The Staggering Dark – Part 1
August 4, 2017
to be continued…
Castlefully,
Justin
Hi.
So, uh, things have been happening. Lots of them. Over and over, in a never ending chain of business and exhaustion. I lost a full day and some change to last minute heroics to get our house sold. I’ve lost a few weeks prior to that in order to get even more things done for the house. I’ve had heat exhaustion, I’ve had nonsensical waits to see if I get a new job or not, and I’m sitting in what can only be described as the outline of a kempt house buried under another thirty hours of labor.
Suffice to say, the last month has not been conducive to writing.
And I hate it.
I want more than anything to get my works out there. Sure, I’ve published a few things now , but I want to get Anrachea done. It’s been re-titled and I’ve moved a lot of ideas around, but the world contained in that story is deep and rich. Plus, I’ve created an instantly recognizable and likable character in it. I have a unique premise, and I want to pursue the story for all it’s worth.
I have yet to have a chance to do that. Everything and their mother keeps rearing up and roaring at me, demanding yet more of my thinning attention. Today: I experience what I believe is a minor hyper or hypo glycemic episode. So on top of everything else, I now have to snap-hook into ketosis like my very life depends on it. Because suddenly it does. Oh, did I forget to mention I don’t have health insurance right now? Because I was denied by Brownbackistan? So I can’t even see a doctor. I have to essentially flip my body into utilizing ketone bodies for nourishment and hope.
See? There is no end to the nonsense, and every single day brings new things trying to shove writing off my plate entirely.
What I want, out of all of this, is a chance to dictate the pace of my own life. I want to report to no-one but myself, to be responsible in determining my own outcomes and lifestyle. To no longer be at the mercy of a company that can fire me mere weeks after a performance bonus. I don’t want to be in that position anymore. I want to stream, I want to podcast, and I want to write. I need those to become my job. And with each passing day that seems further and further out of reach.
I don’t think it’s a lofty goal. Honestly, there are so many professional streamers, podcasters, youtubers, and writers that I should be able to frankenstein a living out of whatever disparate elements I can cobble together. I just have to have the time to get all of it done, and with everything that needs doing on the apartment and my inability to get a microphone system together due to my friends life becoming a nightmare in addition to my own, it feels like the universe is conspiring to keep things from working out how I would like them to.
I’ll get there, but I wish I wasn’t fighting against everything and anything to do it.
Without further ranting…
The Staggering Dark – Part 1
It has been weeks since I have heard the comforting voice of another.
I have only myself for company wandering the halls of the palace which is both home and prison.
There is no light, and I am forced to cling to the walls for guidance. Occasionally, I will brush against various features of the castle. A tapestry, so finely woven that it feels like gossamer, each thread inscrutable. A suit of armor here, a painting there. So many sights, placed with care, commissioned with forethought and joy, yet now they are veiled in darkness. Such a waste.
I occasionally find a wall sconce where a torch might once have lain; only spider webs fill them now. I have sufficient time on my hands that I try to memorize the layout, counting steps from room to room. I know that the larder, where I can find crusts of bread and cheese to sustain me, is only a few hundred steps and a flight of stairs away. So far I have been lucky; the scraps continue to be there upon my arrival. I fear that one day I shall reach for them, and instead find my end. I pray that day does not come, yet deep inside I know that nothing I do will stay Death’s hand. I can only stay his hand, forcing him to work to claim his prize. He shall not find me easy prey.
to be continued…
Castlefully,
Justin
