade. An unlikely hero comes to save society, and stop an extermination. He is just one man, an amazing man.

Teaser/ Introduction:

Russia 2030

A cold wind sweeps the fields and wakes me up. It's early and my eyes water as I yawn, I feel my skin crawl. All of us stand around giving each other looks, not knowing what to expect, although I see fear in many of elders eyes. It's as if they know something we don't. I stand closer to my grandmother; I take her hand in mine, and grip it tight. The army trucks that brought us here begin to pull away, and only two of the men with guns stay. We are in the middle of nowhere, where are they going? Where are we going? I dare not to ask grandmother, her face looks pained as she sees the trucks leave down the rugged path from which they came. Her grip becomes tighter, her furrow deeper.

Yesterday they tested us for the AIDS virus. I remember many of the faces here from the clinic; men women and children. Everyone in Moscow was to be tested, the Chancellor had sent out disclaimers to everyones home. My grandmother had the same pained look as she read out the hovering words which appeared at our bed: " Every single person in Moscow, by Chancellors orders must be tested for AIDS. The testing will be held for one month at the hospital nearest to you. You're date is March 20, 2030. If you choose not to attend, serious consequences will be administered".

It begins to snow; the white flakes fall slowly and quietly. We are all silent. Then the men with guns begin to herd us toward the open field. I am scared. All of a sudden my grandmother takes my hand, she pulls my arm and we run. All I can hear are the gun shots and the screams.

June 2010 Novel Contest!

June 2010 Novel Contest !

Hello Blogworms!

As you may know I love to write. At some point in the future I would like to publish a novel, but unfortunately all of the books I've started have never been finished. They are ideas, plot descriptions then really kick ass intros, but never a full fledged novel. I believe it's due to procrastination, self doubt and a little bit of a perfectionist personality. Although I can't really complain because one of the reasons I write short stories is because of this problem, thus further deciding to publish them in this blog. I called it Blindfold after one of my favourite songs by Metric, and because I think it represents the power of writing. A blindfold forces creativity of the mind and passion of the soul. Words function the same way; when reading them or writing them. It's mind imagination as opposed to visual imagination.

I have decided to create this Novel Contest to give you an idea of the different types of books I have thought up, and the different types of plot ideas to go with them. Here's the deal:
  • I will give you a plot synopsis
  • A brief introduction (probably almost all of what I've written so far)
  • Under the story leave a comment and state: That it's your favourite, and WHY you like it.

What you need to do is vote for the best novel idea and intro! The winning novel will be further written, and at some point published (we hope right?)! The contest starts this Wednesday (June 9th, 2010) and ends at midnight on June 14th, 2010. That gives you a week of reading. All of the stories will be posted in a couple of days, so don't start voting UNTIL ALL FOUR novel ideas are posted.

Alright Blogworms, READ ON!

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Proud Dogs

I feel as though God has given me three talents in life; patience, creativity, and the ability to argue. I felt this third talent rise within me as I eagerly awaited for Darlene to finish talking;

"Oh my poor Chelsea! She has done nothing to deserve such abuse!", she says with a strong maternal passion.
"So she has done nothing to provoke him then?", I interject and give her a determined stare.
"Oh heavens no!" she cries, looking somewhat offended.

Darlene's daughter was being swirled about in a terror I like to call Emmit. The boyfriend had once again cheated on poor Chelsea Brackish. My sympathy for her situation exited my heart around the fifth time he did this, and the eighth time she hurled herself back into his arms. Much like a drug addict Chelsea needed her daily doses of Emmit to get on with her day. A phone call was just enough to keep her withdrawal symptoms at bay, although between contact she acts like a miserable wreck. There's a huge high when he comes around and then turmoil when they fight and break up. Disaster is a word not harsh enough to describe her situation. I haven't yet found the right one, but I have a feeling I have to get creative. Many friends have tried to help her countless times, but its no use kicking a dead dog. She needs help. It's quite sad actually. Although sadness has turned to feeling sorry, then turned to animosity, then to not giving a shit. Ah whatever, I'll do what I can.

"Chelsea needs some help Darlene", I say finally.

Tuesday, June 1, 2010

Philosophical Thoughts: Who am I?

