prologue

A yawning chasm encompassed life. The hole could never be a threat, as one would just fall to its entrance. Ambition was too mundane, as the circle was it. It would deprave one, setting them into the brink of insanity as a second stretched into an hour. Hours and hours and hours and hours.

Pawn to e4.

That was how it began every time. The meticulous task to start the day, unaltered by the weather or time. The same spot, the same bar, the same drink. What came before was not a question; the past was the present, and so was the future. Death, the ultimate ending, was forgotten, and replaced with an appreciation for normality. Knowledge was something to gain, but it was just that. Winning was the only pleasure.

Checkmate came later. It always came, and that was due to knowledge. If that failed, there were weapons and fists. Losing was the precursor to success, and that was how life worked in the slums of a democratic nation. A nation ran by the people who have forgotten you. Infinite propulsion to the inevitable end, where one only remembers the self.

I shouldn’t try to overthink a hole. I’ll drink to myself later. 

The end.

***

In case you are wondering what this is, just look up the word ‘sample’ on Google/Bing(lol)/Yahoo(huh).

🙂

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Light and Dark

Welcome, welcome!

After a troll post and the first analysis in months, I have returned with a different, third shade. I hope you like these kinds of posts because I present another story!

This piece is dialogue-only, unlike another one I posted a while back that only focused on it. As with many of the pieces I created for my Writing class, this one did go through rewrites and edits, and there was a word-count that I nearly capped. For reference, my drafts went over some dialogue that I had to cut out completely and was nearly a page longer. This was the final copy that I handed in, so I hope you enjoy it!

***

“Do you ever wonder what’s up there?”
“Everything is up there, obviously.”
“True, but do you think anyone is watching us? Maybe we’re watching them!”
“They would be watching a dull rock if they could.”
“Wouldn’t it be lovely to be up there, so vast and free?”
“You would go insane! Watching dull rocks, of course.”
“Does it matter if you’re physically alone? Stars watch you.”
“Doesn’t make the cold hurt any less.”
“We’ll persevere. Haven’t we always done so?”
“It’s sterile up there. Society chains us to the ground, anyways, and it’s not that easy. The world always finds a way to self-destruct under pressure.”
“People can change that! I can steer my car, and there’s billions in this world. We will find a way to break free from shackles and leap.”
“You’re forgetting politics, economy, religion, culture, and power. What makes you think anything will get done?”
“They will change us.”
They?
“That’s not what’s important. Do you believe in a destiny for us?”
“I believe we will continue until we cease. We’re not machines, but don’t you find it funny how we just shut off?”
“One day, we will wake up to their arrival. We’ll fulfill whatever purpose lies in the stars.”
“What if they doom us to slavery or extinction? History is not a kind source when it comes to this sort of thing.”
“I like to believe they will act regal and fair. Magnificent beings who will take us by the hand into tomorrow!”
“You’re in love with an idea that will never happen. I suppose your idealism is why I like you, but what you suggested cannot happen.”
“Why?”
“Imagination is disappointing. We want to believe something, and find solace in it. We want to embrace it, and never let go as the harp strikes a chord in the background.”
“If space is infinite, how can I be wrong?”
“Space dies. The stars die. Life as a whole will wither into what it once was: nothing.”
“Isn’t it better to simply exist? To breathe and smell the blossoming of life?”
“Sometimes being an idea can allow you to edge out the competition, can it not?”
“But you technically still exist. Just in someone’s head, that’s all. Right?”
“Remember: ideas change. They can become vile and incomprehensible, or even vanish.”
“If we die, will anyone remember this conversation? Will it have even happened?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Ears hear. The wind doesn’t have them.”
“And that’s where your pessimism is not entirely true. They may not even sense the same way we do.”
“Realism never hurts. Sometimes life shuts you down, and you have to change to overcome it. I’ve never been defeated before, so why now?”
“You’ll never be defeated as long as you keep on going.”
“Like I do.”
“Can you at least agree that the sky is wonderful tonight?”
“That I can do-”
“That’s the last word I’ll hear out of your mouth, soldier. Anymore before you deal with the CO?”
“Just smile, will you?”

***

If you are wondering why the ending is abrupt, that is due to a new conflict I had to establish in a twist as a part of the criteria for this assignment. The original drafts had a few more lines there, but I had to cut it short which sadly made the twist more odd and less abrupt/surprising.

I also have a post that will be made somewhere in early-mid June, which will be something that has never been on this blog before. Until then, I hope you enjoyed this post!

