I’m Fully Over This Challenge 

I’m behind and bored of this challenge so this will be the penultimate day, even though technically I’m on Day 22.

Pet peeves:

  • People who stand on the wrong side of the escalator especially at rush hour (I feel like this is a really British pet peeve) Or stop in the middle of a crowded area.
  • People who lack the concept of personal space. A bonus is when they have bad personal hygiene like body odor or bad breath. 
  • Seeing kids rude to their parents, like I always see kids out with their parents wearing headphones ignoring their parents. I know it is none of my business and it shouldn’t bug me but it does. 
  • Rude people in general and people who bitch behind others back. At least have the balls to say it to their face. Add racist people and hypocrites to this.

    Please comment your peeves too (so I don’t feel like I’m easily annoyed). I’m curious to see what other ones there are.

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    The 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 15

    Day 15: Characterise the second-last app on your phone or the last website you’ve visited (before this one). Send this new character to the supermarket.

    The confused young man ran from the top to bottom of the supermarket. He intended to go in simply for some milk but completely forgot what he came in for. He reckoned it must have been important if he actually made the trip, so he persevered. He thought that when he saw it then he would remember but up until that happens there was nothing else to do but run around like a headless chicken.

    The whole supermarket was a mess, but only to him. To the typical human eye, it was normal. The items were stacked, dome in a manner to comply with regulations and all fit in. However, he could see the shabby workmanship, therefore he would often stop fix things up. His philosophy was if it wasn’t worth taking a picture then it simply wasn’t worth it. That was what he did, he made it look as if he was doing a shoot. Ridiculous as it may seem that a supermarket could seem anything other than how we see it but his world is different to ours, better in a way.

    Quickly his tremendously short attention span would catch up and he would move on. There truly was an issue for him for paying attention for more than five minutes. From a young age his parents wanted to take his pills and he did for a short time but the main thing it provided was massive headaches and stifling his creativity.

    Eventually he gave up and left the supermarket, along with several items he didn’t he need. But thought he did. Just a bag of snacks, various fruits and a bottle of coke that was half finished already. He entered his house and wanted to wind down with a cup of tea. He boiled the kettle and went to the fridge for some milk.

    Then he realised, he needed to go to the store.

    The 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 12

    Day 12: Take the first line of your favourite novel. Remove and replace the nouns and verbs, and write a story that begins with your new line. Delete the first line.

    {Okay, I did a little bit of cheating. I hated how complex this seemed so I just used a random sentence generator as the first line and deleted it after I finished writing. Hope you enjoyed reading this!}

    That was the story he told his lawyer anyway. He lied to everyone and the lies only piled higher and higher. Sitting in the poorly lit police interrogation room gave some time for reflection since there was so little to look at, which leads the perpetrator’s mind to wander. There were no windows present, not even a clock. He had completely lost track of the time, he just knew that he must have been there longer than an hour. They confiscated his phone and watch along with his wallet prior to entry.

    The singular light was dangling from the ceiling; which gave him a headache due to its flickering. It only reminded him of a cancelled cop show from the 80s. His lower back started to ache from sitting on the metal chair, which matched the metal table his hands were resting on. The table took up most of the room which further emphasised how tiny the room truly was.

    And finally, in the room was the usual one-way mirror. He knew that he was being watched. Maybe they wanted him to be left alone with his thoughts. Maybe they expected him to confess. But then again none of them knew about his sociopathic tendencies. He was done waiting. He got up from the bone breaking chair and started stretching. He slowly walked over to the “mirror” and from the other side officer Rogers was staring directly at him. He stopped in front of this officer and looked him right in the eye. “I have dinner plans. Can we get this over a done with?”

    The other officers were startled; how could he possibly be looking the officer in charge of his arrest in the eye without seeing him? “People, it’s merely a coincidence.” As he briefly turned away from the glass, there was a knock, “Officer, look here. I’m still waiting.”

    With that the officer stormed into the room with his partner, officer Diaz. They both knew that man waiting for them in that room was guilty. Everyone knew. But there wasn’t enough evidence. There were even witnesses but none of them were willing to step forward; they were all scared. They just needed more from him. There he sat with a smile on his face while rocking back on the chair. “Officers,” he said, “you forgot the phonebook!” He laughed at his quip. “Come on, at least give me a smile. I spent one hour thinking of something to say.”

    Both were uneasy, this man had an aura about him which made the certain that he was a psycho. They exchanged glances.

    “Now, don’t be strangers. Take a seat lets catch up. How’s the case? Any new leads?”

    “Mr Williams, you know that we are unable to answer that question. However, we think that you may be of some help,” replied Diaz.

