Day #10

Very busy day today (SATS are taken ugh, nap is taken yay, and now off to play in a concert an hour and a half away!) so this is just a short poem from last February. I might post a short story tomorrow :)

I love the sky right now
it's blue for once
been gray all day
little wisps of clouds
float by, they're tinged with pink
the sun glows orange
I've missed the sun today.
The trees are still
and so am I
we all are mesmerized
we stand upturned
to face the sky.


Kelia

Day #9

Eleven thirty
the clock says in red
in big bight bold lines
against empty black
it still tells the time
when no one's around
and if we all left
(all people just gone)
the world would be full
of clocks telling time
to big empty rooms
recording the days
and minutes and hours
the world would tick on
with no one to care.


From March 2011. (My dad always says that time is a human concept, that it's just a way for us to measure things. So, seriously, in most sci-fi shows/books why has every other civilization switched over to the human way of measuring things? Random tangent :P)
Kelia

Day #8

This blog has survived for a week! :) I've been looking forward to summer a lot recently, so here's a poem that makes me think of summer. It's very old, I think from July 2009.

We sit
in the tree,
on the sand,
on the bed in the room
the wind is shushing
our worries away
the waves are pounding,
pulling back,
pounding, pulling back
emotions spill over
and we pull them quickly back
nothing can disturb
the hot sun and bright sky.
The wind is shushing away
our worries and
all worries quickly fade
the rustling leaves
and yellow-green sunlight
casts a warm veil over
the tree, our tree
our tree where we are queens.
Darkness flows in
through the window
tickles our feet
the room slowly enlarges until
we see the whole world
in it's ceiling.


Kelia

Day #7

I am the queen of few words
and little, my brain was not made
for complicated thoughts
(but that's a lie, they all
are so overly tangled that
they can't be put into words
except for the most simple
and broad of terms-)
I am confused
I don't know why
I dislike my mind
I am fickle and
I am afraid.
I'll be a queen the day I unlock
the wall, (or it just comes crumbling
down from too much pounding
with my head)
and I can actually write
what I'm trying to say.


First poem I wrote this year. This is one of those journal-like poems I write a lot of (but one of my favorites, I like it an illogical amount), so I was wondering, does it make sense to anyone else? :)
Kelia

Day #6

It's no use to think of my life

as a tree - all the ways it could go,

every choice or decision as a fork

in a branch, all those paths

all those things that could happen

differently, and so every day determining

where my life will lead.

It's no use, since I can't time travel

or world hop, I cannot meet every

version of myself and pick the one

I'd like to be. I'm all I've got.

This life will only travel one

zigzaggy path full of sadnesses

and missed opportunities, bad luck,

coincidences, tiny miracles and things

I cannot yet imagine.

I wrote this poem last month when I was going crazy thinking "What if?" and it helped a lot. Things I cannot yet imagine :)

Kelia

Day #5

(Their boat just got flipped over by the sea monster)

It’s like all the air has been punched out of my body, and my eyes are burning and the cold is enveloping me so tightly that I can’t move. Strangely enough, I can see dad’s mouth moving like he’s still trying to talk. The boat looms above us, blocking the surface and freezing us in it’s shadow. The Zinker moves first, recoiling from the surprise of seeing us stranded right in it‘s way. It opens it’s mouth.
Noise rushes back then, garbled words are pouring from dad’s mouth and mom might be shouting Cara and I try to grab their hands as I lunge for the air.
Trawley has already surfaced, he’s coughing and spitting and trying to grab onto the boat. Mom pops up a moment later dragging dad with her and we wheeze. I’m curling up my legs as much as I can while still staying afloat, looking down and trying to see where the Zinker is.
“We’re not it’s prey,” Trawley is shouting, he repeats it until I look up. “It doesn’t want to eat us,” he says, practically grinning. “Now that it can smell that we’re disgusting humans, it should go away.” He’s got one arm hooked around the bottom of the boat and it looks whole, just a bit battered.
“Cara,” mom says, smiling out of relief. And then the ship explodes.
The blast rocks through the water, sending a vast wave that makes me reel and go under again. Things are falling, huge metal shards that were thrown into the sky and send more waves when they plummet near us. I can’t get my balance. I’m fighting to stay above the ocean, swallowing more briny water as cold as a knife each time I’m pushed back down. I can’t see anything in the darkness except for pieces of flaming wood and steaming metal. The sudden light from the fire burns itself onto my eyes and I can’t find my parents, or the boat, or anything except for wreckage and more ocean, and coldness everywhere.
Another wave pushes me under and I try to clamp my mouth shut, but I’d been gasping for a air a moment ago and I can’t help but swallow a shard of water. It’s up my nose and I feel like my head is going to explode. I shut my eyes though it makes no difference and make myself relax.
Something bumps into me and I grab it hurriedly, letting it drag me back up to the surface. It’s a piece of the piano, I realize as I splutter ocean water. The top part, long and flat and if I lay it right… it floats. I hang on with my arms for a moment as waves make it buck and leap, but I don't go under. Slowly I clamber onto the wood, my weight making it dip down before I’m fully on, but when I spread out and lie completely still it rides the surface gently.
The waves from the explosion are dissipating already and I look around as much as I can, searching the darkness on every side. It’s no use. The moon has gone behind a cloud and the flames are all quenched, all I can see is a vague blackness that turns into gray when it meets the sky. There’s no sign of my parents, or even the wreckage. It must have only been minutes since the explosion but there’s no way to judge how far I’ve drifted, or to know what direction they’re in. They might have sank, or just drifted out of my view. There’s not a single blip or smudge to say that anything was ever there.
“Shat,” I say softly, and lay back down. The current is pulling me somewhere, so it must be towards land or a city. I can’t think. The air is slightly less frigid than the water but it’s still like ice, and I think my pajamas are actually freezing. I can’t let myself think. My chest hurts like I want to cry, but maybe that’s just the cold. Except for the whoosh and swish of water it is perfectly silent. I close my eyes.


