Life Musings – The Truth is in the Telling

Hello, hello.

It has been quite a while, hasn’t it?

Basically I have been wandering the, sometimes misleading, path of life.

I’ve been here; I’ve been there. And many stories I have to share.

I lied. I have but one story to tell and this story occurred recently. Yes, recently indeed.

It began on a stress-filled last Friday. I had my practical test that morning for my Provisional license (I can drive without supervision) and it is fair to say that I was nervous. So nervous that I threw up yellow monkeys and slept four hours the night before. Okay, so maybe I didn’t quite throw up, but I was nervous and slightly deprived of sleep. To cut this story short, I passed the test easily.

What next? Okay so I started really enjoying the freedom of having my Provisional license, I even began driving my sister to where she needed to go. Last night I drove her to touch football and stayed until she was finished. On the way home I noted that the street was extremely dark – the moon was covered by clouds and my street lacks street-lights.

I did a wide arc to fit nicely into the driveway. I got the car halfway through the gate when: Thump. I looked to my sister and said, “Shit, what was that.”

We thought I’d driven over a cat or something. Nope, I did much, much better. I drove too close to the gate and apparently nicked it on the way out. Great. I used my phone to survey the damage. I took a look at the back of the car: a few chips of paint missing below the back tail-lights, not so bad. But I was puzzled. Hmm, I thought, how the fuck did I hit the back of the car on the gate, whilst moving forwards?

Anyway, I went to bed stressing over how I would tell the parents I had screwed up for the second time in two days – I had gotten bogged in the back yard because I rolled down the driveway onto soft dirt, as apparently you need to apply the break when moving from P to R in an automatic, or otherwise you get no brakes or accelerator.

I awoke today stressed, wondering if my father would notice the missing paint on the back of the car as he backed his own vehicle out – also, might want to mention that the car I was driving was my step-mother’s. I spent all morning worrying, so I decided to go out and see if the damage was really as bad as I thought.

I took a look at the back of the car: the missing paint was probably smaller than five cent piece (AU). Thank goodness for that, I thought. But then I had a revelation, I realised that I should probably look at the side of the car.

“Fuck!” I exclaimed.

The rear panel of the side of the car was a lot worse. A huge white stripe dominated the panel and a chip approximately 3 mm deep and a good centimeter in diameter occupied the edge of the panel. At this point I was super panicked and locked myself in my room to devise ways to minimise the damage before telling my parents about the mark.

Once again, I will cut the story short(er than it could have been).

I realised that the scratch could probably be 90% cleared by a good buff and polish, so I concluded that I’d need to drive to the auto-store and pick up some advice and supplies. But this meant I’d have to tell my step-mum who was home with me.

I told her. She took a look. She laughed, told me the back chips were her doing and the side wasn’t too bad, told me not to stress and said that everything would be fixed when the back gets repaired. She also put forth a great message that I will now keep close to heart:

Life is about learning; take your time and learn from your mistakes.

She also reminded me that my Dad has no demerit points left on his license and that I would always have that over him.

So, there you have it. Apparently stress and worry are useless emotions. Eliminate them from your life and learn from the mistakes that you make.

Also, I felt a lot better after telling the truth – no lies, no warping the truth to procure a better outcome for me.

Cheers.

Advertisements

FFC: Five Ingredients Make a Story — The Tree of Life

Another attempt at Chuck Wendig’s Flash Fiction Challenge, details can be found here.

This story makes no sense, enjoy!

The Tree of Life

Nothing. Not even a bone. Where the hell was the corpse?

‘For shit’s sake!’ Jacob yelled.

Where there should have been a body, was a mere scorched outline. The whole body had been disintegrated. But how? Why here? Jacob looked around the forest, looking for something, anything at all.

There! He thought, What’s that?

He wandered over to the base of a tree. There was a smoldering object sitting on the ground. A book—no, a notebook. He picked it up and flicked through it. Every page was empty except for the first. Sections of the page were blackened and illegible, Jacob read:

‘…find the tree in the forest of the moon… destroy the tree of life…  the music box… not what it seems.’

