2024

This year will be different.

At least, that is what I tell myself. It’s an overused, exhausted phrase that I have repeated each year to somehow make myself believe that this will be my year of writing, my year of stringing words together on a page and sharing them with you. And every year, it falls away quickly into nothingness. I’m left with half-finished drafts, incomplete inktober prompts, days of writer’s block, and a disappointment in myself that I didn’t write more.

So, what’s to say that this year will be any different?

Honestly, I don’t know if it will be. I’d like to say that I know that I will write more, that I’ll have a more consistent posting schedule, and that I’ll make time to write, even through writer’s block. Yet, to do so would mean that I have a plan, a schedule of sorts and that isn’t true. That isn’t the kind of person I am. Unfortunately, writing isn’t my job and life gets in the way, taking up the time that I do have to do the things I love.

However… what I do know is this.

I am learning more about myself with each passing year. I am becoming more of who I want to be and creating space and time to engage in the activities that bring me joy. I have finally become comfortable with the fact that I am a meanderer, a slow wanderer through not only life but each hour of the day. I am also consistent and committed to the creative outlets I pursue, as long as I don’t have the stress of meeting deadlines or unrealistic expectations of myself. I’ve successfully posted once a week on my Instagram account for the last two years and as I let the pressures of being on time or coming up with ‘profound’ things to say no longer be of concern, I’ve grown in my ability to make time and share the creativity of my heart.

This is all to say that I am hoping that this year sees me write more. I want to write for myself again. I want to grow the creative spark that has been holding on like a dying ember for the past few years. Most importantly, I want to do this for myself. So, maybe 2024 will be different. That’s my hope. If not, then there will be grace and continued work to move forward.

I still need to work out the rhythms of how I want to share what I write and what that will look like. Yet, I am grateful to those of you who have continued to follow my blog and stuck it out in the many months of silence. I hope this year will be a happy one for you and that it will be filled with time to write and many good reads!

Day 22: Scratchy – inktober 2023

Title: Sick Day

Her throat is scratchy, making her voice hoarse and sending her brain signals to cough up her lungs. She’d dragged herself from bed in the morning with all of the intentions to go about her day, but her body had other plans. Sighing, she abandons trying to pick out clothes and falls back into bed, hoping against hope that sleep will overtake her before the encroaching headache starts to pound away behind her eyes. She wakes up a few hours later and has just enough energy to get herself a glass of water along with a few pills before she returns to the warmth of her bed.

He comes home to the sight of her sleeping the day away, occasionally sniffling quietly. When he had called during his lunch break, she had barely had a voice, whispering as her voice cracked multiple times throughout a sentence. He brings pho home for dinner, hoping that the warmth of the broth will sooth her throat and help her feel better. Yet, she looks so cozy in her sleep, cocooned in a thick pile of blankets, that he decides that food can wait. With a kiss to her forehead, he leaves her be and goes about his evening.

Day 21: Chains – inktober 2023

Title: Free

For the first time in her life, she feels like the person she is when interacting with the world is the same person she is internally. Her true self is finally free and loved for who she is. And for that, she is endlessly grateful.

For years, she has always been careful to reveal who she was to others. Who she was on the inside always felt like she was living with chains on the doors of her heart. Being told all her life that certain parts of her were unfit or unloveable convinced her that she couldn’t be herself with others.

She often felt like she was drowning, living a half-life, holding back and only being herself in private, amongst the fictional friends that lived in her head. The chains were confining, but she reminded herself it was necessary to be at peace.

She doesn’t remember when she made a break for it, because in reality, sharing her true self with her friends took time, a slow gradual process. But as she thinks about it now, those chains had been rusted and worn a long time before she broke through them. There’s only so much a heart can keep stuffed in until it bursts.

Every morning and every evening she whispers her gratitude to heaven. She kisses the love of her life and she revels in knowing that she is exactly who she is meant to be.

Day 20: Frost – inktober 2023

Title: When Jack Frost Comes to Visit

On days when Jack Frost visits,

Just before the first snow

Or in the deep cold of winter,

The morning light shines muted

Through my window,

Refracted by the intricate pattern

Formed in the thin layer of ice.

The longing for a day of rest,

To curl up in my pile of blankets,

To hold a warm mug close,

To daydream and read a good book,

Aches deeply within.

These days it’s few and far between

That I get a snow day,

Because life as an adult goes on,

Despite the weather or my own desire.

Yet, on days when Jack Frost visits,

I am grateful for the few quiet moments

Where I am a child once more,

Lingering under warm blankets

As I watch the sunlight burst forth

On a cold winter’s morning.

Day 19: Plump – inktober 2023

Title: Exquisite

It starts with a kiss,

Chaste and sweet,

Which slowly turned

Into something more.

Breathing becomes

A byproduct,

Not wanting to separate

For longer than needed.

As hands trail

Across skin

And need takes over,

Time stills,

The world falls away,

And there is nothing

But you and me

In steady pursuit

Of desires pleasure.

In the aftermath,

As time resumes

Once again,

Fingers trace lightly

Over lips,

Plump from overuse,

Painting love

In soft touches.

Every encounter,

With you is exquisite,

Unhurried or rushed,

My love.

Day 18: Saddle – inktober 2023

Title: Precious Memories

She has distant memories of riding a horse as her cousin leads the horse by its halter. There are photos that help colour her memories, bright smiles and a coarse black mane. She wants to relive them, to remember a simpler time in her life.