    “You know that I am always happy to help. Don’t you, Officer Rogers?”

    The silent Rogers finally spoke. “This crime the woman was violently beaten in an alleyway. There are some markers on her body I have never seen before. Who knows what else this psycho did to her. She wasn’t beaten and bruised to the extent where she was unrecognisable. Its sick, wouldn’t you agree? She was forced to endure this pain and eventually succumbed to her injuries as she died later in hospital.”

    “It is indeed horrible, officer. But why am I here? We have been through this song and dance and we have established my alibi along with the authenticity of it.”

    “Yes but that was before your supposed female acquaintance was actually seen shopping in a store rather than with you on May 17th like you said.”

    “And where are these sources who said that? I’m guessing you have willing statements.”

    “So you agree that its true?”

    “No. I am telling you to check your sources as they are mistaken. I am an upstanding member of society. Along with my female associate.”

    The men stared each other down until Diaz chimed in. “We are simply giving you a chance. Perverting the cause of justice is a crime and if you alter your statement now then your associate may not be in trouble.”

    “If I didn’t know any better that sounds like a threat.”

    Another silence that fell into the room.

    “If you are down with your questions, I presume that I can take my leave?” Williams stood up to leave.

    “Again officers, it is such a tragic event and send my condolences to her family. It must be hard to a single mother. Especially to someone so young. Good luck with the case.”

    Rogers immediately bolted up. He grabbed Williams by the collar and pushed him up against the wall. “Cut the shit Williams. You know you did it. We know you did it. Fess up and at least that way you might get lucky and get slightly less than a life sentence.”

    “Sir, I don’t think your department approves of you doing this to such a high-profile client.”

    “I’m not going to tell. Diaz isn’t going to tell. And no one is going to believe a piece of shit like you.”

    Diaz spoke up. “Rogers, I won’t tell anyone but I don’t want you to get into trouble.”

    “Isn’t that sweet? Your lady doesn’t want you to get in trouble.”

    Rogers tightened his grip. “Diaz, don’t you see. She was a minor, we disclosed no details about her. There wasn’t even a name but he knows that she lives with a single mother. With the information we have released he shouldn’t even know that she’s a minor. It doesn’t add up.”

    “If you really think that’s enough to work with officer then your deluded. There’s no way they will put someone like me away for that.”

    Rogers finally released him. “That may be so but you don’t know what else we have on you.”

    “You’re bluffing.

    “I guess you will just have to wait and see. See you in court.”

    The 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 11

    Day 11: You are now a dragon. Describe your hoard.

     

    Somewhere millions of years ago

    A new day calls for a new adventure. The world is so small when you can fly, it used to be lonely but I found a new home. A home which consists of an ensemble of misfits. But we aren’t misfits anymore because we found a place we belong.

    First there’s me, Titania. I’m a very average dragon; not the smallest or largest. Nor am I particularly strong but by no means weak. Just average. I tell a lot of bad jokes and try to lighten the mood when others get heated but I also find it difficult to read the atmosphere, especially when people are emotional which gets me into trouble more than I care to admit. Despite this I tend to get along with the others quite easily due to my lazy attitude.

    Next we have Valentinus, he is a very loveable character. Typically described as the loveable idiot by others in the group. Nice but clumsy are the two words which describe him the best. There have been a few occasions where he forgets that he needs to use his wings to fly and is shocked when he starts getting closer to the ground. No matter how easily distracted he gets, no one would dare mess with him as in the hoard he is by far the largest and the strongest.

    Another colourful character is Zephyros, she is constantly angry and looking for a fight. She successfully gets into fights and usually ends up victorious, however it still results in plenty of scratches and bruises. Somehow in these antics the others regularly get dragged in. She also has a habit to quietly make here leave, noted for her disappearing act which makes her hard to find.

    The “leader” of the group is Nikomedes.  He is a reluctant leader and by no means thinks he is capable or even willing. He is the best leader they could have and in an odd way he sometimes admits that he is quite good at it. being smart and tactical make him a perfect fit for what he does however he is lazy and dislikes the idea of babysitting the others, making for a very unorthodox leader.

    In all the strong personalities, which occur, there needs to be a buffer. This in no way means they don’t have a strong personality, but their personality is one that doesn’t clash with the others and instead calms others This is where Ashoka comes into play. He has a very tranquil aura which gets passed onto the others which can dissipate the thirst of blood for fights. He can stand his own when he needs to, therefore not someone who can be pushed over. In general, however, people do not want to annoy him as he is known for being the pure one, gaining him the younger brother role.

