The Indomitable Spirit and the Bloodstained Princess

Welcome back.

I yet live.

 

I feel like the universe has been attempting to show me the error of my ways…  I have been away from this blog, and away from my “career” as a writer.  I have been trying to compromise.  I’m going to truncate this explanation in favor of introducing the content I have for you today.


“Something is not right.”

I am slowly returning to a project that was, and still is, inextricably linked to my eternal soul… or something.  The tale follows a princess.  She has a problem- a curse- that has threatened to turn her life into a living hell.

The story I have for you is taken from some extras I was preparing for a special edition of the completed novel. It is a diary entry by the princess, regarding an experience from her childhood.  I had planned to have quite a few of these injected into the main text, not only from the princess’s point of view, but from that of those acquainted with her.

 

So, without further ado, this is The|Anomalous|Girl.

Also, if your interest in the princess has been stoked, head over to the library to enjoy The Port and the Storm (free, of course,) a short story occurring before the events of the main novel.


anchoritehope
Me.

 


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The Indomitable Spirit and the Peace of Drowning


Hi.

It’s been a while since I have posted anything, so I thought I would reappear to present a story I had planned on telling about a month ago.  I have a few things in the works, including the second tale in the Rainfall series, and a new section of this site devoted to a sort of personal blog/ photo gallery.

Apologies to anyone awaiting the next entry in Rainfall (do you even exist?,) but it just isn’t ready yet- mainly because I am not quite prepared to finish telling it yet.  In an effort to fully illustrate my sincerity, I will post the first bit of what I have done- though it is unfinished, and I have yet to come anywhere near the realm of satisfied when I look at it.

But first, the story.


The Story

I don’t remember exactly how old I was, but I would guess somewhere between six and ten.  I was invited to a water park, and I was a kid.  Guess where I spent my day.

Skipping the obvious merrymaking therein, at one point, I decided to do something not so intelligent.  I went on a water slide.

Yes, it was a water park.

Of course, it does stand to reason that one would spend the day on water slides.

Moving on from (read: skipping) the desired explanation, I followed my friends up many flights of stairs to- what turned out to be- quite the thrilling ride back down.  Well, until the end.

What awaited me upon exiting the tube, I had already seen before climbing the stairway, but for some reason had not linked the two together.  For some reason, I had not realized that the tube would drop me into the deepest pool of water I had ever seen, let alone fallen into.  I had also somehow forgotten the importance of being earnest… wait, no, that is not what I meant to say…

Hmmm…

I had forgotten the eat my Wheaties?

No.

I had forgotten… my two… front… teeth…?

No.

Oh, that’s right.

I had forgotten how important it was to be able to swim when one is being propelled into a potentially deadly vat of liquid CHILD DEATH.

Though- I assure you- it sounds worse than it is.

Really…

Really.

Come on, I mean it.

Joking aside, I realized only after I was pulled from the water, that I had made a mistake.

I’m getting ahead of myself though.

As I went down that slide, you would figure a wave of fear would have overtaken me, but it did not.  Not when I hit the water.  Not even when I sank to the bottom of that silent blue, such that my toes touched that which, surely very few, had ever touched.  Fear was absent that day.

Never for a single moment did I feel that I was in danger.  It was not that I felt invincible, or that I knew someone would save me.  In truth, I had not considered for a single moment that I could fail in my attempt to reach the surface.  And, not for a single moment, did I give up in my attempt to reach the surface on my own.  Not when I realized how slow going it was, and not when I was wrenched from my pursuit and back into the light of day.  Not when I was told “don’t go on these rides if you can’t swim” by the life guard, and not when I felt like crying after feeling the sheer malevolence in his glare.  Not when I left the park that day, and not when I went to sleep that night.  To this day, I have never ceased in my attempt to surface under my own power, and this is what- in literature- is called  hamartia (wikipedia definition.)

More than an inability to give up, which can be a good thing, I suffer from an inherent ignorance of my own limits.  I rarely ask for help, and even when I do it is rarely with an entire task.  Using this reminiscence as an example, I would ask that a tow rope be left in the pool, rather than ask to be rescued.

I can’t really remember why  this story popped into my brain or if I was going anywhere with it when I planned this post, but I suppose you could learn a lesson from my horrible example:

Don’t be afraid to ask for help if you are drowning, because only the worst people would think less of you for it.

It is far more likely that they will grow cross at you for having almost drowned in the first place, and on their watch at that.

I know very well how difficult a mantra like this can be to live by, especially when you think that perhaps you do not deserve help, and I’m not going to sit here and tell you that you do deserve it.  Only you can decide that, just as only you can decide if it is possible for you to be happy.  I struggle with these questions every day, and I don’t see that struggle ending any time soon (though, does it not appear- within a storm- that said storm will never end?)

Under the water, I certainly felt that it was endless, and I didn’t fear it because I felt I knew it well.  I was at peace within its stillness, but I have since learned that there is a peace beyond it as well.

Moving on :\


The Preview

TGKI pres Rainfall Feature ImageMy back arched as his hand caressed the bare, sun touched, skin.

His chin tickled my chest as he slowly inched his way up to me, frolicking in the gentle scent of the ocean that seemed to linger, becoming an aromatic perfume.

My elbows dug into the sand as he reached my lips.  He teased them with a playful smile, tickling them from a scant distance.

As I eyed him defiantly, he bit into them, freeing a deep sigh from somewhere within.

The tide rolled in as he embraced me and tangled his lips in mine.


The End

So, to wrap this one up, I thank you for visiting and especially for making it this far.

