Novel writing #1

Even in retrospect, it’s not easy to figure if what take place was a good or bad force in your life. Change always brings uncertainty. I’ve decided to write down activates and my analysis of all activities going on around me as we start this new era. The old way of things has fallen and I would like to make sure the when people try to speculate what was happening during this period, my writing could be of help. Being a curious person, I would have loved to be able to have read how things were at the start of the previous period. All I have are bits of information that my mom told me when I was young and my experiences to paint a picture of what happened. I feel like I’m missing some vital information and shall never be able to solve the puzzle. So I am writing this so that whoever reads this can have a much better chance at these kind of judgements.

1 New Beginnings

People are confused. They are unsure of who they are or if they are happy with this new change. We, the people, had a contract with our keeper. Our keeper laid down the rules on how we should act to him and in return he looked after us. The lobbyers were not happy with this contract and constantly fought with him to get him to change his laws. The lobbyers also coaxed us into being not cooperative and disrespectful to our keeper. Between the lobbyers, our lack of respect and the keepers need for superiority; he decided he had enough and would no longer be our keeper. The lobbyer’s were going to be given role as keeper, but they had been lobbying for an anarchist society and so here we are now, apparently free.

I have come to the realisation that we are still not free. The keepers teachings stay entrenched in our minds and hearts and those types more able to broaden their minds still run the danger of being absolutely wrong about what they free their mind to. We are all feeling very restless. I have gone back and forth in my head trying to evaluate what I thought of our keeper, but there are many layers involved. My perceptions of him are not only formed by what I saw but also of what my mother told me of him. I feel she may be biased so I can’t make up my mind.

Our weekly paper is no longer being distributed because of this new system. I’m running low on money and to carry on with my travels, I need find work to replenish my funds. Without the weekly paper, I’m left with no list of jobs I can scour through for my breakfast reading. I used to enjoy reading all the jobs I could possible apply for and dreaming of what life would come with these jobs. I once sat at the table all the way till lunch time dreaming out all these scenarios before I realised how much time had passed. I just had more breakfast and carried on the process. It wasn’t a productive day but I did realise that I was quite fond of theatrical jobs.

Now, I have to resort to carrying my loaf of bread down to the town centre and breaking little bits and pieces off into my mouth while I look at all the posters advertising new job openings. It’s not that bad, but it’s just not feasible to drink coffee while doing this. Bread in hand and mouth, I see if there’s anything of interest today. Jobs for bankers, jobs for stylists and jobs for the math inclined. I don’t see anything of relevance. As I’m walking past all the adverts, I glance at my reflection in one of the windows, half a loaf of unfinished bread in my arm, my hair is not brushed and my loose fitting flowery dress has faded into a dirty orange. I can see a few threads hanging.  I look homeless. How will I ever get a job like this?? Did I mistake to leave home? I’ve wondered this so many times, always with the same answer. All the experiences I’ve gained since leaving home will always outweigh the turbulence of my life at home. I glare at myself and silently tell myself off for letting the darkness into my mind again.

This town is always raining and it threatens to spill over again. I struggle to remember the reason I initially stopped in this town, I can’t think of what I could have wanted here, I shrug it off. The smell of fresh rain starts to get increasingly stronger and the grim streets darken slightly. The café’s and bookshops on this road all seem to have big glass windows with beautiful lights shining in them. I suddenly feel I’m on the wrong side of these of the glass. I’m also craving that breakfast coffee I’m so accustomed to having. My legs take on a force of their own and transport me to my favourite coffee shop.


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