That feeling you're getting.
That feeling of sinking in a cold ocean. You being submerged by a pair of grasping hands. When you look who it is, you see a phantom of yourself pulling you deeper into the depths. You don't want to go where he's leading... dragging you to stay. You know you can't hold your breath forever. You tried before, it didn't work out.
So you thrash your way to the surface. You fight. You fight against yourself. You fight for the breath of fresh air that's been taken away. Nothing will be the same, but that's okay.
You're still here, grasping onto a plank of wood from the inevitable sinking ship.
When I finished Rise of the Tomb Raider, there was an underwhelming sense of disappointment. In the back of my head, I could tell something was off.
It was during the climax that I noticed it retreaded the ending of Tomb Raider (2013) too closely. From the snow covered environments to the linear pathway full of enemies. The only divergent change it had was the ending boss--Konstantin with a helicopter.
I know the old analogy "If it's not broken, don't fix it", but it should have made an effort to be different, especially near the end.
You can call me a fag. You can call me a loser. You can call me nothing. You can call me anything you want.
I stopped listening a long time ago.
It's Christmas season. Along with it comes the pure white snow on the ground, the skeletal trees swaying--lashing out--in the wind, and, of course, the story of a boy and his magical bag.
For about a year--on-and-off--I've been thinking about a story. It came from the idea that I wanted to do something like Alice's Adventure's in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll or like Little Nemo: Adventures in Slumberland, and I wanted it to be as dark as The Thief of Always by Clive Barker--maybe even darker if I can get away with it.
Maybe one day all the pieces will come tumbling my way. Maybe wishful thinking but who really knows, right?
I’ve been busy. I’ve got deadlines to fulfill. All three of them ending by October 31st. It’s been pretty strenuous on me. At the end of most days, I find myself shut out from my mind until the workers who maintain it tell me, “You’re ready to go back to work. Remember the furnace is broken, so if you feel light-headed, you’ve got to stop or we’ll be dragging you out.”
I hope by November 1st, I’ll be more active on the site than However, I will find the time to vote for the best—not my favourite— short story of the month.
I’ve got another deadline. But that’s on December 2nd. I’m not worried about that. Not at all.
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