A Passion For The World Blogging Project Results: Part One!!!

people-with-passion-can-change-the-world-for-the-better

People with Passion can Change the World for the Better

Hello there people!

I want to thank every single person who joined in my A Passion For The World Blogging Project. I never expected to have so many inspiring, touching and, most importantly, passionate pieces of creative writing flooding into my inbox. If I could feature every single one on this blog I would, but unfortunately I am going to have a pick just a few.  I will do a second post within a few days with more!

The ones I have decided to share are not here because they are any better than the others, I just feel that they represent the entire lot of messages that I got beautifully.

So without further ado, I would like to first give you Mukta and her entry:

At one point in time, everyone asks themselves… ‘What is the meaning of life?” And there is no age restriction for this question. It can be a kid or even a sixty-year-old who has taken the time to think about what it means to be alive. They struggle to find a purpose to live, a PASSION.

Does it mean that if you know what my passion is, you know what the meaning of life is? You may say that. Your talents can be passions, things you wouldn’t know how to live without.

When you know that this talent can do good to the world, make something happen, make a CHANGE, and when you know that this is your purpose, a TALENT becomes a PASSION.
My passion, however, does not fit into any of these precepts. It is not a talent, nor is it something that can make the world erupt into a new mindset, nor is it my purpose. Because my passion is to FIND my purpose.

I want to explore myself, get to know myself better and find out what my strengths, weaknesses and motivations are. I want to reach beyond my outer shell and dig through myself, and I want to seek my purpose from where it has always been. I know that I can find it somewhere inside, and finding it, my friend, is my passion.

I cannot live without it because there is no way for me to love myself without it. Without it, I wouldn’t know that I am alive for a reason.

I believe that your passion doesn’t have to be finding life’s worth. Your purpose is a destination, and your passion is a path that takes you there.
You only have to know which path to choose.

Wow! Isn’t that just amazing? Now, onto my dear friend Aqsa and her piece:

1) Writing is my absolute passion, because I can express my thoughts, feelings and opinions on a sheet of paper that is endless. Writing makes me feel as if I can conquer anything negative that comes in my way, which led me to finding my true self that I embrace, today. I struggled with anxiety, and I often placed myself in a negative cloud which seemed to loom over me for about two years, until I discovered writing. Jotting down my thoughts and emotions from back then, has made me the positive person that I am today. Without my writing as a key passion, I don’t think that I would have ever had the courage to start a blog, and share my strong opinions that will hopefully make a difference in changing the world, someday.

2) My passion, writing, is something that I believe will truly change the world, someday. I find a sense of equality, free speech, and true authenticity in myself that lets me share my views and opinions about the world or society, without any hesitation. On my blog, I post “rants” that capture all of these things. I am proud to say that I stand true to what I write, and am confident that the positivity and personal experiences that I incorporate into my content, inspire others and truly do make a positive impact against the negativity that the 21st century portrays. My sense of activism gives me pride for who I am; my passion has given me a chance to spread awareness through my platform, whether if it ranges from Mental Health Awareness, to tackling racism or gender equality. Writing has given me a voice, and I plan on using it to change the world to make a positive difference in any way possible.

She’s brilliant. An utter inspiration to me. Now, my other good friend Lucy and her beautiful piece:

1) My passion is writing. Whether it is a story, a blog post or a to do list. I cannot remember a time when I didn’t have an idea for a story eating away at me. I love writing because it doesn’t feel forced, the words just flow out of me whether I want them to or not. I couldn’t live without writing because it feels wrong when I’m doing anything else. When I was little and was just trying to learn how to read but couldn’t get the hang of it, I would pretend I could read perfectly and make up stories that I would later write down.

2. I think I could use my writing to change the world by giving everyone something to escape into: words. Writing and reading helped me take my mind of my chronic pain and I would love to think I could in some way help someone who is in a similar situation and/or needs an escape route. And maybe my writing could spread the word about Undiagnosed Chronic Illness’s so no one in any type of pain is ever alone. And so it is known that even if you don’t know what’s going on inside you and it scares you, you can still stay strong and keep going.

The sense of strength here is absolutely incredible. I’d like to share Lonelymeme and her inspiring message to you all next:

My passion is playing with words. Now this might seem quite odd, I know. ‘What even does playing with words mean?’ It means that I like to do almost everything involved with words; be it writing or speaking, I love doing them both.

All of us, the bloggers, are here to share our opinions and feel comfortable with it. We are here to talk about what feels right and brace ourselves for every other opinion that grows like a branch from the tree of our blog.

I’ve always loved writing. I remember being given a topic weekly for paragraph writing and instead of submitting it the next week, my paragraph would be submitted the next day. I’ve always been imaginative with my writing and one thing that helps me is day dreaming. I day-dream A LOT and usually that’s what appears on the paper or on the screen, that’s what you read on my blog.

