Working on my attempt of a novel

Imagen sacada de aquí.

I have been working in this little story of mine ever since I was in ninth grade, when I was about 13-14 years old. It started as a simple concept, but alas, nothing ever stays simple with me. 

I have kept most of the names I used on that story, but the new plot barely resembles the one I once had. In fact, I would not be exaggerating if I say it has changed so much it might as well be two complete different stories.  

But, like I said, I have kept most of the names such as the different lands there are, and how the place is called overall. I was somehow hoping to make it as an alternate dimension (or hidden society) to our own, or well, one that closely resembles it. But I found myself overdoing it so much I could barely keep track of what the hell was going on, and how it had happened. And since I was starting somewhere in the middle with little to no explanation as of how things had become the way they were, I decided to create another "novel" that, albeit not exactly important, would help as some sort of introduction where I would create little sidestories related to the main event. Nevertheless, somewhere along the lines of creating the other novel, I also decided to start it a little bit in the middle of a "war" with no one knowing the real reason behind it, and so a group of youngsters were brought together in order to find out the truth. How? They would be "kidnapped" by some sort of unknown force that would trap them underneath the earth (let's say it was a cave) so they could retrieve an old journal where the "sidestories" (or oneshots, if you want to call them that) would tell the truth and such.

I over complicated things, again, and well, now I am stuck because I think it needs another makeover. 

However, since I have just some really over simplistic rough drafts about the characters that were involved in the finding of the journal (and the some important people that surround them), I decided to expand their characters a little bit more by making some introduction stories about their families and whatnot while I attempt to work on fixing out (simplifying) the plot I created. 

One thing I like to warn about is that I suck at writing romance, or, more specifically, ehem, heterosexual romance. After pretty much years of reading slash/yaoi fanfiction I find really hard to write about it. The closest I have been is between two characters of Katekyo Hitman Reborn! that, by all means, are not exactly cannon by many: Miura Haru and Sawada Tsunayoshi. Because no matter what you say, those two are my OTP, period. I just can't picture a Sasawaga Kyoko with Vongola Decimo, just no. And even with those two, it turned out quite lame (or at least in my opinion.) 

That being said, you might have an idea of where this is going... I'll not deny it people, I am a sucker for slash/yaoi, the soft stuff please, it makes me cringe whenever I see such explicit details in words, mind you, I do read manga, so I don't care if they are as explicit there since I find it easier to digest in pictures. 

Anyhow, onto the topic, what started as a really close friendship (almost like brothers) somehow became into a hidden relationship for obvious reasons. (See? This is when I mean I have no idea how things came to be.) I had never planned to be any kind of relationship of my novel besides the normal such as "I met your father/mother here because of reasons", but no I had to go and create some hidden romance somewhere. So yes, I was working on the background story as how that came to be between my two characters that I am going to refer as A. and M. 

The following is just an excerpt of what I have about them: 

A. was watching him again.

Ever since he had seen the lithe boy on a family meeting, he could not stop staring at him. M, was how he was called, and to A, he might as well be one of the most breath-taking beings on the planet. Even from afar, the most notorious feature were his bright, shining eyes that put the most sparkling gem to ever exist to shame. Not only were his eyes beautiful, but also the unusual color they were. A. did not have a word that could describe them, they were green in color, but he could also make out some blue as well; it was as if instead of staring at some eyes he was staring at some iceberg, the kind of iceberg that has some green pigmentation, like ice-green but with some blue specks on it too.

[...]

He him saw for the first time two years ago. And he now knew a little bit more about him, though not many of those facts were because someone told him. Two years ago he had been 9 years old and M. had been 8; now he was an 11 year old while M. was almost 10. He always wondered why, in all those meetings his family had, no one had ever presented them. 

[...]

For some reason, the leader of the I. family was more into him getting to know his sons and daughters. He tried, oh how he had tried. But the first heir just seemed he could never shut up, and all he talked was about how amazing he was at controlling his skill and that how he might as well be better than him, and how he studied so much so one day his family could be proud of him (noble goal, A. thought, but if you could please, please shut up for at least five minutes, that would be amazing.) The second heiress seemed as if she could never stop smiling, while such type of people did not bother him, it felt fake with her. The third one was always complaining about every little thing, and it had the amazing talent of getting on his nerves. The fourth one was a little bit more tolerable than her siblings, but whenever he spoke to her, all she would do was talk about proper manners and the like. All four of them were the perfect little heirs (and heiress), and while he was one as well, he was fairly sure he did not act like those four.

So, after two long agonizing years, he decided to finally talk to the boy he had only observed from afar. He had never even hear his voice!

However, he would have never imagined how exactly they would end up meeting.

