About My Blog!

Hi everyone and welcome to my creative writing blog!

This blog was created as an outlet for me to put up all of the writing that I've been doing for years. Although this blog is mainly for me to express myself and have some sort of motivation to keep writing, I also created it as a way to get feedback on my work.

My goal is not to test if I want to be a professional writer (trust me, I have other plans:)). I honestly just want to see how people feel, connect to and react to what I write. I mainly have ideas for short stories, which I will continue to write and release on here as I make progress.

Unfortunately, I have so many ideas floating around in my head for stories that I tend to start many at a time, losing focus on certain stories for varying amounts of time. Once again, this is where I need your help! If there is a specific story you are interested in and really want me to continue, please let me know so I don't just leave you hanging! (I would never want to do that to someone kind enough to take the time to read my work).

Finally, I honestly hope you enjoy my stories and always feel free to let me know what you think!

Lots of love,

Emmy

Uncharted- Chapter 3

I've always been somewhat of an awkward person. Due to the chaos that has been my immediate family as of recent, my friends have become my closest affiliates and now, they’re spread out all over the place. But even with them I tend to have some issues with closeness. I’m assuming that it’s because, as much as I hate to admit it, I take after my dad. My mom was always absolutely crazy, loud, funny and loving, which is why I was closer to her in general growing up. My dad stayed home with me until I was two years old, but as of the age of eight, I don’t remember any touchy-feely moments with him. I love my dad, but I've never said it out loud to him simply because he never said it to me. Hence, even more psychological issues. Luckily, I’m more social like my mom, but when it comes to closeness or asking for help, I was more like my dad, so these things just usually didn't happen.

                During the divorce, my parents were more focused on buttering up my sister, since she was a minor and whoever got custody would most likely get the house. I basically got forgotten about in the process because I was eighteen and could pretty much choose what I wanted to do with who and when. Even though the divorce wasn't completely finished, I somehow ended up on my own with a new resolve. At first, I didn't know why I was going to New York City. It was just the first place I could think of to go and all I knew was that I needed to get away. While I was on the train, I figured out at least some plan of where I would be able to go. I had some money saved up. I was lucky enough for money not to be an issue, just for this moment. The possibilities were endless.

                When the train pulled up to the station, I immediately pulled my cell phone out of my pocket. I was suddenly filled with a new hope, a new idea. I needed to get started. I called my best friend, who I had visited at New York University many times. Carrie sounded concerned when she answered the call. “Hey Carrie, I’m in New York. Can I come to your dorm?” “Umm, why are you here? What happened?” I quickly responded. “Not important. Anyway, are your roommates home?” Carrie hesitated, and then continued. “Yupp, no problem. Ally can let you in. I’ll see you later after class lets out. Then it’s story time, Charlie.” I begrudgingly agreed and got off the phone as quickly as possible. Even with my best friend, I always felt awkward talking to. We were just so different that it seemed like Carrie would understand, but only to a certain depth. For the rest, I was on my own. It didn't make me appreciate her any less, it just made me question if there really was anyone else like me.

                I took the subway and ended up right on the outskirts of Washington Square Park. Even though I was eager to tell Carrie about my plan, I was not eager to tell her about my snap decision to leave home. I chose to take my time walking because it wasn't freezing for the first time since September. Plus, I knew I had some time to kill before Carrie even got out of class. As I got to her building, my excitement turned to nervousness. I simply hoped that Carrie would understand and at least not try to tear down this idea. The elevator doors opened and I approached the fourth door on the right. I knocked a little harder than usual, knowing that whoever was in the room would probably be napping at three o’clock in the afternoon on a Monday. Ally shuffled down the short hallway moments later and opened the door. Even in her disheveled, sleepy state, I saw a look of surprise cross her face. Her blond, curly hair was even messier than usual. Her every day outfit of gray sweatpants and a black sweatshirt was all wrinkled and crooked, which also wasn't an odd occurrence for her.

                “Hey Charlie, what’s up?” she asked sleepily. “I called Carrie a few minutes ago, told her I needed refuge for a while. Is that okay?” Ally shook her head a few times. She seemed to be trying to shake the sleep from her mind and get her thoughts straight. “Oh yeah, of course,” she replied. She left the door open just long enough for me to sneak through before she slumped back to her bed. I felt bad for Ally. She was just as lost as I was, but her parents were so strict about how she had to go to school that even if she had wanted some time to figure it out, she couldn't have had it. Instead, she’s spending her life taking two classes a day, napping the rest of the day and majoring in nothing. Turns out she writes original music and sings, not like she’d ever be able to embrace that.

                After what felt like a half an hour of silence, I heard the jangle of a key against the metal doorknob as Carrie forced open the stuck door to the dorm. As she walked in, she harshly said “Here” and slapped a sticker on my shoulder. As I looked to ask about it, she answered. “New visitors’ passes. Stupid, I know.” We both chuckled a little. Then, she just looked at me. “What’s going on, Char? Please tell me.” I sighed as I sat down on the floor beside her bed as Carrie sat on the bed. She put her legs behind my back and I leaned back on them. With my head in her lap, I told her the more basic version of my needing to take a break from my home life. Carrie stayed silent until I was completely finished. After a few more moments of quiet, she asked “So what are you going to do now?” I knew I had to blurt out my response before I could second guess it. “I’m going to Italy.”  

Uncharted- Chapter 1

The first image I remember is being on a train wondering where I was going and what my future held for me. I wondered how I got to this point of being a young adult whose life suddenly fell apart. I wondered why I didn't feel as free as I had expected to. When you abandon all responsibilities, any unspoken commitments or promises, and just pick up and leave, you have a blank slate. A new page just waiting to be filled. You should feel free, but somehow, I don’t. I feel less confined maybe, but I still feel exactly the same as I did in my old, structured life.