Are you awaiting the next chapter of Rainfall?  Have you ever almost drowned?  Do you hate water?  Are you curious about the type of images that will be found in the new section of the site?  Wanna know why Wet Sand is taking so looooooong?  Are you curious about what I had for breakfast this morning?  (Here’s a hint: it wasn’t a tangelooooo.)  Tell me all about it in the comments below, through email, or twitter, because… it would just be nice to hear from you  ;).

Until next time:

When life gave me lemons, I threw them out the d*** window because too much citrus makes my mouth sore…

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anchoritehope | thegroundedkiteinitiative@gmail.com | @tgki_hope

The Grounded Kite and the Starving Poet

The Wall

a poem

 

And so the fire burns,

Though none would feel its flames,

Inside that wall a cauldron,

In that cauldron: all the pain;

 

And so the rain does fall,

Though none could smell that rain,

Beyond that wall a swift monsoon,

That’s driving me insane;

 

And thus the ice will creak,

Though none will hear it sing,

Within those walls a creeping cold,

A truly vicious thing;

 

And mine affection blossoms,

Though none will feel its warmth,

Beaten back behind the wall,

Love dies, and leaves its corpse.

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The Indomitable Spirit, and the Hard Reset


Hello again, and also for the first time.  I spend most, if not all, of my time thinking.  Throughout the course of this endeavor, I realized that anchorite hope literature needed to go.

Why?

For many reasons, not the least of which being that it had no focus.  No true purpose.  A.H. Literature turned out to be little more than a learning exercise.  Of course, there is nothing wrong with that (it helped me to discover a focus,) but that name/ image would not survive the torrential brainstorm which fueled this new endeavor.

The Grounded Kite Initiative

More than an endeavor, TGKI represents a new and better way of thinking.  Better for me, and better for my peace of mind.

Back in junior high, there was one class project which captured my heart and my imagination like no other: building a kite in shop class.  I was so excited.  More than anything, I simply wanted my kite to fly.  It didn’t have to be the best, or the prettiest, it just needed to fly.  Unfortunately, it was not meant to be.

After completing our kites, we were gifted multiple class periods to simply go outside and fly them.  That was the hardest part for me.  It didn’t fly that first day, and so I did what I could to correct my silly mistake so that it would fly the second day.  It did not fly the second day, or the third, or however many days we wound up spending in that field behind the school.  Even so, I never stopped trying to fix that kite, and I never stopped trying to get it aloft.

I call this the indomitable spirit, and it has made my life very difficult.  Frankly, it never occurs to me to give up on a project, no matter how miserable it makes me.  Even if I sink to the furthest depths, I never drown.  After a time, that demonic spirit of mine regenerates and I am ready to fail yet again.  I see myself as pathetic, worthless, talent-less, and even so I can’t seem to make myself stop- at least, not by any of the methods I have attempted thus far.  There’s always another idea with me, and there is always something to fix.

The Hard Reset

My inability to give in to reason has led to a few new things, and possibly a means by which to succor my aching heart:

  • A new image and new mantra for the site.  I have embraced my inability to create anything that is not inherently, and irredeemably, flawed.  This site is now nothing more than a home for all those grounded kites that I have made, and those I will construct well into the future.

 

  • A new mentality as it comes to the distribution and value of my works.  I have always seen my writing as having no value to anyone other than myself, and there are others that have told me I am incorrect in assuming this.  I have no idea which of us is right, and thus I have come up with a compromise.  Everything I write will be available for free from now on, but only through this site.  If I truly have any value as a writer, the site will get some traffic.  In the future, perhaps I will reboot the patreon page so that it is available for those who also feel my work has some value, but I won’t hold my breath.  I really just desire for someone other that myself to read that which I have written.  Though, sometimes, even a humble wish is one more than you are permitted.

 

  • I have deleted the @anchoritehope twitter, as well as the ahliterature facebook page, as well as the smashwords page all to tighten the focus of this new… thing.  It makes me very tired to pretend that I am an extrovert when I am- so clearly- something completely else.  It will be hard enough for me to keep this going, let alone build up some online persona more worthless than that which I was born with.

 

  • The site has been severely streamlined. In the interest of making the purpose of this place clear, everything nonessential has been done away with.  No more modus vivendi posts.  No more hope of growing it as a brand to aid other indies (can’t even help my damn self…)  The proofing idea had already been scrapped and it will not be returning.  No more art gallery- only that which you will see in posts.  The twitch streaming idea is sidelined until it stops being a stupid idea.  The only pages, aside from the main page, will be the library, and the works in progress page.  The latter of which will remain locked until such a time as the patreon idea ceases to be stupid.

 

  • Content-wise, there will be no more reviews of any kind.  I would much rather enjoy my entertainment media quietly than attempt to indoctrinate others.  I may mention the things I am currently enjoying in passing, but there will never be another post on this site dedicated to some other creators work.  Updates regarding the progress of my own work will be present in Grounded Kite Initiative posts.  The Indomitable Spirit will continue on as a place for random poetry drops, and sharing my latest misadventures as a freak that can’t seem to give up.  The first real TIS post will probably be about the time I almost drowned, and how I was totally okay with it.

 

I think that’s all I’ve got for now.  If you’ve read this far, I thank you for taking the time.  It really did give me a boost every time I saw that someone even glanced at a post I made on this site, and every comment- I don’t even know.  I don’t expect that anyone will ever read this.  I really don’t expect anyone to care, but that is what The Grounded Kite Initiative is about.  It’s about wanting to be loved even if you don’t deserve it.  It’s about wanted to be recognized even if you’re worthless.

 

It’s about pushing on, though you’re inherently flawed and leaving a trail of broken pieces in your wake.

 

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