Books: April 2013

This month was the month of the play (we did The Hobbit), but unlike last year, my reading didn't go down :p I somehow managed to keep up.

Books Read:
-Sparkling Cyanide
-Murder at Hazelmoor
-The Hunter's Moon
-Towards Zero
-Evil Under the Sun
-Hamlet (The Novel)
-The Grimm Collection
-The Man in the Brown Suit
-The Book of Story Beginnings
-The Secret Hour
-Touching Darkness
-Blue Noon
-Daughters of Fire
-The Secret Panel
-The Empty City

Total: 15

Books Bought:
-They Came to Baghdad
-The Boomerang Clue
-The Moving Finger
-The Murder of Roger Ackroyd
-Dead Man's Folly
-Easy to Kill
-The Mysterious Mr. Quin
-Passenger to Frankfurt
-Third Girl
-By the Pricking of My Thumbs
-Destination Unknown
-They do it with Mirrors
-The Secret Panel

Total: 13

Books: March 2013

Books Read:
-The Fantasy Worlds of Peter Beagle
-Frankenstein
-The Picture of Dorian Gray
-Heart of Darkness
-Elephants Can Remember
-City of Bones
-The Flickering Torch Mystery
-Romantic Ghost Stories
-Fahrenheit 451
-City of Glass
-The Rogue Crew
-City of Ashes
-The Melted Coins
-50 Great Ghost Stories

Total: 14

Books Bought:
-Elephants can Remember
-The Flickering Torch Mystery
-The Singer of All Songs
-City of Bones
-City of Glass
-The Rogue Crew
-Sparkling Cyanide
-Murder at the Vicarage
-Murder at Hazelmoor
-The Tenth Power
-The Man in the Brown Suit
-Evil Under the Sun
-Towards Zero
-The Melted Coins

Total: 14

Stomach vs. Me

(Warning: This story is not for the faint of stomach. It involves puking.)

  When I was a child, I often got the flu or a bad cold, and was at the mercy of my overly delicate internal system. My record of puking in one day is sixteen times, and that’s a fact. My body was more of a spoiled brat than I was, throwing tantrums at every possible moment.

  However, those days are in the past, because now I am a mature and in-control seventeen year old. I have carefully learned the art of ignoring my stomach’s complaints, and can put off having a cold for weeks. It’s really all in the power of the mind, I have discovered. That, or I’m just lazy.

  Once such example of this new found power happened during spring break. We were visiting my aunt and uncle for a few days. My aunt is a wonderful cook and I took every opportunity to stuff myself silly with croissants, potatoes and sausages of all kinds. It felt like my days were full of meal after meal, and I really don’t remember actually feeling hungry at all during those few days.

  All was well, right until the evening before we were going to drive home. Before going to bed, I watched a TV show with my parents, snacking on leftovers from supper. And of course, I had to wash the food down with a glass of juice.

  Feeling quite satisfied, I said goodnight to my parents and wandered off to my room. Being a writer, I like to stay up late, working on stories and chatting with people on Facebook. At around eleven o’clock, I was feeling rather tired, and knew I should go to sleep, because I’d be getting up early the next day. I closed the laptop, wrote in my journal for a few minutes, and then turned off the light.

  The darkness was so warm and cozy and I felt quite content as I burrowed under the covers. My bed was just a mattress on the floor, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t comfortable. I was so excited to sleep. Already, I could feel my brain shutting down, and knew that I would fall asleep in no time.

  Until my stomach suddenly started to complain. Usually, my stomach only complains quietly and I can easily ignore it. Tonight though, it was super loud, annoying me greatly.

  “Hey! Hey you! Yeah, you, stop ignoring me!” It said, and I rolled my eyes. “Go away, Stomach, I’m trying to sleep.”

  It was silent for a few moments, and I closed my eyes. Then it yelled, “No, I don’t want to let you sleep! I hate you!”

  I wasn’t too upset by this, seeing as the feeling was mutual. I was already half in dreamland, and was too tired to do anything but sleep. My stomach would just have to deal with it.

  “Hey! I’m talking to you!!” It shrieked, and for a moment, I wondered if my stomach was actually really serious today. I curled onto my side and growled angrily. “Go die, stomach.”

 This made my stomach really mad, and then it asked my imagination for reinforcements. Suddenly, the only things I could think of were gross things, like dead animals, and eyeballs, and axe murderers. I realized what my stomach’s plan of attack was, and shook my head stubbornly.

  “Really, Stomach, this is quite childish of you, resorting to such low tricks. I don’t feel like getting up to puke, and that’s that.”

