Fall 2021

 I have a bunch of notes prior to that time period, But in April of 2021 I challenged myself to write 5k words a day, it was a lot, and I was not able to write for all days of April, but it was the period of my life I did the most writing I had ever done prior to that, so, I just feel proud of those silly little documents I wrote half deliriously while pulling all nighters to catch on the words I failed to write on the days, so when you see the posts with two number, know that I could not write on time, and ended up with 10k words docs

Gonna add the tags #fall2021 to this series of docs, and I guess I will begin right now, with the first 5k words on a day that wasn't in April.

31th Day of March

Well, thus begin the season of challenges. I have to just write 5k words on this fine day and at least one coherent story out of this mess of writing, there is no time limit, as long it can be completed in a day, it will be considered successful, so, if I want to a thousand here, stop, relax, eat something, meditate on the meaning of life, I guess I can only do that, right fellows? I can, as long as I come back to finish what I have begun.

So, what am I going to write today? no idea… I think I will have to use a theme generator

Okay, so, the worlds I got where

Wonderland

I wonder about the rabbit hole sometimes, what it must have meant, the chase, falling into it, falling for days on end on what must have been the most psychodelic trip to ever grace the poor mind, but that is not even the worst part, you know what I believe the worst part truly is? is the lack of decency on the part of the hole for not being real.

you know, at the end, it is all a metaphor, it is all a way for the mind of young girl to grapple with difficult concepts and to teach the reader about them using this avatar as proxy, leaving the reader wanting more for such a curious world, but to the extent of the world to be chained to a sole persons head, it feels sorely awful for that to be the case

If I was Wonderlands architect, I would make it self sufficient, a way it could continuously to make even weirder stuff without the input of my psyche, for I yearn for that jovial mystique and eldritch horror that it ought to be if it were to be real.

And by my designs, I would make it so, I doubt I will be able to write 3 stories, each with a different theme, But I believe myself capable of writing solely one

My criteria is to write at least one coherent story, a coherent story must have 5 paragraphs or more, so, I know not how to grapple with the fact that I struggle even if one paragraph, least it be 5

but oh well, 5 thousand words, five paragraphs, 35 days until my birthday, that is in the fifth of may, the fifth month.

Five is my lucky number, so I will give my best to reach this quota, by pushing myself, I will start doing things the right way, good, and how they should have been done all this time.

Time

Let’s write some words about time, such a cruel mistress, that waits for no one, but drags all to the grave, sooner or later.

Like the personification of Death in the book thief, The creature sure didn’t seemed very happy to be stuck on that job, Death is a kind of personification of time, at the end, we all die, everything does, it is the cycle of life, it is unfair? yes, I don’t want to die, so, for my time on this earth, is want to do good on my name, forget to good at thy fathers and thy mother, I am going to do good for myself, I will achieve my dreams, and for this, I need the habit of writing, so, I guess I will try writing a little of fiction, not quite the coherent story of today, but to get that muscle, pumping the creativity juice pumping.

I once had this grandfather clock at the entrance of my home, it came with the house, the prior owner seemed to not know where the clock came from, but it fit so snugly with the decorations, it made the whole place feel like those antique stores with strong smell of incesce that sometimes have large fat cats hanging at the vitrine. That clock was something we would never even see in person, since it lacks any real use nowadays.

But I liked that grandfather clock, it reminded me of my grandfather when I looked the hands at the Twelve'o clock, the subdued smile on his lips, the grief on his eyes at the death of my grandmother, his eyes seemed so older than him, and he was very old, but he looked older and older whenever I visited, I wondered if I should visit him at all, seeing the age behind those eyes, they knew the truths of life and death, and the latter one scared me the most.

I loved my grandfather, but he was not timeless, age is sucha a strange thing, the older you are the wiser you become, but the burden of age is so great and colossal that it makes me wonder why would anybody age at all? I think that in my first mid-life crisis I will kill myself to avoid the dread of a slow decay.

Maybe that is why nobody seems to like old people, each old person is a sort of personification of death, the older they are, the closer in semblance they become, and such is the fear of the end, that we decide to ignore that they even exist, that they are a thing, or things of the like.

