Sunday, October 26, 2014

Justine's Journal #10

52 Weeks 500 Words

This is how it began: Justine (not her real name) decided to write 500 words (or as near as), anything goes, per week for 52 weeks. She would then submit it for anonymous posting, via me, her friend. Perhaps a pattern will emerge from her words, but at this stage it’s more an experiment I have agreed to share in. I’ll attempt to draw conclusions at the end of this. Stay tuned if this resonates with you.

Week 10

Due to circumstances, Justine could not write for us last week, and therefore is this post somewhat longer than 500 words. You will understand why after you have read what she has to say. Stay strong, Justine!

'I don’t know where to begin. Some strange events in the last two weeks have entirely unseated me. I know I asked Elaina to post my weekly ramblings and I did so because I knew it would force me to sit and write about my thoughts. This would enable me to not only divest myself of negative influences, but also to become aware of how my mind operates in different situations and during different emotions. Let me tell you it isn't easy to be honest with yourself, and it’s even harder to share.

Allow me to put to you the facts. Maybe the recording of those will help me come to terms and be open about my feelings.

It began when someone ran into my car and trashed the back end. We swapped details and went on our way. I did report it, because you have to for insurance purposes. One quote later, I made contact with the driver of the other vehicle, and that’s when it began. He would have paid from his own pocket, why did I go to the cops, and now his premium will go up (well, so will mine!) and how dare I insult him? Insult him? This is procedure, as far as I know. At least he did give me proper details, I know realise, so he wasn’t entirely an idiot. It got quite complicated, but eventually it was sorted. My car went in, was fixed and is back on the road.

So what, you say? It didn’t end there, unfortunately. This man began to harass me. It was no longer about our cars, about who was at fault, about insurance premiums or a bad rap. I received a call at 3 a.m. and saw it was his number, and ignored it. I was sleeping, for heaven’s sakes! Next thing I know, the sms’s start coming. I’m ignoring him, he needs someone to talk to, what’s wrong with me, am I not just as lonely as he is?

I can tell you now, and it feels good to get this off my chest, that it totally freaked me out. This man knew where I lived, what car I drove and, obviously, had my number. I ignored the messages, eventually switching my phone off. In the morning, when I powered it up, it was to find a host of images, the rude kind. Things he wanted to do to me. It scared the living daylights out of me. I was a bundle of nerves and fear.

Elaina told me to change my number immediately, and I took that to heart, heading down to the local for a new sim card. It takes a while to get on air with a new sim, but that didn’t worry me, because I knew he could no longer get hold of me. There was some relief.

Next morning, I head off to do some grocery shopping, and when I get back there is an envelope attached with sticky stuff to my front door. My heart went mad. I was ice cold. Looking around the way you see others do in the movies, I grabbed it, unlocked and then engaged every bolt I have on the inside. Yes, you guessed it, rude pictures.

I phoned the police and all my friends. The police took hours to arrive, while I sat there in fear of my life, but my friends rallied round. At least they knew, if anything happened to me, who to go looking for first, and where to find him. After opening a case, when the police eventually arrived, and signing the statement at the station (I asked them to drive behind me), I changing my locks and I barricaded myself inside. I was too frightened even to fetch bread and milk from the local.

Long story short, the police spoke to him, he denied it all, and then threatened me. Unless I drop the case, he will find me one day when I least expect it … you can imagine. Did I drop the case? Yes, but ensured the cops were aware of why, and so were my friends. I haven’t heard a word from him since, but continue to live in fear. Elaina suggested a restraining order, but I am too afraid that will stir the pot again.

Those are the facts and some of my feelings. I cannot actually find the words that will explain to you how I really felt and continue to feel. All I know is this: we live in a sick society and one must always be aware of danger. I also realise this will eventually make me stronger. That thing about tribulation building your defences, or something. That is my hope anyway.

Thank you to all my friends for their support. Without you, I would probably still be gibbering under my bed. Thank you for reading. Please do not comment – I don’t think I am able to cope with compassion, pity or kind words. I will be fine, but need to do it my way.'

The Nemisin Star - Published!

