Tag: coffee

Hey guys,
Steve here.
I can’t believe it, but it’s already been 3 weeks since I last posted to this blog–and a fun 3 weeks it was. I have quite a bit to tell you, but I’ll try to keep this post as short as possible.
The first 10 days after my last update were pretty much uneventful. The only thing I did worth blogging about was going to the lake house, that is, except being without a sister for a week (she went to a PE class at the Texas School for the Blind).
But on Sunday, June 22, I went to TSB for a writer’s workshop class which lasted two weeks. In the class, we’d start the day by coming up with a theme. Some of the daily themes we came up with were darkness, anger, love, emotions, and on the first day, why write.
After we came up with, and had a consensus for the daily theme, we’d usually do some free writing. For the first two days, I was unable to come up with anything (I finally wrote two or 3 pieces, one of which will be at the bottom of this post).
In the afternoon, the teacher would give us some inspiration, which would be different each day. One day, he taught us about song writing, other days it was different forms of poetry, some being different types of writing. After that, we’d have more free writing time, then we’d share what we wrote.
Also, we did this thing called “work shopping,” where we’d go through an investigative report paper which would ask questions such as what’s happening, what were details that really stood out to the reader, could the story have a different title, could it have a different starting point etc.
On Thursday of last week, since the inspiration for the day was Eco poetics, our class visited a place called Bright Leaf nature preserve, where we had a guided tour of a forest filled with plants and trees you wouldn’t normally see in your back yard. I would’ve taken pictures, but wasn’t sure if I was allowed to, and besides I didn’t bring my phone to school that day.
After visiting the nature preserve, we ate and had the daily inspiration lesson at a park, which was practically swarming with peacocks.
Besides that, we went to a coffee shop this past Tuesday. There, we did some free writing and editing. I don’t know if it was the caffeine, the chocolate coffee drink I had, or the fact that I was getting to a good part of the piece I was working on, but that was by far my most productive day of writing.
At the end of the two weeks, there was an end of program show, where we displayed our work, or in the writers’ case, read our stories. I read my story Desperation and Frustration; I’ll post the recording on a different post. Also written by me was a piece (not exactly a complete story, but I guess you could call it an excerpt) called Unyielding Vines, which I’ll include at the end of this post.
To sum it up, I had a lot of fun during that class. If it still exists next year, It’ll definitely be on the list of programs I might want to sign up for, most likely somewhere at the top.
Well, I guess that wraps up this post. I won’t be doing any more posts for at least the next week, because next week is Texas Lions Club Camp. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.
Thanks for reading,
type you later,
Steve.
P.S. my story.
Disclaimer: If you are not okay with reading about horror or blood, please do not read this story.
Unyielding Vines
I could only lie there, paralyzed with fear, feeling the terrible sensation of the vines tearing into my wrists and ankles, their thorns biting
into my skin. The night was bitterly cold, a harsh wind rustling the densely packed trees and bushes surrounding me. Mixed with the sounds of
the forest were the sounds of countless vines surging toward me, a horrendous crackling pressing in from all sides.
Muscles bulging, I desperately tried to pull my hands free, tugging at the vines with all my might. Thorns sliced deep into my wrists in
protest, blood oozing over the tops of my hands and wetting the ground beneath them. Shrieking with pain, I fell back, gasping at the burning
sensation of thorns digging into my deeply cut wrists. The pain was quickly forgotten as more vines reached me, stabbing through my white t-
shirt and carving searing cuts down my sides and across my back as they wormed their way beneath me. Wincing, I sat up, the vines ripping there
way out of my shirt, other ones clawing at my clothes, shredding the material and slashing the skin underneath.
Riddled with pain, I lay back, landing in a bed of vines, Cringing at the pain of thorns stabbing into my back. Trembling with pain and the
biting cold washing over my newly exposed skin, I let my head rest upon the cool, damp ground. Closing my eyes, I lie still, doing my best to
ignore the intense pain raging through me.
All of a sudden, a vine began to work its way under the right side of my neck. Within a second or two, it was wrapped around all but the far
left side. While I still could, I snapped my head to the left with a harsh popping sound, pain coursing through my spine. Angrily, I craned my
head forward, biting down on the nearest vine I could reach, tugging and wrenching with all my might, the vine stretching and creaking, the
muscles in my neck bulging with the effort. Driven by raw fear and the immense pain, I tugged with a force I never even knew I had, heavy
breaths escaping my tightly clenched teeth.
Finally, the vine gave way with a harsh crack, the ends quickly retreating into the forest, my head smashing into the ground, lights flashing
before my eyes. Dazed, I lie there, as yet another vine shoved its way under my neck, wrapping around my throat with enough force to jerk my
head to the side, the sore muscles in my neck screaming with pain. Suddenly, it became impossible to breathe, and boiling panic swelled within
me, urging me to fight.
Frantically, I began thrashing, vines slicing through my skin and clothes in retaliation, the burning pain intensifying to an uncontrollable
roar.
The pain of a thousand raging infernos erupted from my throat as a thorn stabbed into the side of my neck, a fountain of blood pouring from the
wound. My mouth flew open in a silent scream, my body violently convulsing with the immense pain and the desperate need for oxygen.
My strength quickly fading, I stopped struggling, falling into the deadly grip of the many vines wrapped around me. As I lie there, the darkness
closed in, a comforting veil separating me from that awful, unbearable pain. It seized control of my mind, pulling me down into its comforting
embrace.
Steven Daugherty