I love poetry too. The way the words flow in each line, each stanza is fascinating to me. Poetry gives me the kind of peace and happiness that sometimes ordinary words can’t. I don’t see myself living without having this wonderful hobby, and passion for writing.

I’ve always been a talkative child; a little shy at times but I love putting my views forth. I love forming thoughts that need to see the light of the day, that can have some impact into audible words.

This language, English, has a special place in my life. From it not being my mother tongue and me not wanting to speak it at all to becoming the subject that I love the most, I can safely say that writing and speaking won’t ever stop.

This world: a plethora of thoughts and ideas, cultures and languages, humans and beasts. Our world truly sounds “cool”. We fight, we abuse, we betray, we kill, and yet we have the audacity to stand with pride and say ‘yes, we’re progressing’. Change is needed every once in a while and I know we, as people, can get through whatever hard feelings we have with change and move on- onto a better place, onto a more peaceful place. What we have in common is that we listen, we read, we speak. We might not know what the best for us is but we know that if someone guides us through the tunnel, it won’t be long till we find the first ray of light. We’re so different, yet the same.

I’m not saying I can change each one of you by using my magical powers that I learnt outside Hogwarts (dear ministry of magic, can I be a professor for this power? ), but even if a small fragment of people are affected by my words then I believe the world’s already a better place. It takes one man to change the world but the worth of that man- how right he is and how everything he does can affect the world in a positive way- holds importance. I am no magician, no daughter of Aphrodite; I can’t manipulate the world to fall to my feet and do as I say but I can help change the world by supporting what’s right and speaking about it.

I truly believe words possess the kind of power that no other entity in this world does and I’m proud to be lured into its strong reach.

This is beyond words. I cannot express how beautiful I think this is. I relate to it so much. Too much.

Okay, next!!! It’s the wonderful May and her passion:

My absolute passion is writing. I will never ever stop loving to write, or talking with other writers. It’s not just writing novels either (though that’s my biggest passion in writing). It’s just the novelty of expression, of using my voice. I love just having the words flow right out of me — and that’s writing. I couldn’t live without this because this is my way of expression and voice. It’s my outlet.

I can use my passion to change the world to write stories or poems or articles that address issues. In articles, it would be informative and talk directly of those problems. In poems, I can be creative with wording and spacing, etc., to get a certain message across that can resonate with people. And in stories, the issue might be direct (like a contemporary novel), but most of the time, since I write fantasy, it would be an underlying message. For example, I write a fantasy about how one race is being hunted for something, and that would address racism.

I loved this so much. Go May! Isn’t she creative? (And super lovely?) Now, this is the last one featured in this post and it is Maggie! Here’s her brilliant piece:

My absolute passion is writing.

This is because I have been writing stories since I was eight, and blogging since I was ten! I’m seventeen years old, so I have enjoyed writing, both stories and online articles, for nearly a decade.

I love expressing myself through the characters I create and the books that I put them in. I also love writing articles to inspire others, to make people laugh, and just to overall spread positivity in all of the writing that I do. If I had to go for a long length of time and not be able to write in one form or another, that would make me very sad! Getting to share my thoughts in that way – creative writing, journaling, blog post writing, story creating – has always been enjoyable for me.

I could use my passion to change the world by inspiring others through my writing. Like I mentioned above, I enjoy motivating and inspiring others through what I write, whether that’s fiction or nonfiction. If I can bring a smile to someone’s face, or stir up the desire within them to make a positive change in their life, then I have done what I can do to slowly change the world in the main way that I know how. ❤

Again, thank you everyone! You’re all winners! Keep going with your passions and dreams! We CAN change the world. If you’d like to write a post saying that you took part and won and/or were featured in this post, please do!

I’ll share a couple more in A Passion For The World Blogging Project Results: Part Two!!!

Bye….

Gracie

What did you think? Did you like this blog project? Did you relate to any of these pieces? What is your passion and how do you feel that you can use it to change the world? Please let me know! See you later…

 

 

The Long Awaited Part 5 Of ‘A Light In The Darkness’.

Hello Everyone! As you know, I’ve been writing a novel about the battle between light and darkness in this world. Through a dramatic and fast-paced plotline and passionate characters, I hope to be able to help you understand the ways to interact and weave together to form our crazy planet.

This is part five, to read the previous chapters, please click here for number one, here for two, here for three and here for four. Okay, let’s go!

Faith!” I heard a shout from somewhere behind me, I spun round, suddenly alert. My eyes widened as the shout came again. It was a girl’s voice. I recognised it from somewhere.

I darted behind a tree, my heart thudding rhythmically in my chest, my fingers brushed the rough texture of the bark and I pressed my cheek against the trunk until it hurt, forcing myself to remember where I’d heard the voice before.

