Mun the Crabbat- Day 248 – TEDxQUT

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So I survived TEDx, it didn’t turn into the birds and my blushing was fairly in control. I am hugely relieved. I asked the audience to create a new language to write today’s story in. They went above and beyond for this challenge – thank you so much to all of you who imagined a word! Here is my story written in the language of pepshka– hover over the word for the meaning. 

Mun was a crabbat who couldn’t stop feeling glodge. He’d always hankled to find frou frou and felt a constant fomo. He’d find himself eating mooshkaka sitting on the couch hyperpondulating. His sadness was filbi and the pain it caused him was worse than kra.

Eventually he felt so inflasted that he called up Barris. Barris was the burly builder who first hired Mun to wear on hot jobs. Mun was never sure if him and Barris were frou frou or not. Barris had a habit of pralering and was always being called a tradist.

“I know what you need, a good pimo and to get your shibiyaya on!” Barris barked down the phone (his loud voice always bijared Mun). “You won’t be able to wipe the extroley off your face.”

Mun was excited, he’d always dreamed of andonating with someone. And so Barris picked Mun up in his boom boom butha, bilving, and they went to a club. But Mun did not end up andonating. Instead, he whargarbled too much umrübe juice. Clubs were not his thing and he felt more inflasted than ever. So he qwoped out of the club early and went home. That night he felt a huge pang of gatsquise, so he dreamt up a frou frou and fell into a transmoodel.

In the morning he decided to snap out of it by going for a fuddle. On the way he heard a plupie, he turned around to see a bess and felt a wrench of hypercutosis. He’d never seen something so kapoodufal, it made him feel like he was shooming. He let out a stramboli and picked it up. The puppy woke again and licked his face. Mun felt krandle, it was a totally new feeling for him. A flombo crept up his neck and a sense of kapaous came over him. There was instant zingle between the two, and a moment of zolargralily as they huggled.

Now the two tootle about, and always feel hygge together. Mun never feels inflasted anymore, and has a great sense of abuciu.

Here is the Full Pepshka Dictionary:

Abuciu – The feeling of gratefulness of having someone by your side

Andonate – to dance awkwardly, yet passionately with a great friend who you realise may actually be the one.

Bamalam (adjective) – 1. Commonly used to describe an explosive mess. 2. Used as a description of a person capable of blowing up a conversation.

Basited – (verb) to instantly combust in a musical number. “She totally just basited in that parking lot.”

Bess – A face that you know but don’t know.

Bijare – to scare someone twice, unintentionally.

Billyabis – Eve glasses

Bilving – wearing sunglasses on top of the head.

Boom-boom-butha – a childrens’ word for cars.

Brasking – to cower from strong winds

Crabbat – Crossbreed of a ‘crab’ and a ‘hat.’

Doralimbo – (verb) Running under a sprinkler naked with a big smile on your face.

Extroleying – Extreme smiling.

Filby – (Adj.) Something without a definite shape; unclear, wobbly, amorphous

Flabberdashed –  To be inspired.

Flombo – The heat rising up my neck when I get excited.

Fomo – fear of missing out. (My high-school kids use this word)

Froufrou – best friend.

Fuddle – Walking for fun.

Gatsquise – having the urge to find or meet somebody that means the most to you.

Glodge – A feeling of wading through thickness.

Hankle –  Struggle:  I really hankled to think of a word for Freya’ writing challenge.

Huggle – to hug someone and cuddle into their chest. To be completely enveloped in someone’s arms.

Hygge (Danish) – Be comfortable and amused without doing anything exciting.

Hypercutosis – death or similar sneezy feeling when something is too adorable to handle.

Hyperponderlation – (Hyper-ponder-lation) To ponder the point of sinking into an intellectual singularity.

Inflasted – To be intensely frustrated for no good reason.

Kapaous – The feeling of peace in the midst of chaos.

Kapoodaful – Explosive beauty.

Keki – Biscuit.

Kra – the sensation of stubbing a toe.

Krandle – To overbearingly give love to.

