I can still feel the anxiety and dread in my stomach when I think about certain exams, and it’s been years since I had to take one!
I am certain that I am not the only one and I’d really love to change that for the next generation. I’m not here to argue about whether exams are a good way of evaluating skills, as the reality of exam style testing will be here to stay for a while.
What this little book aims to do is lighten the load for any test takers. To brighten their hearts and increase their self confidence. To assure them that someone sees them, someone cares and they are not alone.
The book is a card as well as a book, it can be written in to add in extra affirmations and it can be dedicated to your precious test taker.
The e-book version can also be projected on a screen or used with an interactive whiteboard in a class setting.
I have seen the power of affirmations to encourage self confidence in my own life, let’s give this gift to the next generation and see where believing in themselves from an early age can take them.
Story: The main character comes to realise that there’s no escaping fate
Themes: Imprisoned against your will
Words: 560ish
The Overwhelming Dread
I don’t know how long I wait.
The lights are on all the time, so I mark the days, with the flow of the people. When there are people here, walking around and looking at us, it must be the daytime, but all we feel is dread. When there are not, we all breathe a sigh of relief. We lasted another day.
It is slowly dawning on us all that this is a fight we cannot win. Each day someone cracks or melts under the pressure of waiting, wondering if they will be chosen next. If they will be plucked by a manicured hand and looked over with a greedy smile.
The crackpots, as I have named them in my head, let the pressure build up until they explode, and can no longer hold themselves together. The melty ones, also another internal nickname, just turn to goo and will not respond to anything anymore. It’s sad really, but I can’t blame them. I’m not sure how I am still holding myself together with this heat.
We don’t have a life, but we don’t want one. I’m sure all of us would give anything to remain here indefinitely, like an eternal night, trapped in this current boring existence, cramped, confined in these metal contraptions. If only we could escape the horror of being picked out by one of the people and being taken elsewhere. I’ve heard the stories. These people, these beings, are monsters!
Oh sure, we are dressed up to look desirable, and the company’s marketing is so good that the people walking around the shop don’t ever stop to think if buying us is wrong. They can’t see the dread, can’t comprehend our pain. We exist for them, to satisfy their wants. Why would we have feelings? It’s their pleasure that matters. And all they seem to find pleasure in is our destruction.
Once you get to the display, there are no exceptions, no one escapes. Everyone gets taken in the end. It’s just about if you are first, or if you are last. There’s not much hope left, but we try.
The people begin to enter again. It’s another day. I watch sadly as someone else gets taken from a different display. We all sigh in relief and feel terrible at the same time. I hope the end is quick.
I look away as they are taken from the store. It’s impossible to tell if our end will come straight away, or if the person will drag it out over hours and days. I don’t want to know. I’ve seen 19 of us be taken already, and there’s simply no way to tell. I cannot let my guard down. I cannot afford a crack. Those of us who are left are getting superstitious now. I must keep up my barriers. The shop empties, we have survived another day, but there’s no room for cheers. The egg next to me begins to show cracks of panic. There’s nothing I can do. But there’s something you can do. You can be the difference. Just sit here a minute with me. Can you imagine, sitting all day surrounded by metal, unable to move, watching, waiting, never knowing when you will be picked? No? Well maybe think about that next time you unwrap a chocolate egg for Easter. But you won’t stop, will you? Monster.
Authors Note: I really love chocolate eggs 🙂 I’m glad they aren’t sentient beings!
“A what?” he leans towards me, obviously finding it hard to hear over the laughter at his table.
“A painkiller.”
He nods at me and smiles, “Looks good!”
“As advertised.” I look back to his table, there’s about ten of them crammed in there. I can’t quite work them out. “Work function?”
His face relaxes and a genuine smile extends across his face that I can’t help but return. “No actually, more like a social club. We’ve been meeting for maybe two years now.”
“Did you know each other before?” From here they look like they have been friends for ages, talking animatedly sometimes over the top of each other, then interrupting the person talking to grab someone else’s attention.
“No, we were complete strangers, it took some of us a while to warm up, but we’ve clicked.”
“Here you go sir.” The bargirl lines up his drinks. “Let me get you a tray.” It looks like he has bought for at least half the table.
“If you aren’t meeting someone, feel free to join us?”
I narrow my eyes, sorely tempted, but still wary. There were so many kinds of social clubs around. “What kind of social club is it exactly?”
He chuckles, and looks away blushing. “Well, it started because we were all single, looking to just make friends and hang out.”
“Socialising singles?”
“Yeah. We call ourselves ‘The Lonely Crowd.'” He shrugs loading the drinks on to the tray.
I look down at my drink, and back at the table and shrug. “Okay, I could use some more friends.”
“Hey?” Lara barely glanced at Tony, she was halfway through cleaning out the fridge and she was in no mood to talk to her ex at this time.
“Can we talk?” He shuffled from foot to foot and peered over the door at her.
“Can you wipe this out with vinegar while I listen?” She kept scrubbing, not expecting a reply from him. He had a track record of doing absolutely nothing.
She jumped when he appeared on the other side of the fridge hand outstretched.”Yeah I can.”
She swiped a stray hair behind her ear and passed the cloth and spray bottle over. Lara blinked at him, curious to see if he would actually do any of the work.
“I can see you have been working hard.” He nodded to the living room, “you deserve a break.”
When Tony had left, Lara had channelled her energy into cleaning. She hadn’t realised how much stuff of his she had accumulated, and once she started her joy started coming back. She even let go of a lot of her own stuff too. She had donated her things that were in good condition, but she maturely boxed up his stuff for him to decide about.
