MC's Whispers

Whispering Silences

Archive for the tag “action”

Complaining, whining, nagging

http://rbk.h-cdn.co/assets/cm/14/50/548a5ac82c9a3_-_rbk-nagging-0612-1-xln.jpgWe tend to complain. A lot. And the ‘we’ goes to the human species. Because no other animal has the tendency to complain, whine or nag as much as we do.

We often complain so much because we’re too afraid to act. We fear that we might not be able to change circumstances, that there is nothing we can do to make things better. We complain because we don’t believe enough in our own strength and capabilities.

Then again, we too often complain because we feel we deserve better.

We nag because we want things to be done a certain way, usually different to the current one, and we are irritated and agitated if this does not coincide with the notion in our minds.

Motivational speech includes prompts to stop complaining and appreciate things more. To be willing to change and adopt a more positive aspect on life. After all, aren’t optimists the ones who see the glass half-full and a silver lining in everything?

Complaining places you in the position of a victim as it is a sign you do not have control of a situation. It also causes you to waste (valuable) time. Instead, “champions never complain; they are too busy getting better” (John Wooden).

But in the end it all comes down to how good you feel within you and about yourself.

The happiest people don’t have the best of everything; they just make the best of everything”.

Non-stop action may cause unexpected reactions

35111-Clipart-Illustration-Of-A-Hyper-Fly-Dancing-In-Rings-Of-FireHyperactivity is neither a blessing nor a curse. Because, while there are days when you feel so lazy you can’t even drag yourself out of bed or off the coach, there are other days when you simply cannot stay still. I don’t know what is worse.

When Julie got up this morning she beat her alarm clock to the buzz. Of course, the thump she made when she dropped out of bed was much more painful than any sound any clock could make. Her morning cleansing – makeup – dressup ritual lasted the usual 25 minutes, and then she set off for all the errands she had to do. Her list was extra-long this day and every time she found herself on the commute, she somehow managed to keep extending it.

So Julie spent the entire day running around from one part of the city to the next (making her realise how big this city truly is), up and down office buildings, in and out of shops (there is always something to buy), and constantly craving certain food that she had no time to sit down and enjoy (sushi and ice cream being among these).

At the end of the day, when the sun had already began its descend, Julie arrived home with her feet already developing blisters, and feeling that she had carried a hundred tonnes on her shoulders all day. A warm shower simply worsened the situation as she kept thinking of all the things she still had to do the next day and the day after that. Messages kept arriving that further extended her list and the hyperactivity would appear to never cease.

The only thing that rescued her was a remedy that seemed to work since her college years: a glass of milk (not necessarily warm). Within half an hour, Julie was already drifting asleep, dozing off in a stress-free dream, suddenly making everything seem like an action movie where the good guys always win, and all was well with the world.

Also part of Daily Prompt: No Cliffhangers

Decisions, decisions…

DecisionsThe problem with being indecisive is that you don’t know what to do. It’s normal when you are faced with a tough decision that will affect your life. But when it concerns a seemingly easy decision, like for example what ice cream flavours to choose, then it becomes a problem, particularly because by the time you finally make up your mind, the ice cream parlour has closed and you are left with no ice cream.

Or for example when you go out to shop one thing and see a million others that you would like to purchase. Not being able to decide instantly means you end up with a large shopping spree and an often (over)charged credit card. Sometimes even without that one thing you had gone to buy in the first place.

However, things change when there are important decisions to make, such as where you want to live, for example, or what you want to do with your life. Lack of determination means you are forced to cohabitate with a confusion constantly stirring inside of you; one day it will erupt and it won’t be pretty.

Indecision is a torment. They say it is preferable to make a decision, no matter how wrong it may turn out to be, rather than not take any action at all. When you lurch from indecision to doubt of whether you’ve taken the right decision, to changing your mind, and eventually never deciding, you are in essence living in a nightmare, where in the end you end up exhausted by the internal struggle that is wearing out your psyche.

It is actually harder than it seems to make decisions, maybe that is why policy-makers are so highly paid – they have to decide for the fate of so many people. It takes strength, courage and a bit of audacity to state a choice and stand by it. It takes even more boldness to decide on something and then make it the right decision.

Luke-warm but not frozen

melancholy-tracksLuke was broken-hearted. Not because of love lost, but because of love not found. He felt alone, fighting against the waves in a boundless ocean during a storm. There were days when he even felt his heart stop and his lungs as heavy as a rock, obstructing him from taking the slightest of breaths.