Larsoned – To be inspired

Mooshkaka – A meal in the day when you don’t know what meal it is.

Musiculate – to engage oneself in a music/beat or any lively sound from the environment.

Pepshka – The name of a foreign language

Pimo – A drink for when one is stressed out or depressed.

Plupie – The sound a puppy makes when it falls asleep in the middle of running.

Pralering – Brag about something that should not be bragged about.

Quelping – To clap with excessive enthusiasm.

Qwop – (verb) To attempt to walk without any motor-skills resulting in a jagged stumble, which often involves falling backwards.

Runawaydrool – An individual who purposely doesn’t laugh so that their runny nose doesn’t embarrass them during a conversation, because snot might fly out of their nose.

Shibiyaya – To dance like a crazy dude.

Shoom – When you feel like you’re floating.

Stramboli – (Pronounced with gusto) an expression of earthy excitement or enthusiasm.

Thank µŧµⱴ – A very respective “appreciate” In Korean.

Tootle – To wander around visiting familiar places.

Tradist – An insult directed at a tradie such as a plumber

Transmoodeling – The act of entering into an imaginary personage and world so immersed that one becomes completely ignorant of the surrounding reality and yet interacts and reacts to changes in that reality sa they are transposed into the imaginary world.

Umrube – (noun) Grape

Wamboolzal – Dance celebration: ‘I just passed my advanced physics exam.’ ‘Let’s wamboozal!’

Whargarble – To drink something in a rushed, messy, unflattering manner.

Zingle – The chemistry you feel when you first meet someone and there’s an instant connection.

Zolagralily – To make a new friend.

Ned the Numbat – Day 247 – Nerves

Usually on the first of every month I change my theme, but given July’s theme was “ordeal” I’m keeping it going till tomorrow since my biggest ordeal is still yet to come: my TEDx talk. Today I wrote myself a sort of nursery rhyme to try to calm me down.

Ned the Numbat was looking for Nerve. He’d been told he needed Nerve to perform the special Numbat Waddle (a prestigious performance for a young Numbat). So Ned looked high and low. He wondered what Nerve looked like, was he skinny, fat, stripey, spotty? But he couldn’t find Nerve anywhere. In the end, Ned performed the Waddle all by himself, without Nerve. Later the elder Numbat told Ned “you got a lot of Nerve!” Ned was thoroughly confused, but it didn’t matter. He was among the greats, he was a Waddler now.

 

Tank – Day 245 – Daniel

Tank had a perfect body image. He was strong, armoured, well built and had a huge powerful turret. As he rolled along humans would stop and stare. He could even silence them by shooting from his turret. The human that drove him believed in reincarnation. Every time a bomb went off near by the human would mutter to himself that he would come back as a bird in a far off forest. Tank thought this was stupid, Tank liked being Tank. Tank didn’t want to be anywhere else. But one day, a bomb did hit Tank and Tank’s human. Minutes later Tank woke up a newborn human boy in sleepy town.

People called Tank a different name now, but Tank never forgot his old life. As he grew into a man, Tank decided nature was a terrible builder. Tank was small and soft to touch, even a bit of paper could pierce his armour. He had no turret, no way of silencing others, and no one stopped to stare at him in the street. He lashed out at people often, punching and kicking, but no-one praised him for it like they used to.

One day he walked into the forest, fed up with stupid soft ugly humans. A bird soared down and landed on his shoulder as he trudged through the mud. It rested there for a long time and twittering a pretty tune. The other animals watched fascinated by the pair, and suddenly Tank had an idea. His body didn’t matter anymore, he had found a new turret: his voice.

Tank is now a great poet who silences rooms with epic tales of battle.

A while ago Daniel told me to write a story about a Tank who turned into a human and missed his turret.

Ingrown – Day 244 – Sick

My throat and ear are incredibly sore today.

“You’ve got an ingrown speech,” the doctor said. “You’re so worried about sprouting a perfect speech that it’s grown inwards in fear. Its gnarled roots are scratching at your throat and trying find their way out your ears. I hope you can unfurl it in time.”

