Every time I plan on doing something, I fall sick.
No, I kid you not, this really does happen. Whether be it a plan of going somewhere, watching something or doing something, my body decides to fail me at the very last moment. Although it never does ruin my plans or programs, but doing something with a sick body is never anything nice, but I endure it nonetheless. Just like I'm enduring now, as I write away with a runny nose while squinting at the laptop.
I’d been planning to start my fiction for a few days, I even planned out a vague layout of how I might start the whole thing. But then out of nowhere, this mild fever and cold took a hold of me, and thus I now have to deal with a runny nose and a constant headache as I try to get on with my plan, while also managing my education life. University life is never easy, but now it feels like a goddamn torture, especially at the time when you are in a class full of people, trying to control a thunderous sneeze in the middle of a lecture. And, let’s not even think about the sore throat situation. I’ve been practically drowning myself with ginger tea for two days, and even if that does provide a certain type of relief, it is very short-lived.
Anyway, so I can clearly say that I haven’t made any headway with my writing, but I do have written down a couple of verses, and as a person who is just excited to record their writing journey, I’ll dump that part down here. Maybe I will use it somewhere in my story, maybe I won’t. Maybe it’ll just be another one of my scrap writings that will never be completed, But it is still something, and for now, even that feels like a lot.
So here it is, the first scrap I've written this year:
The warm breeze of autumn rushed through the valley around him, carrying away the dust of the ancient city that now slept under the earth.
Unlike the city of Kars, with its lively atmosphere and friendly residents, Ani spoke of a world that was quiet and forgotten. The valley that once held a city so glorious, now lay in crumbles, with only a handful of buildings that told the tragic tale, of the city that was conquered and then, lost.
The camera in his hand snapped pictures restlessly as he walked around the valley, taking in the scenery as his eyes skimmed over fallen brick walls and broken bridges. His trip to Turkey was coming to an end soon. He knew it was time to find a new place. A new place to begin a new chapter. A new place with new stories, that were yet to be discovered by his eyes.
His fingers skimmed over the walls of a broken monastery, feeling the solid structure that had stood there for decades under his palm, fuming with misery. A sudden rush of sadness overcame him as he eyed its broken state.
The monastery had seen far too much bloodshed and sorrow. Too many wars and horrors had scarred her as time passed, yet she still survived. The years of abuse, both from men and nature, couldn’t bring her down to the ground in defeat, and she still stood with her glorious high ceilings that were lined with exquisite art, singing of a time that was beautiful. A river flowed directly below her; evidence of how the world moved, as the monastery stood still.
He couldn’t help but wonder what would've happened if he had also chosen to be still just like her for once. What would've become of him, if he had never left and stayed; letting his roots grow into the ground where he was born? He wondered what it would've felt like; never leaving home.
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