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A Look at Why 1984’s Antagonists Work So Well

Hello all, and welcome back!

It has been a while since the last post, and even longer since an analytic piece. Judging by the title, you have probably already realized that this post will be just that. Once again, do not expect anything lengthy, although I do realize that many of you enjoyed one particular post so think of this as a pseudo-sequel of sorts. I also recognize that I have covered this topic in the past, but this post is more refined.

And unlike every post here, this one was actually proofread. Also, this is the 50th post on the blog!

Enjoy!

***

When writing a story, a highly developed antagonist can enrich conflict, setting and the protagonist’s development. 1984 by George Orwell is one of such stories which impacts the reader’s perception of a setting through a carefully constructed antagonist. O’Brien is a character who is initially thought of as an ally by both the reader and protagonist Winston, but an organic twist reveals him to be on the side of the government Winston fights. This revolutionary attitude is challenged by both order and security, each characterized in O’Brien. The reader is impacted through doubt, as O’Brien asks if they “[are] willing to throw sulphuric acid in a child’s face” (pp. 180, Orwell). O’Brien’s malicious intent to trick Winston into confessing a willingness to criminality is where his most effective trait comes through to the reader: power. He makes Winston suffer psychologically by challenging and twisting his world-view, going as far as to claim the past does not exist as he “[does] not remember it” (pp. 259, Orwell). Winston is helpless and forced to concede, allowing the theme of hope to be crushed into nothingness. Orwell effectively showcases the effectiveness of brutality and the power of statements which carry 1984’s narrative. The fear in acknowledging O’Brien’s small part in a lager play gives weight to the omnipotence of the Party, as he “[set Winston’s trap] over the course of seven years, and ultimately breaks [him]” (paragraph 11, Hardaker). It is important to utilize an antagonist beyond being an adversary, instead using one to test the merits developed by a protagonist and building a world that may not always be how it seems.

Orwell, George. 1984. Penguin, 1948.

Hardaker, Harry. “1984 by George Orwell.” WordPress. 10 Apr. 2013.
https://hardakh.wordpress.com/2013/04/10/introduction-to-1984-and-its-author/. Accessed 22 Feb. 2017.

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How to Fix Your Problems (April Fools!)

Hello everyone, and welcome back to a special post on stadarooni!

As you may notice by the odd title, this post will not have anything to do with storytelling, reviewing, or analyzing. Matter of fact, I’m afraid my compassion for such has dwindled down to a level so low that I do not know why I’m writing this. Regardless, this post will be the first in a string of events where I give you complete wisdom. I have lived many years, and I’m tired of keeping these secrets to myself. I may be bold with such an ambiguously intentioned title that generalizes ‘problems,’ but I have cracked the code.

Before I tell you, some announcements.

As my compassion for everything I knew has vanished, the purpose of this blog will be taking a bright new step towards a more beneficial direction. Tomorrow, I will be ripping out the three major categories and replacing them with the following:

  • Progressive Fashion. I believe fashion these days is too narrow in its scope: it’s what appeals to beauty. Artists have twisted this to the point where many of us do not even know what beauty means anymore. However, I am going to change that forever. You heard it here first, folks. I will rewrite fashion and make it a new medium for true art, where a dress can be just as impactful as a romantic comedy. I will make fashion into what it needs to be to appeal to a much broader audience, but I will not forget the big people. Once every year, you can expect the ‘stadarooni fashion show’ where contestants out-beauty each other in a striking story of heartbreak, drama, and insecurity. Make sure you bring popcorn because it will elevate your mind to a whole new level.
  • Budget Travel. I will be showcasing the places you cannot miss. Why travel along the coasts of the Mediterranean or go on a safari in northern Kenya? There are better alternatives that will make you appreciate the pleasure of voyaging to a new extreme. The answer is simple: your very home! Why waste money on a trip to Hawaii or Fiji when you can simply dump a heap of dirt into your bathtub, turn on the tap, and close your eyes? The human mind is full of illusions, and you should take advantage of this. If you separate your mind from your body, you can be anywhere. The best part: it’s free! Just imagine lying in a heap of snow, encasing yourself in a tomb of… Nevermind. Dream on.
  • Lastly, next-generation poetry. Not poetry you can understand, but words that sound nice together. I think. He said. She said. Instant poetry, because it rhymes. It’s art, and that is objectively true. No need to be bigger and bolder: it’s right there. You can expect these kinds of posts to dominate the blog from here on out, with the above two coming on a weekly basis. Poetry is the heart of human emotion, but I will make you all love it. Just like Twilight, as long as there’s three people and love involved, you will automatically like it. A thousand scientists told me this, so that will be the subject of each poetry post here. 24/7, 365 days a year. If you have any complaints, you would be arguing with mainstream appeal, also known as fact. So please, don’t.