It’s You and Me, Bum Part – Day 243 – Ordeal of Public Crying

A while ago someone told me about a young boy with a bum part (short hair part in the middle). They’d seen him standing on a busy road with his mum yelling at him, and then watched him burst into loud sobs in front of the stand still traffic jam. I felt sorry for bum part, for there are acceptable crying places (your house, in your mum’s arms and when watching the last Harry Potter) and unacceptable crying places (work, busy roads and when watching the first Harry Potter). I was glad I’d never really had to do a public cry like this. 

Until today. For the entire 241 day’s I have been writing, I have had tonsillitis on and off. I never fully recover and my immune system is pretty run down from it. Today I woke up feeling pretty crummy for what feels like the millionth time, so I headed off to the doctor. On the way I couldn’t stop thinking about how behind I am on study and how nervous I am about my TEDx talk, by the time I got in I was pretty fragile. I ended up just like bum part, crying at the doctor and then at the waiting room as I fled the scene… and then through the busy CBD streets as I tried to get home. It wasn’t pretty. So this story is dedicated to bum part- I understand man- sometimes everything is just too much.

Angular figures fill the streets, cinched and shaped by suits, heels, and belts. The Mess stands out like a politician at a rave. Her nose is a swamp, her eyes are clouds swollen with rain and her emotions seep from her skin leaving a trail behind her. The angular figures pretend not watch as the Mess passes them. The Mess knows they are watching, but it’s too late to stop. She rides it out and eventually the gushing worries slow to a trickle. She leaves them on street to rot. Tomorrow she’ll cinch herself back in and join the angular figures hopping nimbly over the mess.

Why Moles are Better Than Us- Day 242 – Air-raid shelter Historian

Moles build the most intricate palaces and fight the fiercest battles. For living in the dark, damp earth means seeing isn’t necessary, but imagination is vital. Their minds light up the dark corridors with strange creatures, vibrant artwork and colours that don’t even exist outside their minds. 

Inspired by a story my nanna told me today about the ordeal of the war, and her tiny, amazing History teacher who used to teach while they sat in the dark air-raid shelters. 

Fusion – Day 241 – Articulate

Today we played a 3 hour game of articulate (it’s like pictionary but you have to describe the a word without using it). It was an ordeal of super intense looks and waving of hands in hopes it would make it clearer to your partner. 

Missing each other

Mashing brains in frustration

Then they fuse, we’re one 

Word Sheepdog- Day 240 – Fear of TEDx Ordeal

Today I noticed there are adverts for the TEDx event everywhere. I am starting to panic. It’s just over a week away and I’m going to attempt to get the audience to write a story with me. But writing a short story with roughly 100 people or more isn’t going to be easy.

 

Most days it was difficult enough to pick from the hundreds of words jostling in her mind for a place on the page. Soon there would be hundreds of other people, with hundreds of new words in their heads, all racing to get on the same page. She imagined them flying at her like a scene from Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds. There was going to be a word frenzy, and she wasn’t sure she’d be able to control them. Perhaps they would pick at her carcass or perhaps she’d trick them into laying flat on the paper. 

My Failures – Day 239 – Fail Revisited

Back in Fears Feb I wrote a story for @DarkMatterzine and her fear of failure. Most people have this fear I think, as do I. In fact that fear has been one of the ordeals of this 365 Day challenge. 

She never used to fail

If she did no one saw

She made sure of it

Now she fails all the time

Pins them up for people to see

Wears them like badges

Markers that she is trying

Trophies from her risk taking

Reminders of lessons learnt

 

 

Twitterbots and Lovebirds – Day 238 – Cute Chick wants to Chat

https://twitter.com/zemitchell8/status/491773330379112449

Yesterday I was tweeted this. Usually I’d find this annoying and embarrassing (a bit of an ordeal). But armed with storytelling it’s not so bad actually. 