Is so very sad, but I doubt I am any better, old people are scary. Not in the way a serial killer is scary, they are not trying to be scary, but their existence is like a reminder of what you will become given time. To be sore, to be fragile, to always hurt and always drag oneself to places so painful slowly, I wish I could pretend they don’t exist, but I can’t do that, I think I have to come to terms with death, It is not a fun concept, but such is the reality of the mater, it is not like I can live a weight free life without coming to terms with my own mortality.

Irony

In a trailer park, my body decays in an old mobile home, I wonder how long will it take to anybody to discover my body. I have no friends and family, so I doubt anyone would look for me if I were to disappear. But it is the end of the month, so maybe the landlord? Fat chance, since I paid four months in advance.

Maybe the cloud of insects, attracted by the smell of decay, would be a dead give away. heh, dead, you get it? because I died and everything… heh, changing subjects, what is your professional opinion?

what would you have done in my place? Well, I guess you already is in my place if you are reading this, you see, I am quite the nasty guy, and I don’t want to die just yet you know, so please, give me your time.

I promise I will give it back.

;)

I really want to go watch some movie with friends, I would make the popcorn, with caramel and chocolate for the sweet and butter and cheese for the salty, they would bring the beverages, we would watch horror, adventure, maybe even a romcom, I want the get drunk and turn in some horrible hate watch, like the Rubber, the psychic tire or some shit, I have no idea, I think it would be nice, do a couples night, something sweet, I want to have a boyfriend that would take me in his arms, maybe I could take him in my arms, pretty sure I have the warmest hugs, so we could do it in the winter.

I am thinking about writing the story right about now

I Never Saw Snow Before

I trudge through a white blanket of snow, covering every inch of surface, no matter in which direction I look at, I see certain death in every possible path I could take, that with not taking in consideration all the frozen corpses littering the ground.

I am not going to write the story right now, instead, let’s talk about that project, I have no name for it yet, but it rests so close and dearly to my heart I can only say that it is one of the golden ideas that I have, there is only two ideas of mine that I consider gold, I will make it so.

lets add a little more momentum for my writing, for example, lets talk about the idea of the corrupted protagonist versus the nature bound one, they end up in a position of argument, where they abnormalities start waking up, they end up losing themselves to the evil juice in their veins and become weird horrible goop monsters, or thing of the like, I have no idea, I want it quite eldritch, so, I don’t know what I would do, I want each of them to have a bubble of effect like Annihilation, where there is this dark fog of miasma from the corruption side and there is this rainbow shimmer in the nature side, the people becoming monstrous mounds of flesh on the corruption side, with every building turning stone to meat, the streets pulse beneath his hands. (Sorry for this paragraph if you are reading, I can understand it, you probably will not)

On the other side, the nature bound, the seeker of the order, such an eldritch concept he is so very familiar, the shimmer of colors, bring the wild within, the plants growing past beyond their normal, with a single sunflower being able to destroy districts, and the humans fare no better for that matter, their ancestry is brought along to the trip, shells growing from the flesh, eyes red with rage, if they still have eyes, the structure of bones growing in their heads feeding from the bones themselves, with each step they take, you can hear the creak of their bones breaking, but the shimmer, protects, the shimmer heals, as the bones turn into antlers, they fill the empty spots with wood, watered with blood, no creature on either side is able to turn back, they become monstrosities, warped beings turned that way from the actions of beings that care not for them

I am kinda of already tiring, quite fast of this already, so, for that matter, when I reach 2 thousand words, I think I will be taking a longer break

I feel quite spent if I say so myself, and I still haven’t made a strict story, I wonder, I have that title over there, about writing I never saw snow before, is it going to be apocalypse themed, but, so what?

we are going to follow the last moments of a dying man who lived in a tropical area, he crunchs bones of both human end the creatures that lay beyond.

you caught my attention with that, what are the creatures that lay beyond?

the name of the protagonist is going to be Rachel, because Raquel, prima querida, que deus a tenha, she is not dead, we just don’t talk anymore.

So, Rachel trudging through the frozen tundra of an wasteland, she has gangrene, her fingers are blackned from the cold, the reason she is out on such a blizzard is because the place she called home, a research base, was overrun by the creatures that lay beyond, they come seeking warmth, to tear flesh apart and drink the blood.

she is looking for shelter, but she knows she is screwed, she is going to die.