-*-*-*-*-*-*-

 As you can see, quite young, but I have an explanation for that! One that I am not giving away any time soon. And, no, A. doesn't know what to call to that little fixation of his, he just know it's different from the kind of attention he would give to others. He will, in time, I just don't know how long will it take, they are about 17-18, give or take, when they appeared in the second main novel, so I might have to "rush" some facts later on. Or, if things play well, I won't have to!

Also, you saw how I cut off some parts (ehem, might have modified some of them as I read it, too), and didn't put any names. Hey, I like my privacy, okay? I have no idea if I might put some of this somewhere in the future, like wattpad and all those other websites, so I am not taking any chances. If I ever manage to at least complete one of the main stories/novels, then I'll let you know where you can find it so you can scream at me about how many hours or minutes I made you lose because you read my atrocious story/stories/novels/whatever-they-might-be.

A Walk Among Snaps

A walk among snaps

An essay bout some Angilee Wilkerson´s photos

       The walking among Angilee Wilkerson’s photographs, The Pencil of Nature, had many interesting pictures; nevertheless, some of them made me stop for a little to appreciate them better. Those were Cat Tails, and Into the Flood Plains.

        The first time I saw Cat Tails, I couldn’t stop thinking that the cat tails, viewed from that angle, seemed to go forever; it was a feeling of continuity, a feeling that there is something eternal and that they know how to get to it. The photography even in its simplicity (yet the angle which it was taken, reflect a group of cat tails growing and reaching up to the blue sky, surrounded by the lawn that only seems to captive them), gave me a feeling of comfort and kindliness. The picture, combined with the square frame, redirects the eye where there is a little clearing showing a little concave-like shape in the lawn, where you can see the light-blue sky slowly merging with the dark-blue one and becoming even much darker as it grows in altitude. The photo invites us to see the bottom of it to later start elevating our eyes and try to see if we can see the end of the cat tails, which in my opinion seemed impossible to human eye. The message it conveys to me is that there is, indeed, something infinite and they can by reaching the sky obtain it, or that only they can afford it to.

        The second picture, Into the Flood Plains, tells the opposite story. The light covering the trees gives me the impression that I’m walking into another, lonely world. The effects that Angilee used give the photo uniqueness, and transform what might have been a simple photo of woods into a magic, dark world. The picture seems almost lifeless, just like if a flood had just appeared and now was gone leaving desolation behind; a place hoping for new life to begin all over again
      The effects, plus the shape of the frame induces us to see at the center of the photo, like I did in the first mentioned photo. The leaves covering the ground give the impression that there is not soil at all but instead that there it might be a swamp. We can see some trees standing straight, and others a little inclined towards the left. The almost imperceptible circle-shape at the center of the page, helps us to focus only in that point as we start to see how what was digitally blurred by the artists is starting to distort a little more; everything else is disappearing except for the subtle suggestion of a circle-shaped clarity in the woods
     The almost lavender sky behind the trees gives you a feeling of kindness. Probably that whatever might have caused this sad environment was finally leaving, but no without leaving a sad view. Is not like a tragedy, it seems to be more like a suspense-angst story waiting to be told but instead was recorded in a photograph.

The unity in both of them is quite different from one to another, yet they appear to have some similarities. For instance, when light changes appreciated in both of them. In Cat Tails, we start at the bottom with brown then a little of pale yellow, to later suddenly change to sky blue, and finally at the upper part with a darker blue, almost black. You can clearly see the imaginary lines created by the artist in her photo. If you happen to trace a vertical line at the center of the picture, you will note that it roughly looks like a mirror effect.

In Into the Flood Plains, we have the same line effect to, though a little more subtle than the first mentioned. In this case, the artist used the blur to help her a little more; at the bottom of the photo, we hardly can clearly see the branches, she also used some shadowing in the corners too. Latter, as we move deeper, the image recovers its clarity. I cannot recall the effect of a magnifier over what I’m seeing. The trees are not fuzzy anymore, instead, I can openly see them, and the much deeper we go the image recovers its fuzziness, and a new darker line appears. This line is formed by the trunks of the trees and their branches; but then, there is this new other line, one that is totally different from the others. This is lavender and is the sky.

The first picture went up to the sky; the second went deep into the forest. The sky reflected something infinity, the deepness of the woods the unknown, a mystery. Probably both of them wanted to tell a story that was recorded not in words but in a picture.

Lastly, both of the pictures helped me to understand a world seen by other’s eyes. That there are different versions of the same place; before this, I would have never thought about the cat tails in this way, or that the clearing in a wood could seem so depressing to me. It is amazing what a little blur can do to your vision and the conceptions you have regarding some matters. We don’t see this, or at least we don’t know how to appreciate it yet, but because photos like these I still can feel there is still beauty in a world we cannot reach nor we can perceive. We can only encounter a different vision of the same world through other’s eyes.

