Tuesday, July 31, 2012

Still Watching the Olympics

Watching Michael Phelps with the Men's swimming team, and the Women's Gymnastic theme here is kind of really uplifting. Maybe some of them don't believe it, but they're so young and they've accomplished so much. Even if this is Phelp's last Olympics, or even if he only gets one more go, there's already so much he's done at such a young age. Twenty-seven!

A few days ago, I was browsing around the AMA subreddit, and there was a woman who was turning 100 years old. People got to ask her questions, and for some reason, at my age, I always imagine life kind of stops at the age of sixty, as if there wasn't a chance for some thirty or forty more years.

If they can accomplish so much before hitting thirty, how much can all of us do? Maybe it won't be as grand as being the greatest Olympic athlete of all time, but it'll surely be something worthwhile if we try.

P.S: I hit 50 pages, and this needs some heavy editing. I have a load of bloody writing tics ("just as..." "it seemed like..." "whirled around..." "threatening to..." "as if..."
            She sucked in a gulp of air, stood at the tip of her toes. Then she whirled around and bolted up the staircase.
            She heard the jester’s scream echo, the sound banging against the walls, threatening to throw her off the staircase. She could hear the scrapping and piercing of wood, growing as something approached her, crawling, mounting, louder and faster than the beating of her heart. “Hurry!” Muñequita hissed, and Dream pushed her legs to go farther, circling around the room with the stairs, not daring to look behind her shoulder.
            “Come back child, come back!” Amadeus was singing.
            Her breath was uneven and uncontrollable, and her hands were shaking as she held them into tight fists. Run, run, run, run, she repeated in her mind, over and over again as the blue button grew bigger and bigger. The jester was screaming things, no longer in a language that she could understand, and he was somehow growing closer but far enough that his blades were yet to harm her. Dream wasn’t fast enough, she knew it, he was there, so close.
            She let out a gasp and a small scream as she smashed her body against the blue button.
            It all happened so fast.
            The large container hissed just as she heard something explode outside, right before a deafening ringing sound claimed her ears. She flung her hands up to shield them as the sound vibrated, but as the container slowly opened, the stairs which she now stood on shifted down at an angle immediately, knocking her off her feet.
            Before she knew what had happened, she was sliding down the changed staircase, grinding up against the walls while her legs harshly skinned from the wooden surface. The container at her side creaked and squealed as it opened, and when she turned to it, her eyes widened in shock. There was a creature inside.

No comments:

Post a Comment

"Science and science fiction have done a kind of dance over the last century... The scientists make a finding. It inspires science fiction writers to write about it, and a host of young people read the science fiction and are excited, and inspired to become scientists...which they do, which then feeds again into another generation of science fiction and science..."
- Carl Sagan, in his message to future explorers of Mars.