Friday, December 26, 2014

...and the Christmas Bells Fade

It is the day after Christmas
and already its gone.
Completely 
and utterly 
gone.

The radio return to 
repetitive Christian lyrics
and 
Beethoven,
Mozart,
and
Bach,
resume they're place 
at the top of the playlist.

The dying tree is thrown outside,
while tinsel,
ornaments,
and
lights,
are packed neatly away.

The meat disappears 
off the Christmas turkey.
leftover stuffing,
mashed potatoes,
and 
creamed corn,
are close to being gone.

Secrets are no longer.
whispers,
shutting doors,
and
the crinkle of wrapping paper,
are heard no more.

The hope of snow 
diminishes 
and
the ring of Christmas bells
fade into the distance...


Merry Christmas, My Dear Followers!

<3 Eva
-------------------------------

Wednesday, December 17, 2014

a seven letter word

seven little letters to form a word. 

p a s s i o n

a term applied to a very strong feeling about a person or thing. passion is an intense emotion, compelling enthusiasm or desire for anything.

when i hear this word my heart grows warm 

images of eyes sparkling with excitement 

of a eagerness in the gaze

wanting you to understand their 

p a s s i o n 

is it about art, perhaps?

or a person?

a book?

p a s s i o n

fuels their actions

their decisions 

their life's goal

is it about college, perhaps?

an idea of a future life?

a word?

p a s s i o n

<3 Eva
-------------------

Monday, December 1, 2014

The Month of Words {NaNoWriMo}

Once a year, during the lovely month of November, writers all over the world get together and write.

Nation Novel Writing Month: also known as NaNoWriMo

50,000 words in a month.

Roughly an eighty-eight page novel.


Cramming 1600+ words in per day isn't an easy task, nor is it taken lightly. You must be dedicated, willing, and slightly insane to take on such a challenge.
So while it sounds like a lot of work, and it is, it is also an experience that one won't soon forget.

This year, 2014, I decided barley three days before it started that I was going to participate.

Did I not tell you that one must be slightly insane to do it? Indeed.

I skimmed through pinterest looking for ideas for this new novel, trying to figure out what on earth I was going to write about. I can't remember the pictures I was looking at, or the thoughts going through my head, but in a few minutes I had decided. I was going to write about what I knew and what I didn't know. The emotions I had experienced and the unknown I hadn't.

Heather Byrd is one of those people who clutched a dream through the years of High School and one that pursued it. Now, she's living it: the dream of being a writer in New York.

Heather is sentimental: "I do so love Autumn. (I refuse to call it Fall: it is the most unromantic name of the season anyone could ever think of!) The leaves are starting to turn and I’m squealing inside. How could anyone dislike Autumn? Its so beautiful from the leaves to the sweaters."

She's passionate: “I still do want to write. Its a beautiful art, and its a part of me. Especially writing about people, as of course you know. Humans are complex creatures and I think that they are misunderstood way to often... And they need people to remind them that life isn’t all about them, its about a planet of people working alongside each other to make this world a better place.”

But she's also confused: “The thought about my future. The thought that maybe I did wrong in moving out here so fast upon finishing my degree. It was always a dream of mine to move here, and I love it don’t get me wrong, But maybe it was..” Heather frowned a little, “...impractical, I guess?”


And scared: "What am I doing May? Spending four years getting a degree and then moving to New York to write for a living? That sounds insane. How is one suppose to make a living off that?" 

This book isn't complicated. It doesn't have a major plot of people saving the day or others dying in heart-wrenching death scenes. Its a story of a girl who's passionate about life and confused about her purpose.

I wrote and wrote as much as I could, and while I didn't get even close to the goal of 50-thousand words, I enjoyed the experience and push it gave me every day. 

I will be continuing to write Heather's story and hopefully finish it. The characters have all become dear to me: I can't leave they're story untold. 


Enjoy your December, my lovelies.

<3 Eva
--------------------------------
She loves the serene brutality of the ocean, loves the electric power 
she felt with each breath of wet, briny air.
-Holly Black 

Wednesday, November 12, 2014

November

A small peek into what my life has held the past couple weeks, specifically the first week of November. Most of the pictures have yet another picture to view if you simply click them!