Will I ever reach self identity? Will there ever be a moment of tranquil peace, in which I discover my inner self? If that time ever comes, will I be satisfied with what is revealed? I hope so.

I truly believe that we must not find our place in the world, but instead venture to discover our place within ourselves. If we believe we are in a state of happiness, we WILL be in a state of happiness. It is said that a man can do anything to another man, except occupy his thoughts. Our brain and our thinking are sacred and should always be kept in the best condition. Then will we reach a state of peace.

Who am I? I am me. What will I do with my life? Live it to the fullest; careless but just. Why bother with negativity, when life is free? Enjoy whats given, and give to those who need. Embrace love and love those who you embrace. Don't run away from problems stay and wash them away. As the famous writer Winston Churchill once said; "If you are going through hell, keep going." When you reach the end? Nothing in this world will be able to stop you.

Friday, May 28, 2010

My Monsters

I can only justify what I know,
Only cry from what I feel
Leave me alone monsters,
I wish this wasn't real.

I feel as though I bring them on myself,
Inviting them one by one.

Maybe I'm too emotional,
Too susceptible; too full of feel.

I rarely get the courage, the confidence,
The push I need to fight, but when I do,
I'm still weak, crumbling at the knees.

I pick up a sword too big, too massive for me to hold,
I wish this would all get easier, and I could just be bold.

Leave me alone monsters, I don't want anymore pain,
My heart has become too weak for it, and my mind has gone insane.

You follow me everywhere even to my home,
I try to leave you at the doorstep,
But you say you feel alone.

I'm tired of all this anger, this bitter suicide,
All built up inside of me, pushing me from side to side.

Maybe I should ask God to take you all away,
Tell him I'm sorry, and pray and pray and pray.

Perhaps then he will help me to see,
See the light of day.

Monday, May 24, 2010

Sunday, May 23, 2010

Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Suicide 1929

He stood above the body of water, the harsh winds pulling him in. Albert Bradley is going to jump. It's 1929, and he lives in upstate New York. Albert breathed heavily as he looked down into a liquid black abyss. He wondered how long it would be till a G-man came and attempted to talk him out of this decision. Although it wouldn't make a difference; his mind had already been made up. In fact, inside, Albert believed, he was already dead.

The Friday before, Albert's wife shot and killed their five year old daughter Eliza Grace. He hasn't been outside in one week. He has been passing his days, hours, and minutes contemplating the different ways of suicide. Time was just as meaningless as his existence. He was hypnotized by grief, his soul was chained and tortured by anger. It was if he was frozen, unable to eat, speak or move with ease. Albert was weighed down by depression.

It was now that Albert stood above the rushing waters, bracing himself for his decision. It was a decision he knew he could never take back.

Monday, May 17, 2010

How I Got Cancer

Spring was beginning to reveal itself. The day was warm, and the snow began to melt, and form runoff. The water flowed furiously into the pond, while the grass waved winter goodbye. The light wind cooled my face, and blew through my hair. I smiled and squinted as the sun gleamed through the branches of the tall pines. I lay back and rested on the back of my chair. What was I afraid of? Why didn't I just face my fears? What was I even doing here? I'm not afraid of death, it must be, that I'm afraid of dying. There are no more lifelines. I'm going to die anyway. Suddenly I am overcome with an inexpressible sadness. My heart pierces with pain, and my eyes weigh heavy on my face. It's going to happen, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. But God can end all this? So why doesn't he?

I lift my light sundress off my body, tearing it from my head. I am completely naked. I never thought life would take me here, to this moment. I walk slowly down to the edge of the still pond. I squint my eyes shut, then jump into the water.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

City of Sin

Sudan is a city of sin. Whores walk around with no shame, baby's cry with no food, and boys like me are already carrying around sub machine guns. At a young age we have experienced death, begging for our own lives, and the ultimate sin of murder. I can't imagine what life was like before this happened, before the war. It is my job to guard the base and watch for intruders, my name is Liban and I am a child soldier.

She stares at me, waiting for me to invite her in. She look young, perhaps only sixteen. She is brave; she is so close to our base. She looks up at the hill, where our tents are. Everyone is asleep. I tell her to go. If I let her in, she will die. Tobi tells the guards to let the females in; they are entertainment and fun. She doesn't leave, she wants something inside.