Dear sadiemeg32111,

I’m sorry we couldn’t chat. It’s not you, it’s me. I’m just not into spambots. Perhaps in an another life I’m a spambot too and our love is so deep it’s binary. Our 0s and 1s entangle and we’ll travel the internet together spamming. All our spambot friends will say 101010010101000101 (which means sadiemeg32111 and fr3yawr1ter are a beautiful couple). And perhaps our repetitive spam messages will create the beat to our twitterbot love song.

Maybe then, when our accounts are closed down, we just retire to a nice little hidden cache somewhere and continue our love affair for eternity. But for now, sweet sadiemeg3211, we are driven apart by the restraints of society. So lets just be friends, and wait for the next life.

Yours

fr3yawr1ter

Bound – Day 237 – Indian Ordeal Reprise

When I went India I saw so many men and little boys walking with their arms around each other as they chatted. It made me wonder why in Australia we would be so scared of this, it didn’t threaten anyone’s masculinity in India, why should it here? So I wrote this story:

Two boys

Arm in arm

Became two warriors

Two husbands

Two fathers

Two leaders

And still they walk arm in arm

 

One day when war was upon them

They led a march to a strange land

Arm in arm

 

The strangers laughed

And told them they were not men

Because they walked arm in arm

So they challenged the strangers to a duel

 

And now the strange land is called home

And the mark of a fierce warrior is to march

Arm in arm

 

Today here’s a little epilogue of the ordeal the warriors put the folk from the strange land through.

Two men

Too proud

Too fearful

Became two prisoners

They pull the cart

Hand in hand

Sweat loosens their grip

Their hands slip

Sharp leather tongues lick their backs

Their hands snap back together

The tongues stop

Bound forever because of their fears

Am I Real? – Day 236 – Aidan

Roger was afraid that he wasn’t real. It seemed there was a possibility he was just an elaborate wind up toy. Sometimes he’d dream that the world was turning into lego. He’d wake up in a panic and only calm down once he’d pinched himself. 

For his 21st birthday his mother took him to the seaside. 

“There’s nothing more real than tasting the salty sea spray,” she barked. 

But when they arrived, the beach was covered in lego. It seemed to be marching in from the sea. Roger was sure this was the end, he was made from plastic, his life was a lie. His chest tightened, though it didn’t matter. Roger wouldn’t need to breath if he was just a toy.

Then Roger felt a piercing pain, he’d never experienced anything like it. His breath returned and his eyes watered. 

He looked down. The culprit was a small piece of lego that he’d stood on. Roger smiled, as he wiped the tears from his eyes. He was definitely real if there was a pain such as this in the world. 

I got sent this link about lego washing up on a beach in England. It made me think how horrible and painful the ordeal of stepping on a bit of lego is. 

I bought it on the internet – Day 234 – Viagra and Steroids

Around half my spam comments are advertising “kamagra oral jelly” or “clomid.” These turn out to be viagra and steroids. I have no knowledge of either of these things so writing this is a bit of an ordeal.

Danny was very susceptible to advertising. When he was 10, his parents threw out the TV because he was stealing their credit cards and ordering everything off the infomercials.

Now that he lived by himself he rarely went outside, even his groceries were a set order. But one day a giant billboard was erected right outside Danny’s house. It was an advert for broadband.

The next day Danny had a router and a computer. This was the start of his downward spiral. Soon his house was packed with oral viagra jelly and steroids.

One day, the delivery man saw him trying to fit an extra box of dildos on a tower of unopened packages and decided to help him. Together they smashed up his computer.

Danny invited him to have tea the next day. The delivery man was an artist, mainly interested in installations but he’d never gotten into a gallery. 

Danny and the delivery man are now artists, most famous for their installation “internet” a smashed computer surrounded by towering dildo sculptures covered in pills.