I want a "the little match seller" retelling more or less

so, her phone keeps malfunctioning from the cold, so, as she sets camp into an abandoned pharmacy, she barricades with the best of her abilities,

she gets a fire going, she roasts a human arm, we will not disclose anymore, but yes, in tundra world, they be cannibal. she will not do that, she is just going to get the fire going.

so, she watches the video in her phone

at the first video she sees a shadow on the window, a horrible face pressing against the glass, trying to break in, it is a disgusting monster, but it is so weak from the cold, it can’t break into

she breaks one of her freezing finger and throws away, disgusted by the fact it didn’t even hurt.

her phone starts working again and she watches one more video of her life in the base, one of the early recounting of what happened, or something of the like.

oh well, I reached my goal for now, but first, let me think about the end

she ends up slaughtered by a creature that lays beyond. it is going to be gnarly thing, but oh well.

okay, I have the story, so

Cold -

In the smoke of a cigarette, I could see figures made of shadows, they clouded themselves together to warm from the cold. The small silhouette shivered uncontrollably and the big ones hugged it tighter, I knew how it would end, I saw the scene so many times, forever etched on the frozen corpses inside houses like this, maybe this shadows , maybe is too much to ask for peace of mind during my little cigarette break.

It is such a funny sight seeing the limp cloth on the glove where my fingers should be, they blackned and broke off on their own thanks to gangrene. It shouldn’t be so amusing, but I couldn’t help but laugh at it, I would never be able to do a spok ever again…

“ha, if I stopped to think about all the things I am not able to do thanks to gangrene, I think I would start crying” I say to no one, touching my leg stumps with my free hand.

I take a deep drag of the cigarette, feeling the smoke burning in my lungs, It was the only thing that made me feel warm nowadays, burning from within, burning my lifeline, not that it matters anyway, I doubt I would live long enough for cancer to get me, I think smoking was the best decision I made since the world ended.

“Maybe it was the only one”

I wish I could cry.

Well, I got my story, and let me tell, I think I might be a little, not satisfied, with it, but oh well, we still have 2k and a little more to go.

well, I have so much work to catch up to, I have no idea how I will reach my goal, but exactly, for that reason, I will be writing, I will be spewing the goop hardening on the corners of my brain, stifling the machine, I am no part of a greater machine, no, I am the most, greatest, perfect system of them all, there is no way to put it, I can do no wrong, I am so perfect that the only thing that gets out of my fingers is the golden dew of the gods, truly, Apollo creams himself reading my manuscripts, how could it be not so?, truly, I am just kidding, I am very sorry for the offense mister Apollo, I was just kidding, please, don’t fall in love with me, I don’t want to become a plant.

Thanksies.

Well, now, were where we?

lets write about something spicy, I don’t care about what, anything, it could be smut, it could be the the most disturbing erotica you could ever convey, but, o dear, I have no idea about what to do, I want to be writing, but I don’t know what

The strands of hair covering my face was quite new If I said so myself, well, I want to know, how did I ever end in this situation? does it even make sense?

I know it does not

Make a story about pumpkins, I don’t know, something aesthethic, something creepy, I want to be a writer, I care not, for the the product, along as I am able to produce, anything

I would be quite happy with, I don’t know, I have no idea, lets talk about project, I have so many of them, I want to talk, about the bully project, where this Dumbass decides to pick up someone to bully and ends up targeting the most dangerous bastard in the the whole school.

“Hey” the shout ranged in my ears

“Stupid cunt, I am calling you Brian, if you don’t get out of here now, you are going to get hurt”

they go away

“Hey, thanks for stepping in for me, I don’t know what would’ve happened if you weren’t for you” I said aproaching to shake his hand

“Get out of my view maggot, I didn’t step out for your sake, you think I didn’t saw that metal glint in your jacket pocket?”

I froze mid step

“I owned Brian, hope saving his life counts you little columbine piece of shit in the making”

he said without even looking behind once, it almost too easy to slip my blade in his back, he has to pay for making me think there was hope in this world, fucking bitch

Well, it was something, I have no idea about what to write right now

so I decided that I am going to write a little poetry.

