Open Your Eyes

‘Open your eyes.’

Ever since she first learnt to speak — did she ever really learn? — that was all she could say: open your eyes. At first, we thought it was just the babble of a child learning to speak, but later… later, when the words became clearer and she repeated and repeated and repeated and repeated them until we felt like pounding our hands against our skulls like frustrated chimps, we began to get worried.

We took her to a specialist. We took her to dozens of specialists who specialised in everything from child psychology to gymnastics but none of them could explain her fixation. No one could fix it.

Slowly, however, we began to hear nuances. Perhaps it was from desperation and degradation, but when we waved her off to her first day of school, her ‘open your eyes’ sounded like a refusal to say goodbye; when she got her gcse results and called us to tell us about it, her ‘open your eyes’ sounded relieved and ecstatic. We learnt to listen for the emotion behind her words instead of the words themselves, or to get her to write down what she wanted to say if we had to. But she never stopped using those words, ‘open your eyes’.

Not until her father died.

It was Christmas day, and, like every other in the twenty years of her life, she ran into our room, shouting ‘open your eyes’ joyfully, because, for once, she was using her words in the correct context.

‘Open your eyes!’

I nudged my husband.

‘Open your eyes?’

I nudged him again. Our daughter sat on the edge of the bed.

‘Open your eyes.’ She nudged him, and I repeated her phrase. ‘Open your eyes, open your eyes, open your eyes!’

But he was gone.

After that, Gelareh never spoke one word again.


The Little Engine That Couldn’t: Christmas Blog Chain

Yes indeedy — another blog chain from this crazy fellow. This time, it is a Christmas-based blog chain (because it’s Christmas). And, since I haven’t been writing very much lately, you can have a little Christmas story.

Continue reading

Jumping the Refridgerator

There’s always that one book or film in a franchise where you wonder why they bothered: the Godfather 3; the Indiana Jones film with the aliens and Shiea La Beouf; all of the Sookie Stackhouse books; the third Mummy film where the dead lady returns as a different person and they don’t bother even trying to explain it; the last few Morganville Vampires, etc. They make it because adding the name to it makes them money, but they’ve got to the point where they’ve run out of ideas and/or are sick to death over the whole idea– or, sometimes, they simply aren’t aware that they’ve got to the end of what they can possibly do and carry on regardless.

So, what can you and I do not to let our super-famous, super-successful series get to our heads enough that we throw it all down the pan?

Continue reading

TCWT Blog Chain: Living it Up in Fiction

Yes yes I know it’s late. I know I didn’t post last week — I have just been bombarded with homework lately. Sorry.

tcwt-3This month’s prompt is:

Which fictional world would you most like to be a part of, and what role do you think you would fulfil in it?

This is a tricky one — mainly because bad things tend to happen in fictional worlds, and I’m too wimpy to be a hero. I’ve heard that saying about ‘some people have greatness thrust upon them’ before, and let me tell you, it’s a lie. You have to be a great person before having the chance to be great thrown at you. You have to have the courage hidden inside you. Unfortunately, as a recent Zombie Run has taught me, I don’t have courage hidden inside me unless it’s so deeply hidden that you’d need one of those special trucks with winches to pull it out.

So, no dangerous worlds for me then — or at least a world in which I can be safe while everyone else does the dangerous stuff. That makes it pretty difficult to think of a world I could be part of — after all, any world with monsters in it is out.

I have it! (NB: I am writing this as I think, in case you haven’t noticed.)

I would live in LA Weatherly’s Angel. I wouldn’t be one of the Angel Killers because I am a wimp who won’t touch a gun, but it would be cool to be one of the angel-worshippers to some extent. I mean, sure, you end up with cancer or some other awful disease, but you live a life full of meaning, in a society where everyone works together and cares for each other, where the hatred that humans seem to need to feel is focused onto the almost mythical AKs. It’s probably a pretty sweet life until you become ill. Even better, if you’re lucky and have a rubbish aura, you don’t get fed off! That would be my mission in life — to have a rubbish aura so the angels didn’t feed. Then I’d be able to hang around a nice group of people, living my life in safety and bettering what we all believed was the greater good, until one day the angels would (SPOILER) be defeated, hopefully near where I lived so that I could just happen across the beautiful half-angel Seb and steal his heart (END OF SPOILERS) and life would be dandy.

In short, I would live in any fictional world that would give me a no higher than average chance of dying.


4th December ~
5th December ~
6th December ~
7th December ~
8th December ~
9th December ~
10th December ~
11th December ~
12th December ~
13th December ~
14th December ~
15th December ~
16th December ~
17th December ~
18th December ~
19th December ~
20th December ~
21st December ~
22nd December ~
23rd December ~
24th December ~