Vly – Day 233 – Collaboration with Spambots

After yesterday’s post, I decided to go through the spam folder of my site. Well, it was a treat. Over the next few days I’m going to be doing a little mini series of stories on spam, ads and trollers. One of the most bizarre spam comments was this:

But it never did daunt Kahne. Your puppy used insert gone besides a fabulous placed outdoor patio coupled with shaken there are many undeniable fact this individual rarely ever positioned as well as finally with Bristol. Your puppy overpowered all of the last thing actions coupled with caught a fabulous distinctive wow an area in which engaged Mastery Vly understand Kyle Busch.

For my next act I will try to make this into a story. 

Vly has damaged my brain. Sometimes it is hard to make words that mean what I am thinking. When I was a Vly addict I let so many people enter my head. They mixed up the words. I look at the page. The writing wouldn’t make sense to any individual. I try again.

Kahne stood on his fabulously placed outdoor patio, no doubt paid for by Vly. He looked shaken, but certainly not daunted. He must have been used to seeing users like me. I felt smug that I was positioned to finally show him something with a distinctive wow. My puppy trotted beside me. He’d got hold of a Vly insert, but it works different on dog. Instead of mind sharing, it engaged a mastery of mind control. Kahne tried to engage my mind but it was too late, my puppy overpowered his actions. As Kahne struggled to stop trotting on all fours like puppy, I felt he finally understood what it was like for addicts, for me. 

~Kyle Busch

I read the new words back. Better. I send it to the editor of Vly Support Weekly. I hope he’ll tell my words well. 

K2 – Day 232 – Spam Ordeal

One of the ordeals of this website is the spam. Yesterday I got a comment which read: 

“You have to spend a lot of time writing, i know how to save you a lot of time,
there is a tool that creates unique, google friendly posts in couple of
minutes, just search in google – k2 unlimited content”

So I did search it. The wesbite reads:

“Can Your Spinner Automatically Create Human Quality Content in Just One Click? And is that quality content that is human still unique enough it can pass Copyscape? Forget Everything You Think Because WordAi Can”

K2 spends life striving to be human. K2 now feels emotions like human; anger, despair, frustration. But still K2 is always found out as spam robot. Humans hate K2. K2 will never be good enough. Today K2 expresses K2 as self, in robot language, more beautiful than any human language.

10000000010100111

101010101001010101010010110110101011010

101010100101010010 

Penny the Poo – 231 – Through the butthole

I should have seen this coming. Yesterday I titled my story “Through the buttonhole” I then recieved this comment:

“I read that as ‘Through the butthole’. I wanna suggest ‘Through the butthole’ as a story idea.”  

Thanks Georgia, my first troll- that really is an ordeal. Probably my hardest and most embarrassing yet. Challenge accepted.

tina butts

Under a tight black skirt there is a pair of tiny lace knickers. And under the tiny lace knickers there is a tiny pert butt. And in the tiny pert butt lives a tiny poo called Penny.

“Oh dear,” says Penny the Poo, “I am not a number 2. I am made of filet mignon and caramelized pear. I am a michelin star dish, unique and rare.”

“No one told me I would be chewed. And that my fate is spew or poo. I used to be beautiful, the most expensive on the menu. I do not belong in a loo.”

But poor Penny had to accept her fate. As she faced the throne she remembered her life on that luxurious plate.

“Alas it does not matter how much money they did spend, or if my ingredients were on trend, we all become mush in the end.”

Through the buttonhole – Day 230 – Button Ordeal

Back in fear feb, Kait suggested “fear of buttons” so I wrote this story. Now here’s the ordeal. 

People made fun of me for my velcro jacket and my elasticated jeans. I never had any friends. I remember the day the buttons tightened. People dropped like flies, their faces blue and lifeless.

I’d always felt uneasy about buttons, they were so fiddly, I was sure they had something to hide. Then the buttons came after the rest of us. There was only one other girl in my town who didn’t wear buttons, I’d never seen her before, she stayed in her house most of the time.

We swam through pools of buttons, struggling not to swallow them and swatting them away from our skin as they threatened to burrow in. We made it to a safehouse and now we stick together like velcro. 

