#creative writin

Get to know me better ;)

 Name- Hi Shelby Here and I am new to this Trumblr World lol

B-day: June 26, 2002, Gen Z gal XD

Username: Honestly, I always liked the name, Shelby, which also related to compelling well-known characters in the series Peaky Blinders. So it makes me think that I am a part of their family. LOL!

Meaning Behind My Account: I want to start writing down my thoughts and opinions I feel about the world. Several aspects of society have always bewildered my mind, so I figured writing a blog would help review my interpretations and see if any like-minded humans across the world feel the same way that I do… Also, I want to create a safe place where anyone can ask me questions, and to build a stable friendship with each other!

Why Create A Blog?

Truth be told… I never thought I had what it takes to create a blog. I primarily, view myself as being non-instertesting and pretty “basic”. However, the main reason for tapping into the blog world was to create a documented diary to reflect the years of being in my 20s and overall just looking back on the memories I have created in the past. Personally, my philosophy is it is always good to look back on the past and reflect on what you can do to become a better version of yourself. To wrap this post up I want to clarify how I want to get to know myself better and to improve my life skills with the world! 

I sit on my bed and lace my skates,

crisp white, four wheeled, and ankle-high,

thinking how familiar the motion is.

My father has just left the house,

knocked on my door to say goodbye on the way out.

 He had smiled at the sight of the skates,

appreciating as he does

my love for the sport he taught me.

But I still feel guilty there, on solid ground.

 It’s been how long since I’ve been on the ice?

I haven’t landed a double loop in six months

or a double flip in a year

and last July was the latest time

I practiced a routine to music in the rink.

 My dad doesn’t skate anymore,

not since his not-quite-injury,

the overuse pain in his can’t-quite-bend knee.

He was never one to live vicariously,

but I think it did him good to know

that I still skated, to stand on the rubber floor

of the iceplex and watch me glide around the rink.

 He hasn’t had the chance in a while.

 But the memory of his smile reassures with me,

the way he looked as he left, noticing the wheels,

his excitement when I’d brought the roller skates home.

 So I finish lacing my skates and I leave my room,

wondering if maybe there’s time,

before his car pulls off into the road,

for him to catch sight of me there,

we all have a list of our favourite things. the things that make our cheeks nip with a smile. the things that make us feel warm in the cold. the things that we sought after when experiencing the most negative of emotions.

~Stolen Winter part~

Frustrated but unable to do anything but be dragged I resigned myself to scanning my surroundings.The walls reached impossibly high into the atmosphere making me feel no bigger than a flea. The walls cut with intricately carved stone that arched and spun like graceful dancer stretching all the way up to where the ceiling touched. This place, wherever it was, looked as if it was an abandoned gothic castle of sorts. As we moved our way through the corridors that seemed to stretch forever a buzzing like somebody left their phone on vibrate in their pocket began to trickle into my ears.

“She of jade hair who dies?” something whispered with a raspy hushed voice off higher than my eyes could scan, gooseflesh rising on my skin I kept my head low. Electricity buzzed on my skin as their voices grew in the corridor,

“Has to, too many winters there.” something around the same tone answered on the other side of the hall, I shivered as the electricity intensified, the guard on my left went ridged as if her spirit left her body.

“Frozen to death, or execution?” the one who talked first asked, tears pricked the back of my eyes making them itch and sting. I don’t like how this conversation is going… it’s making the bottom left side of my heart pinch again. Holding back my whimpers I waited for somebody in my group to say something.

“Not yet sure, stars say nothing.” the stars? Seconds ticked by as more voices joined in making individual voices practically impossible to hear.

“Abetha? Are you hearing this?” the women on my left who had gone rigid asked, my entire entourage paused abruptly. My toes curled tight into my feet as an itching to sour back to my prison engulfed me. Finally able to look around I scanned the ceiling frantically as the whispers grew in accumulation. I swore that on the right side of the ceiling I saw the tip of an iridescent wing? Small paper thin, maybe a few inches long? The women with tightly braided hair looked around, the whispers no longer eligible as they all grew a few octaves lower.

“I am,” the women with tight braids who I now know as Abetha answered her voice chilling with an emotion I could not put a name to.

“She sick?” I heard a voice asked above the whispering that seemed to grow in pitch,

“Who is sick?” Abetha demanded obviously not having the conversations go unnoticed any longer, the rest of  the guards stood pencil straight waiting for something to happen. The voices hushed as if threatening to disappear altogether, the women on my left seemed to shake.

“Madam I don’t think it's’-”

“-Winter girl.” the whisper's said in unison. Everybody and everything went dead silent, even the breathing ceased to exist. My eyes darted around the room as the people in front looked at me with phantom expressions color draining from their faces, all except for Abetha who plowed on with her questions despite the hush that had fallen over the corridor.

she walked down the middle fo the isle, skidding her fingers along the binding’s of the books as she passed. Her mind was working too fast as thoughts of another time, another day, played like a slide show through her brain.