 

  My stomach whined at me. “I told you over and over to never eat food again! But do you listen to me? Noooo. You just think you know best, and so you eat, causing me such awful distress.”

  “Oh, cry me a river and shut up.” I grumbled, now trying to ignore both my stomach and my imagination. However, my imagination was far more powerful than my stomach, and once it had decided to turn against me (the traitorous wretch), I knew it was a lost cause. Still, I wasn’t going to give my stomach the satisfaction of rushing to the bathroom and puking, like it had won or something.

   “Really now, go puke. I don’t really have a reason, but I just want you to puke.” My stomach said, and I’m pretty sure it chuckled evilly.

  “Stomach, I don’t want to get up, and I’m already half asleep. Do you know how far the bathroom is from here?”

 “GO NOW!!” It screamed, and then followed with several terrible swear words that I wouldn’t dream of repeating.

    Just to spite my stomach, I lay there for ten more minutes, and then sat up slowly, taking my time and thinking to myself, “Hm…maybe I should puke. Maybe that’s something I should do.” As though my stomach wasn’t the one with the idea.

   I shuffled as slowly as possible to the bathroom, and I felt like I was taking a lovely stroll in a park. My mind had already fallen asleep, and I couldn’t be bothered to rush around in a panic. It took too much of an effort.

 

  Slowly, I turned on the light, slowly closed the door, and then slowly knelt down by the toilet, rather lopsidedly, because I was so tired. My stomach had its moment of fury, and the mental image that came to mind was of those sewage tunnels that spew waste out into the ocean. It made me start giggling, even though I had just puked my guts out.

  This defeated my stomach completely and it gave up, calling off my imagination as it retreated. I flushed the toilet and then sat on the floor. Getting up felt like too much work, so I sat there for a good twenty minutes, contemplating my existence.

 

  “Well, that was an interesting adventure.” I finally thought, and shuffled back to bed, tripping over the carpet in the process.

“I’ll be back.” My stomach whispered, but by then, I had already fallen asleep.

 End

Books: February

Books Read:
-The Once and Future King
-Death in the Air
-Skinned
-Crashed
-Wired
-The Bride Collector
-Shiver
-Shadowmagic
-The Mark of Athena
-The Thirteenth Tale

Total: 10

Books Bought:
-Emily Dickon's Poems
-The Warlords of Nin
-The Picture of Dorian Gray
-Frankenstein
-The Fantasy World's of Peter Beagle
-The Elfstones of Shannara
-Romantic Ghost Stories
-50 Great Ghost Stories

Total: 8

Book List: January

Books Read:

-Scarlet
-Tuck
-The Divine Romance
-The Princess Bride
-Poirot's Last Case
-The Wicked Day
-The Outlaw's Silver
-The Body in the Library
-City of Swords
-The Mysterious Affair at Styles
-The Silver Hand
-Patrick
-Goose on the Loose
-Deer in the Darkness
-Stallion in Spooky Hollow
-Tabby under the Tree
-Racoons on the Roof
-The Dark Hills Divide

Total: 18

Books Read:
-The Sword Bearer
-Gaal the Conqueror
-The Body in the Library
-The Mysterious Affair at Styles
-Pretties
-The Outlaw's Silver
-Wolf-speaker
-The Reptile Room
-Death in the Air
-City of Ashes
-The Once and Future King
-The Mark of Athena
-Stallion in Spooky Hollow
-Tabby Under the Tree
-Racoons on the Roof
-Deer in the Darkness

Total: 15

Musings of the Almost Graduate

   I know I have to be patient, and on some days, waiting is easy. But on other days, when it seems like every other girl is a normal teen, with a typical life, waiting can be so painful.

  It’s these dreams that keep getting in the way. Dreams of being sought after. Dancing at the school dances with that special guy. Laughing with friends about trivial things. Carefree, happy days with no actual stress. Things that seem to happen to teens in books all the time. Or to every other teen around me. But life isn’t the same in books.

  Though it will be exciting, graduating and going on to better things, this year is just so full of endings. Opportunities are now gone forever, because next year, I won’t be back. The last dance, the last Valentine’s day, the last school play, the last classes. One part of me wants to say goodbye now, and just get it over with. The lingering can become so unbearable sometimes.

  Still a teen and yet almost an adult. It’s like being stuck between worlds, just awkwardly floundering and waiting for the next change. Things that used to matter simply don’t any more. Some of us are growing up already, while others have to be dragged by the ears.

  The future seems to be a looming darkness, unsafe and terrifying. Yet at the same time, the present will soon belong in the past and will hold no place for me soon. I have to grow up and move on. The next chapter will soon begin. 

