This is a new month. A triumphant, legendary month, if you will. Good bye March and hello April. And this April I am going to stopping caring what you think. With the exception of strolling down the street in my underwear or worse, jeggings, I anything I wear is okay. Before I only wore a really wierd outfit (which compared to the ownage stuff some of you wear is like for when you are sick and at home and watching Bold and the Beautiful or something) when I was in the city, where all the other wierd people are and no one from school or my suburb could see me in something "totally uncool man." But now hopefully I will turn up to the next casual clothes day in something that (gasp) is not from supre, with my head held high and ten billion majestical unicorns, no, pegasi fluttering behind me.
Now you probably think I've gone crazy, spending my holdiays fantasizing over flying unicorns and talking about Bold and the Beautiful. I haven't. I just wanted to wait for April, which has never been that special a month for me, to start fresh and not post just because I have to but because I want to.
But here's the thing I'm really excited about:photos! My brother's photography flukes have become more frequent and now I have a growing suspicion he has talent. I must say its a big shock, like in the words of that girl from 27 dresses "I feel like I just found out my favourite love song was written about a sandwich."
I've had photos in my head for a while now, as well as the lost boys from Peter Pan and cubby houses, so after persuading my brother a maximum of five photos were taken and they turned out good. Here they are:
And here is some stuff that got me into this freedom, running away from home mood. But not really escaping and rebelling, but leaving and living with your fellow kids in makeshift tents and eating oranges straight off the tree.
This is all a bit magical. So now I want to show the prolouge of the story I started writing on my typewriter. I would love to scan it in here, but it has crosses all over it and little arrows to add words in. Here is some, it is way better typewritten though:
Mosquitoes filled the atmosphere and an eerie summer breeze blew through the empty town. Normally summer is a joyous time, for trips to the seaside and icecream by the tonne. But the fact that it was muggy and therefore almost impossible to get off your butt, let alone think, just made the fact a child was missing far worse. Summer vibes brought nasty thoughts to Calvus Fudge's mind. Ideas of torture and poison seeped into his brain, clouding his vision and diminishing his hope. It had been 7 hours since the shock of seeing his sons empty bed and in Calvus' opinion the shock just kept coming back and slapping hjom in the face. He dreaded searching anymore, in case his sons body was discovered. But someones call shook him from his worries.
"It looks like a-a toe...." whispered Ophelia Fudge to her husband.
"We will take this to authorities immediately" said the solemn policeman "they will determine if this, big toe on the left, I believe, is your son's."
Calvus just nodded and prayed he was dreaming a horrible summer nightmare.
Marlia Polt tip toed through the fluffy carpet and into her sisters room. The rainforest whispered constantly in the background and the faint drip of the tap accompanied the serenity of the night. Marlia was attempting to be as silent as possible, because it was midnight, but quiet is not one of the adjectives that could be used to describe her. As soon as she had walked a few steps into the room she tripped clumsly over an unknown object. Angriliy she bent down to inspect the object.
"WHAT THE @#*?!&&^^*%????????" Marlia errupted, confirming the fact that she is far from quiet. But in her defence, the object, a left big toe, would have startled anyone. And the startling continued, glancing into her sisters bed and seeing it empty, Marlia yelled. Shouted over the peace and serenity of the rainforest.
After completing her knitting for the night, Grandma Rimpel shuffled along the wooden floor to check on her granddaughter. Stopping to push her wide framed glasses up her wrinkly nose, Grandma Rimpel relished in the silence of that winter's night in the country. Smiling to herself at the simplicity and happiness of life. She continued to shuffle on, finally reaching her granddaughter's room. The bedsheets were unusally flat, but Grandma Rimpel, the inoccent elderly citizen she was, had no clue of the shock that would follow and cause her to fall and break her fragile hip. Pulling back the covers while humming some Frank Sinatra song, the old lady fainted, broke her ancient hip and wondered frantically what a left big toe was doing in her house.
Grandma Rimpel died later that week.
Her last wishes was for someone to finish her knitting and to get that wretched toe out of her expensive sheets.
In a place far away from all that is loving and cosy. In a place where things that could not possibly be conceived in your most bloodchilling nightmares happen and where evil things lurk someone was studying a very long list. Her long fingernails clutched the parchment and her cruel eyes searched down the rows of names. Porcus Fudge, check. Urna Polt, check. Daisy Rimpel, check.
"Whos next, who is next.....?" The evil creature pondered nastily. "ahhhh, excellent " she exclaimed after finding the next name. "SKRIKER!" she crowed.
A knarled, scrawny goblin appeared immediately, wiping some sticky substance off his hands. "Yes?" he asked.
"Alert them ALL, this is the next target, see to it immediately. And no stupid mistakes this time or you know what will happen." She ordered baring her sharp, black teeth.
"Yes your greatness. O-of c-course." Skriker stammered, mesmorized by the very sharp, piercing teeth, that could easily deal with anyone who made stupid mistakes. And off he went to alert the other. Leaving the horrible creature to her list and evilness.
TA DA!! Hope it wasn't too creepy/wierd/boring/bad.
tell me what you think, critism is welcome.