Then, somewhere amongst the carnage of my brain, I found it. I’d completely forgotten that I was missing, this was one of the girls from the camp calling me. “No.” I whispered fiercely “I won’t be found yet. I’m not finished here.” I closed my eyes and prayed for the Ambassador to find me before they did. There were many voices now, a chorus nearly. They all yelled in unison. I could hear our camp leader, Mr Good , hollering out “One, Two, Three, Now!” and then a horrible noise as twenty five teenagers screamed out my name with all their might.  I shuddered. “Urghhh!”

I wondered whether to run or try and hide. My campmates were getting nearer and I picked at my nails in anxiety. Just then I felt that ghostly light touch on my cheek and looked up into the Ambassador’s smiling face.

I saw hints of boyish excitement in his eyes. The Ambassador really was one of those people who’s eyes are a window to their soul. They show everything, he can’t hide from me and I don’t think he’d want to even if he could.

I could have hugged him. “What’s going on?” he mouthed, making exaggeratedly confused gestures. I actually almost laughed. “It’s the people from my camp, the one you took me from. They must have just noticed that I was gone.” I whispered. He nodded silently and turned away. “It’s okay.” he said quietly. “I understand.”

“Huh?”

“I said you can go.”

“Go where?!”

“Just go Faith.”

“Ambassador, I-”

He cut me off. “Faith. I know you want to go back to them and it’s fine. Really it is. I don’t mind. Please just go now.” he pushed me away from him with a strong hand and I stumbled forward, tripping on a tree root and falling head first to the hard ground.

My last memories are of warm, red liquid flowing down my face and of sudden silence, like the calm before the storm. Then of paralysing pain, like something shattering into a million pieces. I heard the Ambassador’s voice, urgent yet distant and I wanted to tell him I’d be ok. But then I realised that maybe I wouldn’t. I drifted off, back into the darkness.

 

Me

I know it’s a simple title, but that’s all this post is: me. It’s not at all complicated. Just honest and true. I hope you don’t mind that. 😃🙂 Here goes:

I’m the girl who wears baggy charity shop shirts and ripped jeans (before they became fashionable). I’m the girl who gets the most angering and humiliating stares every time she tells someone that she’s thirteen and a half, going on fourteen. The eyebrows shoot up and you hear an indistinct mumble that sounds something like “Sorry, thought you was like eleven or something.” *face palm closely followed by withering glare*

I am who I am and I honestly don’t care what others think, but there is something that I do worry about sometimes.

I see girls my age who are tall, have the latest trendy clothes and mobile phones,  who look about four years older than they are. And I don’t envy them. I just wish they wouldn’t judge me.

They see a little girl and that’s not who I am. In fact, I haven’t felt like a little girl in years. I actually often forget that I’m not an adult. I feel like one sometimes. I get up at 5:30 every morning to read the news and I reckon I know, and care, more about what’s happening in the world than most adults.

My guess is that my ‘child’ brain is full of ideas that are equal to any grown up. I’m not saying I wish I was an adult and that I want to be treated like one, I definitely don’t desire to grow up too fast. People who know me well say I’m already too serious.

That’s what I love about this blog. You hear my words and you get an insight into my world. You get the opportunity to get to know me, without having the chance to judge me. Not that all of you would, of course.  A lot of commenters have said how mature I am and that makes me feel so good. I have so much to offer. As a friend of mine once said, “Anyone would think you were eleven until you open your mouth”. I took this as a compliment.

I’d like to say that I’m not trying to hide myself, I just want to be defined by my character, not my appearance. I wish those girls walking down the street would appreciate that too. I strongly believe that beauty is what’s on the inside, not the out. But sometimes, in my mind, those words seem so distant and meaningless.

I’m also not saying that everyone judges me. That’s definitely not true. A lot of people do it without thinking, that’s not their fault.

Sorry, I hope you didn’t find this too much of a rant, I felt like a bit of a ramble!

Can you relate to this? What are your thoughts? Please send me a comment, I’ve really opened up here and would appreciate any heartfelt words of advice, inspiration or encouragement. Thank you all so much! 

Gracie

 

 

 

Dancing For My Life + A Ton More Blogging Stuff

Hello People!

Contents of this post:

  • A little more on my blogging project!
  • Share a short story by me!
  • Mention my good friend Grace (Charis Rae) and her new blog + blog tour!

So, as you can see, I have gathered a load of blogging bits and pieces and I’m going to squeeze them all into one post. I’m actually looking forward to it.

Right, firstly, I would like to say that I’m so grateful and excited for all the responses I have had, and have yet to come, for my blogging project, A Passion For The World. It came as a result of my curiosity into other people’s passions and what they believe in. It was also a product of my desire to want to connect and extend my circle of inspiring and unique and passionate bloggers. You’re all amazing!