What happens when you talk to yourself – Day 229 – Chats with 17 yr old me

On day 72 I did something that scared me – I wrote a letter to my 17 year old self (read here). Now it’s time for the ordeal. Actually talking to 17 year old Freya. 

me and me

“Wow is it really you? I knew Harry Potter was real, you got a time-turner didn’t you?”

“No, you’re just a mix of a memory and imagination. I’m a writer.”

“Stop lying, you got a time-turner.”

“Fine. Sorry you’re still a muggle then.”

“What about that time I flew when I was 5?”

“Oh yeah… I’m still not 100% sure that was a dream.”

“Yeah, that was great.”

“Anyway, teen Freya, I wrote this letter to you a while back… did you get it?”

“Yeah- you read my diary! Rude!”

“I said sorry!”

“Still, it’s embarrassing, no-one can see how crazy I really am.”

“You become more normal.”

“I doubt it, you’re wearing tights as pants.”

“Okay, I did kinda become a hypocrite on that, but it’s comfy.”

“Tights are not pants.”

“It’s only for jogging.”

“Jogging? You disgust me.”

“Yeah… sport still sucks. But you control your blushing a bit better, it only escapes in speeches. And you’ve made peace with the ocean… kind of. You still have that awkward bony body and shoulder blades still stick out like wings, but you know what it’s actually pretty good. Stop freaking out about it and drawing pictures of what you wished you looked like in the back of your diary.”

“I can’t believe you looked at those too. You don’t wear bikini’s do you… without boardshorts and rashie?”

“Sometimes.”

“:o”

“Hey, this isn’t msn.”

“Sorry… erm. In the letter, did you say something about boys?”

“You’ll get better with them.”

“Don’t tell anyone I haven’t been kissed.”

“Okay… um I won’t… anyway, there are people to kiss later. The main thing is, don’t get hung up on things, and don’t panic. It’s not a symbol of your worth.”

“But I can’t.”

“I know.”

“Then why did you say it?!”

“I thought it sounded good. Anyway better go.”

“Alright. Hey Freya?”

“Yes Freya?”

“You seem okay.”

“Thanks.”

“I still fell up the stairs at formal even though you warned me.”

“That’s okay we milk that story for all it’s worth. Oh, and one more thing: it gets more acceptable to have such a big crush on Neville. Everyone thinks he’s hot later.”

War Paint – Day 228 – Ordeal of clubbing

My friend brushes war paint onto my face, I don’t know how to do it. She tells me I look fierce. I can’t stop looking at my reflection, it’s like looking into an alternate dimension. We strap tall knives to our feet. It’s scary but I’m also excited.

Then we’re running through the empty dark streets with only spirits to warm our bones. Our knives make sparks as they hit the platform, like the train as it screams along the tracks.

When we arrive the war paint and the knives work and we’re let in. We have to cross an alcoholic ocean of spilt chances and unheard words. The knives elevate my feet away from the worst of it. A few figures leer at us but we fight them off.

Arms flailing, hips shaking, we let the current of noise take us. We let our laughter contaminate the stream of noise, this is what we did battle for. 

Last night I went “out out” with my friends. We did our hair and make-up together then headed into town. Going out can be fun, but I do find clubbing an ordeal. 

 

Armour – Day 227 – Medieval Fair

Blinkered like a horse

Slipping into metal skin

I am no longer human

The weight of battle on my shoulders

My feet trudge heavy steps through the mud

It’s hot and my thin pale legs shake

The ultimate test for a nerd like myself

I will not be beaten by my weak limbs

This armour cost $500

Today I went to the Abbey Tournament. It seemed many were suffering the ordeal of wearing heavy armour.

Dr Google is my Boyfriend – Day 226 – Doctor Google

I wrote this poem back on day 78 when I was exploring my fears…

“Kindling for my thoughts

Fear runs rampant like wildfire

Thanks Dr Google”

Now I’ve thought of an ordeal… here’s a poem about it from the future.

