Monday, March 22, 2010


This morning i woke up and my window- which is bigger than the average dorm room window- because this room used to a be lounge- so the window is the whole wall- the window was all white.
Copmletely white with fog. i couldnt see the other square brick dorm across teh quad. i couldnt see anything but the branches of the tree that is right outside the glass.
and then i sat a up a little more and i could just barely make out the outline of the building across the quad and the tress across the quad and now i can look down and see the grass...
and i wish it were all white again.
i like being nowhere.

i wrote a story a million years ago (like three or four years ago) it was about a girl named Danya who lived in The Mist. The Mist seperated two halves of an island and the people on one half, the warm half, dont know that the people on the other half, the cold half, exist. and vice versa.

Danya is the only one who goes back and forth because she is the only one who knows that there is another side of the island and she is the only one who knows how to get through the mist. as far as the people are concerned the mist is one end of the world and the sea is the other half.

This is the story, or the introduction to the story. I never wrote more than an introduction. i didnt care what happened my worlds i just created them and set down the realities and characters and rules... Then lost interest.
I Wrote this when i was fifteen. i know that because the girl in the story is fifteen.... enjoy.

To the south the River Folk are stirring and stepping out onto the beach, the children are bathing in the warm ocean laughing and splashing each other in the pink rays of the sunrise.
To the north the people of ice and snow, the Grenyens, are reawakening the last nights fires and shivering in the never ending cold. The sun does not shine on them, it is hidden behind the grey clouds which promises more snow before the day is out.
A thin barrier of mist is all the separates the to different countries, the are in fact part of the same island that, if traversed in a very straight line, would take no more then three weeks to cross on foot. But the people know nothing of each other.
Within the mists there is nothing, nothing but swirling whiteness, and in the precise middle of the fog, a sleeping fifteen year old girl.
She is the only one, as far as she knows, to move between the countries. She sleeps on the ground with no shelter and no blanket but the mist, the ground feels like snow and water, and ice and sand, not warm or cold. She sleeps with her head on her arms and her legs curled close to her body.
Her hair is black and curling like that of the river folk, her hair is the only thing that seems solid about her.
Her skin is the bright white of the mist and like that of the Grenyens, and her shift is of the lightest white silk similar to those worm by the River folk but they wear their’s decorated and in the most beautiful colors.
There is no shift in light or any animal call to mark to coming of the morning, but Danya knows and she is awake.
She stands and looks around. Hanging around her neck is a tiny silver compass, though she never looses her bearings the compass is a nessasary precaution in a world where nothing looks the same from day to day.
Kneeling next to the spot where she was sleeping she places a hand on the ground and finds a thin rope of what looks like solid gass or liquid metal, she pulls it up and a trap door opens at her feet. She slips inside and closes the door quickly after her, so that the mist cannot fill the cave.
Inside hanging on the walls are clothes from every island she has visted. She steps out of the white shift and hangs it on an empty hook.
She stands naked before the many garments thinking which she should wear and where she should visit today.
She decides on the river folk and slips into their small shirt a flowing skirt of blue cotton. She also takes the furs of the north and places them in a bag for later.
She leaves the cave and secures the trap door. Standing upon it she checks the compass unnessasarily, out of habit, and sets off. She’ll spend the morning in the warm water under palm trees and the afternoon hunting in the snow.

1 comment:

  1. i surely love all your posting way, very exciting.
    don't quit as well as keep creating seeing that it simply worth to look through it,
    impatient to view far more of your own stories, have a good one!