LOG ENTRY #34 – Crap.

Just.. don’t ask.

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Cecily walked in through the mahogany door. It was swinging slightly on its hinges, which was a disturbing and disconnected thing to see since the house didn’t in the least look vandalised. She noticed a golden colored key on a rusty key ring, lying on the neon pink rug. After getting over her initial  shock and regaining her eyesight back (neon pink, people!), she picked the key up and looked around for something to open.

There was absolutely nothing in sight that looked like it could be unlocked. Unless of course..

Cecily shuffled over to the mini-fridge propped up against the stained, olive-green couch standing in the middle of the room. She had just slid the key in when the fridge wobbled dangerously and fell over on its side. The door fell open and a few rotten tomatoes rolled out. A tiny caterpillar followed. The fridge had been ‘propped’ against the couch for a reason. Feeling irritated, Cecily flung the key out the window, causing the glass in the window to shatter. There was an anguished yowl from outside; she must have hit the neighbor’s cat.

Cecily switched the small lamp sitting on the table beside the couch and slumped down on the sofa, immediately jumping back up again with a scream.  Rubbing her butt angrily, she looked down to see an iron sticking out from underneath the couch pillow. Why the hell was it still hot?!

There was no one around to stop her, so in her anger she threw the iron out of the window too. This time, the yowl was cut-off quite quickly. Cecily hurriedly looked around for a phone. There was a bright red one lying on the other side of the room, on the ground. Whoever had decorated this place must have been quite short on funds. She picked the receiver up and held it to her ear. No dial tone.

“GAH!” The telephone wire was wrenched out and the whole thing went flying out the window. The poor cat’s corpse couldn’t be a respectable sight.

There was a tiny crackle from somewhere and Cecily whirled around, searching for the source. She could recognise that crackle anywhere.

The large cupboard was the only piece of furniture left in the room. Edging over, Cecily stood still for a second, her hand paused over the bronze handle. The sound had stopped for a second, but there it was again..!

“Who’s got them?.. No one could have them in this God forsaken place.” Her hushed tone echoed around the bare room. She tugged on the handle and the door swung open, almost as if someone had pushed on it from the inside too.

Cecily’s eyes widened and a mad desire to laugh enveloped her. There was an unshaven hobo sitting hunched up in the cupboard, stuffing his face with Doritos out of an extra large bag of the delightful tortilla treat. The funniest bit, though, was the shiny axe tucked under the hobo’s elbow.

The hobo looked up at her, out of his filthy shock of ginger hair, and leered. “Shut the door, sweetie.”

“Give me the bag.”

“You want an axe sticking outta yer head, sweetie?”

“You don’t scare me.”

“Well then yer an idiot.” The hobo opened her mouth to give Cecily an eye-full of his several (that’s all he had left) blackened teeth and gums. He raised his axe, the bag of Doritos slipping out and falling in the back on the cupboard.

Cecily slammed the door shut and silently walked out the front door, fuming. She made sure to short-circuit the place first, as she had pulled a few bare wires out of the wall when she had gotten violent with the phone. Flicking her lighter, she set fire to the place and ran out just in time.


Image credits (respectively) :


(the webbie for the second one won’t appear. -.- )


LOG ENTRY #16 – “Darn.That’s not good enough!”

For those of you who have read my “I Think I Made This Up” series (I’ve written 3 parts up till now) you might (or might not be) wondering where the 4th part is.

To be very honest, I don’t know either.

I’m not very good at story-writing. I fancy myself to be good enough at the various components of a story individually, (except for the plot bit) but when it comes to putting them all together – not so great.

So here’s the deal, Darcy is a character I made on the spur of a moment, not bothering with the details. I do that a lot. I don’t even know where she lives!

I imagined Darcy as being a city-girl. But since I’ve hardly lived in any of the cities I would like her to be in, I can’t really bring the realistic, relatable touch to my writing and her experiences as I have absolutely no idea about the where’s and the how’s. I could make up a world of my own – it’s an appealing idea – but then again…

Or I could magically bring Darcy over to my country. That would result in a lot of interesting writing and themes. But I still don’t have a plot.

How do you come up with good plots? That is one question that haunts me day and night, and yet (I guess) has no effect on me whatsoever, since I start writing whenever I feel like it and then eventually have to stop since the story is going nowhere. And that is the point I have reached with Darcy.

It’s a frustrating affair.