I just run, run for me, run for my life, run for my hunger, run for the heck of it... Run for the thrilling joy of running, chasing for a prey... A prey which also runs, runs for its life, for itself, for its hunger... For it knows, as every other creature around here, who I am - the most feared creature: a killer.
When I give up on everything, I still have my instincts, which are my one and only guide in this wild life. So I guess my instincts make me run, make me run faster and faster... So fast, everything around me becomes a frentic blur, all I see are images moving in red - also black. So fast, I don't even feel my feet on the ground, so fast only I see my prey. And when I reach it, oh, glorious moment, I open my mouth wide, curling my lips to leave my teeth free. It's that short moment when I am able to feel my prey's fear, the fear of pain, the fear of death. It's exactly then when I bury my teeth deeply in its neck, to kill it as quickly as I can. Then all I have to do is wait a few seconds and it will all have ended. After a short but tiring sprint, all I have to do is eat. When I look up, feeling my blood leaking fangs, to contemplate the power of my legs, the strength of my jaws, I finally see what I have done. I finally see the desperate dead prey, that has definetely stop moving, under my feet, below my mouth, with a deep wound in its neck. You could call me weak, but I can't witness what I myself do, I can't bear to know how many harmless and innocent creatures I have killed.
When I finally look up, feeling my blood leaking fangs, to contemplate the power of my legs, the strength of my jaws, I finally become scared of myself.
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Monday, November 24, 2008
The coin
This is another super cool blog I found the other day, in which you have to write something based on a picture (really cute pictures, btw) and on a suggested prompt they give you. The blog is called Pictures, Poetry & Prose ( http://www.picturespoetryprose.blogspot.com )
This is my writing on a coin:
The morning before the affair I woke up feeling a little dizzy; the night had already gone by the time I went out of the house into the streets, without pausing to have a quick breakfast. I didn't even take my utterly necessary moments to wash my face and my teeth, I just went out into the streets. The weather didn't help much either, for it was, in spite of the weather forecasts, drizzly and a bit gloomy. The discouraging dark clouds at the sky casted dark shadows on the things I saw.
Walking through that menacing atmosphere I saw a tiny fraction of a sunbeam, a small shiny piece of hope in a whole sad world. Under the sunbeam was a tiny coin, dated 1972. I picked it up. It was slightly heavy, they didn't make them like that anymore. I wondered why that unfair God of ours had put that coin in my way. I wondered if it was going to bring one more unhappiness to my life, if it was going to take away the last portions of life I had left. Maybe, though, that coin wasn't going to be relevant, for there are thousands of coins in the world, and not even a tenth of them are crucial for my life.
So I turned around, placing the one penny coin inside of my pocket. After all, it was just one penny, nobody needs one penny.
I kept on walking, with no aim at all, just for the heck of it, as I tripped. I started fumbling some senseless words when I realised what had happened: the beggar of the village, the most despisbale person according to most of my neighbours, was sitting down, roofless under the rain, and had unintentionally made me fall.
He looked at me, with the apology written in his sad eyes. The look of that poor old man scared me; I didn't think he could damage me, I was scared of not being able to help him. Then I remembered about the coin inside of my pocket. I took it out and placed it carefully on his hand, resting on his thigh. His eyes opened widely, cheerful all of a sudden. Instead of the apology and saddness, I could now see hope in his eyes, and a great gratitude, too. Without any word, I walked away, smiling.
The coin, after all, was aimed to make me smile.
This is my writing on a coin:
The morning before the affair I woke up feeling a little dizzy; the night had already gone by the time I went out of the house into the streets, without pausing to have a quick breakfast. I didn't even take my utterly necessary moments to wash my face and my teeth, I just went out into the streets. The weather didn't help much either, for it was, in spite of the weather forecasts, drizzly and a bit gloomy. The discouraging dark clouds at the sky casted dark shadows on the things I saw.
Walking through that menacing atmosphere I saw a tiny fraction of a sunbeam, a small shiny piece of hope in a whole sad world. Under the sunbeam was a tiny coin, dated 1972. I picked it up. It was slightly heavy, they didn't make them like that anymore. I wondered why that unfair God of ours had put that coin in my way. I wondered if it was going to bring one more unhappiness to my life, if it was going to take away the last portions of life I had left. Maybe, though, that coin wasn't going to be relevant, for there are thousands of coins in the world, and not even a tenth of them are crucial for my life.
So I turned around, placing the one penny coin inside of my pocket. After all, it was just one penny, nobody needs one penny.
I kept on walking, with no aim at all, just for the heck of it, as I tripped. I started fumbling some senseless words when I realised what had happened: the beggar of the village, the most despisbale person according to most of my neighbours, was sitting down, roofless under the rain, and had unintentionally made me fall.
He looked at me, with the apology written in his sad eyes. The look of that poor old man scared me; I didn't think he could damage me, I was scared of not being able to help him. Then I remembered about the coin inside of my pocket. I took it out and placed it carefully on his hand, resting on his thigh. His eyes opened widely, cheerful all of a sudden. Instead of the apology and saddness, I could now see hope in his eyes, and a great gratitude, too. Without any word, I walked away, smiling.