"Go now", I whisper.
"Why?", She asked.
"You must let me in". I pause, if they let her in they will do what they want with her.
"There's nothing up there for you", I say gripping my gun tighter. The girl bites her lip and walks toward me. She is beautiful, her eyes are light brown, her skin is smooth.
"I am not a whore looking for money. I appreciate your concern, but I must get inside. I am looking for someone".
I can't help but laugh, "there are over twenty men with guns in that tent alone!" I say pointing up at the hill "do you really believe you can just find someone, and take them with you? Unharmed?"
She starts to cry; "I have no other choice! I gave him my word, he is my only living brother!" The girl looks down, then stares into my eyes "I will do anything to get him back. I am his only hope". She is serious. , even so I decided not to yield.
"If you go you will both die.", I say with a calm bluntness, "right now I am your only hope".

She promises to come back tomorrow. First she gazes at the tents one more time, she looks afraid, sad and vulnerable. "Goodbye", she snaps, "goodnight".
I hope she never comes back. I hope God saves her.

Don't Rain on My Parade

I've had enough. It's over. No more stress, no more pain, nor more hurt.
I don't deserve it anymore, that's what I say, and this is what I said:
"Don't you rain on my parade no more".

I took it for so long, let it hit me so hard, and finally I fell.
I buckeled under the pressure, melted with heat,
Until there was nothing more of me,
Nothing left to feed.

What happened to my innocence?
What happened to my carefree?
Everyone join me in a protest to fight for equality and happiness,
The revolution starts with me.

I march for love and the right to live,
I have been jailed for so long,
Imprisoned by guilt and power.
Today I broke free, and yelled out: "I have no more to give."

When it gets tough to cope, difficult to deal,
I remember; this is what I want,
This is what is real.

Only God can protect my body,
But I can protect my soul,
I can sheild and shelter it,
Then yell at the storm: "Don't rain on my parade no more!"

Finally I emerge, tears spilling from my eyes; it's done.
It's finished, I can breathe and patch my sores,
I get on my knees, and ask God;
"Please don't let him..Oh please don't let him rain on my parade no more."

The story of a Joker

Everyone I know seems to fuse into one person. My friends, colleagues, acquaintances all have one head, one face, one mind. I wish all this was some hippy allusion or drugged ecstasy, but I am completely sober. I have overdosed on anxiety, and there are no hefty orderlies to pick me up by my armpits, while I thrash and kick. I felt many times that I need to be committed. All it takes is one bad day reduce the sanest man alive to lunacy. It's a quote that I strongly believe. Today I lived it. I had a twisted epiphany which brought me to insanity. I don't cry or shed a tear, but instead clench my fists in a rage of ecstasy. It hasn't made me bitter, nor has it made me depressed. Oh depression is long gone; I have already committed suicide and I'm living proof. I can't deny pain, but only transform it, like the stages of a butterfly. I have no attachments, I am free from condescending, superficial and circumstantial friendships. I mean who would want to be friends with a lunatic? I wouldn't.

True Happiness

It's puzzling to wonder whether true happiness can be relied solely on oneself. The source of my joy comes from other peoples reinforcements. I feel as though my self esteem must be given to me on some superficail egotistical platter. Most of the time, my anxieties and sorrow surprise momentarily, then come and go with familiarity. I have never yet looked to my own self for advice, nor trusted my own heart for reassurance. This is the reason I am filled with lonliness and angst, even though I am surrounded by dozens of people. Many have told me I must love myself first, but it is a task I have never understood. My subservient qualities are detrimental to my friend and relationships. Guidance and psychological explanations of my behaviour are only a small grain in a bed full of sand. Hope is something that comes with motivation, a feeling that too must come from the inner workings of oneself. I am not permanent; I borrow contempt and esteem, without these, I am drained.