Now, I want to share a short story that I wrote for my Gran about six months ago. She cried when I read it to her. I think that it has a good message to it, I’d be interested to hear all your interpretations. I hope you enjoy, though I must say, my writing skills have improved greatly since I wrote this and it may seem a little different to my usual pieces.

Dancing For My Life by Gracie Chick

The buildings loomed on the horizon, rusty metal roofs, crumbling walls. Sage slung her bag over her shoulder and began to walk down the grotty, deserted road. She hurried past a car with smashed windows and two youths leaned against a graffitied wall, sneering out from under black hoods.

Around the bend she reached the gates, tops lined with barbed wire. She pressed her face against the bars and peered into the industrial estate. It was abandoned and an empty tin of paint blew across the yard, filling the silence with a metallic clanging. Sage pushed her dark curls out of her face and looked up at a sign on the gate. It had a picture of a snarling dog, poised ready to pounce on the unfortunate cameraman.

She picked at the peeling paint nervously. Then, with a glance over her shoulder, she ran doubled over along a high brick barrier. She crouched down and pulled aside a bushy, clinging shrub to reveal a jagged hole. Throwing her bag through first, she carefully pulled herself through, scraping against the rough broken edges as she went.

On the other side she quickly crossed the open space, looking around her worriedly. Her feet sounded uncomfortably loud on the concrete surface as she made for a long, wide hangar about 20ft away.

A huge thin metal sheet hung twisted on flaking hinges passed for the door. The bottom right hand corner was bent upwards and Sage pressed herself down onto her belly and wriggled through the gap. Once her head was through, she quickly pulled her feet through too as she always felt an unnerving sensation that someone was going to grab her shoes and yank her back.

Inside, the hangar was entirely vacant. Sage relaxed. She strode across to the other end with a quiet confidence. She looked out of place here, a teenage girl in skinny jeans and a leather jacket walking amongst rubble and ruin of building materials.

At the other end she disappeared behind a stack of smashed stone and pieces of decaying wood. She went right up to a small door in the hangars tin wall and unhesitantly spun what looked like a ship’s wheel. A creaking sound filled the space, echoing up to the high ceiling and bouncing back. Sage stepped backwards as the door fell open like a drawbridge.

She stepped inside and found herself faced with a huge boulder. She was in a sort of tunnel, hidden under the concrete yard. Suddenly the boulder began to shift and roll and Sage smiled as she heard groans and moans the other side. Three rosy faces came into view. Two boys and a girl stood beside the stone. They all wore colourful leotards and the girl had her blonde hair in a bun. “Hey Sage!” they greeted her and together they walked down a corridor. It smelt of earth and dust.

Gradually the passage widened into a huge round room. The floor was made of smooth, worn wooden boards and four teens in leotards were swirling around it, feet light and bodies strong and flexible. The curved sides of this giant arena were covered in plaster over the mud and kids sat on benches chatting or lacing their ballet shoes.

This world was so different to the one above the ground.

Despite coming here every day after school, The Burrow Dance Academy never ceased to amaze Sage. Two years ago one woman had decided that life should be better for youth living in inner city London, that they deserved brighter futures. Sasha Fuchsia, professional ballet dancer, was that woman. She let nothing stop her in her mission. When the company that owned the derelict buildings denied her permission to start her Academy there, she got the kids together and, using teamwork, they all built the Academy underground, in secret, using camouflaged entrances and riddly passwords. Excepting the dancers and their families, no one knew about the existence of the Academy.

There was so much comradeship between the pupils. They had all contributed to place that was their haven, their escape from the harsh realities of their lives. They knew they could come here and relax, let their feelings out, express themselves through dance and movement, to not be judged. To them that was very special and rare.

Sage went into a little hollowed out room going off the main dance floor. She admired the way that the mud had been chipped away bit by bit with crude homemade tools and everyday items like kitchen knives and gardening trowels. She remembered her 12-year-old self, two years ago, working on this very spot. She smoothed the wall with her hand.

“Sage!” It was a female voice. Sage snapped back out of the past and into the warm embrace of a thirty something woman  with curly black hair and a friendly smile that made you feel as though it was especially for you. She released Sage and looked at her with hazel eyes that burnt like fire, but like the flames in a fireplace, cosy and comforting.

“Sage, well done on your Fish Dives. I’ve been watching you and Blue closely. You’ve almost perfected it, you know.” “Thank you, Sasha.” Sage looked surprised, but pleased with her teacher’s praise. “You have an incredible gracefulness about you, Sage. And that is a great asset for a pro ballet dancer to have, a natural elegance and ease of motion. Anyhow, go get a leotard. I want you two to dance next.”

