If there are three words to succinctly describe my lifestyle right now, it would be:
- Gelato
- Ryanhood
- Parks
This summer, I’ve been doing plenty of things that I normally would not have done. I’m working my butt off, going to places unheard of, and hanging out with new crowds (okay, that’s typical every summer, but this year, it’s in a different context).
So, as I’m discovering this lonely town, it’s slowly growing into an amazing town. It’s a magical town. Therefore, why not create a blog to talk about these beautiful places? I mean, I know I’m not that great with writing–cheesy, at best (but probably much worse), but there’s so many things to do in this town! Why not let the world know about it so that the hidden gems won’t be brushed off the playing field by the big bad consumer businesses? Simply, why not?
Let’s just do it, Reves.
Five habits most people do not know about me
One: Many days pass by with me wondering why I am not going to medical school.
Two: I dislike texting. But fear inconvenience.
Three: I crank up the radio in my car only when driving; I lower it at every stop sign.
Four: I’ve got all the time in the world. So when I’m stubborn, I will eventually win.
Five: I sing every morning.
Deep golden eyes stare intently at me through the blankets of night. The crickets, mercilessly singing, muffles each step that we take towards another. Each breath that we take is muffled by the orchestra of the night. I feel as though I am trembling uncontrollably from the fear and excitement as I slowly walk closer, crouched for the pounce. The eyes snarl a warning as they follow my steps, carefully placing each footstep in the most pristine position possible.
It was the flicker of its eyes that gave him away. The moment the large golden eyes shrink, I know that it is my time to attack. Just as the creature lunges forward with his claws reaching for me in a deadly embrace, I follow, hoping with all my might that I had jumped higher than him. As we fly closer to each other, seconds dragged onto minutes, his weapons close in onto my legs. Panic sets in as I reach over the creatures head, avoiding the razor teeth that would easily rip me apart. My body, however, is still in prime position for his attack. In one desperate attempt, I claw into his neck, pushing his head down as I try for a flip. Immediately, pain enters my system as his golden eyes widen, hissing at me. Just as I draw blood from his neck, the claws of my opponent has dug into my right leg. The pain barely had time to register before he digs his teeth into my leg, revenging the pain that I had just caused. My scream satisfies his anger as he clings on, not moving one inch. As we both slowly fall back onto the earth, I let go of his neck and bite ravenously on his ear.
The muddy windshield won’t keep me from getting to you
There’s something wrong with how easily he pushes me off my pedestal
Some artists spend years constructing the perfect shade of sky.
But when I look into your eyes,
All I can see is the very spot where the sea kisses the sky.
The colors above us are never constant anyway,
But I am quite certain that yours,
Those gorgeous sun-kissed eyes, never fade away.
Some say that I am vain for loving you for
The eyes that captures the horizon,
But you know that I love them because they capture everything that I cannot have.
It may have been quite some time, but eventually, my heart’s thundering cries subsided, replaced with the loud crashing waves and wind. Turning towards the static noise, I push through a little bit more of foliage before finding myself on a shore. Am I on an island? Or just the coast of a bizarre place? Nothing can be seen past the waves reaching towards the horizon. And behind me lies the trail that I had come from, slowly being swallowed up by the foliage.
Noon. I feel like I am alone, but paranoia tells me that I am being watched very closely. I had barely touched the wet sand on the beach before a strange noise comes at me. Increasing in speed, a moving object run towards my general direction and I turn around, ready to attack with my trident, as another person emerges from the jungle.
Friend or foe? Threat or prey? Flight or fight? I lean low to the ground, aiming my spear as I stare wide-eyed at the figure. He slows down at the sight of me, panting and somewhat relieved. Normally a person would be wary of a girl poised to attack, but this stranger seems to happy to see another living creature on this land.
“Who are you?” I ask.
The figure falls to the sand, resting before replying. “An ally,” He reassures, “I was being chased by something a bit back. I think I lost him.”
“What are you doing here? Where am I?” I remain cautious, still in a position to attack.
“You know, I’d appreciate it if you would either attack me now, or relax a bit. It’s sort of awkward waiting for you to make a move.”
I am caught slightly off guard by his comment, but I remain crouched. “Why are you here?”
Reane sat outside under to cool breeze and new moon, dangling her legs at the edge of the pool. Ripples of water move away from her as she kicks the water back and forth, back and forth. She grabs the bottle next to her to quench her crowded mind and slowly falls onto her back. The cement, cool, but uncomfortably hard, nurses her numb head as she tries to think of nothing but the textures of the surface beneath her.
She does not know how long she had dozed off before the sound of a loud bird awakens her. It’s still dark out, but a mockingbird’s echo is sounding off into the night. Slightly confused and dazed, she peers around before swinging herself upright. How long had she been asleep? Reane tries to shake the reminiscence of sleep from her eyes, focusing on the location of the bird’s cries. It didn’t sound like a mockingbird–usually the sounds would repeat a series of random tunes. Tonight, it just sounds obnoxiously loud and random. As numb as her brain might be, Reane tries to focus on where the strange noise is coming from. Whatever it is, it does not sound like a bird.
You know the saying that one small event can ruin your entire day?
I tried really hard to defy that. Really. But somehow, the phrase won out in the end. Which… explains why I am up at 1:30am in the morning writing a blog, refusing to sleep on soft comforters.
It is absolutely true that the human mind is so complex, so unsolvable, that we tend to break it with one single touch. But at the same time, it’s an amazing thing.
For example, I know very well that I am a conceited bitch. But I love hiding it behind this amazing mask. That is, until I accidentally open my mouth and the entire dream shatters beneath my very feet. Suddenly, reality hits like a giant wave trying to wash me clean of every dirt in my system. But of course, the dirt washed away is just everything that I am not–which leaves me standing there like a blank canvas with poisoned skin.
Guilty. I am the one who wishes to run away from trouble, never look back, and never mention the deep dark shadows that I try to leave behind. But my mind is the bull that refuses to budge; the fleeting fox is its worse enemy. And when the bull attempts to make friends with the fox… it’s almost as if hell is rising.
It’s finals week, and all I keep thinking about is this butterfly in my stomach that just won’t die. This stress is making me eat less and think less. Let’s get this over with.
Arelene grips the metal in her hand tightly, white knuckles defying her calm composure. Crouched low, hand and legs planted firmly on the ground, her golden eyes pierce through the forest green, targeting her prey. She breathes steadily, waiting. Building up the momentum, waiting for the target to move into the perfect position, the girl slowly relaxes her fist, allowing her weapon to breath just a little before her entire body tenses again. Unknowingly, the prey turns away from the imminent danger. A smirk spreads across her face as Arlene pushes her feet off the ground and breaks through the branches above her. Her weapon guides her body as her hand guides it, arching over the ground silently and deathly. At the peak of her jump, the girl swings her legs forward, wrapping the base of the three-pronged weapon as it falls swiftly. The prey, growing in size as the predator neared it, turns its head around only to see the weapon of its murderer. After that, the world turns white. White canines show themselves, basking in the glory of the first hunt, as the large buck lies trapped between metal and grass, screaming helpless pleas and pain before its body becomes lifeless.
Finally, breakfast is served.
