Story Analysis: Insanity

Shir is a nickname and short for Shiralin Sonder, an imperfect rendition and fragmentary self-insert.

Simply put, the mentality of others and how utterly crazed they may seem in the day to day matters that come and go. Such are the hype trains of life, a majority of which are beyond understanding. So while Shir sits and patiently listens to their raving, do we take insight and ponder who it is that is truly mad.

Shir deigns the world insane, and in doing so qustions their own.

For when everyone else around you is so utterly certain, is it truly them who is deranged and you who is grounded?

Snippets and Stories (I): Kill La Kill

It was the usual mundanity.

Shir sat at their desk and tapping away at the keys. They were a writer true, or so they oft liked to pretend. It was a fun hobby.

Just then several alleged friends came bursting through the doorway, and the brunette flinched at the sharp slam as the door collided harshly with the wall.

"Guys what--"

They knew that Shir loathed to be interrupted in the middle of spinning yarn. It was nothing short of irritating and the practicing writer was more than slightly irked.

"Shir! You gotta watch this new anime, it's called Kill La Kill and it is the BEST. THING. EVER."

Snippets and Stories: (A) Provocation (4 of ?)

He'd known this would happen the moment he fought back.

The disgust, the fear.

He wasn't even an Enhanced, just an attendee there because of his biological potential, as was mandatory by law for one born of Enhanced parentage. Unlike others of his lineage though, he bore no signs of such qualities. Still they wouldn't release him until another 4 seasons had passed and they were certain.

Snippet and Stories: (Freelance Shorts) A Whale of a Tail

A Whale of a Tail 

---

Written for and inspired by the little amigurumi Whale Blimp mobile project.

---

This little Blue whale is called Wei-Wen, but don’t be fooled, they’re anything but drowning in sorrows!

Come high-tide or low, you can find them dolphin’ into new waters. They may not have grand plans to orca-strate, but they’ve got porpoise, and finship true! For they’ve a heart as big as a whale’s!

---

One day they breached the waters they love. And saw what other, than another sea up above!

Waving their fins and tail alike, 

A whale song's beginning, inspiration's strike.

"What is that sea, 
that I never did see?"

A songbird who fancied the blue expanse flew by and heard their fervent whales. They told them then, where that sea did hail.

"It is the sky, 
that's so very high. 
One must fly, 
to go up high!"

So little Wei decided to fly.

And with words to part, spoke their good-bye.

But the songbird flitted and chirped at length,
Already certain, it was of wasted strength.

So the little whale stayed, that he would hear their say.

For to heed such advice, helps day to day.

They twittered and fretted, but to no avail.
For undeterred, was the little blue whale.

But the songbird lamented.

And failure he hinted.

"Alas, mine feathered kin swims not the ocean's depths."
"Our limitations are there, or it may be our last breaths." 

They spoke at long last, 

In words of solemn past.

"Any more,
than any whale could soar." 

They flittered to, with a forlorn glance,

And begged, that they not take the chance.

"Though swim you do and fly do I, birds we are, of a feather,
You seek the sky, and I the sea, though soar we do, in different weather."

The little whale paused, but remained steadfast,

For they knew but so little, and the world so vast!

"The Songs we both sing,
That our souls take on wing.
But waters blue were meant for gills, 
We heed currants of wind, us with bills. 
As the space betwixt star and cloud, 
are for the feathered, not finned--is that not sound?"

But Wei-Wun spread his fins,

As did the songbird with his. 

For seeing this did the songbird resign, that the little whale was determined true.

And did Little Wei-Wun turn to the songbird.
And implored him to open, to the words he so heard.

"Little I may be, but not what I've seen.
Limitations you say, I know not what you mean!

They would show them flight,
come what might.

With a flip of their flipper, a push of their tail, and soar they did, an arc in the sky!

And did the little whale sing.

"You say, 'Gilled are we, those born of the sea',
But the penguins are not, do you not see?
You'll find neither mine-self, bears such anatomy,
For the world isn't so built, in such monotony!
You need not gills, to swim in water.
You need but only, must not falter!"

A breath did Little Wei take, and blow he did, of bubbles thick, to shroud the little songbird that he too may take.

And into the seas they dove,
to see but the world below.

For they knew, one can never be certain what one can and can't do. If one never did try, then one never could know!

That there was always a Wei, if one would but try!