Sage browsed the rack of sparkling, rainbow leotards that Sasha had picked up second-hand from some of the ‘contacts’ she had in the dancing world. She was thinking about the words Sasha had used: ‘pro ballet dancer’. She wondered if she’d ever get that far, she hoped so.

Her mind strayed to the Fish Dive lift that she and Blue were about to perform. Sasha would be watching, as well as other pupils. She felt the pressure. It was elegant, Sasha was right, but Sage knew that any mistakes would be spotted immediately. She grabbed a silver leotard and disappeared into the changing room.

Coming out, she looked so much different. She looked like a dancer. Her limbs were long and muscular and her hair was twisted into a bun and pinned on top of her head with needles and clips. She stepped out into the main arena and sat down on a bench. She shivered, it was cold underground.

She closed her eyes in concentration as she prepared to let everything go in the fluidity of the ballet. “Hey!” Someone’s voice made her jump. A boy of around her age sat beside her on the bench. He had curly blonde hair and a young, cheery face. “You ready?” he reached for her hand and squeezed it. “I guess so.” Sage said, smiling at him.

He jumped up and pulled her to her feet. She looked sideways at him and they shared an understanding look. Then they ran onto the floor and were soon engrossed in the beauty and the closeness of their dance.

Sage lost herself in it all. When she leaped, he caught her, when she leaned, he held her. They twirled and jumped and flourished in perfect unison. The music controlled their movements, letting them out and reigning them in.

Then it was the moment of the lift. Blue slipped his hand around Sage’s waist and effortlessly lifted her down from his shoulder and held her low to the ground. Sage extended her arm so that it skimmed the floor and bent her leg up against his chest,  so that they were pressed together, like one intertwined dancer.

Their audience clapped and cheered and the two teens took a bow before running off into one of the side rooms together. “That was incredible!” said Sage, breathlessly. “I know.” Blue replied, with a thrilled laugh.

They stood in silence for a moment. “Do you ever think about your future?” Blue asked suddenly. “Yeah, sometimes. Why?” Sage smiled across at him. “Well, I often think about how Sasha changed everything.” “In what way?” “I guess she saw our potential.  Two years ago, I was thirteen. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life. I was depressed and anxious, rubbish in school. Had few friends. Sasha believed in me more than I believed in myself.” “I think that I want to continue with ballet. Maybe become a professional.” Sage blurted out. “Really? Same here!” Blue said with surprise. “When did you decide?” “I don’t really know exactly. I mean, I never thought I was good enough, but after today…..” She trailed off.

“It was magic, wasn’t it?” Blue voiced her thoughts. “Yeah, it was.” she replied with a laugh. “It totally was!”

“Why do you dance, Blue?” Sage asked as they walked back up the corridor. “Because I love it.” he replied immediately. “What about you?” Sage had been planning her answer. She took a deep breath and said “I dance for my life, Blue. I dance because I know my life is so much lighter and happier when I do.”

Authors Note:

Here is a visual guide to the steps of the Fish Dive Ballet Lift that Sage and Blue performed:

Image

I really hope you liked that! Now, I have a dear friend to tell you about. Gracie from The Girl Upstairs has always been an inspiration to me. When I was just starting blogging she was so kind, helpful and nice to me. I felt I could ask her anything. We are the perfect example that two very different bloggers can have a friendship. I am friends with Grace, or Charis Rae, because of her friendly, happy, cheery spirit. I admire her for that.

I am quite an established blogger now and don’t call on Grace half as much as I used to, but I’ll never forget the times she replied to my questions and queries with a single complaint. So now, when she’s in the middle of an exciting move to another brand new blog, of course I wanted to help her! You, reader, need to go over to her blog now and sign up for her blog tour. You get exclusive access to like and comment and you get to do a guest post with her on your blog. I’m not amazing at explaining this, am I? So head over to The Girl Upstairs for all the details. Thank you!

 

Okay, I think that’s finally all! Goodbye and please leave me a comment! I appreciate them all.

Gracie

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A Passion For The World (My Blogging Project!)

 

I’m starting a blogging project and I’m seriously so excited! Aren’t you?! Dare you to say no!   I’ve thought a lot about it and brainstormed a ton of ideas. In the end, I decided that this project would have to stay true to the purpose of my blog: honesty and change, connecting with other young people who want to make a difference.

So I’ve started this project, which I’m naming A Passion For The World. Anyone can get involved! It’s fun and won’t take long!

people-with-passion-can-change-the-world-for-the-better

Here are the rules:

  • Firstly, scroll down, down, down to find a contact form. Fill in your details.
  • Then, in the ‘message’ section, do the following things and answer the following questions:
  1. Please describe, in descriptive detail, your absolute passion and why you love it and couldn’t live without it.
  2. Tell us how you think you could use your passion to change the world.
  3. If you could name five other bloggers, all with different talents and ideas, to help you on your mission who would they be? Please link their blogs.