________________________________________

I did this for my Art class a couple of weeks ago; somehow, in the way I decided to publish the essay here, I never did another proofreading, so if there are any mistakes, which is more likely to be, I would be appreciated if you are so kindly to tell me. I took some photos when I was trying to do my work, there was an exhibiton at my College so the teacher decided to, well, give us an assignment.

I have others as well; probably I will publish some of them later, and if I want I will be translating them, but I have some many things going on that it'll take a time to accomplish that.

D-Day, Normandy

Just to make things clear, I DO NOT have English as mother language (as you can prove it in my other blog.) So, I really will appreciate if you don't blame me for messing with this language. I'm not perfect, and I still consider my self as a English-learner, so if you have anything to say, please please!!! do it in a polite way, 'cuz I won't tolerate any disrespect to my person.

Needless to say, history is my worst subject, but I really liked this assignment, but guess what? It was written in English, so if you are a poor soul that came to this blog by my other blog (?), I'm really sorry. After this, I will write a little summarize in Spanish. 

Now let's begin!! 

_______________________________________

D-Day 

Normandy Landings

"It was matter of seconds when I realized that if there was any place like Hell, it might be the beaches of Normandy on June 6 of 1944.  We hadn't sink when the enemy started shooting to our boats, as soon they had a chance, they killed many of our soldiers.

I went underwater to try to protect from the bullets-and bombs-, it wasn't a surprise that I wasn't the only one who thought the same action... neither it was when I saw it was quite useless.

But we had to keep moving.

I swam through the several death bodies, I approached  the nearest boat I saw, I needed to breath and hide at the same time. Some of my mates were already there; planning how to get nearest the coast. I joined them as well.

With effort, we made our way to the beach, other soldiers were shooting with the hope that some bullets fell in the enemy's field and killed someone.

The noise was horrible, the soldiers' faces were traumatic sights. The rain of bullets seemed endless. I could see everything crumbling in front of my eyes. The pain on my body was unmanageable, but I had to fight, I couldn't let myself  die without doing nothing.

With high determination -and luck-, I approached the nearest General I could see for instructions. He looked hesitating, many were asking him, what to do; somehow, he looked distant. It hadn't pass too much when he gave the instructions we were waiting for.

After a long fight-and many deaths, we managed to go inside the enemy's base; we destroyed, we killed... We  did not show mercy. But at the very end, only few of us survived, the sea was colored by red... a red that came from our comrades' bodies.

The sound, the smoke, the taste of blood in the air, the sight of uncountable corpses, the sickening feeling of the war... That was the only word I found to describe that hellish place... Even now I think that Hell could be prettiest than the beaches of Normandy on June 6 of 1944...

The several broken bones, the incalculable wounds, and my now missing hand, are trifles compared to the suffering of the fallens' family."

Dairy of war; weekly newspaper. Story from a survivor of the beaches of Normandy on June 6, 1944.

 __________________________

 Just to let you know, this story (if you want to call it), it was based on a movie that we (the class) had to see in order to create this... thing... 

It  was not a pretty war, and it is a fact that many people died fighting, between 4,000 to 9,000 casualties. The movie (whose name I cannot be able to remember...), showed it in a pretty crude way. 

If I remember the name, I'll write it down, otherwise, it'll stay like this.

~0~0~0~*~0~0~0~

Español:  El ataque en las playas de Normandia, no fué un hecho que sea recordado precisamente por ser de colores pasteles. Fue sangriento... y mucho, se dice que cerca de 4,000 a 9,000 personas murieron ese día en ese preciso lugar en cuestión de unas cuantas horas. Esta cosa (llámese; intento de historia), fué basada en una película sobre esa batalla. El nombre no lo recuerdo, pero al estar basada en esa película, yo describí los hechos tal cuál los ví(mas o menos) y tal cuál mi maestra os lo pidió narrarlos.  Lo qué publiqué cuenta como sucedieron las cosas desde el punto de vista de un sobreviviente de la guerra, que fue publicado en un períodico local (ficticio, obviamente). Y no, no fue tan fácil que se diga. Para hacerlo, tuve que hacer muuuuchos borradores desde diferentes puntos de vista, al final ví que me salia mejor uno narrado desde primera persona. Espero haber cumplido con mí propósito original: Crear un ¿cuento? historico, basado en un hecho real (y dicho sea de paso: convincente),  sobre algo que paso en cierto punto en el tiempo. De no ser así, supongo que necesito más practica.

Espero no haber os aburrido...