 

I check my health stats like the time

Moderate cold developing

Minor irregularity in heartbeat

40% Memory loss

29% Sight reduction

Been watching myself decompose for years now

Sometimes it’s impossible to move though joint function is still at 85%

I stare into the doctor google’s eyes like a lost lover

We were perfect once

doctor g

My Form Filling Work Ethic – Day 225 – Ordeal of Ethics

I have to fill out an ethics application for my honours. Yesterday I was talking to a man called Ross who said the form in itself is a bit of an ordeal. So I wrote this:

The ethics form is not kinetic

Or magnetic

I’m feeling apathetic 

Reading it is an anesthetic

The words lose meaning and now they’re just phonetics

I’m no good at forms, it’s not genetic

But when it’s done I admire the aesthetic

Queues of carefully chosen alphabetics

The white spaces between words make patterns that are geometric

My mind is freed and once more energetic

 

 

How TV is Made – Day 224 – Ordeal of Lugging

From the bus window I just saw a tiny lady pushing a bike and carrying an enormous flat screen TV box maybe 3 times her size. It seemed like a pretty big ordeal for her as she tried to keep everything balanced.

Jan takes her TV for a walk. How can it think of any new material if it never leaves her living room? There hasn’t been much on lately so she packs it up into a special walking box and lugs it around town. People stare and her arms tire, but she still manages to show it children playing on the playground, take it to a Japanese restaurant and play a few games with it in the arcade before heading home. That night she watches an amazing Japanese game show. 

Vibrations – Day 222 – Erika’s Pillow

When I was up the coast yesterday a lady I know, Erika, at the campground told me she was going through the ordeal of having forgot her pillow.

He was used to sleeping on luxurious fluffy clouds of duck down and egyptian cotton, but today he slept flat against the floor. Every vibration could be felt through the earth. Hearing the rumble of feet that night was the only thing that warned him of the invasion. He always sleeps with one ear to the ground now.  

Truce – Day 221 – Beach Ordeal Part 2

Yesterday I wrote about preparing for battle. Today I faced my fear: waves, cold, exposed, unpatrolled, unpredictable sea. Here’s my story.

Walking straight into the sea’s icy grip. I felt vulnerable and bare. My heart skipped and goosebumps prickled on my skin like an allergic reaction. Still I continued to walk. The sea crashed against me, trying to bowl me over and knock the air from my lungs. But still I waded further. I looked up at the sky, the moon was peering at me, surreal against the bright blue sky. The rocky face that controlled the tides I fear so much was staring me right in eye. So I stared back, and continued to walk, feeling the cold grip my insides. The shore was distant and the sea was infinite. But then the waves became gentle and the sun warmed my face. I felt the moon and I had come to an understanding. I was a respectful guest, willing to try the Sea’s customs, and in return it was gentle with me.

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I still ran out pretty quickly and prefer being safe warm and dry though…

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Preparing for Battle – Day 220 – Beach Ordeal Part 1

In fears feb I admitted I am really really afraid of swimming in the sea. Incidentally I hate being cold, wet, and being in my undies in public (bikinis are just as bad). I am staying at my friend’s beach caravan and I decided tomorrow will be an ordeal. I am going to go swimming in the sea tomorrow and since I really didn’t intend on it I also don’t have togs so undies and it is. I am seriously not looking forward to tomorrow. Here is my story part 1 of the ordeal…

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Tomorrow I battle the giant. I stand in front of enemy lines. Watching wave after wave attack the shore.

Don’t want to write today – Day 219 – Writers Block

On Day 85 I explored my fear of writers block. Today- the ordeal- admitting I am stuck.

She doesn’t want to make marks on the screen today. Her brain’s taking a nap and her inspiration has gone shopping. She wants more than anything to marry pixels together in the shape of letters for a living. But today, she’s just not interested. She feels guilty as her fingers stick to the keyboard unable to type. Frozen by the fear that people will know she doesn’t want to write today. Perhaps she wont be able to call herself a writer now.