    Similarly, to Ashoka who has a calming aura, we have Euthalia. She is very caring to the others and simply known for “loving too much”. In the past she has never fit in anywhere which is why this group of misfits mean so much to her. When everyone fights or there is a possibly she is the quickest to show emotion, only emphasising she is the one who is the most attached. It is a common occurrence that she adopts other strays so has a lot of other animals which surround her. This has fated her with being the “mum” of the group.

    Finally, we had Ragna, she is the “planner”, giving the group a sense of purpose as she decides where they’ll go and what to do as firstly she is the only who can be bothered and also the fact that she is forever organised. She gets along with everyone without too much friction but gets along the best with Nikomedes due to them spending a lot of time together to decide what the group should do. Also, the tactical attributes they both possess. They are known for being quite deadpan and emotionless but feels genuine love for the rest of the group.

    Sometimes I feel like my existence in this group doesn’t matter, no one would realise if I was there or not. However, I often get reminded that we are a family and that’s enough to stick around.

    The 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 6

    Day 6: Think of your favourite food. Try to make it sound as disgusting as possible.

    I really love food so this hurt my soul to write. And it made me a little hungry.

    A combination of nauseating ingredients. They are stacked layers on top of each other, as if already overcompensating for the unpalatable taste.

    It Is housed between two dry buns, having absolutely no flavour. Simply just drying out your mouth. The lack of taste can only be achieved with a mixture of chemicals. A food that should be pure but instead is injected with a number of falsities.

    On top of this a carcass of a once living animal is slabbed in. On this living thing resides thousands of other living things, this makes it prone to disease and other organisms harvesting on the surface. Bacteria all around it. Blood could still be running through the corpse.

    Another piece which is coated in bacteria and grown from the soil. Insects rely on the sustenance it gives. As a result, it is either crawling with bugs or sprayed with excessive pesticides. Either way, I don’t know what’s more repulsive.

    Finally, there must be some kind of sauce to provide moisture to all the dry ingredients. Therefore, a combination of oil with a tiny bit of egg is added. It’s revolting, the consistency alone is enough to make you get.

    There we have it, a food with many ingredients which most likely will fall apart the second you hold it. A food that tries so hard to be delicious, yet has too many contradictions.

    The 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 5

    Day 5: The last liquid you drank has turned your protagonist into a superhero. What do your character’s new powers allow him or her to do?

    There was a familiar comfort that existed in a hot beverage. The feeling that arises as your lips touch the warm cup and you take the first dainty sip to try not to burn your mouth, it was almost like receiving a hug but better. The warmth it provided both inside and outside of your body, it felt ethereal. All this alongside the sensation of flavours that danced in your mouth. It seems quite peculiar to assume a cup of tea could be described as magical or even slightly poetic but no one understood this more than our young protagonist.

    After the surreal experiences that she had faced in the last few weeks, she needed the stress relief which she had always found in a simple thing such as tea. It may seem absurd for someone reading this but one must understand the feeling that nostalgia gives us and how in one moment your world may not feel like it is crumbling anymore from something like making a simple cup of tea.

    She took sip and her lips turned up into a smile.

    Three hours later

    Our young protagonist is now seen in the corner of her room, pressed up against the wall with her knees clutched against her chest. She is wearing a gigantic hoodie which covers her face but there are noticeable gleams of water trickling down her face which shine in the dim light of the room. Then the screaming, “no, stop, make it stop,” said in unison with a piercing shriek.

    Another young woman bursts through the door in response. She sees her best friend snivelling in the corner and immediately rushes to her aide. “What’s happened?”

    In a meek little voice, she responds, “I’m a freak.”

    “What are you talking about? Of course, you aren’t.”

    With no warning the distressed woman removes her hoodie to reveal her face, which appeared to have thin vines growing out of it. Her face still recognisable but having plants grow out of it.

    Her best friend did the last thing she expected. She laughed. “What the fuck? Of course, this would happen to you.”

    That was not at all comforting, “why are you laughing, I have leaves growing on me. I hate nature.”

    “Yes. It’s a very unfortunate and confusing situation.” She cleared her throat, “but after all the weird things that happen to you, I guess I am just desensitised now. But I’ll assure you one thing: you always get out of it fighting.”

    Our protagonist was glad her friend did not run screaming. Just as her worries started to subside a sharp pain echoed through her mind. Her fingers were at her temple as she let out a small whimper.

    “What happened now?” The best friend asked with genuine concern.

    “You really would not believe me if I told you.”

    “I just found this normal. Try me.”