Boudicca Reflects

  History can be so boring sometimes, so I decided to write a little something from the perspective of one of my favorite historical people, Boudicca, a Celtic warrior in AD 60 or so. Enjoy!

                                                      *        *        *        *         *

Those of my people who are still alive call me a hero. A martyr. Someone to be remembered for ages to come, even after our lands are long destroyed. They have written songs about me, praising my courage and strength, and how I stood firm in the face of destruction.

   I don’t think I deserve any of these praises. And if they knew that I was still alive, then perhaps they wouldn’t praise me so. The truth is, I only wanted revenge, and in the end, it killed hundreds of our people, leaving me to run away like a coward. They call me a great leader, the Warrior Queen. I never wanted to lead my people. I never wanted to command an army. Yet in the end, I did, and now I am immortalized forever.

  The bards tell stories of how intimidating I was and how strong. All this was fueled by my anger. My hatred. The Romans had always pushed at us, causing us to hate them, but what they did to my daughters…that was unforgivable, and I wanted to see their blood spilled for it.

  The first injustice, of course, was how the Romans had ignored my husband’s last wishes. The land that he owned was to go to me, and my daughters. Ah, the Romans and their foolish notions of women being weak, of not being allowed to own land or lead their own lives after the husband has died. My daughters and I survived their brutality, despite what they thought.

  They should not have let me lived. While the flogging I received was painful, the only real pain I felt was when I heard the screams of my two daughters. My daughters, both so sweet and trusting. Those Roman soldiers had no right to them, and yet they took them. Raped them while I was tied to the flogging post, unable to do anything.

   Once the soldiers had left us, taking our land and money away from us, it was then that the anger inside me grew. It festered like an unattended wound and revenge was never far from my mind. The Roman soldiers, each and every one, were to blame. They took our lands. They took our children. They did what they pleased because none of us dared to strike back.

  Finally, I had had enough. Because my husband had been leader of our tribe, the Iceni, I led them in a revolt. We joined forces with several other tribes and destroyed some settlements. We attacked a legion and defeated them. Revenge tasted sweet and my people were willing to go further. What had started as a personal battle quickly turned into a full scale revolt my people against the Romans.

  We destroyed Londinium and continued on to other settlements. The Roman governor Suetonius fled before us, realizing he was too weak to stand against us. At least, he was until his new forces arrived and he prepared for battle.

  My people would have followed me to the ends of the earth. Anything I told them, they would have believed. With revenge comes a great sense of power, and I relished in it. For once, our oppressors had become the oppressed. We were finally going to rid our lands of the Romans, for once and for all.

  I do not think that I could have stopped the battle, even if I had wanted to. Even if I had refused to go into that last, fateful battle, my people would have continued on, drunk on the wine of promised victory. At the time, retreating simply did not make sense. Though the Romans had new forces and were ready to fight, we still outnumbered them.

  Perhaps the gods did not want the Romans to leave our lands yet. Perhaps it was not the right time. Perhaps the revenge in my heart had turned me into something awful, and I was being punished, and with me, the rest of my people who fought that day.

  There may not be an answer as to why we lost the battle. We fought well and I am so proud of my people. We were united, and for a time, it seemed we would win. I can still hear the battle cries, and can still feel the energy of everyone around me. That was a good battle and everyone fought well.

  Yet that was not enough. In the end, we were the ones who lost and everyone was killed, save myself. I lay there among the fallen bodies, recognizing friends and their families. My vision was blurring, from a head wound. I could hear the Roman soldiers getting closer now, to count the dead and kill anyone who still lived. Crawling away, like a snake, I made my escape to a nearby forest. Before I reached the trees, however, I saw two bodies that broke my heart.

  My two daughters died that day. With all the revenge in my heart, it had blinded my eyes from the real issue. I wanted to protect my daughters, reclaim their honor. But in the end, they too fell dead like the others, and now only I was left.

  I've lived alone in a forest cave ever since. Almost overnight, after that battle, my red hair turned grey. The revenge that had so long dwelled in my heart is now gone, leaving me empty inside. I hear the songs about me and shudder.

  Becoming a hero of my people was never my intent, and the older I become, the more I wonder at all of it. Yet…my people were brought together for a time. They nearly dispelled the Romans from our precious lands.

   If a hero I must be, then so be it. If me being called a hero gives the people hope, something to remember, then let me be called a hero. Let me inspire generations to come to be strong, to unite, and not sway under oppression. Only then will all of this have had any meaning.