So i started a new job this weekend. It is going rather well. I cook/ run salad bar/ dish-wash/ prep at Ruby Tuesdays at Millcreek Mall. It is not exactly the most exciting job, but there is always stuff to look at and people to watch. Of all the jobs I do there, I like prep the best. Prep is when you get everything ready for the next day. Mostly braking product down into portions and putting them into bags. It is a very repetitive job that requires almost no though or movement, leaving me free to day dream or watch people as I choose. I usually need a lot of stimulation at a job but this really doesn't bother me very much. I am the only girl in the kitchen, which makes it rather interesting, amongst 6-7 guys. I am a rather short person so pushing my way through all these guys can prove challenging at times. None the less, I am going to work the rest of the school year there, until I graduate in May, and possibly over the summer if they can guarantee me hours. That is all for now, will write more later perhaps.

I feel dead. I feel hollow. Or do I? When one feels so cold it is hard to tell what you feel. My head hurts, I think. It is difficult to even lift my fingers to type this. I keep misspelling words, they are not coming out right. I know that this probably doesn't make sense, but I don't really know what to do about it. I think that I am angry at a friend, he has not texted me back, or he does and he will apologize. I don't want an apology. I want you to make it right. My finger tips hurt, you know, from working on the mosaic at school. They are bleeding. It kinda sucks. I will have to wipe off my keyboard after this. The whole right side of it has tiny red dots on it, like little bugs. It is a good thing I have the letters memorized, or I would be in trouble. The little bugs are not moving, just growing with every stroke of the keys. Poor bugs. Poor fingers. There is a little streak of pain that flies up my finger every time I hit a key with it, adding to the color. It is nice though. I don't really mind. I have not been functioning fully for the past three days. Just kind of dead. Maybe I will go to sleep.

sad

The tears clung to her long onyx lashes, pulling two day old charcoal off in beads, shimmering in the pale light, like oil in water. The only movement of her body being the breath that barely kept her alive, shivering with each inhale, deflating with the exhale and, every several seconds, a blink of her fluorescent blue eyes that caused the poised droplets to leap to their deaths at the mercy of the frigid stone floor.

more random writing

Wrote this at Tim Hortons the other day. Caution! Do not read if you have an exceedingly weak stomach!

The graceful padded foot steps of a large grey wolfhound trotted cautiously along side the girl over the golden mosaic floor of the temple lobby. He was alert, focused on the task at hand, as he scanned the echoing space for signs of any other life. Every several seconds his large nose was driven to the floor as he inhaled for human scent, but was greeted only by a nose full of musty molding grout that was securing the priceless tile in place. The disheveled tan fur on his long snout was covered with dust from repeating this the whole length of the lobby. They were nearing the end now, he could see something in the distance, which he supposed was the alter. They just had to make it that far, just to the alter.

The dogs ears perked up as his head swung to the side at a sudden sound. The girl had tripped. A tile protruding from the ancient floor had caught her left foot causing her to fall onto her hands and knees. The girl stood and stared at her bare, bruised foot. A large gash now joined the others already consuming the slight toes, slicing the smallest nearly in half. The dog watched as the effete human stared at the toe, blood pooling on the floor, simply watching it. He glanced up to the alter, shimmering in the distance and back to the girl, still poised, entranced by the blood. They needed to move. The dog softly nudged her leg. No response. He moved behind her and pushed at the back of her knee with his forehead. The girl looked back, blinked and began forward again, once more staring at the sequestered alter. The dog assumed his previous position at her side as they continued, now leaving a trail of red glistening blood to stain the precious golden floor.

Sand House

Wrote this cause I saw this picture online lol enjoy!

They stood outside, watching, waiting for a sign. Waiting for God. But he did not come; He did not meet them at the house in the desert. Only their horses and the wind and the sand accompanied them here, in front of the ancient house that was said to house the Messiah. They simply stood… waiting. For what they were waiting they did not know. They had only been told that it would be here, in this abandoned house in the desert, that they would find him, alone and waiting for them to arrive.

The grand double doors, in front of where they stood, had long been wrenched from their hinges, no doubt with the rest of the doors from the place, now scattered across the waste land just crossed. One of the travelers, the brave of the two, reached out a dark, cracked hand and brushed two blood soaked fingers across the white wood left of the door. The sand of the desert, over hundreds of years, had worn smooth the imperfections of the wood, it was now as soft as a new born foal, every crack patiently worn away, every blemish painstakingly brushed into submission.

The sand on which they stood was slightly darker than the white wood of the house, and it continued inside, blown into mountains and valleys in between the doorways they could see through the gap of the previous entrance. The interior of the house was much more chaotic, violent even, for the walls had large bruises of molding ripped from them, exposing the skeleton underneath. Large cracks, originating from the gaps, crawled up the walls and onto the ceiling, as if any moment the house might split into pieces and be blown away into the endless sea of sand.

The ceaseless wind picked up at that moment causing one of the uneasy horses to whinny, throwing their head in protest of the wait. This, along with the realization of the setting sun, threw the travelers into motion, as they prepared to enter the antediluvian dwelling.