Day 4
I'm not that far just yet. I *really* hope to get a lot done this weekend. I'm only at 715 words, but I think I'll write a little more later this evening. Here's what I wrote yesterday and thus far today:
"Greggers, Nadia". Now it can’t be long. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, or is it her mother? She don’t remember any longer. It had always been her mother making her do this, and she couldn’t disappoint her now. Not when she’s dead. The only person who would have helped her through this. Dead! Gone! Will never return. She died too soon. That stupid accident. Why did it happen? Why did she have to go there?
"Hanson, Pernille". The others look so perfect. She’s sure of not being picked. She has so many scars. That’s not a good thing. But they don’t understand. They can’t. It’s too terrible to be understood. She feels everyone’s looking at her. It annoys her. Why can’t they look the other way? She knows she’s not the most pretty girl in the room. They don’t have to tell her. No they are not telling her, but they thinks it. It’s what their eyes tells her. Or is it just her imagination? Her mother always told her how beautiful she was, but she’s gone. She can’t tell her any longer. She think she’s fat, although she know it’s not true. The doctors tells her she should gain weight, but she can’t. She’ll be too fat, too big for this. To big for her dream to come true. But again, is it her’s or her mother’s dream? You can’t really say. For far too long her mother’s dream was her dream.
"Harrison, Jenny". Only two more to go. She had always loved being on the stage. Performing. Dancing. But a thing she loved even more was singing, but her mother never really understood. Always the ballet. Never stopping. Always the same moves over and over again, till she did them perfect. Life hadn’t been too easy. Who has ever said, that life was easy? Not her mother. She told that whatever you wanted to get, you had to fight for it to get it. No matter how hard that seemed. If you didn’t you would never get anywhere in life.
"Jones, Hope". Ballet. Her life. Her mother’s life, not really her’s. Though she liked dancing, it wasn’t that. Not at all. It was just that her mother pushed her. Even when she was too tired to carry on. "Dance my dear. Dance!" Even when she almost fainted because of the pain. "If you can’t handle the pain you will never become something great with the ballet!" "But mum, I can’t. I’ve been dancing for 5 hours now, can’t I just take a small break." They were looking again. Why is it, that they had to look at her? Those primadonna’s, not a single pound too much on their body, she on the other hand was too big, in her own eyes. She just had to take off a few more pounds and it all would be perfect. Or would it? wasn’t it what she had said 10 pounds ago? Always the same thoughts. Why can’t they stop. They were killing her.
(word count: 508)
Ok, someone has asked me if it would be easier for me to start writing in Danish and then trancelate it to english. My answer will be "no!" I would feel like doing twice as much work. And when I write I don't trancelate. I'm thinking english, when I use the english language. It would just slow the prosses even more, if I had to trancelate form Danish to English. Actually I often find, that there are words I can't find in the Danish lanuage, but I can find them in the english. Don't ask me why it's like that, because I seriously don't know... not really. I have a theory, that it's because I've always watched english movies and lately begun to read evenmore english, but I can't be sure about it.
The same person has asked me "what has happened to her mom?" I don't know yet! This is all Sami has wanted to tell me yet. It's her story, I'm just writing what she tells me to write. Maybe it was a traffic accident. Maybe she got murderet on her way somewhere. I don't know yet.
But I do know a little bit of Sami's story. What had happened to her. But that will come later in the story. Don't worry. That's what the story is about. I will say, that one of the things I myself has expirienced on my own body, and it's not a pleasant thing (or else there wouldn't be a story, right!?)
Well, I'm off to see if I'm able to write a little more...
"Greggers, Nadia". Now it can’t be long. She had been waiting for this moment for so long, or is it her mother? She don’t remember any longer. It had always been her mother making her do this, and she couldn’t disappoint her now. Not when she’s dead. The only person who would have helped her through this. Dead! Gone! Will never return. She died too soon. That stupid accident. Why did it happen? Why did she have to go there?
"Hanson, Pernille". The others look so perfect. She’s sure of not being picked. She has so many scars. That’s not a good thing. But they don’t understand. They can’t. It’s too terrible to be understood. She feels everyone’s looking at her. It annoys her. Why can’t they look the other way? She knows she’s not the most pretty girl in the room. They don’t have to tell her. No they are not telling her, but they thinks it. It’s what their eyes tells her. Or is it just her imagination? Her mother always told her how beautiful she was, but she’s gone. She can’t tell her any longer. She think she’s fat, although she know it’s not true. The doctors tells her she should gain weight, but she can’t. She’ll be too fat, too big for this. To big for her dream to come true. But again, is it her’s or her mother’s dream? You can’t really say. For far too long her mother’s dream was her dream.
"Harrison, Jenny". Only two more to go. She had always loved being on the stage. Performing. Dancing. But a thing she loved even more was singing, but her mother never really understood. Always the ballet. Never stopping. Always the same moves over and over again, till she did them perfect. Life hadn’t been too easy. Who has ever said, that life was easy? Not her mother. She told that whatever you wanted to get, you had to fight for it to get it. No matter how hard that seemed. If you didn’t you would never get anywhere in life.
"Jones, Hope". Ballet. Her life. Her mother’s life, not really her’s. Though she liked dancing, it wasn’t that. Not at all. It was just that her mother pushed her. Even when she was too tired to carry on. "Dance my dear. Dance!" Even when she almost fainted because of the pain. "If you can’t handle the pain you will never become something great with the ballet!" "But mum, I can’t. I’ve been dancing for 5 hours now, can’t I just take a small break." They were looking again. Why is it, that they had to look at her? Those primadonna’s, not a single pound too much on their body, she on the other hand was too big, in her own eyes. She just had to take off a few more pounds and it all would be perfect. Or would it? wasn’t it what she had said 10 pounds ago? Always the same thoughts. Why can’t they stop. They were killing her.
(word count: 508)
Ok, someone has asked me if it would be easier for me to start writing in Danish and then trancelate it to english. My answer will be "no!" I would feel like doing twice as much work. And when I write I don't trancelate. I'm thinking english, when I use the english language. It would just slow the prosses even more, if I had to trancelate form Danish to English. Actually I often find, that there are words I can't find in the Danish lanuage, but I can find them in the english. Don't ask me why it's like that, because I seriously don't know... not really. I have a theory, that it's because I've always watched english movies and lately begun to read evenmore english, but I can't be sure about it.
The same person has asked me "what has happened to her mom?" I don't know yet! This is all Sami has wanted to tell me yet. It's her story, I'm just writing what she tells me to write. Maybe it was a traffic accident. Maybe she got murderet on her way somewhere. I don't know yet.
But I do know a little bit of Sami's story. What had happened to her. But that will come later in the story. Don't worry. That's what the story is about. I will say, that one of the things I myself has expirienced on my own body, and it's not a pleasant thing (or else there wouldn't be a story, right!?)
Well, I'm off to see if I'm able to write a little more...
posted by BGSKG | 8:33 PM
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