Dear Readers,
This week, I decided to create and design a variety of “scenes” to photograph. These setups consisted of a range of objects that were centered around one theme (one theme per scene). I then photographed these abstract setups at different and creative angles. The result of my experimentation is below.
P.S Same blog, new layout! Let me know what you think of either the post or the new theme in the comments!
Dear Readers,
The end has finally arrived! Eight years of memories and of Junior School has drawn to a close. As for my emotions – they are mixed. Unfortunately, my family and I have made the difficult decision to move schools, and this aspect has certainly contributed to the “sad” aspect of my emotions. However, some excitement is the silver lining in my dark cloud. I do look forward to being in Senior School, with an entirely different environment and way of learning.
I’ve definitely enjoyed this year and my journey at my beautiful Junior School – an environment from which I have learnt so much! From the traits that the school encourages us to have, to the way in which we treat others, I have definitely learnt many valuable lessons that I will continue to show through my personality, even as I make the move to a new school.
But truly, even though I may want to feel these things, I am lying to myself. I don’t really feel anything. I am empty of emotions. It doesn’t at all feel real. 6 years in one environment and school, the end does not feel real – the reality of me never being a Rosie girl again not truly “clicking”. I will most likely never see many of my friends again, and others of them not as often as I’d like. But still, I’m empty – reality not having hit just yet. Literally. I’m empty of emotions and food. 🙂
So, as the end has come, I say a heartfelt goodbye to my beautiful school of which I will always remember and love, to my teachers – who have taught me so much this year, to my friends – I will miss all of you and hope to stay in touch with many of you! And to my Junior School self – remember to be yourself and stay true to who you are…
Lastly, I say thank you to all who have helped and supported me on my way towards Senior School and for providing me with the necessary traits and attributes that I will always value and hold dear in my heart. Thank you!!
Olivia, expression through the lens (and words!)…
Dear Readers,
As you may have read from my previous post, I was recently touring the beauties of France. Avignon is another of the many places we visited during the tour, its main and most well known feature a bridge called Pont Saint-Bénézet, known more commonly as Pont d’Avignon. This bridge was the inspiration for the song ‘Sur Le Pont d’Avignon’. The bridge was built between 1177 and 1185 and is now a major attraction of Avignon. Another major landmark of Avignon includes Palais de Papes which translates to ‘Pope’s Palace’. Photographs of this can also be seen in the portfolio below. The Gothic building was opened in 1364 and is simply beautiful inside, taking a floor space of 15 000 meters squared. Enjoy the photos!
…
I look forward to posting the third portfolio of the France Tour.
Olivia, expression through the lens…
Dear Readers,
A few weeks ago, Australian students were on holidays! I was fortunate enough to be able to go on an amazing tour around France, experiencing so many unforgettable places and making many memories. The portfolio below includes the photographs I took of one of the places we visited – a town called Amboise. This place is significant as it was the hometown of Leonardo da Vinci as he reached the end of his life. The town is on the banks of the Loire river and is 27 km from Tours (a city). Enjoy!
SEE MY PHOTOGRAPHY PORTFOLIO FOR AMBOISE: http://wp.me/p3H76d-xn
Olivia, expression through the lens…
Dear Readers,
As you may know, I am participating in the Student Blogging Challenge as a school commitment. This week, the task was to complete a post for Blog Action Day, with the 2015 theme being ‘Raise Your Voice’. I have decided to write not about an issue, but ways in which one can “raise their voice” – one in particular that one man who has used this to portray the issue of refugees.
…
In many countries, freedom of expression is an inalienable concept that is considered a human right, simply because of democracy. One’s opinions and ideas can be expressed in many ways, one of which is through photography. Photography is a broad area that can be used to portray and express nearly anything that the photographer feels, or wants to portray. Through colour, texture, light, perspective and emotion, photography has been used for many things, one in particular being the pressing issue of refugees.
Shawn Baldwin, an American photojournalist, photographer and traveller has lived in Baghdad for over three years. He has worked throughout the Middle East, Africa, Asia and Europe, documenting photography and stories from extreme poverty in the slums of Mumbai, to the portrayal of the growing influence of Islam across the Middle East.