As I look out the window, all I see are factories. Some are older, some newer, and yet each is surrounded by broken down homes and buildings. Even though the sun is shining, everything we pass seems to have an overtone of gray to it. In fiction, or futuristic or apocalyptic type books, we always visit these distant dates or planets that only hold the broken remains of life, but it’s no longer fiction. Today, this is our reality, where even the “nicest” towns have sections that look as if they’re a setting of a zombie apocalypse. It’s more challenging to find a good neighborhood than a bad one and even if you are lucky enough to discover one of these havens, you’re still not completely safe from crime. No one has that luxury or peace of mind anymore, no matter where they live. We learned this the hard way in my home state of Connecticut with the Sandy Hook shooting. No one even thought of such a horrific happening being possible in quiet little Connecticut, “where nothing ever happens.” This isn’t some fictional setting, this is all of our lives today, our reality. It seems like we've grown so tolerant of these conditions that we forget that things weren't always like this. Maybe they don’t even have to be, if we started challenging ourselves. These are the topics that swim through my mind as I travel on this train to my destination.

The more I focus on my surroundings beyond the clear glass barrier, the more convinced I am that these broken down and diminishing buildings are metaphors for all of our lives as we grow. Not only do our exteriors begin to let us down, but our dreams, hopes, ideals and positive perspectives seem to crumble as well. The walls of our ideal futures that we built brick by brick beginning at a young age crumbles the more we discover reality in our adult lives.

Though I had made this weekend trip many times before, this journey to New York City felt completely different. This probably stemmed from the fact that everything was different. I was frustrated, but I also had nothing to lose. In the past year, I had become a legal adult and it ended up being more than I asked for. After twenty five unhappy years of marriage and raising two children, my parents finally got divorced. Of course, it was a long time coming, should have happened twenty years earlier and didn't take anyone by surprise, but it wasn’t as easy as I expected the event to be. I thought I was completely prepared and that they had already been emotionally separated for so long that it hardly would have affected me at all. However, they mean it when they say that divorce brings out the worst in people. Between that and my lifelong battle with a depression and anxiety disorder that reached an all-time high when I went away to college, I decided that it was in my best interest to take some time off. I figured I’d at least be able to work and save up for some money for the next stage of my life, whatever that was, but when I came back home to my old job, they ended up hiring someone new to replace me until the summer. In other words, I was out of luck until the first week of June, since absolutely no one was hiring.

Having no responsibilities was something that was taking much longer to adjust to than I would have thought. After all, it wasn't exactly something I was used to. I was an overachiever all of my life. My parents never pressured me or punished me about grades; I was always completely internally driven. I think that’s what made my current state of nothingness so shocking to anyone who knew me at any length. I had done well in school, always played instruments, participated in clubs; I was even the vice president of the drama club my senior year of high school. Everyone told me my whole life how successful I would be, no matter what I chose to do. This specifically seemed to come to fruition when I was eight years old and decided that I wanted to become a lawyer. For some reason, I saw this as the most glamorous career there was. When my love for theater and film took over, suddenly everyone seemed less supportive. And now that I have no educational goals at all for the time being, even less support.

The Neglected- Chapter 3

“I hope you girls realize how lucky you are that this offer came through,” said Bryan Brooks a week after our first meeting with him. At this point, he and I had become best friends. Since Olivia and I had to stay at the orphanage until foster parents could be found for us, Bryan had called us every night and met with us every day. He had tried to convince us that these check-ins were just to “get a read on our mental states.” I, however, was able to read people and knew that the real reason was that he lived alone and had a very limited number of other clients. Therefore, he enjoyed talking to me and seeing Olivia because it let him escape from that loneliness, even if these opportunities were brief. Of course, he also wanted to make sure that, as he put it, “we don’t get beaten up, or jumped in the lunch line or anything else that happens in those prison movies.” He had a very justifiable reason for concern; although to this day I have never been to prison, I am almost certain that it is very similar to this orphanage in which we temporarily resided. But all of that didn't matter anymore because this was our chance to escape.

“We really do appreciate everything that you've done for us, Bryan,” I said thoughtfully and sincerely. I had grown accustomed to speaking as both Olivia and myself, always saying “we” instead of “I” and just hoping that she agreed with what I was saying. I looked up at him with a slight smile on my face. He slyly grinned back. “Well, Jo, you’re just lucky that you and Olivia aren't hard to get along with.” This caught my attention. Bryan wasn't the type of person that always threw kind words around. If you got positive statements from him, you really deserved them. “Was that…almost a compliment?” I put my hand to my ear for dramatic effect. He laughed his deep, throaty chuckle. “Almost,” he agreed, and that was a good enough accomplishment for me.

We continued walking down the streets of New York City until we reached Times Square. I had to continually check on Olivia to make sure we hadn't lost her in all of the hustle-and-bustle of the city. The city that I grew up in, the city that I loved… I attempted to use looking after Olivia as a distraction from all of the memories I had of my mother, sister, and me in this same location. Unfortunately, this distraction was to no avail and as we got closer and closer to the place in the street where I remembered her last, the sting of her loss became unbearable inside of me. Before I knew it, the tears were streaming down my face. At that moment, Bryan glanced back at Olivia and I to see my face, glistening with the tears reflecting my pain and immeasurable sorrow. It took him a moment, but after his sudden but delayed realization, he came rushing to my aid.