| Squid Blog Day-to-Day with Squiddy |  |
| Squid Blog Day-to-Day with Squiddy | |
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "spring". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]
Spring- Squiddy Geiger - April 27, 2012
Yes, it's that time of year again. Spring. You know, the season everyone anticipates all winter, certain it will end their Winter Blues. The time housekeepers wait for so they can clean house, as if doing it daily isn't enough. The time when thoughts supposedly turn to romance and... other things.
Until, of course, reality sets in and the weather turns foul, and you get a month straight of overcast and rain. You know the sun is up there somewhere, you just can't see it. You vaguely remember it as round and warm, but see no evidence of its existence.
It's cold as hell in the morning when you leave for work, so you dress warmly. You wish for warmth but it never seems to arrive. The cold and rain drags on, and soon you're feeling more depressed than in the deepest darkest days of winter
And just when you think you can bear it no more, at last, the sun appears, and like magic, your mood lifts, and the world is right again. The sun shines, flowers blossom, your neighbours get rowdy on the balcony, and the world is as it should be.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "hollow". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]
Hollow- Squiddy Geiger - April 25, 2012
The page was empty. God, I hated that, but I loved it, too. The fear and dread of drawing a blank, mixed with the wonder of a completely open sheet, knowing your writing could take you anywhere; no boundaries had been set yet, anything and everything was still allowed.
Unfortunately, I was drawing a blank on this occasion. It didn't bother me as much as it used to, though. I used to get angry and frustrated when the words wouldn't come, but now, it was ok. I knew if I just let my mind wander for a bit, it would find something to start us off.
My thoughts flitted here and there, searching for inspiration. Nothing yet, move on, keep moving. Until they headed into more hazardous territory, and I was lost. Now I couldn't write, because I'd fallen into the pit, remembering a time long past. A time with her.
I wallowed in lost love. I gorged myself on self pity. I went over all I had lost when she left. She'd ripped my heart out, she'd stomped on it, and then kicked it into a corner. I suffered as I'd suffered then. I'd thought myself safe from this, but I'd been fooling myself.
After what seemed like hours, but proved to be less than one, I stared at the page again. It seemed to taunt me now. It dared me to find something to write about, but I could not. My mind was empty, my heart hollow and barren. I hated myself for feeling this way.
Then, my Muse spoke to me. I nodded, and smiled at her. This was it. I would rip her out of my mind, and banish her to the written page. She would never ambush me again. I started to type, and the words flowed, and as they flowed, the hollow was replaced with contentment. Before I knew it, it was morning, and the pages had been filled.
The hollow was gone.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "green". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]
Green - Squiddy Geiger - April 25, 2012
Pierre watched sourly as the two cavorted on the beach. Chasing each other, pawing at each other, kissing. I twas disgusting. And it had been going on all week.
He wished he'd never introduced them. Celia was a beautiful girl, full of life and so incredibly smart. Larry was a nice guy, or he would not be friends with him, but really, he wouldn't wish him on anyone, he was hardly a catch.
That hadn't stopped Celia from falling for him almost immediately. She'd even asked him about Larry after they'd first met, and he'd been diplomatic. Perhaps too diplomatic, since she hadn't gotten the message that he was bad news.
"Hey, Pierre! Come swimming with us!" Celia shouted. "The water is great!" He waved, smiling, but shook his head, no. "Oh come on, spoil sport," she insisted, but he did not get up.
Pierre started to fantasize about ways to keep them apart. Each method more bizarre and fantastic than the previous one. He especially liked the idea of getting Larry transferred to one of the company's East Coast offices - with a promotion, of course, as incentive. It would require a lot of pulled strings, but he could do it.
It was when he got to the ideas that involved death and dismemberment of his erstwhile friend that he realized something was wrong. Understanding took hold of him: he was jealous! The Green Eyes Monster had a firm hold of him, and was helping him plot against his best friend!
The worst of it? He hadn't even realized he loved Celia, but it was true, and now it was driving him crazy that he'd not known it, and had not acted upon it.
He got up, waved to the two of them in the water, and shouted "I'm going for a walk!" He needed to think. A good long hard think.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "missing". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]
Missing - Squiddy Geiger - April 24, 2012
I had it all planned. I knew exactly what I was going to do, when I was going to do it, and how it would be accomplished. It was all going to be so perfect.
And then you came along.
You appeared in a flash, you rampaged through my emotions, then disappeared. Without so much as a word. You left me broken and empty. And I got so far off track that I don't know if I can get where I was headed.
Oh, please don't misunderstand, I loved every minute of our misadventures, and yes, it was my fault I let things slide to be with you. I know this. So I don't blame you for any of this; I wish merely to explain, and by explaining, perhaps understand things better myself.