With much courage and determination to live in a country that is considered so dangerous, through his photography, Shawn captures and portrays the poignancy of living conditions in Syrian refugee camps and detention centres. From vibrant, hopeful colours; monochromatic facial expressions; dusty camp tents to rioting refugees; tragic landscapes; heart touching captions – Shawn Baldwin has truly captured the experience and environment the refugees of Syria endure.
He has subtly portrays the political, religious and rebellious changes in this society – such as an image of a young, veiled woman sitting leg to leg with other Muslim boys, a sight which would be unthinkable in other Muslim countries.
Exposed to many horrifying sights, the photojournalist uses his photoblog to express himself and “raise his voice” on the issues of refugees, revolutions, war and tragedy in the Middle East. I think this is a beautiful and poignant way in which to express oneself and the true environment of the Syrian war and other war-torn places in the Middle East.
Please do visit his photography website, but at your own discretion, as some confronting and gruesome images do appear on the site. http://www.shawnbaldwin.com/#!/index
This is a post about Creative Commons and image copyrighting that I wrote for a previous Student Blogging Challenge and thought it suited Week 3’s challenge! I hope you adopt a good understanding of the topic after reading this post!
Dear Readers,
Have you heard of Creative Commons? And did you know that posting a picture that you find on the internet without attributing is stealing? Let me explain.
When you draw or create a picture by hand, only one original copy can exist. This copy can be kept, sold or given to someone. However, on the computer, multiple perfect copies can be created. If it is your picture, you can share a copy, sell a copy or put a copy on the internet. If this happens, anyone can moderate this picture, make more copies, pretend its theirs or just use it without attributing it to you.
But first, what does attribute mean?
In our case, to ‘attribute’ media (images, music, videos etc) means to credit it to the owner, or to say (very simply), “This isn’t mine. It belongs to ______.” You should always do this when inserting pictures onto your…
View original post 348 more words
Olivia, expression through the lens…
P.S. Obviously some photographs are better than others, but none are edited – goes to show that you do not need to edit your photos for them to be beautiful!
Dear Readers,
I am pleased to announce that for the 6th time, I am participating in the Student Blogging Challenge. To introduce myself simply, my name is Olivia and I am a student currently in Year 6. I have been blogging for over 4 years now and have changed the identity of my blog multiple times now as my identity is constantly changing! Currently, my blog is called SHOOT THE CANON, a play on words in that I have a strong passion for photography and believe it is vital for one to try new things enthusiastically (I know it’s cliche!).
https://wordingonawhim.wordpress.com/
On your arrival at this blog, a homepage would have appeared to you. This page plays a crucial role in the navigation and introduction of my blog and I. Firstly, you will see a brief summary of me and my (current) identity. Following this, a page called “Introduction”, which I call the virtual handshake between you and I. Please do read this page to introduce yourself and see my introduction to you!
Secondly, you will see the Blog page. This is the page you see here! Lastly, the Photography page. This is a portfolio page where I post portfolios of my personal photography. I look forward to making your acquaintance and participating in the Student Blogging Challenge!
Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…
A pack of wolves we are
hungrily searching
any order lost in our frenzy to find you
I cradle the bundle to my chest, threadbare cloth providing her mere exposure to the elements. My baby drifts through the breaches of sleep and agonising consciousness.
Frayed and tattered we are
our minds diseased
by the dangerous lust you radiate
Limply lies a paper cup, an extension of my feet. Empty. Those diseased by greed and egotism – with their feet – collide with my only significant belonging. I am estranged from the world.
Dying and thirsty we are
our faith in your quenching, gratifying
reality willing us to ignore, continue
One. Two hours stagger by; three Pesos are tossed callously into the embrace of my cup – the waste of people’s sympathetic pride. Three Pesos. They must be taunting me, mocking my poverty. Three Pesos will buy me not a packet of oat.