The white walls covering my vision, I wish I could see beyond them, I am crazy, crazy with passion, I can barely see the expanse beyond my own brain, so, let me plunge so deep into my own that I can never come back

I don’t know the state of the world, whenever I get out on the doorsteps, the only thing I am able to see is a myriad of corpses, burned long ago by the nukes, But it makes no sense, whenever I close the door, I can hear their voices so very clearly, it almost hurts.

I wish I had emotions, I wish I could scream with all the rage in my heart, I wish it stopped hurting, aching like a sore spot in my chest, like rubbing against concrete, I don’t want this feeling, I want true emotions, I want to be sad, I want to scream, I want to puke out of frustration, I want to walk so fast, that I trip myself with my own two feet, I wish I could feel the sensation of falling in love, but I doubt I will ever experience in this life, no, no love for me, so I decided that I am going to scream, I have no idea, keep writing until all the compost of non used emotions burn, brighter than the light of day, maybe I can replicate that feeling of warmth that lacks at the center of my chest, I want to get weak in the arms, I want to write something so obviously good, that I cry every time that I read, I am tired of writing all this emo depressed shit, like, come on, I have so many things to live for, I want to be happy I want to exist in a way that it doesn’t fucking hurts, I want to be proud of me for once instead of being in a constant state of disgust, so, there is that on that.

The movement of waves, the screams of the wind, we can hear the howling getting near, we have avoided them for almost four full moons, but no matter how you look at it, we are going to die, we can’t even amount to anything, we should have I have no idea About what to write, but we can learn, no doubt

My eyelids feel so heavy, I look at my ceiling and I can see the droplets of blood dripping from the floor up above, I wonder if there is a dead person right above me or is that the heroin effect, I wish I had energy enough to care

Man, talking about heroin, I kind of remembered about emergence, man, that sure was quite fucked up, I wish the end wasn’t like that, but oh well, be as it may, it can be no way to know, I kinda of want to see what those children look like after growing up under the heavy influence of an addict mother, I doubt that it would be a cute sight, a caved in face of a baby who received no iron for his blood because it all burned thanks to heroin

I don’t even know how does heroin affects a fucking baby

Lets give this creature a piece of our souls, what could go wrong?

I really love witch aesthetic, the creature of the night, the one who consorts with devils, to make paste with infants to maintain their youth, I have no idea, I wish I knew anything more, but I know nothing, I want magic, I want magic in my stories, I want magic on myself, in my life, in my world, I have no idea how to proceed on this so very dreary night.

I know a witch spell that just might blow your mind

Set you heart in stone, bind it to my will, with each beat that it makes, your infatuation grows, I am your world and I will be your ashes, you will die for me as you have done once before.

intention is all that it needs, I know why they think you have to make everything rhymes, like, well, sure it is aesthetic pleasing, but like, not that it is needed, is it?

Well, the witch who with a spell made the sun dim, it is so dim in its fixated position to the sky, only the kingdom of Elios is able to grow anything

They have fields of meat and flesh, oh dear, I wonder if anyone would ever need anything more

Let’s make a loverboy, shall we?

He shall be sweet, he shall be rude, he shall be filled with contradictions, he must hate my guts, but he also must be unable to live without me, make the abusive chique for troi(?????), please, I have no idea what love is

Make a girl I guess, giver her courage, to be feminine, to like the color pink, she must love sewing, she has the dream of being a seamstress, ball gowns are the most fun for her, the golden shimmer, the saphire cloth that seems to shine with bright colors, like, c’mon, how can there be all these people that don’t sew? I thought they would love to fucking have clothes, how can they not love clothes on itself, such a stupidity.

We are not even close, like, look at this tomfoolery, I should have know it would have amounted to nothing at the end, I feel so fucking sad, I regret everything, I wish I was something better, I want to be good, I want to be good, better, I want to stop being this fucking trash that I am at the moment, like, truly, how can I live being this fucking disgusting creature that I am right now?

like, truly, I am a fucking beast, I don’t want this craving for validation, it is not even a craven, it is a bad habit that I picked up being a fucking stupid child, I will unlearn this bad habit, I am going to fucking do something with my life, I care not for what that is going to be, But I assure you, I will get ridden of all my most disgusting parts, I am going to burn it all up into a smoke and ashes, I am going to make sure that it all becomes cinders at the wind.