The coin, after all, was aimed to make me smile.
Sunday, November 23, 2008
Expressing in English
My talking English is by no means compalsory; nobody tells me to write this blog in Enlgish, for example. I could much more easily write in Spanish, my native language, for I guess in this 14 years of life I've heard its words more. It's my liking of the beautiful language, my seeking of the learning and my need of those magnificent words that impulses me to express myself in English.
Of course I could express myself in Spanish:
Es decir, ¿cuán más difícil puede ser expresarse en la lengua materna de uno? No, lo que a mí me impulsa a expresarme en es idioma tan hermoso es eso mismo, el idioma. Y es que he conocido, a lo largo de estos cortos catorce años a muchísime gente que me ha mostrado la riqueza con que el inglés cuenta. Y algunos de ellos son: Miss Vicky, Chris, Mary, Andy, Little Romi, the great singer y my dear V. Pero los dos más importantes: Palmerita y the special guy, the 'dream lover'.
As you can see, and as I have just realised, words seem to flow easier in Spanish, though I found myself trying to write in Spanish but thinking in English. That's another issue: 70% or even 80% of my thoughts are in English, and that's so cool! = )
Así que, for I think in two languages (Enlgish predomina) this is kind of my thoughts. Spanglish, as Palmerita would say, pero con muchísimo más inglés que español.
Hope you've liked my trying to organise my thoughts on the subject, this was hard. And maybe you found it dull, and in that case, I'm truely sorry, but I REALLY felt I had to write this down.
Of course I could express myself in Spanish:
Es decir, ¿cuán más difícil puede ser expresarse en la lengua materna de uno? No, lo que a mí me impulsa a expresarme en es idioma tan hermoso es eso mismo, el idioma. Y es que he conocido, a lo largo de estos cortos catorce años a muchísime gente que me ha mostrado la riqueza con que el inglés cuenta. Y algunos de ellos son: Miss Vicky, Chris, Mary, Andy, Little Romi, the great singer y my dear V. Pero los dos más importantes: Palmerita y the special guy, the 'dream lover'.
As you can see, and as I have just realised, words seem to flow easier in Spanish, though I found myself trying to write in Spanish but thinking in English. That's another issue: 70% or even 80% of my thoughts are in English, and that's so cool! = )
Así que, for I think in two languages (Enlgish predomina) this is kind of my thoughts. Spanglish, as Palmerita would say, pero con muchísimo más inglés que español.
Hope you've liked my trying to organise my thoughts on the subject, this was hard. And maybe you found it dull, and in that case, I'm truely sorry, but I REALLY felt I had to write this down.
Saturday, November 22, 2008
The missing something
I found another cool blog in which you have to write something in just six sentences. It is called The Six Sentences (6S) http://www.sixsentences.blogspot.com
This are my six sentences of last Saturday:
I woke up. All the worries were disturbing me. They seemed so real, but at the same time... Something was missing, something, that was always there, wasn't there anymore. I wondered what that was, when I remembered. All the worries were gone.
This are my six sentences of last Saturday:
I woke up. All the worries were disturbing me. They seemed so real, but at the same time... Something was missing, something, that was always there, wasn't there anymore. I wondered what that was, when I remembered. All the worries were gone.
Friday, November 21, 2008
What could it mean?
HEY! I've come across another coooooooool blog in which you have to invent a meaning for the little coloured word given when you have to post a comment...
http://www.whatcoulditmean-d.blogspot.com
Here are some of my answers to the posts:
oxystod: (adj.) Able to avoid oxid.
Great oxystod kasserolle you could buy for just US$ 19.99, and if you call now you will get a smaller one free!
poldo: Nickname for 'Leopoldo', 'Leopold' in English.
Have you seen that blue T-shirt Poldo was wearing today?
shrou: (Derived from Lucyland) (tr.v.) To throw a shower, meaning to take a shower suuuuper quickly.
"Lucy, aren't you coming?" "In a minute, I have to shrou and I'll be right back"
manone: (noun) A copy of a well known brand of cookies in
coldrom:(noun)A bedroom that is cold or cool, and is good for sleeping in Summer.
After realising the night was going to be unbearably hot, Mike decided to sleep in his coldrom.
paterop:(noun)New kind of rope used to fasten ponytails.
Mum tied my hair using this new paterop she bought for me.
fianych:(noun) A French fancy 40s dress.
Carrie was wearing a dark blue velvet fianych.
bellymp:(noun)A crocodile or alligator's belly.
They found the adventurer's watch inside of the croc's bellymp.
leati:[Le-ah-TEE] (noun) Carnivorous mammal, with grey and red fur and a long tail with black strings, from the family of the Central and South American "coatí".
The Leati they saw at the zoo wasn't as big as they expected it to be.
regatess: [Derived from Spanish] (noun) A woman that bargains.
The regatess got the best fruits for the lowest cost.
selychin: [SELL - e - chin] (adj) Used to describe a salesman/woman who lies in order to sell expensive but low quality products.1
The man in that TV advertisement is such a selychin!
nessemd: (adj) Someone who is nessemd is stubborn and doesn't believe what others say.