Through dense forest we journey
its abundance and intricacy never blinding
but you never materialize
Money. Money clothes those who wander by, a glance at me, us, suggesting hostility, disgust. Faux wraps drape the necks of women, accompanied by cliché Mexican men conquering their moustaches and ankle length capes. Money abundant, but they do not give so much as a glance. More is what they want. More money when we have none.
Bloodshot are our eyes
only will they droop
at the assuring presence of you
She begins to wail as a cloud of wind sweeps in from the west. I press her against my chest, lifting her to my face – a face no longer fresh, glowing the ochre of embers. Instead, it is dulled, burned to oblivion as of such suffering, the pain I must endure. My pores are brimming with the remains of soot. Ash. I am a mere memory…
Might we halt
to breathe sense
after miles of endless gluttony
might we halt
infused with guilt, understanding
inspired by Earth’s beauty, God’s mercy
might we halt
and empathise
with nothing; nothing
I glower with yearning as another twilight is born to the sea, glistening with soft rage. The rhythmic vibration of townsfolk music reverberates through the alley, and I picture rainbow ladies with their swishing skirts, spiralling into the arms of partners. My face, fresh and inspired by joy, gleams amongst these, my limbs twirling to a trumpet’s blow. A lustful smile tugs at my lips, and I am lugged into a daze. The sound of footsteps clacking upon worn cobblestone, I do not hear.
Amongst evil lies
compassion, generosity
salvaging those infected
by greed, recovering
inner beauty, benevolence
before the chase
begins again
Dreams fade, whisked off to oblivion – mine was destined this fate. The trumpet wanes and such colour remains no more. Shadows and the vandalised church walls are what remain. The clatter of coins resonates throughout the alley, the source – a plastic cup – a mere extension of the beggar woman’s feet. My cup. His eyes illuminate the darkness, signifying life. He has remembered kindness. Fifty Pesos now lie in the embrace of a ragged plastic cup.
One remembers
compassion
May they find what they want – my kind crumbling, whispering with the wind. May they find what they want – my kind haunting them, robbing them of their pride.
May they find what they want – but be left hollowing, suffocating with guilt.
May they find what they want – though recall compassion so often to do our pain justice.
May they find what they want – my kind a mere memory, an indentation on the church steps.
Shall we ever see you
and the maddened violence
of your peace?
or send us on a
greed-driven chase
for you
Written by me, expression through the lens (and words)
Dear Readers,
Finally, I have completed my CYOA (Choose Your Own Adventure) novel, with the last chapter’s and epilogue’s fates’ being decided by me instead of the readers. I have formatted the novel in word and converted it to a PDF for you to read. I recommend using this option for computer users.
As well as this, I have created the book formally using a software called Blurb Bookwright. The only free option was to download the book as an Ebook, with files available for Kindle / eReader and Apple iPad. You can find these below!
Saving Audrey – PDF file (for PC / laptop users)
EPUB3 file (.epub), viewable on Apple iPad® devices
KF8 file (.mobi), viewable on Kindle devices and reader apps.
Thanks for all your support and encouragement during the writing process of this book. Enjoy reading and reflection.
Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…
P.S. See here for the category of “CYOA”.
Dear Readers,
As you may or may not know, Year 6 visited Canberra on a school camp two weeks ago and has an amazing time! We were required to complete some questions for homework about this trip. These questions regarded the Chapel of the Unknown Soldier, also known as The Hall of Remembrance, dedicated to the deceased soldiers of WWI & WWII who were unknown. This can be seen at the War Memorial in Canberra!
During this trip, we were definitely encouraged to show curiosity with the many interesting places we visited. Canberra had many new and exciting places and provided
SORRY, THIS WAS ACCIDENTALLY PUBLISHED WITHOUT BEING FINISHED. SOON TO BE COMPLETED.
Note: Thank you all for your comments and contribution to bringing this novella together (sort of!). I have thoroughly enjoyed writing Saving Audrey and have found it immensely beneficial as I was motivated to do something productive while on my computer (this can be hard sometimes!). Unfortunately / fortunately, this is my last formal chapter, however, in the next few days, I will be posting an epilogue to wrap up the story.