Thursday, May 13, 2010

The Blood Worshiper

After killing her, she went to Starbucks. She ordered a Grande Black Tea Latte "please", her eyes glowed red, her teeth protruded past her scabbed lips. The cashiers heart beat profusely as she tapped in the order. She wasn't sure if the girl was going to kill her or take the tea, sit down and graciously leave after her cup was empty. It was unlikely. The strange customer sucked on her bloodied fingers with a furrowed brow, and an awful slurping noise. The cashier gulped and then spoke softly;
"it will be $2.49 please", she said as she shivered.
The girl smiled, and then slowly lifted her head so that their eyes met;
"yes of course", was the reply.
Then she quickly whipped her head back down to dig into her purse aggressively. Finally after what seemed like an eternity, she pulled out a toonie and a loonie. She held out her bloodied palm, the coins covered in blood as well. The cashier took the money holding the edges of each coin with a nervous precision. She then cringed as she opened her cash and plopped the girls change back into her hands.
"I'll be right back", she said quickly, hoping that escape was still possible.
"No", the girl said in a deep unshaken voice, "your not going anywhere".

It was half past midnight when the girl left Starbucks. She looked up at the moon, and wiped the blood from her mouth. Suddenly a car pulled into the parking lot, a short man driving the vehicle furrowed his brow as he saw the young lady in blood walking over to him.
"Can I help you?" , he said very terrified and a little concerned.
"Yes", she said with an innocent pout " I need a ride".

Wednesday, May 12, 2010

A Lesson In Love

You feel like you don't deserve it, then when it comes your way, you can't get enough. Love is like candy, you never want that "yummy" feeling to go away. Then when it ends, its over. You feel bewildered, hurt, angry, regretful, and you just want it back. But its over, you have to control yourself. No going back or falling victim to your cravings. Snap out of it! and be own your way. Move forward and don't look back. You can cry, scream, and kick your feet. Just don't do anything drastic, take a deep breath, and realize who you really are. Sometimes something that seems perfect can be flawed. Maybe you got excited too soon, or it ended too fast. Just like candy, its gone before you even know it. Don't be down dear, don't be sad, pick up that lip, and get up quick! Life isn't over, no matter how much it feels like it, life is definitely not over. Sometimes moving on is one of the best things that you will ever do. Don't dwell in the memories, and don't think about what could have been. Instead, look forward at the life ahead, you only have one, so make the best out of what you've got.

Monday, May 10, 2010

Shrink Me

The world goes round. Yet, at times, I feel like it has stopped. When I'm all alone I listen to the sound of quiet. The sound you only hear at one in the morning. I hear the rain putter pattering delicately upon my window, I hear the sound of cars whizzing softly, yet swiftly down the road. I close my eyes. The earth has stopped. Life is paralyzed. Sometimes I think someone else in the world can hear it too.

"Hear what?", the woman looks down at me, her spectacles at the tip of her nose.

"The earth stopping", I say barely looking up at her, then putting my head back down.

"What does this sound like?", She asks leaning toward me; trying to look underneath my half closed eyelids.

"Nothing", I reply "It's just quiet". She wants to laugh, but she tries to spare my feelings, and suppresses the giggle with a queasy smile. The smile is full of pride, and her chest is full of crumbs.

"So how often do you sit and listen to this..nothing?" She asks leaning back, and attempting to regain composure.

"Everyday", I say softly, but this time I look into her eyes, and hold my intense gaze for quite some time. She begins to look nervous; shifting her eyes away, and ruffling about her files.

"I think this is all we need for today", she says as she clears her throat, and looks at her watch.

I find it hard to believe she actually gained something today. I find it even harder to believe that my mom is paying her 50 dollars an hour to do this. Sometimes I view my day as an episode on a sitcom, or a chapter in a book. What will happen on the next episode? I have no idea.

Thursday, May 6, 2010


Most people will never truly understand the feeling of desperation. I feel it every day. I watch my life go past me, flickering past my eyes like an old black and white movie. I stand on a street corner. I stand so I can see the people's faces, and look into their eyes. Out here its called gazing. Some of us don't like it, they think its too aggressive, but I think its perfect to manifest the fear in people's subconscious. For the first two days I was out here, I sat and talked to shoes. Nobody gave a shit. By gazing people have to care. It's like they are forced to care, forced to yell at me or regurgitate some change. It works. Everyone out here has their own technique that they like, Madison shows a bit of skin, Al likes to make small talk, and I like to gaze. Out here they call me blue, I have bright blue eyes which I use to my advantage. I get into their brain, their souls, then their wallets.