"Will she give us our ball back?" "No, miss Wenworth is a complete nessemd; she doesn't believe we didn't intend to break her glass."
perstnem: [perst-NEM] (noun) An archnemesis which is very persistent.
Sherlock Holmes wouldn't have fallen from the
catestsp [Being catest from a word and sp from another one; CATEST-sp] (noun) Contraction of "Catest" and "Spanish". A special test given in middle-school to test Spanish.
"Have you already taken your catestsp?" "No, I'm in Elementary school".
menati [MEN-ah-tee] (noun) An African hip-moving type of dance.
They were thrilled by the joy showed by the Africans when dancing the menati.
dysterm [dis-TERN] (noun) A new Japanese electronic devise that regulates or disables temperature.
The oven's temperature was easily regulated by the new dysterm we bought.
gymnisti [gym-NEES-tee] (noun) The science of gymnistics.
Sarah told me she wanted to study the history of gymnisti.
billume [BILL-um] (noun) A new, pink and blue coloured type of flower.
Mary was cultivating some billumes in her garden.
chies [CHIS] (noun singular: chy) Special seeds for geen tomatoes.
He spread the chies all aroun the garden.
velesse [ve-LESS] (noun derived from French) A very beautiful little girl or young woman.
Sitting at the audience, Roberto looked at the runway and, seeing a young model, exclaimed "velesse!"
rencish (noun) A relly small net to fish little fishes.
The fishermen had lost their rencishes so they had to fish bigger fishes.
pirfi (Derived from Spanish) Slang for 'please'.
Would you lend me some money, mom? Pirfi?
Wednesday, November 19, 2008
Grandpa reminiscences
This is an old comment I made at "A Writer's Voice", a blog I follow.She mentioned remembering her grandpa's speaking voice, and the particular sound it made. That brought back recollections about my grandpa:
WOW! Your story is so cute! Your stories are always very cute... = )
I'm amazed at how much that story looks like mine.
My grandpa is kinda in coma now, always lying on a bed at my granny's house and using a special machine to breathe and 'eat'. Before, he also used a special devise to be able to talk, as he has a tube inside of his throat. He made a strange sound when speaking, too.
But what reminded me of my story was that you missed so much the sound of his voice. One of the things I miss the most is his smell: he used to wear a special brand of perfume I'm never gonna forget. The other day I was buying some stuff at a random shop, when a middle-aged man joined the kinda cue that had formed behind of me. I has thrilled: he wore the exact scent my grandpa used to wear! I tried to inhale as much as I could, it smelled exactly as my grandpa! When the man left, I felt a strange feeling of emptyness, as I miss that smell so much! = (
When I remember his scent, I can't avoid smiling, for I miss him, but at the same time, I now know he's at a better place now. And I know that, someday, I'll see him again, so I just have to wait. =)
I'm amazed at how much that story looks like mine.
My grandpa is kinda in coma now, always lying on a bed at my granny's house and using a special machine to breathe and 'eat'. Before, he also used a special devise to be able to talk, as he has a tube inside of his throat. He made a strange sound when speaking, too.
But what reminded me of my story was that you missed so much the sound of his voice. One of the things I miss the most is his smell: he used to wear a special brand of perfume I'm never gonna forget. The other day I was buying some stuff at a random shop, when a middle-aged man joined the kinda cue that had formed behind of me. I has thrilled: he wore the exact scent my grandpa used to wear! I tried to inhale as much as I could, it smelled exactly as my grandpa! When the man left, I felt a strange feeling of emptyness, as I miss that smell so much! = (
When I remember his scent, I can't avoid smiling, for I miss him, but at the same time, I now know he's at a better place now. And I know that, someday, I'll see him again, so I just have to wait. =)
Thanks again for your post, it made me smile.
Tuesday, November 18, 2008
New blog!
Opening my second blog!
There has been some problems and I had to rearrange my thoughts, so I made a new blog to be more organised, as I'm so obsessively organised...
Well, this new blog is due to my need of expressions, for my having so many feelings inside and for my need to write them down, to, at the same time, create art.
Oh, by the way, as this blog will be for me to write and write and write, I have to thank the owners of the following blogs for all their ideas and creativity. Visit them! They're great!
www.oneminutewriter.blogspot.com
www.whatocoulditmean-d.blogspot.com
www.litchick73.blogspot.com
www.allymaureen.blogspot.com
Let's start with the blog! = )
There has been some problems and I had to rearrange my thoughts, so I made a new blog to be more organised, as I'm so obsessively organised...
Well, this new blog is due to my need of expressions, for my having so many feelings inside and for my need to write them down, to, at the same time, create art.
Oh, by the way, as this blog will be for me to write and write and write, I have to thank the owners of the following blogs for all their ideas and creativity. Visit them! They're great!
www.oneminutewriter.blogspot.com
www.whatocoulditmean-d.blogspot.com
www.litchick73.blogspot.com
www.allymaureen.blogspot.com
Let's start with the blog! = )
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