Monday, June 22, 2009

The Fish and the Bud

The Fish and the Bud

A fish was once tending to his garden green, and he tended to his garden so well that none of his fellow consorts could surpass him. Plants everywhere grew to love the fish, and they all reached out with hopes of receiving the same care that the fish had bestowed upon his garden. In fact, the garden flourished to such a great quantity that, after a tiring day of tending, the fish found that he could no longer find his way out.

His plants were narrow-minded creations, and had grown miserly from all the attention. They depended on the fish to make them greener, taller, better than the rest. So when they realized that he, for once, could not give them what they asked, they turned away.

For days, the fish wandered through the dense forest of green, but could not find an escape. Tired and lonely, he stopped by the smallest bud, and fell asleep.

When he awoke, the forest had shriveled and withered away. Only the small, lonely bud, that he sought for comfort, remained. The bud, so tiny was she, was unseen beside the tall plants that surrounded her. Now that the other plants were gone, she soaked up all the attention the fish had to give.

But the fish, heartbroken at the loss of his garden and more alone than he had ever been, could only share despair. The bud tried many times to cure the fish of his grief, but the fish refused to listen. The bud grew weaker and weaker. It's leaves drooped and it bent over feebly. The bud was too tired to keep the fish in good spirits.

Only after it was too late. Only after the bud had long since stropped growing and turned brown, did the fish finally see everything the little plant had tried to teach him.

- - -
(Thanks to laurapoet for help on the last paragraph!)

Sunday, June 21, 2009



The morning dust roamed over the clouds as the light set a color of molten orange to the sky. All previous tints of dark peeled away as warmth took over. Small birds flowed into the atmosphere, feathers trailing in golden dust.

One certain grackle was snoring against the pavement. The sudden warmth of the light woke him from his dreams, which often consisted of donuts and sprinkles. After adjusting to the bright light, he brushed off the shiny sparkles that coated his feathers and set off behind the other birds. He had letters to deliver.

He was in charge of love letters to a certain Signor Ryf. Well, he was in charge of all love letters in general, but Signor Ryf was the only one who received any. Every day, a single letter addressed to him was sent, with no return address. He had never met Signor Ryf, and wondered why anyone would be so infatuated with the bird.

Once he arrived at Signor Ryf’s dwelling, he dropped the lone letter into the slot in the tree, listening as it dropped with a satisfying thunk. He flew straight home after that, and watched as all the other birds worked. He felt a little smug at the fact that he had such a small load. Walking outside, he rid his home of the soot that insisted on covering his possessions. He ruffled his feathers and sneezed from the dust that resulted.

And then the light crinkled and the dust disappeared. The grackle, suddenly overcome with drowsiness, fell to the floor and dreamed of donuts and sprinkles.

The next day, the light woke him up. Once again, he found the letter in his possession, and brushed the dust off in preparation for flight. As he watched a flurry of birds fly above, it occurred to him that he should try talking to them. Perhaps then his days wouldn’t be so dull. He noticed that dust was covering his feathers again. The grackle put down his letter to wipe the pesky things off when he noticed something strange. Golden dust poured out from the wrinkled envelope. Curious, he opened the letter, and the sky ripped apart.

And then the grackle watched his world unfold.
- - -
The grackle is Signor Ryf. He lives in a love letter. The golden dust is actually sand. The sand is time. The slot that he puts his letter in is dark inside. Therefore, the light disappears very suddenly. His world rewinds while its dark, so the letter is once again with the grackle, and the light is back. The other birds don’t exist, and are made of sand. Since he wipes the sand off himself before and after the dark appears, he still remembers everything. When the letter rips, the sand falls out, and so does time. So then his world unfolds. And he dreams of donuts because he dreams of what he can’t have(donuts and sprinkles don’t exist in his world). Why is he in a love letter? It’s just the way things are. There's my short story. I think it's the first one I've ever finished. So, how many synonyms of folding can you find? Also, the Ryf in Signor Ryf is actually a bad anagram of fry for cheese fry.

Saturday, June 20, 2009

Wahoo! Clean room!

Well, four of my friends came over, re-organized, de-clutterized, and cleaned up my room.