Luke was alone. And every so often he felt a void in his soul, like that little crack on the sill under the window he used to stare out of. Wind would gush in through it and stir a chill in an otherwise tepid room. It was strange. But yet refreshing. Sometimes even exhilarating.

He had to move on though. Staying still was not an option. And it would simply make that crack inside of him grow larger.

Luke decided he would try to mend that gap. And he would start by that crack at the window that was bugging him for years now.

He got up, put on his hat and strode off to the market down the street.

He knew everyone in the neighbourhood. Maybe that was the problem, though. There was nothing new. Nothing seemed to evolve. It was a repetition of the day all over, every day. And it was simply…boring. To him it was a sign of stagnation, a lack of progress. And something needed to change. Radically.

He bought some stock to mend the crack and some plaster, in case that didn’t work.

In less than an hour, the crack was gone. Or so it seemed. At least it was no longer visible. Not entirely. As to how long it would last…that was a different tale. But Luke had made the effort. And he was determined to now fix the part inside of him that was broken.

He was going to leave. No matter what that old fortune-teller had told him. He was going to take that step. After all, he would never know unless he tried.

 

Also part of the Trifecta Writing Challenge – the prompt word was CRACK:
3a : a narrow break : fissure <a crack in the ice>
b : a narrow opening <leave the door open a crack><cracks between floorboards> —used figuratively in phrases like fall through the cracks to describe one that has been improperly or inadvertently ignored or left out <a player who fell through the cracks in the college draft> <children slipping through the cracks of available youth services>

An unexpected awakening

Misty drinkKarin woke up feeling her head was about to explode. Had she fainted? She looked around but what she saw had happened was very different from what she remembered. And why did she have blood all over her hands?

The last thing she recalls is having a drink at home with Regina. Come to think of it, it was her shadow that she saw running hastily away after David’s shooting. But was David really shot? He had no bullet signs; instead Karin had a wound on her arm from where a bullet scraped her. David on the other hand seemed stabbed. And the dagger lay right there next to Karin.

So what on earth had happened?

Karin had to remember. She had to force herself out of this trance and recall what happened. What really happened and not what she mistily thought did.

So, she was having a drink with Regina, to congratulate Karin on her lead role in the performance, and Regina was telling her that she did deserve it – a hint of sarcasm with a lot of jealousy?

Then Regina asked for a refill, and Karin left the room for a minute. When she came back, she did taste something a bit different in her drink. And then it all became fuzzy. As if she was living a dream, or rather a nightmare! So Regina had given her a drug; one that allegedly was the door to paradise – or hell – from the likes of it.

So, what had happened? Was Regina so jealous that she caused Karin to kill the person she loved the most? And not even remember it? And then, what? Regina even tried to shoot her off?

And what was David doing there anyway? Was he trying to warn her?

The piece of paper Karin had found in David’s pocket still lay there on the floor. She picked it up, with the clouds now removed from her eyes and read it clearly:

“Trust no one. Not even yourself”.

Also part of this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge to include the third definition of the word door:

DOOR
3: a means of access or participation : opportunity <opens new doors> <door to success>

 

A Lethal Clue

Bullet hole in glassDavid stood there soaking wet from head to toe. She grabbed him from his shirt and pulled him in, poking her head outside just to check no one had seen them. You could never be sure.

What happened? Whose was that blood? What had he gotten himself into? Karin needed answers, her mind was about to explode from the panic and the unanswered questions that circled her head, threatening to devour every thought she had.

But David just stood there still. As if in a state of ecstasy. As if what had happened had not quite registered in his mind yet. He was clenching the dagger in his fist and was staring into…nothing. His otherwise enchanting emerald green eyes now seemed void of all emotion.

What on earth had happened?

Karin began to search his pockets for a clue. As she drew out a small folded piece of paper from his shirt pocket, David flinched, as if he had been awaken all of a sudden. Karin quickly unfolded it, with an unsteady hand and a pounding heart. It had an address and two initials: I. Z. She dropped the paper as she immediately felt the floor being swept off from underneath her feet. She recognized that address and knew that name. Ivy Zanda. It was her best friend and co-dancer. They practically grew up together. And she didn’t live too far away. Why was this in David’s pocket? And what did he do to her?

