Daily Prompt: Symphony (Autumn)

via Daily Prompt: Symphony

I coasted through the cacophonous spectacle of the changing leaves. The Pennsylvania portion of Interstate 84 carried me East. The shifting colors brought to mind a conductor’s baton, the low waving queuing the bass red foliage to begin the movement.

I wondered how the changing season would sound in concert, despite the amphitheater mountains that surrounded me. The vibrato tones, twanging strings, the percussion laying down nature’s heartbeat set against the whistling wind.

I followed the rhythm of the road. Crescendo and downbeat carried my tires through a silent chorus of trees. The rising melody of asphalt and rubber thumped in my chest, and the baton rose call for the firs to shed. A drum of rain drops began to play its part on my car.

A hanging cloud by no means meant that the concert was coming to a close. Only that it would be a more dramatic piece than I thought. Instead of a soothing ambient lullaby, I would hear the hero’s journey and triumph as I made my way home.

Amusement

Lollipop

 

 

The tacky film gives me Spider-Man’s grip as I hold the treat aloft. The stick holds no reprieve from the sweet slime, but my grip minimizes surface area touched.

Greedy grabbing fingers from the previous owner supplements the words needed to request its return, having finished re-tying her shoelaces. The lollipop is longer than her leg, even after the inch that disappeared in her mouth.

I barely dodge her drum major conduction, indicating the next ride she wants to go. Indulgence is the name of the game, especially on birthdays. Especially after missing so many.

A sticky hand grabs mine and she pulls me forward, hurrying my steps. I’m not the only that endeavors to spoil her rotten, I just have less of a chance to.

The noise of the world (screaming wheels, shrieking children, and wallets emptying) intrudes once more.

I plot to get her a sugar stick as tall as she is before we leave. She won’t object.

Her mother’s going to kill me.

 

 

Why I’m Here: Re-Introduction to the blogging community

I originally started a blog, as an outlet. As a way to express myself with the freedom to be able to voice my opinion. This was a novelty growing up. I also wanted to be able to explore the various fictional worlds I lived, and see who else shared my interest. In a small town, my friends would share a couple at most of my interests.

I want to review. I love reviewing. Delving into the minutia of a fictional world and find my meaning, even if said meaning differed from someone else’s. I love to see what others do when they look at the same thing as me. I love books, movies and TV shows, and as a nerd, if I could capitalize on my near-obsession with certain ones and make a living of that, or become the published author that I also want to be, then that would be a dream come true.

I think that the true reason for my various social media accounts, and this blog was for attention. I’ve spent most of my life feeling invisible, and part of that was deliberate. It was necessary. But I don’t live in fear of monsters anymore, and I feel like anytime I want to step into the sunlight, I get shoved back into the shadows. I want to know that I’m being noticed, that someone sees me. That my voice is heard, and get the confirmation that it matters. Then again, this could become a double edged sword, and my being notice might not work out in my favor.

But living in fear of what could happen as an existence I don’t want to endure anymore. Human beings are evolved to survive, but survival means nothing if there is nothing beyond that. Then it is only a matter of: to be or not to be. And the answer to that question is one we can only hope to answer for ourselves.

Do you believe in fate?

 

This was a plinky prompt last week pertaining to this, but I felt this is one better suited here.  I think Plinky is good for quick answers, but I needed to expand on this.

I think that most people are of two minds as to whether or not they believe in it.

On the one hand, there is the hope of a grand plan ofr us, that we aren’t arbitrary and our existence isn’t an accident or fluke.  That we are meant to be more than what we are.  The ancient Greeks believe that their fate was in the hands of three sisters, the Fates who controlled the destiny of all, gods and mortals alike.  There are some that believe in the existence in the Akashic Records, where the history of the world and humanity is stored, and souls write out the journey of their own lives before descend to earth for their births. There is also the possibility that when our lives go horribly wrong at certain turns, we have someone outside of ourselves for which to blame.  It leaves us with a lessened responsibility as to our mistakes and issues.

On the other hand, the thought that someone other than us is in charge of our lives is abhorrent, something that we would refuse to accept, and go out of our way to oppose and rebel against an authority that we cannot contact or reason with.  It has long been in our history to reject those with power over us, dictating our lives for us without our consent or input.  We will not be made slaves of others’ whims, whether or not we know they are there.

So the question remains: do I believe in fate?

As with most things, I’m on the fence.  Control of my own life has long been in issue with me, and now is no different.  But the possibility of being more, of being extraordinary in some way, is something dreams are made of.  Then most of the television and movie entertainment that enraptures us is built on the premise of an old Chinese cure: “May you live interesting lives.”

Writing a Book – A Wannabe Novelist

I have not only started on one, I’ve been working on one for several years now, and am currently in the process of rewriting. It is the first book in the series, because I could never just write one book, and I have too many characters stories that I want to tell in order to stop at one book.

It started out as a short story project for my freshman English class in high school, and kind of exploded from there. If I can ever finish, I’ll be happy.

It was to help me fill the void when Buffy and the X-Files went off the air, and I had hoped it would be the next Harry Potter, but alas my muse refuses to speak to me. So I’m not sure if I’ll ever finish

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