I want to write about tragedy, My life is probably that, is its such a great life, but it has a fucking clown at the driver seat, so even if the road has been smoothed out, the only thing I am able to do is dig my own potholes to tumble down until I topple the goddamn car.

I am so disgusted right now, I will unlearn all those bad behaviors, act, tomorrow I will write the best thing I have ever written to date, and I will do so in the next day, and in the next, and so on, until I be making masterpiece after masterpiece, I care not for what sensibilities I am going against of my own, but after I got down the habit of writing, I am going to fucking shred the market, I will do the best things of the best, I have so many emotions, the moment I learn to do just that.

Okay, I still have work to be done, like, dear, you think it was the end, but it just begun

in the words of the wise avenged sevenfold,

I have dreams, so many of them in fact that it takes more energy to sleep for me than to run a marathon, so, you know, I haven’t left my bed in a very long time, like, dear lord, if only you knew the things that go in my mind, you would not believe it, for all that I know, I have nothing much to live by, I wish life would be grander, I wish I could step a foot out of that fucking door, I want to scream and run, I want to punch a wall without having to worry about a shattered arm

why is this my life, I wonder, what kinda of sick joke could it be, like dear lord, I hope that the sick fuck that planned this shit to happen has gotten his fucking balls of her fucking tits or their fucking jugular punched in, because, for fucks sake, what kind of dumb bitch would create misery for the sake of misery? at least give me a brand new auto immune disease, let my life become a further step for science, like, goodness sake, how can it be so, when life give you lemons, make a lemonade, but with these lemons, you could kill a bitch in the way that they are so acidic, the smell alone makes me wilt further into myself

I lost you there for a moment, I know that, but I will try to say this in a way that you can understand

I have long given up of amounting to anything more than a burden to my parents, and I would die thus so if fate where to proceed as how it should, but for that matter, I have no idea, about the destiny has in store for me, besides a kick in the teeth, if I even have any teeth to kick in when the time come, like, please, brush more than once a week, you fucking pig.

I want to eat a peeled apples, let me tell you, I sorry that is the way that the things run, I have no idea, how the world is run, besides the fact that life itself is just so so.

Give me something to eat, give me something to drink, and I will gift you a boon, well, not like you care, rancid king, your kingdom reeks of neglect, your subjects die at the shores of rivers, the disease of the fish, brought by curse of your own, you are such a disgrace, but I will give you a chance, it is not like you truly deserve it, but I will give you this tea spoon, I will make thus that you are proud of me, here I shifted about another thing, I have no idea about what I am writing right now

Tomorrow I will focus in gay romance and gay romance solely, I care not for the way a men ought be, I want to make those bastards love each other, maybe tomorrow I will try my hand at fanfic, something with burly hot man, like golden kamuy, and such, but I care not, I wish life could be easier, but they are truly not, I know not nothing, but I wish dearly to change, that, I am going to make this evil part of myself that writes nothing and just whines in my skull wilt and fucking die, I want to be the best I can be, so, I need to put in the effort, like, I think she should have like an week or something

I want to have this ready by the time I turn 20,

I am a healthy adult young man I have all the time in the world, and I will make so I stay that way forever, I will use my knowledge of psychology to stop falling into debauchery, I have a destiny of greatness to fulfill. so let’s not fuck it up.

I wish my father had a gun, maybe the weight would pass to his balls, then he would have the fucking decency to have shame for his acts. (he cheated on my mother, who he was cheating with his wife, guess two wasn't enough for that pig)

I have this halo on my closet, I used to think it was a piece of costume, I found at the feet of this passed out drunk dude at an fraternity party.

But, the thing is, the halo has like, magical powers, like, how does that work? like, look at this tragedy, did I stole from a real angel? but he had like, 2 eyes, what is up with that

I learned that the halo has purifying powers, how did I learn that, well, might as well say that I was grappling with a mild case of alcohol poisoning, puking my guts out..

Looking for a clean t-shirt, I touched the thing, and got instantly better, so, I wonder if I am really fucked, and when god is coming for my ass, and this kinda of stuff

Well, I have no idea about what to write anymore, so, think about a joke, any joke, yes, even that crude one that nobody laughed, but it better be a pun, because If I caught you being racist, I am going to fucking punt you into the sun.

write stream of conscience they said, well... bitch, the fuck was that?