Did you kill her?” She yelled at him, almost in tears. It couldn’t have been her. No, Karin refused to accept that Ivy was responsible for all this trouble she was in.

“Not…her” David managed to utter as if something was choking him.

“Then who? What happened?” She urged.

But David never managed to say. As soon as he opened his mouth, a swish was heard, with glass shattering from the window by the door behind him. Karin shrieked, as he fell in her arms. Lifeless.

Also part of this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge to include the third definition of the word ecstasy:

ECSTASY (noun)

3: trance; especially : a mystic or prophetic trance

 

A dark act

theatre_stageDarkness, like an evil wizard, had engulfed her soul end to end, carefully tucking away the edges. She could just about picture how it would all happen and that made her shiver despite the stifling heat outside. All color was erased from her normally peachy cheeks as the image ran through her head. Right when the swan song would sound, when that majestic figure would gracefully dance its last breath away, when the notes from that classic masterpiece would delicately pluck the strings of each heart in the room, right then. That is when they would strike. They would barge in, breaking down the theatre doors and charge in like soldiers of the apocalypse, with their bazookas and Kalashnikovs at hand, pointing them at anyone who would dare to even move. It would be horrible. And that was why she had to avert it at all costs. She had to do something to save her job, her dignity, her life. She had to fight. It wasn’t going to be easy. But she would try.

The doorbell rang as the rain could be heard drizzling down the tin roof from the attic. It was monsoon season. And it was also pitch black outside. A sign of the gloom to come? She was still horrified from the dreadful “could-have-beens” that had overwhelmed her. With a trembling hand she opened the door. She wasn’t really expecting anyone. So when she saw David standing there she was even more shocked than before. Especially since in his right hand he was holding a dagger. And it was dripping blood.

Also part of this week’s Trifecta Writing Challenge to include the third definition of the word color:

color (noun)
3: complexion tint:
a : the tint characteristic of good health
b : blush

 

The Chase

police-shadowThe wind was lashing at his face as if punishing him for his actions. But he persisted in speeding against it. He had to reach there in time. His 650 cubic engine bike skid across the gravel as it came to a halt. He jumped down and ran, past the old wooden door of the building, which from afar seemed a ramshackle and up the stone steps. His heart was pounding. Was he in time?

The apartment door creaked as he pushed it open, leaning aside so as to avoid anything that would potentially fly out at him. Nothing. Silence crept across the room as the floor squeaked at his presence.

The place was a mess. Even messier than usual. It all revealed a fight had taken place there. Someone thrown over the table as it broke, and then across the wardrobe as it leaned open, acceding to its torturers. He could picture it all in his head. Gunshots had been fired, for there were bullet-holes and empty shells scattered around. And then he saw it…

Traces of blood.

He couldn’t tell if it was his own, as his hand was still bleeding badly. He had by now grown numb to the pain and didn’t care about that. He just wanted to find her.

If those bastards hurt her, it’s gonna be the end of them, he thought as he scanned the room for another clue, some evidence that could reveal where they where.

As he turned to look inside the hole that was forged in the wall clearly as a result of the earlier wrestling, he saw a shadow move across. The pupils of his eyes widened. Alert, he reached for the bottom of the desk, feeling for a button to press. A button that would be his salvation.

The shadow moved closer. It was tall and muscular. And it was coming right at him. A body-builder-type man who seemed impenetrable, as a dagger was still protruding out of his left shoulder blade and a piece of wood was sticking out of his foot. Yet he kept moving. Frank was apparently his next victim.

He found it! And with a click a side drawer sprung out from the desk. Frank grabbed the revolver now in sight and hammered down the personification of carnage rapidly approaching. He fell down like a thick pine tree in the woods. Only there was no-one to yell “timber”. Frank felt relieved but it was no time to relax, no matter what his namesake Frankie used to say. He quickly got up and started searching the man’s pockets. There was bound to be something there. Something that would help him find Loren. He couldn’t lose her now. Not after all they had been through. They were the only thing they had left from their previous lives. He had vowed to stand by her and he was not going to break his promise.

He found a folded paper in one of the trouser pockets. It was an address. 306 Westwood Avenue, Warehouse 5. He knew where that was and it wasn’t friendly. He had to hurry. He grabbed the gun and ran out the door.

As the bike growled to a start, another shadow appeared at the window directly above. A man, brawny yet thin, smoking a cigar. But Frank hadn’t seen him…

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