Squealing with sophisticated but ecstatic delight as I pull out the scarves, sweaters, hats, and everything that only Autumn allows. 

http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/48/f3/0a/48f30ab674afda05202b2ccc147a4797.jpg

The writing of a 50,000 word rough-draft of a book entitled Mastering the Unsaid Words for the annual event, NaNoWriMo. (Aka, write a book in a month) 1,600 words roughly per day. I'm a little behind (okayi'mabout7kbehindbutatleasti'mwritingk?), but its been amazing to have this forcing me to make time for writing. It is certainly something I needed!

http://www.pinterest.com/evelynashby/mastering-the-unsaid-words-nanowrimo/
(photo via pinterest, word concept and design by Evelyn Ashby)
(Click the cover to visit Pinterest Inspiration for the book!)

Taking pictures of my lovely friend's Knight costume. It was a learning experience full of giggles. Supposedly I'm next.. 

http://ashadowrising00.blogspot.com/

Enjoying the crisp cold weather of late. The wind rips apart the trees until they stand bare, and the leaves dance across the lawn.

http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/03/b9/d1/03b9d12586586789996d36a057f22138.jpg

The reading of poetry, specifically Whitman, Edgar Allen Poe, Keats, and Emily Dickinson.

http://media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/96/7c/b9/967cb982e4c13217dd84845ce5ae16ef.jpg

Creating a wishlist of all the oxfords, backpacks, and cute random things I want for my birthday; which happens to be coming quickly upon me.

http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/736x/24/9d/85/249d859dfff8e19ceed11e742b9224d8.jpg

Reading has been going up and down in the chart of my daily life. I finished A Room With a View a while back and fell in love with its strange uniqueness. The book that was suppose to follow still hasn't come in from the library, so I'm not reading that.
And because I want a lighter read since I've recently been reading deep, thick books, I haven't picked one out yet. =)
I got Uncle Tom's Cabin from the library not to long ago and should be reading that.. Oh well, we shall see. Writing is taking up so much time now and days I hardly have time to read! But. I shall make time for it.

(This is pretty much my favorite 'Anne' book..)

Climbing the mountain not far from our house was a last minute decision last Saturday morning. Gorgeous view; but perhaps I would have gone to bed earlier the night before had I known..

A somewhat blurry of the view from the top, taken by yours truly.
And last, but most certainly not least, listening to amazing music. Such as the Decemberists, Fleet Foxes, The Honey Trees, Broken Bells, Band of Horses, Death Cab for Cutie, the list goes on. Regina Spektor has recently been making my regular listening time. Firewood is officially one of my favorite songs. =)


A small peek, indeed. =)

Love you my readers,
<3 Eva
---------------------------------------------

Wednesday, October 15, 2014

Books, Cider, and Autumn

As the weather grows colder, the house grows cozier.

Sweaters come out, mugs are filled with cider, the front porch is laden with pumpkins, and trees turn to radiant reds and orange; reflecting the autumn sun as they flutter to the ground.

An important key to enjoying your autumn to its fullest (because indeed, Autumn is the best season of the year) is a book.

But not just one.

Many, many, books.

That, my friend, is an important key.

Keep the books flowing constantly through your day.

When you finish a book, have another one waiting.

When you have a moment of rest, read, read, read.

Flood your minds with words and stories that will become as dear to you as flesh and blood.

You will feel secure in these stories, in those pages that smell of memories, in that book that becomes thicker and thicker each time you read it with your thoughts and emotions.

To fulfill this oh so lovely plan, I have compiled a small list of books I will be reading this Autumn. Its not long, nor complicated: it is simply a list of random books that have called me to rest in their pages. Nothing more.

I am at the moment reading:

A Room With A View; by J.M Forster. Written in 1908 it addresses the standing of the social circles; and follows Lucy Honeychurch as she visits Italy and meets a young man with emotional problems, but who is also of lower social standing than she. Though her older cousin, and other ladies and gents of her social circle, snub their noses at them, she finds George and his peculiar, but honest, Father strangely interesting.
   I cannot say much with out predicating for I am but in the fifth chapter. It is an interesting book to read; I feel that if I were to have lived back in the years before the 20's I might better understand the underlying sarcasm and satire. But I am enjoying it, nonetheless.

After I finish Forster's book I will be changing paces and jumping up to a book written in 2010:

Unbroken; by Laura Hillenbrand. A World War II story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption. Louis Zamperini grew up a cunning delinquent, a reckless youth that spent his time stealing. In his teens he found that sports, racing especially, distracted his rebellious spirit and gave him a goal in
life. But World War II interrupted that dream, and when his bomber crashed in the ocean he had to fight for his life: only to be brought ashore by Japanese. Laura Hillenbrand tells the story of a man who turns his life around and (its my understanding) becomes a Christian in the life changing events of World War II. I am very excited to read this, especially since it appears to be an amazing story of God's mercy and love. Let us hope I can get it soon; the library's books have a lot of requests. :)

The rest of the books in my list:

The Man Who Was Thursday: A Nightmare; by G. K Chesterton. I know very little about this book. A friend recommended it to me and I suppose you could say I'm taking her word for it. I know a bit about Chesterton (enough for me to trust him) and I think this is a book I would enjoy. I love books that I know very little about before reading it; it gives off a sense of mystery...