    As the sharp pain dulled out she spoke, “the neighbours are cutting their grass and I can hear it.”

    “The lawnmower?”

    “No, the grass. They’re in pain. They’re screaming. And everything here made of natural substance is humming. Like they have an energy that I can feel and it’s like I can understand them.”

    Now her friend was speechless.

    “It’s crazy.” She rushed over to her desk and rest her hand on top, “but I know the tree this came from was from Africa. It grew for almost 500 years and got cut down, also it wasn’t made to be a desk. It was a dressing table a man got for his wife for her 60th birthday.”

    “Did you make that all up?”

    “I wish. And look at this.” She pressed her hand against the wall and closed her eyes as on the wall grew branches surrounded with bright green leaves.

    “can you fix my plant that was dying in the hallway.”

    “I already did. It was crying. Can you please water it?”

    “Sure.”

    There was a silence, as our protagonist had disturbing thoughts running through her head which simultaneously was clouded by fear, on the contrary her friend stared in bewilderment to the newfound powers which was overshadowed by a feeling of amazement.

    Her friend finally asked, “would you like some tea?”

    I would really like to write another scene for this but without a time limit. 

    The 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 3

    Day 3: Now send your character to his or her grumpy grandmother’s house for a visit. Write the scene of your character’s arrival.

     

    I took a deep exhale as I stand in front of the door, the odd off-white colour that it has faded to over the years. I reached for the doorbell and heard the sound resonate inside, the ringing rapidly ended and was followed by a disconcerting silence. Therefore, I was left with no other choice but to wait, it quickly became clear that no one was coming to the door. As much as I wanted to turn around, I did not. Instead I chose to persevere. I pressed the doorbell and pushed it repeatedly. After the many attempts, I finally heard footsteps approaching the door. They were loud heavy footsteps hastily approaching the door. From the other side, there was a vague mutter, mixed with the sounds of the door being unbolted, a chain rattling, along with many other commotions. Then the final click.

    As the door slowly opened I found myself praying ‘please don’t let it be her, please not her’.

    The door cracked open ever so slightly revealing a livid face of a withered old lady. Even though she was clearly in her seventies, the look of disdain in her face evoked a twinge of fear in me. Not because I was afraid she would disapprove of me, or I worried about her judgment but because I felt she could probably pack a punch. She was that kind of woman, the woman everyone feared, even the burly men in this neighbourhood did not want to cross her.

    “Oh, it’s you,” she said, her facial expression unchanging.

    I faked a smile: “Nan, are you going to allow your favourite grandchild to remain in the cold any longer?”

    “Who the hell said you were my favourite?” she simply opened the door. “What brings you here?”

    I walked into through the hallway into the living room and crashed onto the couch. In a normal event like this a grandma would be baking cookies or maybe even greet their grandchild with a hug or a vague bit of happiness. In this household, there was no such luck.

    “Do I need a reason?” I looked around, this was clearly awkward for the both of us.

    “For now I wont question it. Do you want tea?”

    I hesitated, “Yeah, sure. Where’s gramps?”

    “Out with his friends. You’d think those boys are twenty by the way they act.”

    I laughed. That’s so like grandad to be a kid. He would always teach me ways to piss of my grandma, and my parents, then he would laugh about it after. He taught me how to play cards, and that is how we spent a lot of time. I developed quite the poker face because of that old joker.

    “You always did like him more than me,” grandma commented.

    I remained quiet, there isn’t much that can be said as a rebuttal.

    “I thought girls are meant to be chatty.” She looked at me up and down, “well, you don’t really act or dress like a girl. Your hair is in your face constantly and you are wearing damaged clothes.”

    “Okay, firstly these jeans are ripped for fashion. Second, I came for a nice chat with gramps because I lost hope in you being nice years ago.”

    And with that, by pure irony, the kettle alarm went off. Grandma still looking unfazed turned to attend to it.

    As she had her back faced to me, I stuck out my tongue.

    “If you have your tongue out be prepared to lose it.”

    “Of course not, ma’am.”

    “Please, the amount of times I caught you doing that as a child and you think I believe that?”

    I laughed, “yeah it was always funny seeing your face go red when I got caught.”

    “You really are your grandad.”

    I was still laughing and managed to cough out, “Nan, how do you have a straight face right now? Remember when your face when redder than ever and it seemed like steam was coming out, I got scared but gramps started laughing so hard and he was drinking. I swear I saw water come out of his nose, and he started choking but still laughing.”

    With that memory both their raucous laughs filled up the room.