The next steps are as follows:

  • Go tell those bloggers that you chose them. Tell them about this project and invite them to get involved.
  • Keep an eye on my blog! I will choose three bloggers to win and feature on A Light In The Darkness!

I am really looking forward to hearing from you all! Thanks in advance for being a part of this! Here’s the contact form:

Btw, if you’re reading this in WordPress reader, the form might not come up and you may have to click ‘visit site’. Just sayin’…..

I would also really appreciate it if any of you wanted to share this with your blogging friends? Thank you so so much!

Bye for now…..

Gracie

 

Introducing Liv, Creator Of theCramm + My New Job!

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Hi Guys!

Today I’d like to introduce you to a friend of mine, Olivia (Liv) Seltzer. She is an amazing and passionate young person and the creator of a brilliant movement called theCramm. I have recently joined the team to help Liv out on her mission and I must say, I am enjoying it immensely.

Liv is a blogger, so some of you may know her, though she doesn’t post anymore. She now focuses all of her time and attention on theCramm.

Let me tell you about it. TheCramm aims to inspire, empower and inform today’s young people. Each morning, Liv gets up at 5am, reads all the latest world news and then writes humourous, relatable and engaging newsletters for 13-30 year olds all over the planet. She believes that you can’t change the world without knowing about it.

I have now taken on the role of her researcher, which is an incredible opportunity for me. To read my stories in her words, please visit theCramm website and sign up for the e-newsletters or texts. Liv and I would both really appreciate it. You’ll be motivated to make a difference and have a smile on your lips from Liv’s great sense of humour. Please please please sign up today! Thank you very much.

What are your thoughts? Are you going to support theCramm? Are you someone who wants to change the world? Have you got any feedback on theCramm for Liv and I? Don’t hesitate to let me know! 

A Light In The Darkness #4 + A Comment Challenge

Welcome back to The Realms Of Darkness, guys!

Firstly, I want to say thank you to all the people who have been loyally reading and commenting on my novel, A Light In The Darkness, so far. I appreciate all of your brilliant feedback and encouragement. I can’t tell you how much it means to me.

I am incredibly lucky to be surrounded by such an amazing and inspirational blogging community. You’re all awesome! A big thank you heading your way!

Right, let’s get going!

The last chapter, which can be read here, ended like this:

He appeared to make a decision, turning back towards me with fierce determination. “I need to tell you a story.” his whisper was harsh and cold, but a cold that was filled with feeling.

“Alright.” I said.

“It can’t be told here.” he hissed “The words are forbidden to pass through my lips.” I understood. “Let’s go.” I took his hand this time and led him away, following only the moon and hoping to find my way back to the light.

And now for A Light In The Darkness #4:

“Does this darkness ever end?” I looked up at the stars for an answer, as the Ambassador seemed lost in his own thoughts, stumbling along behind me, his proud eyes fixed determinedly on the ground. Yet I could tell his mind was wandering and could almost visualise the dreamy spirals escaping from his head and floating off into the gloom. I longed to leap up and catch them all, save them from their dark doom. I felt I knew something off the battle between light and darkness going on in the Ambassador’s mind right now. I wished that I could tell him not to give up hope, to keeping fighting for what was good and right. But I kept my mouth firmly shut, now was not the time.

We walked for hours in silence. I wondered about the Ambassador’s story and what it would entail. I imagined woe and sadness and lonely nights in a place where everything is dark. I was just thinking about how I would ask my parents if he could come live with us, when the Ambassador`broke the seemingly unbreakable quiet. “Morning will come.” he held up a hand that pointed dramatically towards the sky. “It will.” I think he was telling himself as much as he was telling me.

“We’ll travel until then.” I decided “We’ll walk until the sun blesses the earth with its golden light.” He nodded. “Are you tired?” he asked. “Not really.” I half lied. “Good.” I caught a brief sense of his previous brisk aura. He seemed to have two sides to him: the snarky and intolerant side and then the sensitive, passionate and caring one, sometimes almost vulnerable. I was learning fast to switch as quickly as he did.

“Let’s go.” I took charge before he could say anything else. I turned to march away, but suddenly a strong grip had established itself on my arm. I spun around in surprise. He’d read my mind. “I trust you, Faith.” he smiled genuinely “Honestly, I do. We have to trust each other, don’t we?” “Yeah.” I relaxed with a beaming grin. “We can get through this together. Now, it seems that my hearing this story of yours is the only way forward, so let’s do this thing.”

“When the light finally graces us with its presence, I will tell you everything.” he promised. “Then there’s no use walking any further.” I told him. “The realms of darkness disappear at daybreak, don’t they? And this place is just an ordinary forest, right?” “Right.” he yawned and sank down into the leaves to rest. “No ghosts or shadows to listen in on our conversation?” I checked. “Nope.” he said, eyes closed.