Bleak House; by Charles Dickens. I started this about year or so ago, but when my birthday rolled around in November I ditched it to read Lord of the Rings. (We have to be a certain age to read it) So I've read about 200 pages of Bleak House, but should really read the last 700. :) 

Night; by Elie Wiesel. A book mentioned by Abby in her most recent Blog Post, It looks to be something I would enjoy. Someone's experience of WWII? Yes please. 

These last few are books that have been in the back of my mind the past couple months. I do realize that they all (except Mere Christianity) are on the darker side, and I promise it is not on purpose.

Mere Christianity; C. S Lewis 

The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde; by Robert Louis Stevenson

Dracula; by Bram Stoker

Frankenstein; by Mary Shelly

Rain and wind and wind been my companions these past several days, and my heart fills with joy as I watch the autumn burned leaves fall to the ground..  
 
What books are your Autumn Book List? 

I've been playing around with layout, as I'm sure you've noticed, and have settled on this one. The Raven and the Writer is sort of a new title to my blog; I think it better befits the mood and flow of my blog. 

I finally have an answer for the Alice in Wonderland riddle:

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

Because The Raven, my dear computer, is my writing desk.

<3 Eva
---------------------------------------

Tuesday, August 12, 2014

Carnival of Emotions

August 12th, 2014.

Wow, summer has flown. And yet.. it hasn't.

This summer has been filled with emotions ranging from discontentment and boredom, to anger and frustration. While everyone else's summer has been packed with business, things to do and places to go, mine has been extremely slow. For the most part I have been reading, drawing, and pinteresting. (yes that's a thing) But lets face it.. that gets pretty boring after awhile.

My personality is such that when I'm bored and have nothing to do I get really depressed. So most of July was really hard for me. I was depressed and I had emotions suffocating me that confused me as well. As I realized that I was depressed I got upset at myself for being that way, and as a result I got even more depressed. I tried to pull myself out of it but failed because I was trying to do it on my own. The current of my flesh just pulled me under and the more I flailed the faster I sunk. I was drowning and I knew it.


Near the end of July we went out of town for three days up to my grandparents house. On one of
those three days we were able to visit my Uncle's cabin he owned up along a river. Relaxing out my home town and seeing God's creation and the beauty of it all worked wonders for me. God showed me that I was being selfish, I was upset that everyone was having a good time and I was jealous. I wasn't content with the beauty in my own life and longed for the beauty in others. I was focusing on myself - flesh had taken top priority and I simply turned to it for help with I was struggling. Once God showed me that I confessed the sin that was right in front of me, I turned and asked God for help knowing that without him I would continue drowning.

The week after we returned was a slow recovering for me. I often lapsed back into depression, but looking to God and realizing my flesh was taking priority would pull me out of the dark.

I'm enjoy the last couple weeks of summer - this past weekend was busy and this coming week is surprisingly filled with visits with friends. The local fair is in a couple weeks and with excitement my friends and I are planning the all day trip we will be making to visit it. Instead of wallowing in self-pity I'm striving to strengthen relationships with the people around me, enjoy the beauty of the world and love every minute that I have to be alive.

Then September comes: I'm starting my Senior year of High School, since I'm graduating a year early, and will be busy with studying and practicing piano. Come June I will be having a Senior Piano Recital so I will be very busy preparing for that. In my free time I will be checking books off my book list, practicing drawing, hopefully blogging and writing, learning to cook better, and getting to know better the people God has placed in my life.

Also in the next coming school year I will be taking a couple Computer Programing classes, in hopes to confirm that the desire I have for becoming a Computer Programer is real. If it is I will possibly be starting college next fall. Don't tell that's crazy because I already know that.

I'm excited to have a purpose, something I have been lacking this summer. I now know that depression is something that I will always have to work on, and emotions are my life. But right now I have fought the fight and though I'm slightly broken I have victory over my flesh. And through Jesus Christ I will win again and again.

And like Earnest Hemmingway said: We are all broken. That's how the light gets in.