    “That is nothing though. When your grandfather first met my parents, he was so nervous my dad asked him a question about kids in the future, he got so flustered that he practically spat water on my dad and himself. He spent the rest of the evening in a woman’s t-shirt because dad refused to give him one of his.”

    “No way! I need to ask him about that.”

    “He really is an old fool.”

    “But you love him.”

    “Yeah and so do you.”

    “That’s true. I love you too, though, nan.”

    She reached over and wrapped her arm around me, “even though I am a pain.” She then kissed the top of my head and whispered, “I love you too, my child.”

    It was silent for a while but not an uncomfortable silence, a nice moment because for the first time in my life I felt we were truly on the same page.

    “You are obviously staying for dinner. What do you want to eat?”

    “Nan, how would you feel about cookies?”

    ~~~~

    The two women were in the kitchen as the grandad walks into the house humming showtunes and clutching a bouquet of flowers. He is greeted to a sound he doesn’t often hear and it brings him such joy, he can hear his wife laughing with his granddaughter.

    The grandma simply thinks ‘She really is my favourite’.

    The granddaughter is glad she came because the truth of the matter is she visited because ‘she missed them both’.

    The grandad thinks of how lucky he is, the woman who is his granddaughter is just like the woman he fell in love with 50 years ago; the woman he still is in love with. Despite these two women being stubborn and a big pain in his ass, they can get along and love each other.

    They both look at him enter and greet him with a smile as he joined the laughter and help them bake the cookies the grandkid has waited long enough for.

    The 30-Day Writing Challenge: Day 2

    Day 2: Think of three people in your life. Give your character the hair and laugh of person 1, the face and bedroom of person 2, and the wardrobe and mannerisms of person 3. This is your new protagonist. Feel free to give him or her any other characteristics you’d like. Give us an idea of who your character is by describing only the first 60 seconds of the character’s day.

     

    My eyelids fluttered open with the sun peaking through a gap from my curtains. I reached for my phone on my desk, which is positioned conveniently next to my bed. I sat up ever so slightly, that now my head rested on the wall instead on the pillow. As my eyes adjusted to the start of the day, I could see the time on the screen read: 8:40 am. I could see my black hair in front of my eyes, obscuring my vision, and knew it was sticking up at the top of my head. I scanned the room, the other side of my bed had the door which was still tightly closed. Another corner separated by a radiator, I glimpsed at the draw where I often chuck clean clothes, on top they were unfolded and scattered across. After I spotted that my wardrobe was open revealing clothes that I could possibly wear through the day, however my day had not yet started. I threw my phone on the desk scattered with notes an a half-open book. I could get up and put some music on to try to dance awake, but instead I got the pillow and press it on my face and try to return to my slumber so I did not have to think a moment longer.

    I got bored and thought I would offer a slight visual. It was done in a short time and I was trying to do people that I know so I apologise for the quality. Just drawn for fun with an idea of how the character should look in my art style. 

    Conformity’s A Bitch

    I never used to be like this
    I used to have dreams
    My own pathetic bliss
    I used to laugh

    I wasn’t their perfect little thing
    I didn’t wait for someone to save me
    Because never did I need saving
    I was me

    I always was fair
    I wore and spoke how I pleased
    Even gave them my favourite gesture
    When they deserve it

    I wasn’t lonely
    Even when I was alone
    Not everyone loved me
    But some people did

    I was a normal woman
    But I was a little weird
    And it is fun
    Rocker chick or goth girl

    I loved it

    I wish for those days back

    And I remember how I got here
    Their own little experiment
    Their own little freak
    To test against conformity

    To see if I would become one them
    I promised I wouldn’t
    Never become like them
    Or betray all I stood for

    Fortunately for them
    I failed

    Instead I have the bittersweet memories
    Of looking at the person I used to be

    From my pedestal
    Like those I promised never to be

    Screaming through my plastic shell
    For someone to save me from my own little hell

    I’ve turned into their own personal barbie doll

    A toy to love and
    to leave

    I swear that from my fake exterior that I felt a single tear fall

    Dystopian

    The world we once lived in has passed by us. There was no time to appreciate or treasure it. We lived and killed it and now it’s gone.

    For today is a new day in a new world. With the same people. This is not a bittersweet truth, this is a monstrous truth.

    The truth of the matter is that the people in this world will feast on you until there is only remnants of what you once were, a hollow being with the same face.

    People change and become more and more spiteful, the land becomes more sterile.

    Yes, it’s a new scary world. We will live in it and destroy it again- it’s just in our nature. We lose our world, our love, our morals and our hope.

    Okay, I think this is the outcome of reading too many dystopian novels. Hope you enjoyed, tell me what you think in the comments.