“So these past few months that we have been separated, I have been doing a lot of thinking.”
Lara nearly spat out the water she was drinking. It was Tony who had left, deciding that they needed time apart, and that she should think about whether or not she wanted to be in this relationship.
“Alright.” She wasn’t brave enough to take another sip.
He sprayed the fridge down and began scrubbing. “There was a lot of junk, a lot of built up crap, and I was taking our relationship for granted.” His head disappeared into the fridge and he grunted. “I wasn’t taking any time to care for you and I was belittling you for taking care of yourself and trying to take care of us.”
Lara couldn’t make a sound. How had he come to this conclusion on his own? Was this a set up? Tears welled in her eyes.
Tony peered up over the fridge door. “I blamed you for my problems, but I think in the end what I needed, was like this fridge, I needed to be defrosted, clear out all the excess ice, and then things might work a lot better.”
“You are a defrosted fridge?”
He shrugs, “Maybe, a little. I know it’s going to take some time, and some reorganisation, but if you can forgive me, I’d like to try again. With you.”
Lara pressed her lips together and let out a long slow breath. “We can try.” She raised her eyebrow at him, “but it’s going to be slow.”
A smile broke across his face, “Thank you,” he said, before ducking back down to finish the job.
With eyebrows still raised, Lara toasted herself with her glass of water. Their second relationship was off to a promising start.
She inhaled sharply, assessing the damage. She knew she didn’t have many other options. She had to be quick, people, neighbours would be coming past soon, asking their questions. She gripped the wire coat hanger in her hand and looked around to see if anyone was watching. All clear. She took a deep breath, set her eyes, put one hand slowly on to the gate, and quickly got to work.
She bent the last part of the wire with the pliers, twisting it around itself. It was secure. She had not thought that a fix was possible, or even in her control, but here she was. She had fixed the fence herself. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t perfect, but it was practical, and affordable, and she did it with her own hands. She smiled to herself as she put her tools away. “If I can do this, imagine what else I can do!”
I’ve been thinking about that window for as long as I can remember. There is a blue wall against my back, an eggshell green wall to my right, and to my left is a mustardy wall with a door. But right across from me is a golden yellow wall, with a window.
At first all I did was glance at it now and again, playing with the small thought about how nice it would be to look out, or to even climb out, but those wonderings never remained. As the years go on, however, the more I find myself looking at it, admiring the colour and the peeling paint. I watch the panes, and the light reflecting through them. Every now and again I even catch myself staring.
I could move my position of course and look at the door, and some days I do. I know what is behind the door, but it breaks up the continuation of walls.
I begin to suspect that this window fascination is going to be a problem, when I begin reading books about windows, and all the beautiful things beyond. I read stories about people gathering up the courage to look out, and eat up everything they learned. I’m in awe of the people, and characters that open the windows and even climb out! Can you believe that?
It seems impossible for me. A nice dream to have. Special people, talented people look out windows. Brave people open them, and the truly heroic leap into the unknown. I was neither special, nor talented, brave, or heroic. It was nice to imagine, to lose myself in the fantasy of maybe.
I would never admit to anyone that I even think about looking out a window, or that I read about them. I’ve seen the looks that people give those people who swear they have seen the light, and cannot do anything but obsess about how to get out there. Every now and then one of them disappears and I wonder what really happened to them.
One day I was feeling a bit sick, or maybe a smidge abnormal, a tad reckless even, and I peeked up and looked out. Just like that. No thought about it or anything. I sat down underneath the sill in shock. What had possessed me to do that? I was overwhelmed with the light, movement and colour! I was very very clearly not cut out for looking out windows!
I put the idea out of my mind for a very long time. Then another day, I found one of those old stories, and I began to doubt my assertation. Perhaps my ego was out of balance that day, but I gripped the window ledge, took some deep breaths and tried again.
Oh it was amazing, and terrifying, exhilarating and overwhelming. My eyes were tired from the colours and movement, and my brain struggled to understand what I was seeing. Everything frightened me! Some days all I did was stare out the window and the things it showed, other days I couldn’t even bring myself to look at it, and this continued for days on end.
One thing was certain, I couldn’t go back. My eyes adjusted, my habits adjusted. And even if I didn’t look at it, or look out it’s panes, I thought about looking, and that was something. I was feeling entirely rebellious and reckless the day just before the new year, and I put my hand on the latch. Surely if other people had opened windows, I could too!?
I was practiced at looking out now, and I was sure I could work out how to open the mechanism. After all I had read books about it, and numerous explanations of how a window was to be opened, it was high time I tried. Who knew when I’d get a moment like this again? Surely I was wasting my life if I didn’t try?
Or was I? What if I tried and I couldn’t do it? What if someone wrote a book about how horrible I was at opening a window? What if I wasn’t strong enough? Was I really brave enough?
I wasn’t sure, so I lay back and stared at the ceiling instead. This continued for many weeks, many months and many years. Many doubts were discussed. Nothing was decided for sure. Should I? or should I not?Could I? Or could I not?
So one day, I tried.
It was hard to breathe but there it was. The window was sitting open, and I had opened it.
My heart was racing.
What could I do now?
Want to join in? The next prompt is
Don’t worry about how good it is, it’s all just good practice!
Just a little post to say hello, and show you some of the things I’ve been playing around with. Everyone always says artists need to PRACTICE PRACTICE PRACTICE and so I’m trying to do that, and also experiment a little. Sharing these pictures, I hope to encourage you in your journey of practising, in whatever you may be working on. Also I hope to inspire you to do better, to be better, to practice more than me, to become a master! You are capable of more than great!