Paperback coming soon too!

The epic battle continues between the Enchanter and the Darak Or. Margus and Torrullin are two faces on the same coin, no matter how opposite they are they remain even, except Margus has no qualms in using Torrullin's son for his agenda. Tymall is the dark twin, whereas as Tristamil is the light. Yet they cannot clash despite needing to, despite desperate to be free of their symbiosis.

Torrullin returns to Valaris - to a war already fought. After dragging the Darak Or across time and space to battle it out elsewhere, he discovers his world cannot avoid another round of terror. In a golden city there is temple raised from vision and on one night every year a star shines through the aperture overhead. This is a connection to the world of Nemisin, the first homeworld. In this place where stars meet Torrullin must choose life or death for his sons.

As the universe searches for the Light in all its brilliance, seeking peace, Torrullin begins to see himself as a prince among demons. Torrullin returns to Valaris to save his family, his people, his world and his soul … and chooses to change the rules. Death, after all, is not an end. Too many lives have been lost because the Enchanter has a nemesis. Too many hearts have been broken. Sometimes the only way to find peace, is to lose yourself.


Monday, October 20, 2014

Justine's Journal #9

52 Weeks 500 Words

Week 9

For those of you who have been following Justine's Journal week to week, she has asked that I please inform you that she could not write anything this week past. Due to unforeseen personal circumstance, Justine did not have the courage to write. She has, however, promised to gift us with an extra long piece coming Saturday.

I'm sure you are with me in wishing her all the best.

56 000+!

Thank you for popping in, everyone!


Saturday, October 11, 2014

Justine's Journal #8

52 Weeks 500 Words

This is how it began: Justine (not her real name) decided to write 500 words (or as near as), anything goes, per week for 52 weeks. She would then submit it for anonymous posting, via me, her friend. Perhaps a pattern will emerge from her words, but at this stage it’s more an experiment I have agreed to share in. I’ll attempt to draw conclusions at the end of this. Stay tuned if this resonates with you.

Week 8

'Over the last few days I watched a friend suffer mood swings, from elation to depression. After asking what was wrong, she told me something she was doing caused both major highs and lows for her. And wouldn't be drawn further, although I noticed an open document on her computer. Work related, therefore.

The first thought that comes to mind as I write this is that I am not alone. If even the most positive person I know is able to go through a range of emotions in a short time, then I am not alone … or crazy. Clearly others go through it too, I just don’t hear about it, see it. People walking in the streets, walk with heads down when passing each other. Who knows what goes on behind that hidden face or that one over there, over there … no, I am not alone and neither is anyone else.

We surely put masks on, don’t we? When we do interact, none of the issues show on our faces. How very sad for all of us. We therefore believe we are weak, less, maybe crazy, and the issues then become greater in seeking to hide them from another’s sight. What a blessing it is to know someone who feels she doesn't need to wear a mask when she is with me. Proof of sanity, in a way.

The second thought that comes to mind is that we take it far too seriously. Work, I mean. Yes, it pays the stuff it needs to pay, but it isn't life, it isn't all that life is, to put it another way. Agreed, one should at least enjoy work to some degree or it becomes destructive to peace of mind, and one should also be proud of a job well done, the inner satisfaction that makes it all right to spend all those hours on something that isn't really life.

And yet we are emotional creatures, despite our masks. When a task becomes a chore, we do suffer highs and lows. Sometimes this rips masks off. This is where personality comes into play. A go-getter will throw a tantrum, letting everyone know how he or she feels about the difficulty of the set task, while a reserved person may simply sport a massive frown. I am willing to bet my friend wore a frown when with others, just to let them know she was dealing with something harder than usual! Only with me did she allow her true feelings out. Still, reserved as she is, she wouldn't be drawn into specifics. She would deal with it and then move on, without burdening another, especially a friend.

What is wrong with us? Surely a friend sharing the burden is better? Perhaps it’s trust. We don’t trust each other enough, world over, with the truth. Therefore it’s judgement also, the fear of it. We fear that the truth will cause us to be judged as weak, less, maybe crazy. We put our masks on. How very sad for all of us.'