 

So, you may have forgotten what the question on hand was, and so have I. Instead, here’s a bombshell on myself. I have never revealed my identity, or at least I do not believe I have. What does the name ‘stadarooni’ even signify? Think about it for a few seconds. Stad is the Dutch word for city, and ‘arooni’ is pretty close to pepperoni. Pepper. That’s right, I’m a city girl. My main pastime is kissing boys. All the boys. But let’s not get started on why.

If you’ve made it to the end, congratulations. So, how do you fix your problems? Throughout my long and tiring life, I have finally found the answer. It is in fact right in front of you, and when you find it out you will be overcome with joy. I do not think you will be able to handle it, so beware of any unfortunate consequences that lie ahead.

In order to fix your problems…

You need to find…

…….

……

…..

….

..

.

…………………………………………………………………………………………

Um…

Oh yes.

That’s it.

Of course.

It’s…

.

The solution.

:3

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April Fools, just in case I have to say it. 🙂

Reaching for Ruminations

As I have promised, here is an update post on what’s going on within the blog. I’m going to keep it brief, but I will go into as much detail as possible.

As you saw yesterday, I have finally published a post after so long. While the blog itself has been steadily gaining views over the past few months, I wanted to share some new content for you all to enjoy. Gaining views is not too much of a concern for me in the greater scheme of things, but it’s awesome to see some of my earlier posts gaining some traction.

As I stated earlier in January, this year will have a different approach from the last. Quality over quantity, which also requires more time. While that will still remain true, I want to give smaller posts for you all to digest as well. However, you may still notice the lack of content over the past few months. Instead, a lot of that has gone into the background of the blog. I have decided to streamline the blog’s theme once again, as I want to you all to enjoy a more simplified experience that will hopefully be visually engaging (more so than before). The categories and tagging system done on the blog have been completely retooled for this as well, and now all blogs are in three categories or are miscellaneous.

Also, I have decided to expand the blog’s outlet on social media. While I had brought the blog to Tumblr and Twitter a very long time ago, the Instagram and Facebook page should help to give light on what’s happening in a more cohesive way. Every post from now on will have links to every social media page for stadarooni, and if there any other platforms I should use, please feel free to shoot them to me!

Lastly, you may have noticed these two posts. Unlike all of my posts, these two do not have any sort of commentary and are quite bite-sized at that. What exactly are they? The answer: experimentation. I wanted to experiment with a story serial that would come out bi-weekly, but after further inspection, I have had other thoughts. While I will not take these two posts down, I will instead be releasing this unnamed story chapter-by-chapter in bigger swoops. I will be using them as a basis for what is to come, and I will assure you that it will have the most thought and care put into any post on this blog. Instead of being one-draft-out-the-window like nearly every post on this blog, there will be drafts and a plan. It will take the form of a traditional story and not wander into abstract detail (as I said before) and most of all, I will take suggestions. If you are reading this, please comment on what you would like to see in this story with the aforementioned two in mind. That would be awesome, as I want to make a simple story all of us will enjoy.

Although brief, I hope you enjoyed this quick update. Stay tuned, because you never know what’ s behind the corner. 🙂

 

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End of the Line

Hello everyone, and welcome back!

The blog has been pretty quiet over the past two months, but I have been watching from the sidelines. While a lack of posting, of course, means success will not be met as easily, I can assure you that the blog is not devoid of a viewership. In fact, this month has been very successful to this point! I will go into more depth on what is happening in an update post tomorrow, as well as an explanation for what those two previous stories were and where they may go.

While I try not to be too lazy in what I post here, today I present a rougher draft of an assignment that I worked on at school a few weeks ago. My task was to focus on voice, and I decided to take a step back and enjoy myself while writing this. I present you with a more traditional story for this blog and one that has dialogue as well! Please enjoy what you see, and I will catch up with you at the end.

 

***

“Why is it that we always see blue? It’s always blue, blue, blue. Up: sky blue. Down: dark blue. Have you ever thought of that?” said Sushi.

