Camp Bloodscar II

The very first time she flew, it hardly felt significant. It was as she was strolling along the beach at Cape Cod, watching the waves break in a frothy white line of exuberance. For a wild minute she longed to be as free, and her mind simply obeyed her wish, letting her rise above the suddenly lighter air. She took in a deep breath, and the moment passed. Nearby were her parents, wary eyes scanning the horizon. It would not do to defy normalcy in front of their very eyes, that much she knew.

So it was that Angela came to know she could fly, and others couldn’t. That night she snuck out and tested her newfound ability, soaring over the ocean and in between the rocks. It was dark and deserted, but she only felt reassured by the fact. But soon they moved further inland, and nothing inspired her the way the waves did. Try as she did, she simply could not fly when away from the ocean.

As more and more settlers arrived, Angela realized that this was a secret she must guard at all costs, for her life in this new land was uncertain, and the world was dangerous. Why she felt this she could not tell you, but feel it she did. So much as she longed to spread her arms and feel the wind in her face from the Birds’ Land, she stayed away from the ocean that was rapidly gaining crowds, and kept to herself, sad and quiet. Until one day she heard of a vast blue ocean out west, wild and unkempt, unseen by most men, and certainly by all women. A promised land. A heaven to fly in, unnoticed, unbothered. And so she set off.

…to be continued

Blue

Camp Bloodscar

It’s been 27 years since the water first began to flow deep in the midst of the Mojave desert. Parched land lipped the life-giving blueness as it cascaded over the sun-soaked rocks, and grayish-pink clouds swept in from the west to cocoon the once arid ground in a holy trinity of fresh rain, stream, and breeze. It was in this refreshing oasis, hidden from the common eye, that Camp Bloodscar was born. 

It would seem strange, or even painful, to the unfamiliar soul that such a beautiful atmosphere be marred by a name as fearful and violent as Bloodscar, but anyone privy to the Camp’s story and origin would understand, without a doubt, why it was fitting. You see, Camp Bloodscar traces its roots to a period of time much earlier than just 27 years ago.  

Back when the land was still thought to be inhabited by savages and wild beasts, a certain intrepid young Brit ran away from home in Eastern America to explore the exciting unknown. From lorries to cycles, she sought every means of transport possible to go west. By the time she was in what is now known as Texas, she was forced to walk. So walk she did, carrying her food and water in a rough sack, trudging over dune, hill and cliff until at last she reached the blue swirling ocean. Her name was Angela, and the city she started they thus called Los Angeles. 

Yet despite all their disbelief at a girl so fearless, they did not know her secret. They did not know what kept her awake at night, and they did not know why she went west without giving up hope or strength. They did not know that she could fly. 

…to be continued

Blue

Choosing darkness – or am I?

Who am I? A tired single-mom handling two jobs and trying not to let go of her passion for writing? A pimply preteen who simply likes to string words together? A college athlete who would rather no one know about his sensitive side?

I could be any of those and none. I could be anyone on the face of this planet, from your neighbor to someone halfway across the globe. The truth is, you not knowing my identity gives me the comfort and freedom that my somewhat shy self who cares about what others think wouldn’t otherwise find.

As I sat trying to write for my other, non-anonymous blog, my fingers unsure and my mind second-guessing every sentence – I decided I needed a change. So Inkstruck was formed, my identity in the dark and my words far more in the open than they have ever been before. So feel free to stick around, poke and prod at the content I put out, and air an opinion or two along the way. This time, there will be no regrets.

Yours,

Blue