While we played, a year of carefully built foundations leading to the next phase of my plan were thrown aside. The planning had gone smoothly, the building had been easy and successful. It may take longer this time, or, if the Gods are kind, it will go faster. I don't know which.
I have my friends to help me. They're good friends, and they'll guide me when necessary, and kick me mentally when it is needed, as they always have. I have good friends. They allowed me to ignore them for you, and accepted me back when it was over.
I hope you are well where you've gone, that your journeys are fulfilling, and that you find what you are seeking. There is a piece missing from my soul now. It will always be missing, even as I build around it and find other things to replace it. No, not replace. Nothing can replace you. But I will grow and prosper again soon, even while I miss you.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "shelter". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Shelter- Squiddy Geiger - April 23, 2012
Life hits, I need a break
I can't face another day
Life hits, I need to breathe
I want to walk away
I turn to you, you pick me up
You brush away the dirt
I turn to you, you cheer me up
You shelter me from hurt
You're always there, you keep me sane
When life has left me drained
You're always there, you dress my wounds
When life has left me battered
With the slightest touch, you heal me
Your hands a form of balm
With the softest word, you cure me
Your voice the source of calm
Life hits, but that's ok
You help me face the day
Life hits, but I can breathe
No need to walk away
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "valve". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Thread- Squiddy Geiger - April 22, 2012
The room was cold, despite being full of people, not quite sardine-close, but full. The blizzard howled around them, a banshee screaming to be granted admittance.
They'd gathered in this building when the highway had become impassable. The police had directed them here, the only shelter for miles, and it had been a welcome respite from the weather, at least at first.
Greg and his family had arrived to find the building was full already, but they'd found a corner to settle into, using their bags and jackets to make the floor comfortable. It had been cramped, but comfortable enough, until a few hours later they noticed it was starting to get cool in the building.
A few people had gone into the services room to discover that the heating system was out. The culprit was soon found; a valve had seized, and there was no way to fix it. Without it, the system would not work, and there was no replacement. It was on the list of parts that had been ordered, but weren't due to arrive for another few days.
Now, two days later, it was damned cold inside. Better than the minus forty outside, but if the weather didn't let up soon, it could be disastrous. Greg was worried, but he kept a positive attitude for the kids. Mary knew him well enough to know it was a mask.
In the wee hours of the third day, it seemed to let up a bit. The howls and thumps weren't so intense or prolonged. Greg started to hope it might be over soon. He watched through the dimmed light as someone else, curious about the storm, went to the door and pushed it open to peek out. The man disappeared, and the howling started again, as intense as ever.
Greg couldn't be sure if he'd really seen the long clawed hand as the man was pulled through. The door slammed shut again behind him. He blinked, and hoped he was dreaming. If he wasn't, it would be another very long, very cold day.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "thread". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Thread- Squiddy Geiger - April 20, 2012
Evan studied the screen for awhile, hoping to find a pattern. Nothing stood out; nothing made an impression. It had to be here somewhere, or he'd be screwed.
Lila paced up and down behind him as he worked. The note had been precise: figure out what the rest of the message meant, or they would execute Annette. It could be a bluff, but he had no way of knowing. He had no idea who they were, or what they wanted, other than what had been in the message.
Annette was their daughter. She was in Grade Six and should have been in school, but when the note arrived, Lila called the school. They'd told her that Jason had called to say she was sick. She was not in school. Jason, of course, had not called. He'd been with Lila since Anette left teh house for school. They had not yet called the police because the time limit was short - he had another 45 minutes to figure things out.
Jason scanned the work, and tried to remember what he'd learned about cryptology over the years. He scanned the page, looking for patterns. Was it a simple substitution or complex? could he just go by them being offset by a set amount? It had to be simple. An hour to break a complex code was impossible.
He did a search online for decryption pages, and found what he was looking for - a page you could copy and paste into, that would decrypt. He pasted the entire message in, and was rewarded. It was further instructions, including a phone number to call, each number written out long form: two-zero-one five-five-five seven-three-one-six. He grabbed the phone and dialled it quickly.
A recording came on, with a URL to go to, and instructions on how to find the next set of instructions. Pick the tenth, fourteenth, and twenty-fifth words in the first paragraph, then the first, seventh and eighth in the second paragraph, and so-on. He had to call back three times to get the message to play again while he wrote feverishly.
The deadline for getting through it to the next bit was only five minutes away, so he worked quickly. It was an email address to send message to, consisting solely of the word 'hurry'. By his watch, he made it with a minute to spare, but god help them if the email was delayed anywhere!
Through six more roadblocks he fought to keep up, until the last, another puzzle, defeated him. He deciphered it only to read: "We're sorry, you have already missed this deadline. However, you've been good sports so Annette's location will be relayed to you in one hour. Please accept our gratitude in playing The Game."