The time restrictions have meant that the participants of the CYOA challenge have had to think and plan their stories thoroughly and improvise in terms of elaboration and an uncomplicated resolution. This story would have involved a lot more content without this time restriction, however, I will make do. I do apologise for the abundance of “things” left unexplained… I have left these for you to imagine.
Last week, we experienced the aftermath of Daphne’s death and Audrey seeking help and support on Facebook. Last week’s votes were:
The obvious winner is option b, which entails Audrey continuing her search for support and finding it, with her new friend (suffering a similar reality) taking her to the places where they find happiness and inspiration together. THIS IS PART 1 OF CHAPTER 6. So the readers don’t have too much to read, it will be split into two parts. Please read on…!
! Audrey, you have one new private message!
I hear my mouse produce a hollow click as I snap to the destination my computer is providing me. Controlling, manipulating, seeming to mock the pain I am drowning in. The pain I am aimlessly flailing in, panic and devastation dragging me under a surface of hope. The surface was unbroken, but as I obey Facebook’s command, the tension is broken, a new hope revealed.
dear NinjaGirl654 i saw your avatar on the “click for support” chatroom last night. So useless. i just wanted to tell you that if you need any support, don’t go to that useless bunch of ignorant morons. i checked out your profile, and am so very sorry about all that has happened. a rough couple of weeks, huh. you guys seemed so close. my mum died a month ago, from a bicycle crash. i miss her so much, she was my best and only friend… I know it’s a touchy topic for us both, but i just thought it might help us both if we maybe met up some time, perhaps have a coffee together? let me know what your thoughts are. i understand if you aren’t up to it though. ❤ J best wishes until we (maybe?) meet? p.s im not some weirdo creepy 60 year old dude…!! my name’s Juliette btw, im 14 and go to school at st john baptist college.
From UnlovedKittie
I brush away the tears with frustration, hope, appreciation for this girl who has offered to help me, to kindle a friendship with one another. I feel my lips form a strange shape, happy, as tear collides with them, my fingers placing themselves cautiously on the keyboard so as to reply.
Reply to Unloved Kittie:
You’ve made me smile for the first time in 3 weeks. since I heard her laugh, saw her smile… can we meet at the café on theron street. 11am tomorrow?
My fingers react prior to my mind. I watch as the page informs me that the message has been sent. Stupid. Really stupid decision. Instantly, the inky blue notification box appears on my screen.
Okay, awesome! Meet you there…
From UnlovedKittie
…
Part 2 will arrive soon! Do you think this is the right decision for Audrey to deal with her pain? Will it pay off, or is a disaster to come, a friend or an enemy? Find out in Part 2!
Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…
Note: Thanks for voting even though my post was quite late! Last week, we experienced the death of Daphne, and her family’s reaction to the devastation. The votes for last week are as follow:
So close! Both were very popular, however, realism seemed to dominate fantasy in this particular CYOA (Choose Your Own Adventure). As Option 2 won the vote, I will be writing my story based on the option that Daphne has (definitely) died, her family suffering terrible grief. However, to ease this, Audrey enters her digital fantasy and finds someone who has endured similar pain, befriending them. They help one another find happiness. Enjoy this week’s instalment of Saving Audrey.
My fingers stall, still with hesitance, yet determined to forget. To forget what once was joy and perfection. To forget what turned into something horrific, unforgivable and unendurable, bittersweet. The determination proves dominant, and the words that appear on the screen satisfy my temptation.
Facebook.
A vast and pleasing mass of blue meets my eye as various elements of the page assemble. I enter my page, numerous updates and chat rooms awaiting my arrival. Sympathetic apologies and condolences seem to mock my pain and grief. Why am I here? To forget. How can I overlook my sister’s death with mock sympathy forcing and manipulating my emotions?
I can’t, period. Despite this, I make the empty decision to enter a chat room labelled: Click for support. Staring blankly, I feel my eyes as they are dragged with the cursor on my screen, the flashing line awaiting my engagement as it arrives in the textbox. I simply watch as conversation unfolds within my vision, meaningless words appearing suddenly on the screen.