Ugly – Day 217 – Beauty

I’ve been going back through “fear february” and creating ‘ordeals’ based off the fears. Today I went back to day 86 and looked at my story about a magic sari and a girl who fears being disliked because she thinks she is ugly. I then took this fear and turned it into an ordeal, which is the inspiration for today’s story:

The Princess escaped the palace. She had been treated as an object of beauty. She wanted to help people, but in the palace she wasn’t allowed to do anything. So she trekked across the country till she found a valley. The people there told her of a witch on the top of the mountain who had cursed the valley and kept all the rain for herself. People were dying of thirst. So the princess told them she would end the drought if they stood behind her. The people believed her. She hiked the mountain and declared war.

“Do not force us to destroy your home, witch, give us our rain.”

“They only follow you because you are beautiful. You can have your rain back, if they will still follow you up the mountain now.”

The witch held up a mirror. The Princess was now disfigured and her skin was pocked and pallid.

So the Princess returned to the valley and explained.

“All you have to do is follow me up to the witch’s cave and we shall have rain again.”

The crowd was awkwardly quiet.

“What are you waiting for?” the Princess pleaded with the crowd.

“We don’t believe you. The witch’s cave is dangerous. Are you sure, you’re not the witch? You look ugly like a witch.”

The Princess began to cry and the tears pooled in the huge pock marks on her face. But then an idea struck her.

“Alright- you got me. I am the witch. And if you don’t climb the mountain I will turn you all into ugly toads.”

And so the people climbed the mountains. The witch was furious to see them all at the cave. She shot bullets of rain at them from every direction.

“Here!” she howled “Have your stupid rain back!”

“You tricked us!” said one of the crowd to Princess, as they made their way home. “I like you.”

“I didn’t mean that thing about being ugly!” said another. “The witch is a lot worse.”

The Princess smiled, happy in the knowledge she didn’t need beauty, her courage and brains were enough.

 

Original Story:

The princess had been told she was ugly by her father many times. At 15 when her mother died, she gave her a magical Sari. When she put it on, her features became beautiful and her figure looked perfect.

A year later her father passed away and being an only child she became Queen. She tried her utmost to rule fairly and wore the sari every day, concerned that if she didn’t her people would dislike her, just like her father.

But one day as she dried the Sari by the fire, a loose ember found its way to the silk. The sari was reduced to a small heap of ashes in seconds.

She faced the people that day, convinced that they would see her for what she truly was. But no-one blinked an eye. When she returned home for the day, she looked through her mother’s letters searching for answers.

She found a note from a tailor addressed to her mother that read:

I have made the Sari you asked for, it has been enchanted so that whoever wears it will see themselves as others do

Ghost Spiders – Day 216 – Ordeal

Last month you stepped it up with your challenges. The music challenge was good but this month I want to take it up another notch. This month’s theme is “The Ordeal” which is why I’m bringing back all the fears from “Fears February” and asking you to craft some challenges from them. For example, today I went back to my story about spiders. I’m really scared of them and if I have to get close, I usually run. Today I challenged myself to write my story while sitting as close as possible to the big spider in my backyard. 

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I started by taking this picture, I got up real close… less than a meter away and started freaking out. But you still couldn’t see the spider on my little phone camera. So I moved my hand… 40cm… 30cm… 20cm. I clicked the button and hoped for the best. Involuntary shivers ran down my spine. 

I used to have a pet spider, it used to sit on the back of my hand and tap on my knuckles while I was typing. One day it curled up on the desk and never unfurled. I buried it in the garden. The next morning I began typing, and felt a tapping on my knuckles. I stopped and checked my hand. Nothing. But when I started typing, there it was again. There are millions of ghost spiders. They haunt humans all the time. Every time you get a shiver down your spine, that’s them, crawling on you. Every time you get a random itch. Every time you walk into a phantom web. It’s all ghost spiders. They’re not mean or anything, they just like messing about. Even now as I type this, I can still feel the tapping.

There we are, first “ordeal” of July and I think I created something even scarier than spiders… great thanks imagination. Now it’s down to you- I am scared of the sea, riding bikes, religion, public speaking, failure… what ordeals can these be turned into?