Noelle - 2016 Reflections & 2017 Goals

Hiya!
I know I JUST said in the last post I wasn't going to be posting as much now but I was reading through some of my older posts and favorite blogs and was like 'huh.  Maybe I should do one of these posts, make it sound like I actually have New Years goals or something' (I learned long ago is that New Years goals never work out.  *shrug*)

So what was my year like?

I wouldn't say this was the easiest year.  A lot of things happened, especially over the summer.  But I'm getting ahead of myself.  Where was I at, New Years 2016?

I was in New Jersey, convincing my friends that starting a separate blog for Steve wasn't going to be a bad idea (really!).  We were around day 200 of the 365 Days challenge, which was fun but oh thank you Lord it's over.  THANK YOU.  (we're still living with the scars here at IBFs)



I was still posting RMS parts, specifically book two parts, on this blog, but pretty quickly realized it wasn't a great idea and took up a different approach with that.  Survivors though...remember when Red was the biggest outrage?

Logical Reader:  Noelle that was like, three months ago.  And it's still the biggest outrage.

Wait you guys aren't over Red yet?

Reader: ....no.

You need to let it go.

Reader:  SHE FREAKIN' spoilers sorry

Anywho....

I've heard a lot of people say that this year was the worst year in existance, terrible blah blah blah, and yeah, I wouldn't say that this was the best year in existence *cough cough* elections *cough* Wow, is it dusty in here?  But I'm glad that this year happened, and I think I've grown and matured a lot in the past year.  I'm still a dork though.... :P

I've got some reasonable goals for this upcoming year, including:

• Saving a bit more money.  I'd love to be able to buy chocolate mousse every time we go to Barnes and Noble, but my waistline, mother, and bank account all say I can't :(
• Stop saying I'm a writer/artist when I literally haven't written a word in over a month (blogging doesn't count) or drawn anything.  EARN THE TITLE, NOELLE.
• Eat more chocolate (it keeps away the dementors)
• Get my grades up so I can get into college and not end up as a sad hobo living in a land fill and begging food off of seagulls
• Get more slee- HAHAHAHAHAHAHA.  Good one, brain *high-fives self*
• Also, stop talking to myself :/

Anyway, I tried to make this post all profound and awesome but it didn't happen, so...hm.  Oh, got it! Since you're an awesome reader and such, and I recently got a new writing journal (a Complete the Story* journal "Some stories end badly, some end well, and others just keep going on...."), I'll share a short story I wrote recently.  (I'll do a full post next week, you only get one story this time).

*the bolded part of the story is the original prompt

Of Darkness and 80's Vans

by Noelle (duh)

The yellow lines of the highway sped by in a blur, and we fell through the night, and we felt free.  But we weren’t, and we knew it.  We were running away from something, and running away was never the path to freedom.  I thought about telling John to turn back.  I thought about suggesting we turn ourselves into the doctors that promised the cure, and I couldn’t help it in the end.  “Do you think we should go home?”

“That’s not home for us anymore, Sara.  Not for people like us,” he says firmly as his eyes flash a fevered purple.  The car pauses at a stop sign and he leans over to kiss away my worries.

John’s trash-filled 80’s van starts to lug forward once more and I point out, “They want to cure us.”

“They want to take away our lives,” he growls, playing with a bit of liquid darkness absently.  I sit in silence; he watches a Jeep cut us off with an annoyed look.

I want to point out that our dark powers are our entire lives, that they’re killing us slowly like they killed Mary and all the others, but John kisses me again and turns up his music, so I keep quiet.  The sky fades from blue to red, then black, and he sets up a small campsite for us.

He’s asleep almost immediately, exhausted.  He’s fighting the disease, but judging from the fever he has, not for much longer.  Blackness drips from his gaping mouth.

I watch him for a while, half asleep.  My heart is a swirling mix of fondness and sadness.  Eventually, I turn away, so I don’t have to look at him, and stare up at the brilliant stars before pulling out my phone.

“Hello?  9-1-1?  There are two kids here,” I say softly.  “They’ve got purple eyes.  Uh-huh, the black magic powers and everything....please come quickly, I think they’re dangerous.”

THE END

HAVE A GREAT WEEK AND A GREAT YEAR!!!!