LifeSavingAdvice101: the world luvs u and supports u! Don’t be depressed. Your mum is happy in heaven.
UnlovedKittie: easy 4 u to say. U don’t have to put up with the pain! 😥
LifeSavingAdvice101: just clear your mind and memories of her and pretend she is right next to you. I know you are sad.
UnlovedKittie: no you don’t. she was my best friend. ITS NOT SO SIMPLE AS TO FOLLOW YOUR STUPID ADVICE!!!
LifeSavingAdvice101: its gonna be alright. Just look at the beauties in life.
UnlovedKittie has left the chat room.
Regret forces my absence from the page. Nothing is going to be alright. There is nothing beautiful about life. She is gone. I will never recover. I will never feel the joy of her infectious laughter, her witty sense of humour ever again…
This is chapter 5 of Saving Audrey. I do hope you enjoyed it! I promise, it will be much less depressing next week. Here are your options to vote from:
Choose wisely! Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…
Note: Thank you so much, all my readers for voting and commenting with such encouragement! I am so sorry this chapter is post SO VERY late and the terrible excuse, however, I have been quite unwell the past week, and needed a break from brain exertion! The votes for last week are as follow:
We have another draw! Both options were popular with me as well. Option A was the option of which I planned to work with in the novel’s overview, again. However, option c seems to have a less dramatic or severe take, while still having an interesting effect on the story. Option A was the option where Daphne died because of the crash, with option C being Daphne suffered from amnesia.
I am so sorry to have to do this to my readers, but I have to choose option A! Let’s see where this takes us… If you would like to read about the car crash itself, please go to Chapter 2 – Oxygen!
“I see her. All day, every day. I see the pucker of her skin as she smiles. I see the way her eyes gleam with such iridescence, the colour of the sea on a beautiful day, you know? When she forgets all the rubbish she had to put up with and truly laughed.” The path of a single tear is imprinted into my cheek.
“I see her eyes inflame, burning red blood, dripping with the heavy duty mascara as she cries. She was so insistent on applying that mascara. Every morning. She said her lashes were thin, even though they were the most beautiful I had ever seen. They were…” Speaking in past tense creates an agonizing reality, and the pain in my heart intensifies. She was alive. She is dead. Gently, the wind whispers, mocking my grief.
My realization is interrupted by the voice of our new family counsellor, an “esteemed psychologist” who was recommended by the hospital.
“I understand.” She responds, the indifference etched onto her face providing no comfort. I feel my legs take me from the living room in rage. How could she understand? My sister, the person I loved the most in such a life of misery – gone.
Pain numbs my mind as I marvel at the metal entrapment that was my sister’s mini. Daphne. Gently, cautiously, my head rotates towards the wheel, tears gushing from my eyes, causing my face to sting as the tiny droplets make contact with numerous wounds. Her face is peaceful as the red fluid dribbles into and from her mouth. Her eyes, typically fluctuating between 50 vivacious shades of green lie dull, lifeless and rolled to one side. Her chest barely flitters up. Down. Up. Down. Flat.
The last I saw of her, before her spirit rose to the heavens, free of the pain that haunted her for so long. The last time I saw her before the sirens came and took her away, shaking their heads as they discovered her pulse was non-existent, her deformed sister to discover that reality moments later… That was the last time I sat in the passenger seat of the Mini, as I watched her drive… as I watched her drift into oblivion. As I watched her die.
The tears do not come as I muster the courage to enter her room, the bed still unmade from Tuesday morning. I feel the mattress convulse beneath as I slump onto it, my crushed arm, encased by a dull black cast resting on her pillow. However, the tears will not come.
Daphne’s door creaks open as my parents enter, Mum’s face inflamed with grief and Dad with empty, shadowed bags outlining his eye contour. Not a word need be said. They simply lay on their dead daughter’s bed, her pungent, minty fragrance still lingering. I let them hug me, and for a wholesome 10 minutes, the tears come. For a wholesome 10 minutes, we cry our tear beds dry, until we cannot cry any more. We cry for her, for the life that she lived, and what she would have lived…
Sorry again it is so late! And that it is so depressing! I have some less depressing options for you to vote on! Only two options this week!
Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…
Dear Readers,
Recently in art, Year 6 has been investigating and exploring street art and graffiti. We discovered that graffiti – a form of careless vandalism – is often misunderstood to be a form of street art, despite the large differences.
In comparison to graffiti, street art involves a significant amount of depth and thought, commonly used to portray messages relevant to issues that may have arisen. This type of art is often regarded as graffiti, however we have learnt that the differences are very significant.
The images below display this obvious distincion.
From this information we learnt and inspiration from various “street art” images, our class was inspired to create our own skateboards, portraying personal and global messages that are thought to be significant. Since my passion for photography and the recently learnt skill of “expressing oneself” has greatly increased, I decided to create my skateboard about photography and the importance of self expression.
I have not completed the design, however aim to paint the reflection, sky and glaze the skateboard this afternoon. The message I have portrayed through this is a quote, which is written in gold on the side – life is like a camera, focus on what’s important and you will capture it perfectly.
This was a very enjoyable topic, however, extremely time consuming!
Olivia, writing on a whim…
Note: Thank you so much all my readers for voting and commenting with such encouragement! The votes for last week are as follow:
We have a draw! I do agree with the voters that these are the most likely and relevant options for the current generation, a take I aim to portray. Option A was the option of which I planned to work with as seen in the novel’s overview.
However, option c seems to have an interesting and relevant take, portraying the character to have the typical attitude of a teenager suffering from FOMA (fear of missing out) and attending a party she was made aware of through Facebook, the consequence not worth the negligence in popularity. Since the vote was a tie, I decided to run with option one, however incorporate aspects of option 3! Enjoy!
*****
Anatashia Lockwood: Gurl watchu doin?
NinjaGirl: Sleepin. Sittin. Livin.
Anatashia Lockwood: Gurl. Ma gut is cryin! U got 1 sad life.
NinjaGirl: …thx “bestay”
Anatashia Lockwood: Imma gonna help u get. a. life. Nathan hostiin a partay 9.00 at northstreeet pub. U need to come gurl! Do it 4 u. and me. Don’t wanna be seen with u when u don’t even come to Nathan – the most popula guy in school’s partay. Plz galpal. Say YES!!!!
NinjaGirl: Um… I can’t… res…ist…don’t…do this…to me!!! Fine. I’ll come – 9.00. How could I miss out? 1 word is wat that would be: embarrassing… ;D
My eyes flicker between the breaches of reality and my digital paradise, abbreviated slang appearing on the screen as my nimble fingers glide across the keyboard. I watch as they type an automated response – the reaction any “usual” teenager would expect to such an invitation. An invitation that cannot – should not be overlooked, without the person jeopardizing what is labelled as their “social rating.” I shouldn’t care about my “popularity”. But I do.
The disappointment formed within me evolves into the convergence of various hormonal emotions. I should not have agreed to attend “Nathan’s” party – I’m above that, above the usual teenage influences and attractions…
The iridescence my eyes usually possess dulls as I stare at the predetermined words. Shortly after an agonizing flight, my head begins to throb rhythmically as a tedious mauve vastness suddenly threatens to scald my retinas.I have departed for the day, the motion sickness extreme, unbearable.
Fresh morning air is what I need. The clammy warmth of my room lingers as I thrust my shutters open, a crisp wind sweeping and incinerating any humidity. A golden haze seems as though it has been respired throughout the atmosphere, resting and illuminating the street with an ochre glow. My world is ethereal for 27 seconds, before I am awoken from the temporary stupor by my mother’s squeal.
A series of profanities precedes the attention-seeking explanation for my mother’s anger.
“Quinoa! How on earth could I have forgotten QUINOA!” I flinch as what sounds like a plate is thrust to the floor, the result of her temperament. I manage to recover the names of my sister and I amongst the babble.