She has faint memories of her cousin saddling Sam, the horse that her uncle and cousin deemed the safest for her to ride. Sam was huge, at least to her five-year-old eyes. Being lifted into the saddle, she clings to the leather, even as she shifts forward to pat the horse’s neck.

When she thinks of those memories now, she imagines she must have looked ridiculous, legs splayed out across Sam’s back, feet flapping haphazardly with every movement as he trots. She was so tiny compared to him, compared to her cousin. Yet, she remembers the joy it brought her to ride, even if supervised.

She hasn’t ridden a horse in years. She’s not sure if she’ll ever get the chance to again. However, she’ll cherish these precious memories for the rest of her life.

Day 17: Demon – inktober 2023

Title: The Angel’s Demon

He opens his eyes, blinking against the light. Every small movement brings pain. He blinks and the room comes into focus.

She’s beside him, her head bowed and hands clasped together, as if in prayer. The position looks unnatural for her, yet she looks comfortable. From his place on the bed, he continues to watch her, not wanting to break the spell of such a reverent moment. For as much as she claimed to taint him, he had some part in her purification.

He remembers the first time he saw her, lurking about alone in the shadows. She had been paranoid, suspicious of his presence. She was wounded, burn marks mottled across her skin from holy water. With much patience and compassion, he had finally gained her trust and nursed her back to health.

In that time, they had become friends. She would seek him out, tell him about her latest temptation or trickery. He would laugh when she would blame him for impeding her work. Somewhere in their friendship, the lines blurred and they had entered into something more intimate.

She had flinched the first time he had touched her. She told him that his touch was like being burned, but she kept coming back for more. She had protested the first time he told her that he loved her.

“You love the idea of me,” she had argued. “I’m just an enticing temptation you want to indulge.”

Somehow, despite her resistance, she continued to return. As time went on, she began to believe him. She believed that he loved her and she began to return that love. The world fell away when it was just the two of them. Together, they built a paradise of hope.

Which is why it was so easy to sacrifice himself for her. She held her own in a fight and this battle was bloody. He had thrown off his enemy and as he looked for his next, he saw them, blade held high, aimed at her back. There was no time to think, only to react. In moments, he was there, back to back with her, hands outstretched as the blade sliced down upon him.

He’s brought back to the present when he hears her broken sob. Her tears fall to the floor and he reaches out. She falls to her knees beside his bed, clinging to him.

“Thank God,” she breathes out with a sigh. He marvels how she no longer chokes when saying his lord’s name. She touches his face tenderly, still on her knees. “My angel.”

He grasps her hands as tightly as the pain allows. “My demon.”

Day 16: Angel – inktober 2023

Title: The Demon’s Angel

She stares at him as he rests on the infirmary bed, dried blood still smeared on his cheek, staining his beard. She wants to touch him, to clean his face, but she’s afraid of incurring the healer’s wrath.

Why he’d ever risk his life for her is something she can’t wrap her head around. She didn’t deserve his mercy, let alone his love. She’s the one who had gotten them into this mess. It should have been her on the table.

Her mind replays the moment, her opponent’s blade bearing down on her. She’d managed to disarm her enemy only to turn around and watch as he materialised before her, taking the blade strike that was meant for her back. This was war, a battle between heaven and hell, and for some unfathomable reason, he’d taken the death blow that was meant for her. Time slowed as she watched, having no time to react, no time to deflect the strike.

Somehow, in the midst of the chaos, she’d managed to pull him away. She’d found one of the healers of heaven and all but begged for help. She had no right to be here, no right to be among these pure, heavenly creatures, but she refused to leave his side, not until she knew that he would survive.

He was an angel. She was a demon. They weren’t meant for each other. They should have been at odds, at each other’s throats whenever in the other’s presence. Instead, she’d found a friend in him, eventually a lover. She’d carried the guilt that she’d tainted him, but he refused to believe her.

So, she would stand guard beside him until her angel could fly again.

Day 15: Dagger – inktober 2023

Title: I Remember the Day

I remember the day

A dagger was stabbed

Through my heart.

His words cut deep,

Even as my mind raced

To save the patient,

To keep the warm salty tears

From falling as he finishes.

I had nothing to say,

At least not in the moment,

Because the dagger is twisting

Ripping open not only my heart,

But also my soul.

He’s known, he’s read my heart

Like an open book,

And all I can think of

Is how to keep the blood

Of my emotions

From pooling at my feet.

Yet, there is no healing spell,

No vulnera sanentur

To counteract

The bleeding of my tears.

It’s been a few years since then

And time has healed the wound.

My heart is scarred,

But only lightly.

I remember the day

A dagger of words

Was stabbed through my heart,

But I am stronger for it.

Day 14: Castle – inktober 2023

Title: Castle Heart

“A man’s house is his castle.”

Perhaps, but I have found

A person’s heart is

Their true castle.

From the high parapets

To the deep dungeons,

A man’s heart contains

His treasures and his sorrows.

Most of the rooms

Display the beauty

Of the owners life,

His bright personality –

His kindness and humour –

While it’s high walls

Guard secrets and traumas

He wishes no one to see.

In the dank dungeons of his heart

Lurks the Mr. Hyde

Of his personality,

Full of errant thoughts and desires.

It may be true that

“A man’s house is his castle”,

But everyone owns

A castle heart.

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Author’s Note: The quote “A man’s house is his castle” is from James Otis. I found the quote on BrainyQuotes.com, so I may have used it out of context from whatever Mr. Otis was trying to say.