Kelia

Day #4

I thought I'd post a part of my story today. This is the first time I'm trying out first person present tense for a longer story (I've only done it for short stories before) so it's a bit different than I'm used to. This isn't quite the beginning, but it's close enough :) I'll post the rest of this section tomorrow. Does it feel blocky at all? I'm not terribly fond of this part.



I wake up as the ship starts to sink. I’m aware of the echoes of a sound, like something hitting metal very fast-- and then my room tilts, ever so slightly. “Mom!” I shout, jumping out of bed and staggering for the door. “Dad! Did you feel that?” They’re already in the hallway, dad starting for my room and mom hurrying for the lower stairs. In the belly of the ship, just the narrow space where the engine sits and there’s three feet of solid metal protecting it from the ocean, I can hear gurgling. There is not supposed to be gurgling down there.
“We’ve been breached,” Mom shouts up to us, just before she reappears. The boots she just pulled on are slightly wet, and her eyes are wide. “Go,” she says, running towards us and dragging us towards the stairs. “We have to get out of here.”
“But--” dad starts, trailing off when Captain Trawley comes barreling towards us.
“It’s no use,” mom says before he can even open his mouth. “It was a Zinker.” The captain freezes, just wincing slightly. Without a word we all bolt up the stairs. The night air hits me like a slap, it’s freezing out. The moon is a soft curve in the sky that barely gives off any light, and it makes the ocean look incredibly black and sharp.
“The ship will blow up,” Trawley says almost calmly. “We have to get off now.” He and mom are already untying the life boat, while dad is rushing around trying to find something. I have no idea what to do except try not to get in their way. Pounds and pounds of water are pouring into the ship below us, weighing us down and creeping each second towards the engines…
Breathe, I tell myself. Stay calm. Grab that blanket. Run to the cabin and get the portable communicator, wrap it in waterproof skin and put it in my pocket. Grab dad and tell him to calm down, everything will be fine as long as we don’t panic, here, squeeze my hand.
The lifeboat is free in an instant and they push it over the railing, which is already tipping towards us just barely. “Cara, you first!” mom says and I hurry down the ladder. The steel rungs are cold and slippery on my hands. The lifeboat is bobbing just below me and I lower myself in, looking up to find mom clambering after me. The boat lurches as she drops in and I sit down, flinching as spray stings my cheek.
“You alright?” mom asks as dad follows us, and I nod silently. The Zinker shouldn’t be here, we are nowhere near it’s migratory path-- but that doesn’t matter, because I can hear the ship groaning beside me. Captain Trawley throws off the rope as soon as he’s in the boat and we’re free, drifting just with the pull of the current until the engine kicks in and we zoom away.
“Shat,” dad says, looking over his shoulder as the ship tilts closer to the water. “Trawley, how far away are we from Ikmar? We couldn’t have traveled too much yesterday?”
“Just two hundred miles,” he says blandly, though I guess that isn’t too bad, considering what it could be. “We’ll make it back, don’t worry--” and then there’s a jolt, like we side scraped a huge rock except there are no rocks out here, and captain Trawley is swearing as he jerks the boat back into place.
“Oh God, the Zinker,” mom says, and then it bumps us again. We almost tip over this time, the boat actually lifts into the air a little bit, and the breath all whooshes out of me as we slap back down.
“How do you fight one of these things?” I ask quickly, trying not to look over the side of the boat. The water is black, there’s no way I can see it skimming beneath the surface right next to us.
“You don’t,” mom says reassuringly. I was just checking really, I can’t think of any way to fight something that has teeth as long as spears coming out of it’s mouth, strong enough to punch through three feet of metal. This little boat will be small crunchy snack to it. Dad opens his mouth to suggest something when it rams us again, flipping the boat and sending us all plunging into the ocean.


Kelia