Hmm, he thought, so this is why he was snooping around the forest. Find and destroy the tree of life, eh?

Jacob set off in search of the mysterious tree. He searched the forest for three hours before he stumbled upon a strange sight. It was a music box.

‘Interesting,’ he muttered.

Jacob fiddled around with the various buttons, switches and levers. But it was no use. The damned thing was broken.

‘Fuck it!’ He screamed. He kicked at the thing in the slim hope of fixing it. Because everyone knows if there’s a problem with technology, you kick the shit out of it.

He dropped to the ground, laid back and stared up at the sky. The stars were out, such a beautiful sight. He closed his eyes, all of his efforts had exhausted him.

Tree of life, he thought, who was I kidding?

Mere seconds after closing his eyes, the ground below him opened, dropping him six feet to land on his ass. He looked up. A rectangular hole had opened underneath him.

It must have been triggered by that bloody music box.

‘But that’s impossible,’ he said.

‘What’s that, young master?’ A voice called, ‘Why have you come to my humble abode?’

Jacob turned around, taking in his surroundings. He was in a subterranean grove, glowing with an eerie blue light. In truth, it was much less of a grove, and more a single tree.

‘I have come to kill the tree of life,’ Jacob stated.

‘Thee hath come to kill me?’ It said.

‘I, Jacob Wold, have come to do the deed described in this here book.’ He thrust the notebook towards the tree, who, unsurprisingly, couldn’t see, as it had no eyes.

‘I am the tree of life, the tree of all things living,’ it said, ‘thee cannot harm me.’

‘You know what?’ Jacob said, ‘Let’s give you a run for your money.’ He tried for hours on end to humble the arrogant tree. However, it was useless, the tree could not be harmed.

‘See, I am the tree of life, thee can do no harm to me.’

‘Yeah, fuck you,’ Jacob said.

Two screams pierced the still air of the grove. The tree screamed in pain, Jacob in ecstasy—he had defeated the tree of life, with but one profane statement! The tree died, as did everything else.

The End?

Novel Musings — What I Want From a Novel

Here we are again.

It has been a while since I have graced you all with my presence. But I thought this was the perfect time to talk about what I want from a novel.

Have you ever asked yourself what it is that you want from a novel?

I have. You know what I answered with? A bloody 500 word essay on what I want. It began as what I want from a novel and gradually deteriorated into a stinking pile of what I want from life. Here’s a revised version—less of a stinking pile, well, less of a pile—of my answer.

When I think about what I want from a book, I think of one thing: emotion. I want to feel something. For shit’s sake, give me something to think about and make me care! I ultimately want a novel with meaning. True meaning. Something that grabs you by the heart muscle and tears it out. Kinda. No, okay maybe not tearing it out. But you get the picture: a novel that makes you feel.

Now, isn’t that all we ever strive for? To feel something? To feel anything at all? To reassure ourselves that we are indeed human, that we do indeed have the capacity for normal human emotion? Personally, I answer yes to all.

Yes, I am a guy. Yes, I bottle up emotion. But no, no, no we don’t have to hide our emotions. We, as humans, are allowed to feel something, we are allowed to admit that some scene—whether it be from a movie, book, television program or, hell, even if it was from viewing that dirty, twisted… Newspaper article—had an impact upon us, that it almost brought us to tears.

Who gives a shit if it did?

Actually, you should be happy that you were brought to tears, welcome to being human!

That’s not to say that to be human you must cry every night. Rather, try to embrace whatever feelings are evoked from the depths of your emotionally-fortified self.

This musing on life and emotion has led me to uncover the three main themes I want to weave into my first novel. Three themes that will hopefully make the reader feel something. These are: loss, love and inevitability.

Thoughts, comments, abuse or whatever else you want to lay on my doormat, are welcome in the comments below.