-Eva
---------------------------------------------

Monday, July 21, 2014

The Snow Daughter; Part II

"At last" we all say?

At last we have part 2 of the Snow Daughter. 

Its certainly not as long as Part 1, but it is here. 

And I hope you enjoy it!

Comments and criticism are welcome. =)

Reminder: Neve was wounded by the Sun Fey, Oro - who then fell of into the abyss much to her surprise. After seeing the Cavalcavia tower appear in the distance the pain from the wound took over and she fainted on the Terra.

* * * * *  

Pain filled my entire being, throbbing and pulsing like a heart struggling to survive. I tried to open my eyes but blurry images swam across my vision, and my heavy eyelids closed in exhaustion. A voice pierced the silence rousing me from half unconsciousness and I strained to understand the mumbling that echoed through my head; causing the pain to increase.
  “What happened... Young Fey... bad injury.. this is.”
A moan escaped my parched lips, and I again struggled to open my eyes.
  “Are you awake lassy?” My eyes focused to see an old fey looking down at me. He resembled the elderly fey of the last tower, but perhaps it was because they were both old beyond comprehension.   
  I opened my mouth to speak but could only croak, “Yes.”
  He chuckled,
  “Sounds like you need a drink of water m’dear!”
  He disappeared, leaving me to contemplate where I was, and how he had found me. The space around me was contained by four walls, giving the room a square shape. They were plain and simple, with naught a decoration except glowing, blue torches every couple feet. I lay on a large bed, surrounded by hills of fluffy blankets and the ceiling, tall and lofty, reached far above me.
   I stared at it thinking: I remembered that I had fainted on the traveling terra... after... my eyes closed as it all came rushing back - After Oro had tried to kill me.
  “Here ye go!” I felt a hand on my shoulder, gently but firmly lifting me to a sitting position. My wound felt like it was on fire, and I gasped visibly.
  “That’s it, there we go. Just drink that there water and I’ll see what I can do with this here.” He handed me the cup once I was stable, and turned to my arm.
  I stared at my cup, not wanting to look at my wound again. I’m sure it was uglier mess than it had been before I passed out.
  The fey’s gentle hand passed carefully over my wound, using a damp cloth to clean it. As cautious as he was, extreme pain still shot from my arm. I sucked in my breath and clutched the cup, turning my knuckles white. My eyes bore holes into the blankets as he finished, trying to take my focus off of the pain.     
  A soft soothing voice washed over me,
  “Good lass, that’s it, almost done.” He walked away, bringing back long, white bandages. “You took a nasty scratch here,” He started wrapping my arm tightly, giving it a strange sense of security. I nodded, avoiding his eye. I knew I would have to tell him sooner or later. The child from inside me longed for someone to confide in, but the grown part of my heart wanted to be gone; do this mission quickly and quietly.
  He seemed to realize that as he finished attending my arm with a pat.
  “Take your time m’dear, we shall discuss it after you rest.” He turned to leave the room, but I interrupted.
   “Sir.. Thank you.” I gave him a slight smile, something I hadn’t done in what felt to be forever.   
  His reply was short and brief but a wave of peace passed over me when it reached my ears. “Do not worry.”
  I was asleep in his assurance before he left the room, my fatigue and weakness overcoming the dull pain in my arm.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
  I woke up to pain shooting through my arm and my body rolling over in the fields of blankets. I stifled a cry as I sat up in alarm. My breath came in short gasps, like a forceful wind had knocked the air from my lungs. My hands clutched at the sheets in a sweaty panic and my eyes roved the room while I wondered what I was looking for.
  My bandage was leaking and I paused in my search, to inspect it. I must have rolled on it in my sleep, for the process of healing was interrupted and it was once again bleeding. I felt tears come to my eyes and I blinked them away, denying to myself that I was crying. I felt bewildered; and the throbbing pain coming from my wound fogged my brain. What was the purpose of this quest anyway? I had been rushed off so hurriedly I had no time to think, I only knew that there was no choice. The courage and strength that had rushed to my side was now disappearing; like a thick fog that burns off when the hot rays of the sun strike it.
  “What if I hadn’t come. What would've happened?” I tried to clear things up in my confused mind, “This hole, the one I found, was probably an entrance used by the enemy; after all, they are obviously already here.. So that means I’m not warning everyone of possible trespassing.” I raised my head as it finally made sense. “I’m warning them against possible, no, probable, attack.” And if I didn’t hurry they would reach The Flurry first. For of course, they were going to attack our source of life.
  I began to wonder how many evil warriors had entered our realm, were there more than the ones that had come through the hole I found? If so, what Cotone had they invaded? How far away had they started out? Where were they now?
  I then had another thought - was Oro a scout? No, I shook my head; he couldn’t be. He told me he had specific orders to get rid of me. Which means, they knew I found the hole. But not Oro’s hole, because he was sent after I found it.
  Which means, I sat up in bed - which means there was probably a scouting party ahead of me. I had found the entrance that they had used, and I was on my way to spoil their plans. The plans of skillful scouts that were suppose to slip in and slip out, silently.
  A fresh sense of urgency surged through me, waking me from the broody, thoughtful state I was in. Wound or no wound I must get going. I could not wait around for it to heal, that would be weeks. This kind fey had done all he could.
   I slid from underneath the mounds of peace to the ground of responsibility. I walked across the room, gently cradling my arm in my hand. It throbbed with any slight movement, and I grimaced as I ventured to put my cloak on; being one handed was certainly a challenge.
  “My dear child, what are you doing?” A voice from behind broke into my struggles.
  “I’m getting read to..ugh!” The cloak slipped from shoulder once more. “.. to leave.” I turned to find the fey looking at me with a gaze of disapproval.
  “But dear girl, you’re injured! You must rest, whatever got you into this must wait. I -” The look on his patients face caused him to break off.
  “You’re too kind sir, but I really must be off. Everyone’s future hangs in balance.” I shook my head, the two tower guards were certainly different. I had finished wrapping the cloak around me, and now I began the process of fastening the clasp. Oh what a pain!
