Writing Aficionado on Wordpress

I do not feel like I am having much success using Blogger. For that reason, I have stopped posting my works to this blog. If you want to read my writing, you should definitely check out my Wordpress blog. There, I post frequently and feel much more welcome to the blogging community.
The link to my Wordpress blog:
http://thewritingaficionado.wordpress.com/
Hope you visit soon!

Fear

It hits you like a train,

And you’re left running—

Running

To the point of no return,

And it’s coursing through your veins;

You’re trembling,

Shaking—

Tears are streaming down your eyes.

It’s coming for you—

You know this

With a certainty

That’s sharp as a knife.

Sharp as the knife

That’s piercing

Your mind,

Slowly but surely.

And you’re in the dark,

Alone—

No one to save you

Or to understand,

But no one would understand

If you tried.

You’re crazy.

No, no! It’s real—

Then you’re lost

In a maze,

And your shadow

Becomes a monster.

And it’s chasing you

On your heels.

A dead end—

You can’t turn back.

Trapped,

Nowhere to go.

You wait

For the end.

When suddenly

It all goes away,

And you’re left

The same as before,

But different

Because in the dark

You look back

Over your shoulder.

There will always be

A drop of fear

Still lingering

In your blood.

The Music Box

The Music Box

When she was a child, starry-eyed and enchanted by the world, she had a music box propped up on top of her dresser. It was a simple little thing—made of dark wood and embellished solely by a design of golden flowers on the top. But once it was opened, a tiny ballerina was revealed, rotating in a lovely yellow dressed bedecked with roses. She danced in perfect accompaniment of the music—a melody of whimsy and nostalgia and lost dreams. The little girl became enthralled by the magic of the box every time she opened it. She spun around her room, keeping in time with the song and pretending she was the ballerina—full of grace and poise and a beauty that could only be described as timeless.

Now the little girl has grown into a woman, not-so-starry-eyed and disenchanted by the world she has become accustomed to. She does not know what happened to the music box, but it is not sitting atop her new dresser in the new home she lives in. At night, however, she hears the song—a melody of whimsy and nostalgia and lost dreams. In her sleep, she is the ballerina, and she twirls around with a beauty that is timeless but reminds her of time and how quickly it can slip away.

Splendidly Simple Strawberry Balls

Ingredients

1 tablespoon butter

1 can sweetened condensed milk

1 teaspoon strawberry Jell-O powder

½ cup sugar

Directions

Mix the butter, condensed milk, and Jell-O powder in a pan over medium-low heat. When it boils, mix for 8 to 10 minutes until it thickens and you can see the bottom of the pan while mixing. Be careful so that it does not burn; you may need to lower the heat.

Remove from the heat. Butter a medium-sized plate and pour the mixture over it. Let it cool completely. Rub butter onto your hands and form the mixture into teaspoon-sized balls. Roll the balls in sugar.

Makes about 20 balls.

Dreams, Human Nature, and Revelations

     Last night while I was asleep, I drew back my curtains and saw the planet Saturn drifting by. I had a certainty that someone was about to bomb the Grand Canyon. Oh, and it was doomsday.

      I used to think dreams possessed some kind of meaning—they predicted the future, or they were a reflection of your subconscious desires. But if all that is true, then what was my most recent dream trying to tell me? I’m going to be an astronaut? I want to go to the Grand Canyon, but someone will try to stop me from doing so? Science never was my strong point, and I’m not exactly yearning to see a huge hole in the middle of the desert.

      So I’ve come to realize that people overanalyze their dreams. When you’re asleep, you don’t become a psychic, and your secret, innermost longings aren’t going to reveal themselves to you. Dreams are just random thoughts that float around in our subconscious minds—something we saw or thought about that day comes back to us in a different form. Nevertheless, it’s easy to hope you were given some kind of sign in your sleep—a bit of guidance to put you on the right path, or a hint about events to come.

      And it’s the same for most situations in life. People scrutinize the most trivial matters, hoping to realize something they didn’t notice before. It becomes much easier when you take things as they come, without the endless questioning and investigation. Life isn’t about trying to know things beforehand. It’s about surprises and making mistakes so you can learn more about yourself through them.