Try, try, and try again!

---

It matters not if you’re crabby, or what storm hangs over your head. Whether it be g-reef you're lost in, or when you start questioning your scales. 

No matter if you've lost sight of your chartered course, forgotten the sight of the stars and can't navigate your way out. Even if your moray-eel compass charters not to true North, never will Wei-Wun turn tail. 

There's no need to bluff for this cetacean.

For this little whale knows the Wei Wen things go wrong. If you’ve made a fluke, just remember, they’re made of two!

Take a ride in their basket! For with a twirl and whorl, shell whisk you away. Above the petty corals and brewing storms, a hot air baleen up high in the sky. To feel the sea breeze, and see how small everything to truly be. 

Sonar-y should you worry, just listen in calm. Shell tell you a tail, and sing you a song! Such a shoal would it be, to give the sole succor! Of distant skies, so very high, and stormy seas of blustery blues. 

Just as one may scoff and say through grit teeth, "A flying whale, quite a stretch of beach!" But such are but grit, sand on a beach. Don't let their harpoon diminish you.

And shell tail you the secret to baleen-cing life, “If the tides are turning, if you’ve lost your way, never fret, never fear! Just go with the flow, and throw me a line! For Wen in need, you reel-ly but need, only look for the Wei.”

Things will a-bait, you'll sea, and kelp may be right there beside you. For your friends will stand ever with you, to cheer you on, come storm or rain, hell or high water!

P.s. Their crush is the Humpback of Notre Dame. But shy Little Wei will remain an admirer from far, for to even hold their fin would clam them up and turn their blue pink! A bit of a turtle to overcome, to say the least!

Poem: At CrossRoads

At CrossRoads

We’ve been the best of friends, in times of thick and thin.
In stormy clouds and seas, you’ve sailed alongside me.

Under the Mulberry tree we played.

I couldn’t imagine that someone like you would just waltz in
to my life.

The times we had together, the memories we shared.

Things are changing, but maybe we’ll see each other again.

I’m leaving soon, and so are you. Will you be back when I am?

There’s no time now. I have to leave, will you see me off like you always did?

But of course you have your own road to walk

It’s a pity my stop’s not on the way.

But maybe we’ll see each other down the road, if they cross.

Would you be willing to cross the street if you saw me on the other side?

Between us are cars that will never stop. Everyone’s on their own path now.

But I still remember, do you?

The sunshine between leaves that flutter with our laughter.

There’s time. We’ll make it somehow.

I know we will.

You were always one to sing with me.
You were always there.

Until you weren’t.

But beside me on the empty swing, if I close my eyes, I can almost see your shadow, and hear your laughter.

Before me was a shadow, I was never alone, but sometimes I still wish, it wasn’t only me.

The leaves rustle, but there’s only one voice now.

When I heard you were coming back, I rushed to see you.

You were there, and I shouldn’t complain, but I missed too much.

It was like seeing you for the first time. Again.

Do you still remember me?

Of course you don’t. But I do.

So I introduce myself again, and you smile that same smile that you always had.

When and if I tell you that we’ve met before, it will be when that smile becomes genuine.

And when I tell you, I hope it’ll be like it always was.

When you held me. And I held you.

Because I forgot to tell you

When we were still children

That I love you.

And I still do.

---

Afterword

---

My childhood best friend and I were always together. Through our differences, through our disagreeableness, we were friends. To my oddities she accepted, and to my whims she laughed and danced, indulgent. And so one night when she admitted unto me the secret she so feared, and I could do little more but hold her hand, did I despair.

Would that it had been enough.

Through the romanticized surety of our everlasting friendship I had returned, but not soon enough. When we met again things had changed, for better or worse, and I realized then it was Time to let go.

To let go of the friend I had known since my tender years, had wished to continue knowing.

But it was no longer mutual. Would that she smile with me as she did then and fill the air with merry laughter once more, but such is buried in the past and at the least, I have the memories true.

Though she no longer loves me, has my heart bled red for her, platonic though my affections may be, my love for her is no less true.

Poem: Glass Dance

On glass floor does one oft dance,
A wind imparting, a lasting chance.

For ever adrift in the bogged moor,
That bonds remain, forevermore.

Alone in the darkness will the doll thus ponder,
But in the shadows, were they meant to wander.

A Cheshire smile in the twilight gloom.
That does uneasily rise, as the crescent moon.