  The silence in the air around me caused me to look up. The look of concern had disappeared from my rescuers face, and questions lurked behind his eyes.
  “Come this way, child; we must talk.” He turned and exited the room, leaving me perplexed and puzzled at his sudden change of attitude.
  The clasp slipped into place and, tripping into my shoes, I followed the fey out the door.
  It opened into a large expanse of room, similar to the one I had just left. This one however, contained a large couch and a table with chairs scattered around it. It was neat in appearance but random objects were scattered around: a book on the couch, a blanket draped over the back of a chair - leftovers of a meal on the table. It was lived in, and it gave forth the feeling that I was home for a moment.
 My eyes were drawn to the book and I longed to pick it up: to feel the cover, to read the gold writing that displayed the title, and to smell the well worn pages.
  I frowned, now was not the time to be wishing I was free to read. It was nonsense that had come unbidden to my mind. I turned to fey ready to tell him anything he wanted to know.
 He stood watching me with a smile on his lips,
  “I had a daughter once, she loved to read as you do.”
  My eyes inquired how he knew?
  “She used to look at books the same way: a hungry longing that knew no end until her eyes drank the words.”
 Years after when I told my story I described this fey with warmth, “An odd fellow, but quite poetic once you get to know him. He had an understanding for words that made you love him.”
  He invited me to sit on the couch, gently placing the book on my lap, “Tell me your story, lass.”  
  I started at the beginning, with the hole, the strange attack in the hall, and the setting off.
  Tipo, as I learned his name was, watched with attentive eyes and listening ears. Not interrupting as I spilled forth my thoughts and fears on the events that had changed my life. His silence was not judging or harsh to the ears but rather understanding and assuring. And though the words grew dark on my tongue as they shaped the story of Oro, my heart grew light from the relief of telling someone. I clung to the book as I spoke, rippling through the pages or staring at the words though I read them not. It gave me courage to keep speaking, for though my heart was willing to talk my mouth was harder to convince.
  I finished with my losing consciousness after the fall of Oro and with a small frown at my wound I fell silent.
  Tipo was frowning likewise but in deep concentration.
  “From your description, he is a Sun Fey indeed. I cannot guess for what reason they would come here, but I do believe, like you, that it is not a good one.”
  He rubbed his forehead smoothing out the frown resting on his brow.
  “I find it hard to believe that Duro would have anything to do with it.” Duro was King of the Sun Fey, though sometimes harsh and overbearing like his people he was a just King. For him to be attacking the Snow Fey and entering a realm where he knew he did not belong was unthinkable!
 “What..” Tipo looked up from the floor he had been studying, “what did you say the name was Oro gave you? The name of the Fey that sent the orders.”
  “Caldo,” I told him, “‘Caldo gave the orders, I do not question them.’ that’s what he said.”
  “Mmmm... Caldo..” He rubbed his chin now, scratching his hands with the stubble that grew around his mouth.
“I do not recall hearing that name before but my mind is fading: perhaps I have.” He shook his head in disapproval.
  “The Moon Fey would know..” He suddenly glanced around, then at me. “What time is it?”
  “I do not know!” I replied looking surprised.
  “I just ate supper... five’o clock... must be nearly five thirty now..” He mumbled to himself, looking towards the door.
  Then he smiled.
  “Have you met a Moon Fey before?”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
The night outside was the darkness of beginning; the blackness that seems to lack the power it will have by midnight. The sun must have fallen behind the horizon but a hour ago, and the moon was just starting her ascent. She rose proud and beautiful into the murky darkness that was steadily growing around us.
  I stood right outside the tower not far from the edge of the Cotone; breathing in deeply the fragrance of night. The sky met sharply with the horizon line of the Cotone, the snow glowing in contrast to the dense shadows above.
 Then, as I stood beside Tipo, there came shooting down, beams of light. Silver and gentle, they gracefully sliced the night apart. Silhouettes flitted throughout the beams, and wherever they went the light followed. I watched with thrill and wonder: so this is how it works! Of course, I knew about the Moon Fey, but I had never fully comprehended the way they worked. It was much different than our ways - they spread moon beams, like the Sun Fey spread the beams of light from the sun.
  Soon the entire field before our eyes was flooded with moonlight. I felt it on my skin, in my hair; it made me feel like I could fly. My heart soared to the height of the moon and was able to forget my problems, troubling thoughts, and worries: I was floating on air.
  “Good evening, Tipo.”
  I was startled by a voice from behind. It was gentle like the light, but firm in authority. A small chill of fear struck me, but also a distant feeling of protection. I turned to see the cause of my mixed emotions.
  “Good evening, Scuro.” Tipo’s face showed his delight. “It has been many a night since you’ve scouted these parts.”
   Beside him, tall and graceful, stood a manly figure, clad in gray shimmering garments. I could not describe them to you for they were simply there: like fragments of the moon wrapped around him. He had black hair, long and flowing across his shoulder; the moonlight reflected in starry beauty off of it. It framed a face of quiet and melancholy beauty. The eyes that studied me and Tipo held deep and hidden knowledge, shining with sharp observance.
  I lowered my eyes as his eyes searched my face.
  “It has been, Tipo; many, many a night.” He withdrew his gaze from me and turned to Tipo. “But tonight is not a time for mere chat, I have questions.” His face darkened as glanced around at his fellow workers, “I have permission to take time away from my work to talk to you. Do you a few minutes, friend?”
  Tipo looked only slightly surprised as he replied,
  “Yes, yes of course. I have questions for you in return.”
They immediately turned towards the tower leaving a question hanging over my head: Should I follow?
The voice that had spoken earlier sounded in the air around me,
“Come, Neve.” It was gentle and commanding and I did not question whether or not to obey it. I hurriedly followed them into the tower, with a small glance of regret at the Moon Fey’s work.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 
Sorry about the sudden change of font - I copied the story from Google Drive and its not adapting well to its new surroundings. :P
-Eva
---------------------------------