I lay awake, listening to his hard, manly breathing and thinking about how my life had changed in the last few hours. I never once imagined that I would be here now, in a way I wondered if it was all a dream. Then the memory of the Ambassador’s fiery eyes flashed through my mind and I knew that it was all real. I thought about the motivation those poor children and those scheming millionaires had given me. About how the Ambassador had showed me so many truths, both ugly and beautiful. He showed me that people really are dark and evil, it’s not just a fairytale myth.

But he also unwittingly shed light on the fact that good can reach even the darkest corners of our souls.

I must admit that the sight of the sun rising in the east and turning the trees into paintbrushes, their tips dipped in golden ink, was the most amazing thing I ever did see. I was overcome with emotion. Moonlight is so different to sunlight. It’s colder and so much more unforgiving. It is a strict parent, firm yet loving in hindsight. Because light is light whatever colour.

The sun’s touch felt amazing on my skin and I could have cried if it were not for the Ambassador stirring beside me. He looked different in the daytime. His eyes had a greenish tint and his hair shone warmly replacing the cold glow it used to give off. “Where do you go in the day?” I asked him. “I mean, you do guided tours of ‘the realms of darkness’ during the night, but what’s your day job?”

He waved his hands dismissively. “All will soon be revealed.” he said stoutly. “If you are ready, I will begin my tale. Questions at the end, please.” “I can tell you’re a tour guide.” I giggled, which roused a smile from him.

“Things happen in this world that may seem unbelievable to you.” he began, staring past me and up at the canopy that was suddenly alive with birdsong. “Like a boy just appearing. He was never born nor raised nor does he have any family. He was never given the role of Ambassador, he just floated into it, because he has nobody to guide him. He doesn’t believe in fate or destiny, but he acknowledges that it is maybe the only explanation for his existence. But then strange things happen here, things that seem impossible. So perhaps it was by a sort of black magic that he ended up in the position, being controlled by something bigger. Something that he knows not how to understand.” the Ambassador paused, but I hurried him on.

“When he was younger he used to get this strong sense of identity. He knew he didn’t belong here. He wanted so badly to do something different, something right. So he would beg the visitors to the dark side to tell him of the ways of the light. The more he heard the more he knew where he truly belonged. Eventually, after much thought, he decided to ask them to take him with them when they left. Many would laugh at him and refuse. Others would look at him with pity, but tell him that he’d never fit in. After many long years, he began to believe them. Believe that he was a bad person. Believe that he belonged to the dark side. And could never escape.”

I gasped. “But that’s so wrong!” He held up his hands, as if to shrug.

“Then, after what seemed like and probably was, an eternity, he met a girl who was different. A girl who really did care. She opened a door and let the light seep into his tired body. She showed him the truth to who he really could be. She looked like an angel until she opened her mouth.” he stuck his tongue out at me, which left me snorting with laughter.

“Did I really?” I whispered. “Yes,” he replied, reaching out to touch my black hair. He shook his head sadly. “You’re so pretty.” I forced a smile and looked down my hands. “I-” I bit my lip so much that it hurt. “What?” he searched my face. “You can ask me any question now.” I took a deep breath and looked him square in the eye. “What’s your name?”

“ No one ever gave me one.” he smiled, looking the slightest bit ashamed. “That’s okay.” I told him, laying my hand on his shoulder. “I’ll give you one.” “I’d like nothing more.” he replied.

“Let me think then.” I smiled teasingly. “Hmmm. Go away for a while and when you come back, you’ll have a name for the first time in your eternal life.” That made us both laugh. He waved as he practically skipped away into the forest.

I tore a page out of the notebook I always kept in my pocket and started jotting down words that reminded me of him.

After a while I was ready for his return. I waited and waited and waited and waited. But he never came. I was beginning to get worried. “Ambassador?” I cried out into the forest. There was no warm, humorous voice to reply. I gritted my teeth as the signal of my legendary determination and then I set off, running into the forest at an alarming pace, my sooty cloak flapping behind me.

Da da da!

Ok, so guys, I need your help with something super important (and fun!!!!) Being the totally organised writer that I am, I have obviously already got the Ambassador’s name. Like, of course I have! But I still want your suggestions! Please, please, please leave any random idea you have in the comments below. I recommend you use the same method as Faith, jot down words that remind you of him.

Note: please don’t be alarmed if one of your suggestions pops up in next time’s chapter! Congratulations, you will have officially named an Ambassador.