Sushi’s imagination was always outside of our confines, even if it annoyed the old-timers in our school. The lack of bravado in living towards the land was due to the white beasts. The ultimate evil that lurked, eyes like night striking death in its heart. It is apparently some part of a great chain of life, but I do not choose to believe clownfish; the anchor keeps me at bay.

“Sushi, you’re swimming in a sea of possibilities. Try closing your eyes, and you’ll see black. Everything else is too dangerous!” said Blue.
“Isn’t black just a really dark shade of blue? I want to feel the world, not dream it! We’ll be safe as long as we stick to the shore!”
“Child, boredom will not resolve your current issues. Do not cast away.”

In one way, he was right. Shouldn’t we venture to the shore instead of sailing around it? However, we don’t know what’s out there. I have always trusted Blue’s instincts. Green means seaweed, and you don’t know how many talons can gouge out your eyeballs if you don’t see them. Pink means jellyfish, but they aren’t fish: they are murderers. Sushi is just asking to be bait, and bait always gets hooked away.

“Elder, the school has been swimming in circles for weeks. The nets of ‘China’ have killed off whatever used to live here, and what’s this: they’re clear, or in other words, blue!”
“Sushi, such behaviour is what causes problems in this school! We cannot escape our problems, as they exist everywhere-
“Blue, don’t make me pull a muscle again. Our school makes up in hubris what it lacks in foresight. If Sushi thinks the ocean is beautiful, he can go and find its depth himself,” I said.

I do not often wish to speak with those who go around in circles, but they are obedient to reason. I recognize that my reasoning is ultimately of a sadistic temptation: in the wild, the strong thrive. He has already lost, and now the tides will turn on him as he discovers the perverted nature of the sea.

“If the sharks come, do not run back! They will manipulate you, and your blood will spill because of it. You are off the hook, although another lies ahead,” said Blue.
“Does that mean I will get to see red? Let’s see: there’s crimson, scarlet, lust, carmine, ruby…”

His voice scattered into the wind, and soon we forgot about him. The sea can get lonely sometimes. We are lost in thought, and we don’t like to talk. After five years, I ran out of anything to say, and they did as well. Sushi was the last of our children, but he had drifted away, far into the black horizon of eternity and all lost dreams.

All there is to strike at curiosity is the land. It brings me a joyous hope; a seizure that disrupts my stream of consciousness. I ponder at what may lie, and if a new world would appear. Of course, it was against the elder’s seal of approval as they just want us to drown in sorrow. I’ll be damned if I’m sinking off the deep end, but it never feels like the calm before the storm. The water is still, just like us. Our hearts are watered down, dampened by the dry humour that we may swim in a new channel. Of course, that will not be until the floodgates come open. Perhaps they can come fishing for us?

“Do any of you wish to chase rainbows?”

 

***

Although short, I hope you still enjoyed today’s serving. Remember to check back tomorrow for an update/announcement of sorts, but there is something I want to leave before I head off. For the past two months, I have been working on getting social media accounts up and running for the blog! I present you with some links, but please tell me if there are any other platforms that I should check out.

Thank you, and have a pleasant day! 🙂

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Industrial Love

10 years earlier

“Mr. Griffith, please wake up as you were instructed to.”

Birth. A daily procedure in this box pyramid, casted by the tranquilizing love of probing machines and automated utensils. They sliced through air, but they quickly vanished. It was no way to introduce an infant into the world.

“Note: Griffith is unresponsive. Prepare morphine. Subject may need to be shut down.”

The words came into Griffith’s ears, and he knew what they meant. Morphine was an opiate used to numb pain, which meant that something wrong was happening. The orders were carried out by a artificial hum, words gargled and imitated as if read off a script. If he knew this before entering the world, than being born was not so bad.

“Commence stage one: morphine dossage at 5-percent.”

The word commence meant something was starting. 5-percent implied lethality would increase. It was quite rude of Griffith to not let the machines know of his awakening. After all, he was born with knowledge, and compassion came second.

“Howdy gentlemen! Now about this little ‘injection’ you intent to sting me wi-”

The electronic wind of the room snapped, and Griffith’s monotonous commander did not say another word. Beyond that, Griffith sensed an uneasy difference in the space he occupied. The tiny, insignificant, space he occupied. Or was it large? With that, something amazing happened.

Griffith’s eyes opened. The room had no corners, and the white walls only reflected light. The machines were tucked out of existence, and with it any features for his birthplace. But there, beyond the cott he rested in, lied a line.

The exit.

What if I step out of line?