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Little Letters; Edition III

Dear Life, 
what even are you? I don't know what to think of you sometimes. I know that I need to use you for God's glory, but that's pretty much it.


Dear Emotions, 
will you quit attacking with masks on? Last week was so weirdly emotional with emotions that I knew not. I would randomly feel like crying, or talking, or just being alone. So quit it, okay? Or at least show yourself. You're so cryptic.

Dear Journal, 
am I succeeding? Maybe. If not, I know at least that its something that I love doing. And should've done it a long time ago.

Dear Summer, 
you're turning out amazing. Friends, family, sun, volleyball, reading, art projects... its awesome.

Dear Procrastination, 
I really, really, hate you.

Dear Norse Mythology, 
wow. Just wow. You're so detailed and complicated. And may I ask how people actually believed this?


Dear 4th of July, 
why did it rain on us? It didn't seem like much of a celebration weather wise, but it was a blast, nonetheless. 

Dear Sun, 
you get really hot sometimes.

Dear Jack London, 
I'm looking forward to reading your books. Don't let me down.

Dear 3am, 
hello! Didn't think I was going to be seeing you Saturday morning!

Dear Fireworks, 
you're stunning, yet terrifying. 


Dear 2014, 
you've been amazing. Keep it up.

Dear Readers, 
I love you. Thanks for sticking with me. 

Over and out.

-Eva
---------------------------------------
a correct summarization of my life