Now, let’s chat! Any thoughts, ideas, questions, queries, etcetera? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Remember Me

Remember me as I was before things changed and took a lifelong pause. Remember the me that was so sure that life could be shaped the me that was pure. Remember me back when we did not think that in a blink things would be so different I did not know what this meant. Remember […]

via Remember Me — Elsie L.M.C

I read this post and just had to share it. It is authored by the wonderful Elsie L.M.C, an inspiring blogger who genuinely cares about others. She wrote this poem about Alzheimer’s, a disease that affects so many of our older generation. It focuses on the fact that we so often judge people on who they are now, caught in an inescapable mess of muddled memories, sometimes unable to communicate or interact with others. But we forget about the person they used to be and still are, deep inside.

Me and my family cared for a 96-year-old gentleman for seven months and he had dementia, so I know what its like. It can be confusing, saddening and frustrating for everyone. But that just makes the moments when he smiled or laughed even more special and joyful. We need to raise awareness about Alzheimer’s, so I have shared Elsie’s post with you today. Please enjoy….

 

My Honest Struggles: An Inspiring Rant

Hello Everybody!

The reason I started this blog was to be a’ light in the darkness’, to help and inspire others through my writing and to spread hope and light in a world that is cloaked in darkness.

But every person has their struggles, no matter who they are. And the only way they can make a difference is to accept them and embrace them. This is where honesty comes in. Honesty is the greatest tool a person has, because if they can admit to having flaws, they can begin to work on making things better.

One of the things I struggle with is actually being honest, and I really hoped this blog would help me with that. I feel like I haven’t opened up to you guys in a while so today I’ve decided to be brave and share some of my struggles. I thought maybe you could share your advice and we could chat in the comments? Perhaps we could help each other with our struggles? It really helps, and is a positive thing, for people to talk about their own experiences.

May, over at Forever And Everly, does a blogging series called Writer’s Woes. In her explanation of this series she says: If she (May) talks about her problems, there is a 97% chance that they will be solved. (The other 3% chance is that she’ll just end up agonizing over her life choices and ranting about all her other problems. #oops) 

This quote really makes me smile and what she says is perfectly true.

Just to say, this post is not supposed to be depressing, it’s meant to be hopeful and inspiring. We all have struggles, none of us are perfect. Let’s help each other.

So here are mine:

1. Being wrong. It’s nothing to do with what others think about me. It’s to do with myself, something deep inside me can’t cope with being wrong. You could call it extreme perfectionism. I always feel the need to defend myself if someone challenges something I’ve done or said. It makes it hard for me to take on their criticism, although it often meant to help me learn and grow.  It often causes my family to get frustrated with me because I don’t want to listen to what they say.

2. Being in pain. I have a condition called Femoral Anteversion which I won’t go into because it’s complicated, horrible and possibly very boring. Anyway, it causes me a lot of extreme pain in my legs. I am a very determined person and try not to let it stop me in any way, but sometimes I am unable to do things. This frustrates and upsets me immensely. For example, a couple of weeks ago, me and my siblings got together with some friends we hadn’t seen in months. There were about ten of us and every person there was really athletic (except me, of course). They wanted to play sporty running games all weekend. And there was me, stumbling along behind, refusing not to play. I was in so much pain, but didn’t want to say anything and ruin it for everyone else. 

However, this problem will hopefully soon be over as I am having a couple of operations this autumn!!!

3. Being Patient. I know I’m probably not the only one! This one is big for me as I desperately want to be a teacher! I need to work on it….

4. Being To Ambitious. I have always had big ideas and big ambitions and sometimes it’s difficult for me to acknowledge that they may not always walk hand in hand with reality. I’m being honest when I say that one of my greatest struggles is accepting that life can’t always be how I want it to be, that problems exist and that things are complex and ugly and hard to achieve.

I want so much to change the world and I cling on to any opportunity that arises, but the people I love try to tell me that I can’t make things happen too fast. Life isn’t that straight forward, sometimes I have to go with the flow. It affects me and I have to stop it becoming a negative thing.

I hope you enjoyed this post! What do you struggle with? Can you relate to any of my woes? Do you have any advice? Do you need advice on anything? I’m always willing to listen and try to help. Please can we talk? It would mean so much to me. 

So, let’s discuss our troubles! This blogging community is so amazing, we can totally draw together and help each other. Leave me a comment below please, people! Feel absolutely free to be honest, no one will judge you. As I said before, we all have our flaws! 

Gracie

Xxxxx

Virtual Hugs All Round!

Sometimes we all need a hug, but there’s no one there to give us one. Sometimes we all struggle, and we don’t even know why. Sometimes we just have to be honest and say “Look, I was wrong. I’m sorry.” Sometimes things hurt and life is hard.

Sometimes it just takes a little gesture of friendship to light a spark of hope and draw a smile on your face.

Here’s a virtual hug for everyone that needs one right now and, if you don’t, please pass it on! Let’s make a difference. Anyone can be a light in the darkness if they try.

Image result for virtual hug gif