It started one day when a friend of mine decided that it would be so much fun to clean up my room. And so all of us just chose to do that one day because its fun to clean up other people's rooms, just never your own. We also made a group playlist and each added songs to it to listen to while we were organizing.

Before, my room was full of stuff, but according to them it was cluttered. I think it was pretty clean, except my closet, bookshelves, and the space under my bed was bursting with stuff. Of course, I laid down 5 rules, which they agreed to, and were all broken.

1. Don't touch the books or pig collection on the bookshelves.
2. Please clean up one area at a time in case we don't finish and half my room is still dead.
3. Don't mess with the stuff in the drawers.
4. Don't throw away anything without my consent!
5. Don't break anything.

#2 Step one to cleaning up a room is to mess it up. From all areas of the room, socks, clothes, and everything was being thrown into one big pile in the middle of the floor. Everyone's stuff was in the bathroom, and the springs and backing of my old bed were being stuffed under my bed, while my other friends were pulling out the paper and books from under my bed so there was room for the old-bed-stuff.

#3 Two of my friends tried to cram a plastic box of 200 crayons into my craft drawer. The drawer wouldn't open enough to take out my craft box, so we tried to pull the box out and succeeded after it was crushed. And then after my help, the drawer would barely open at all. But finally, my friend miraculously got the crayons out and we then stuffed everything back into the drawer.

#4 They tried to throw away my old Disney posters and cards which I don't have up anymore, but I already had a nice little collection, but they insisted on throwing em away because it was going to grow bigger and I was too old for it all. So they asked, but didn't listen to me anyway. :)

#5 There is a slight dent on my closet door. I'm not really sure how that happened.

Some of the wonderful additions and improvements:

All my clothes are hung up, and the boxes have been moved to the side so you can actually walk into it. All the luggage is stacked on the poor little shelf above.

The space between my bed and the wall is actually clear except for the extra mattress. We threw all the squishy pillows and too-small-to-sleep-on pillows into the area and laid down a blanket, so now there's a nice little reading corner right under the giant window.

The pile that has accumulated in front of my bookcases is gone. Before, there were almond jars filled with trinkets and ribbons and random things inside. Now all the jars have been transported to different places. I actually have one empty one under the desk as a trash can now.

The space under my bed has more room for stuff now! Although I'll try not to put more stuff under it.

A bunch of stuff is being thrown out. Its still in a pile in the hallway, but it'll disappear soon.

From an idea from one of my friends, a rope is tied between the two things on the end of my bed, and all my old stuffed animals(which were previously stacked in a row on my old mattress) are sitting in a row between my bed and the rope.

A collage we made over winter break is hung up on my wall.

My friends ambushed me while I was looking for my camera.

Afterwards, for some reason I was mad and started cleaning up all the tiny leftover things(like moving the mattress back and re-organizing my drawers so I knew where everything was again) and now my room is completely clean.

That was fun. :)

Listening to: How Six Songs Collide by Norwegian Recycling (from our group playlist)

Thursday, June 11, 2009


Doesn't the thought of writing make you happy? And the same with doodling. And just looking at a small tower of blank paper makes you want to fill it with something.

Hockey :: Golfballs
Twirling :: Batons
Montreal :: Whales
Better :: Or Worse
New :: Old
Rally :: Really
Stanley :: Stretchy
USB :: Computer
Scouted :: Dog
Cough :: Drop

From lunanina
Still thinking about: Writing a story

Listening to: Collide by Howie Day
Look at that! --->
It's called Dangerous Donut.

Tuesday, June 9, 2009

Hugs & Toes

My friend laurapoet just stubbed her toe.

You know, hugs are a great way to greet people and skip the weird part of awkward silence, because its so totally unexpected that you have to have a reaction to it.

Alabaster - New IF by Emily Short and 11 other people. Its a twist on the traditional story of Snow White, and its mostly in dialogue. 18 different endings! Yay!

Listening to: Miss Invisible
Feeling like: Writing a story
Browsing: DeviantArt
Playing: Little Wheel
Discovering that: Sunburns don't just make your skin red
Learning that: putting loud songs after quiet songs are frightening

I love stories. And quizzes. And polls. And humor.