A spiteful grin, but a mockery true.
That always will she dance, forever rue.

Poem: Whale Blimp

The Whale Blimp, a small prototype project for a friend's upcoming birthday. Almost complete, just need a hoop to set up the mobile. Then he'll be sailing for different skies soon!

---

Whale Blimp

The Tail of a whale,

A whale blimp he may be, but no whimp is he, for
he had the heart the size of a whale's!

who wanted to sail--

--And sail he did through the sky,
Up on the clouds, so very high.

A little blimp, in lofty breeze.
To sail the winds, the skies his seas.

The ocean could not contain him, oh no!
For nay, he knew awaited, the limitless sky!

And up, up he went,
On his fins that were airborne meant.

The oceans of past, and skies today, tomorrow, who knows? Perhaps even space,
Because for him, to him, there were no lows.

For he was no whimp!
But a whale blimp!

---

Revision (March 11, 2017

---

The Tail of a whale,

who wanted to sail--

Carrying my signature bomb. I like
to blow my friends away.

--And sail he did through the sky,

Up on the clouds, so very high.

A little blimp, in lofty breeze.

To sail the winds, the skies his seas.

The ocean could not contain him, oh no!

For the blue expanse, was above and below.

And he knew awaited, the limitless sky! 

So very high, that he need must fly!

And up, up he went,

On his fins that were airborne meant.

The oceans of past, and skies today, tomorrow, who knows? 

Perhaps even space, for to him, he knew not the lows.

For he was no whimp! 

But a whale blimp!

---

p.s. I wanted to put in a pun about Little Wei being a hot air baleen, but I couldn't find anywhere to put it in.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) Bitter Tears

She refused to meet their eyes.

Gone was her fiery and passionate personality, and the very air around her was heavy with defeat, deprived of the meager substance that had kept her head high and guarded her resolve for so long.

There was no anger left, no desire to continue fighting, struggling against the unrelenting face of adversity.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Bridesmaid

Shyloris smiled at the dark lens. It whirred and shuttered, momentarily pinging, to let them know the picture had been taken.

To her right, Silas relaxed, and wandered off towards the refreshment table. Neiro though, was already talking excitedly, eager for the picture.

It was a small gathering, the few of them, Esti, Ken, Silas, Neiro, Cheshire, Lokius, and of course herself, would spend the day enjoying Thanksgiving, together as it should be.

A numbered few though they were, were far too many for her. It had been a long Time since she had partook of anything festivities, or any other social event for that matter.

Snippets and Stories: (WtI) The Last Door of Corridor 5354

What could possibly shake him--nay, her, so that he--bloody hell, she seemed to cower before that last door?

It stood there so innocently, not even truly locked like the rest of them had been.

Their stalwart companion who was as the flames themselves, such fiery passion and vigor that the very atmosphere nigh filled with color, with Life. That the selfsame person now shrunk away as if scorched by her own self and flame.

They would soon understand why it was to be one that could never be forgotten, no matter how many sheets one covered it with, not a multitude of rooms and doors, yellow tape, nor chains, bolts, and locks.

Bedtime

Silas doesn't like being woken up. Ever. He also doesn't like being kept up.

Silas Curse 

<Not a morning, noon, afternoon, evening, night, midnight, or any other bloody time of day person>

"Lights out jerkwads."

He is the monster who will barge into your room if your lights are still on past 10:00 p.m. and lob pillows at you before smashing your light switch and leaving you in the dark to grope your way into bed. He will also eat all the cookies in your cookie jar out of spite.

If you're still not in bed he'll come back to smack you in the face with a pillow to knock you out "help" you sleep. If a slap in the face from sleep still isn't enough he'll bludgeon you with it until you stop moving. (p.s. These pillows are stuffed with bricks.)

Silas is a little ball of grump and rage.

Poem: Hands Out

To you, a hand I extend,
In hopes to find a friend.

Though to most I am a bore,
Would that you see but more.

That in the crowds do I hide,
But the loneliness inside.

A smile on the lips,
A hand at the hips.

But to speak of a smile in mine eye,
Would be nothing, if not a lie.

So many stories have been told and heard,
To lend to the plight, of this little bird.

That one may take to wing,
And that the soul may sing.

That wherever she goes,
May that always she knows.

That beloved is she,
And forever may it be.