Letting Go

It’s insane.

How can you possibly be expected to completely forget everything you’ve learned about a person after months and months of spending time together. All the little quirks, the things they would say, the things they didn’t need to, all those good qualities. And of course you only focus on the good qualities. 

Mountains: A Love Letter

There’s no feeling quite like that of cresting the top of a mountain; seeing the horizon and lands that lay thousands of miles below.

I swung my duffel bag to my other hand. My right calf was sore as the bag caromed into it with each stride I took. The rubber corner bitting into my tissues. 

I looked down at the map that I had printed out before I left which felt like a very long time ago. I used the dim lighting of a closed down shop to confirm I was headed the right way. 

I followed the river, my eyes adjusting to the dark, I began to take account of my surroundings. 

Bears.

It had to be bears.

There were two of them. Massive. With teeth like daggers. Their eyes were crimson, a sure sign they were inflicted with the Malady. Flecks of foam drifted down from the corners of their open mouths.

The bear to her right suddenly reared up on two it’s hind legs, letting out a deep threatening moan. It was an evil sound, something you’d expect to hear at midnight in a cemetery.

Gwen took a step back, attempting to keep both behemoths in sight. 

The wind picked up, howling as it buffeted the wooden sides of the cabin.

‘Adrian’

Adrian was staring past her reflection at the snowy yard surrounding the cabin.

‘Adrian, it’s going to be ok’

Jack moved India slowly behind him, whispering, “Don’t move.”

Drool fell silently to the ground as the wolf took another step towards them. 

I brought a red notebook with me when I moved to Barcelona.

I definitely didn't have any plans for it when I first packed it. It sat unused for at least the first month in Spain, but eventually I started writing in it. For some reason I began on the very last page and started working my way towards the front of the book. I filled it with ramblings and musings, small stories and vignettes. 

It was a bit of a hobby I suppose. Sometimes sober, sometimes less so, I would throw on some music and begin etching out a (usually quite short) narrative in my abysmal handwriting. I've brought this notebook with me on the van trip and figured since it hasn't received much attention since I left Barcelona why not share a bit of the nonsense I concocted. 

I'm going into this section of the blog with no exact plans other than transferring the writing from a few years back. Perhaps I'll comment on them, perhaps I'll add or amend parts. To each piece I'll attempt to create a fitting title and hope that you enjoy.