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Sometimes I Write

So a week ago my city flooded, which is pretty much my “brilliant excuse” for not posting in such a long time, despite my promises of consistent posts. To make up for my absence and general inactivity, I have here for you, a little something that I wrote. It’s actually inspired by the flood itself. Obviously the writing is patchy, and highly in need of editing. In my defense, this was something I wrote carelessly in a moment of boredom. Comments and critiques are welcome. Enjoy!


We were trapped by a rivers worth of water and a dozen sandbags, so there really was no other choice. The problem was the smell. Outside the house, it smelled like a garbage truck, inside was even worse. I pinched my nose, revolted, and noticed all my family members wearing the same disgusted expression. Who could blame us, really, when we were surrounded by the tropical aroma a flooded sewage system brings. Throughout the day, we stood with a grim resolve; determined to prove stronger than our senses. The smell sickened us, but we did not complain.
I watched as my mother paced the room, fussing about nothing important – some preparations that really ought to be done later. After all, what’s the use of preparing when you’re confined to a single floor, and forced to tolerate the intolerable smell of waste? The smell had grown so pungent by now, I was pretty certain the air was toxic. To make things worse, our family dog decided it was the right time to do his business, and he left us a lovely present right by the door. I stared in disbelief as my mother continued to pace, as if nothing had happened. I expected someone to confront her, mention the unpleasant aura hanging in the air, and maybe point out the nutritiously foul blob of excrement she was clearly overlooking. I had brothers; surely they were suffering just as much as I was? And yet, no one uttered a word, and she continued her feverish pacing, muttering gibberish. Realising the task had been left to me, I stepped into her path.
“Mum,” I began, the complaint hanging on the tip of my tongue. Six pairs of eyes darted toward me, wide with reproachful scorn. Even the dog faced me with disapproval. Though none of them spoke – clearly they must have lost the power of speech – their eyes said it all. Quiet, insolent girl! How dare you disrupt our peaceful silence? Startled by their angry glares, I clamped my mouth shut and stepped aside. The spotlight that had been trained on me was snuffed out, and I went back to my suffering.
Unfortunately, the smell was not the worst of our problems; when midday arrived, the sun decided to unleash its full wattage, and roast us under its merciless glow. With our doors and windows all closed, the seven of us were trapped in a tiny room full of smelly hot air. It was like a very good sauna, except there was no fresh water you could splash around in to escape the heat. My sweaty fringe was plastered annoyingly across my forehead, and the itch on my neck was unbearable. The heat had transformed my brother into a tomato; his puffy cheeks were bright red and shiny with perspiration. I shuffled toward him, “it’s getting pretty hot in here,” I muttered. He ignored me, and continued wiping the sweat from his eyes. I coughed slightly and repeated my statement. He turned, “it’ll get cooler later.” I was not exactly sure when later was, but the answer certainly wasn’t good enough. “When?” I demanded. “Quiet, and don’t do anything” he hissed, uneasily. I suppose I should have known better; my brother was not the sort to make much of a fuss, and he didn’t appreciate others making a fuss either. I decided to keep quiet, certain that one of the others would notice the sudden rise in temperature, and perhaps open the windows. Surprisingly, no one did. The rest of the day passed in a blur, and the heat did not go away.
A few days after that, a snake entered our house. Let me first mention that I happen to fear all reptiles of any form, whether they be lizards or geckos or snakes. I was pretty sure I wasn’t the only one with this phobia, and this time I wholeheartedly expected someone to scream out. But alas, my family regarded the snake with a silent apprehension, and not one did anything about it. Unable to take it any longer, I opened my mouth – oh how impudent of me – and complained. My brother turned to me, a smirk playing across his lips. “It’ll die,” he told me, as if he were the elder brother. I stared at him, speechless. I began to realise that no one in this family was ever going to speak up against the absurd circumstances we’d been forced to endure by the flood, and that was probably because we were all secretly cowards, scared to show any form of weakness in a situation where we were constantly being tested by nature.


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So I know this is completely irrelevant to everything else I post, but I was bored and aimlessly browsing 9gag (shouldn’t be a surprise, really xD) when I came across this. It made me laugh for a good 5 minutes, so I think it deserves a little mention here. Sharing is caring after all, and I want you all to share my laughter :D.

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Before you all declare that I’m officially insane, please read this post: http://musingsfromnevillesnavel.wordpress.com/2012/07/06/wear-the-shnorts/
Trust me, things will make sense after you do 🙂

Now that you (hopefully) HAVE read the post, I know, I know, I’m kind of a little late in posting this… But in my defense I was on the other side of the world, staying in a hotel where the internet was pretty unpredictable (and that’s putting it lightly – a more truthful explanation would be that the internet connection there was pretty much nonexistent).

Anyhoo, today is still sort of WTS day.. And I DID take a picture of my shnorts on my amazing camera… Thing is, the camera turned out to be a little TOO amazing and the file is too big to upload :C. Thankfully I’ve managed to find a pic on google that looks EXACTLY like the shnorts I have… So ladies and gentlemen (and any aliens who may be lurking), I hereby present to you… MY SHNORTS :D.

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