“Audrey! Daphne – quinoa from Aldi. Now. Every packet in stock.” I stare at the porcelain shards scattered hazardously across the tiles of our kitchen, my mother’s cheeks flushed with frustration.
Little did she know the consequence her impatience would bring.
I watch mockingly as Daphne draws a misshaped silver coin from her pocket. My mother fumes with rage as her daughter’s intentions are revealed.
“Heads.” She ejaculates as the coin is tossed through the air…
*****
I slump into the comforting fabric of my sister’s Mini as she spins the key, jerking the motor to life. The imprint of my mother’s victory fades as I glance at Daphne, barely clothed by a threadbare jersey and tight-fitting jeans. Her hair lies in a bundled mess, twisted messily into a bun. Nothing unusual… is my assumption, until our eyes encounter one another’s.
Concaving circles penetrate her eye contour, sinking miserably and allowing her low cheekbones prominence. Her eyelids droop, little resistance barely exposing the cloudy hazel pigment of her eyes, dappled with red veins that surge through the whiteness. I feel my brow furrow as concern for my sister intensifies. I will purchase the quinoa, we shall drive home and she will sleep. Rest. Rejuvenate.
That’s what would have been, had my sister not taken her daily sedatives not ten minutes prior. The sedatives that should have only taken effect an hour later, but didn’t… Flickering shut for not 5 seconds, my sister’s eyes lose sight of their surroundings, her brain powerless over her actions. I notice this too late. My reaction is delayed and I simply watch as the car swerves towards an oak.
Daphne crashed the car. All because we picked heads.
I do hope you enjoyed this week’s installment of Saving Audrey! Here are this week’s options!
2. Subsequent to crashing the car (as in Chapter 2) Audrey and Daphne are rushed to hospital, Daphne remaining comatose for several weeks.
3. After the crash, Daphne and Audrey are dashed to the nearest hospital, Audrey awakening to her sister lying in the bed beside her, one million machines connected to her body. She comes to learn that her sister is suffering from severe amnesia.
Thanks for your support and let me know what you would like to happen below!
Olivia, writing on a whim…
Note: Firstly, I cannot express my appreciation for my readers and voters who have contributed to the development of this story. Yesterday, I counted the votes and the results are as follow:
Surprisingly, and with much relief, I counted that option b, that Audrey would enter her digital fantasy (Facebook) before a devastating accident… Please read on to discover what occurs of Audrey and her sister, Daphne!
Throbbing with hostility, my head is a 20 kilogram weight, thrust to the side, straining my neck with the excruciating effort of supporting it. I feel weight as the blood cells rush toward… the right – probably the cause of my head’s weight. Every inch of my body seems to ache, a sticky substance glazing several patches of my face. Processing my surroundings causes immense agony as I drag my eyelids… to the right.
I am directed in an awkward position, my left arm cradled to my chest, a deep gouge puncturing its skin. Blood gushes from the wound, a large metal splinter the intruder. My trembling hands reach to salvage the crushed metal – merely bloody hands, unexplainable agony and a strangled scream the result. I seem to be imprisoned in a disfigured metal entrapment that was my sister’s mini.
Daphne. Gently, cautiously, my head rotates towards the wheel, tears gushing from my eyes. My face stings as the tiny droplets make contact with numerous wounds. Her face is peaceful as the red fluid dribbles into and from her mouth. Her eyes, typically fluctuating between 50 vivacious shades of green lie dull, lifeless and rolled to one side. Her chest barely flitters up. Down. Up. Down. Flat.
Oxygen. We need the precious atoms of oxygen in an accident dripping with blood, and tragedy. As I reach toward her with my uninjured arm, the distant and relieving melody of sirens pierces through the air. Symbolising an accident. An emergency. Perhaps even death…
Now, the choice is yours. It is your choice on how I must backfill this section next chapter.
Since the vote from last week was option b, which suggested Audrey had been / was going to enter Facebook, this will be a common option throughout the selections.
Thanks for reading this week’s installment of ‘Saving Audrey’. Please do vote on what you would like to read next week! Sorry for not being able to complete the chapter, this “backfill” is my strategy to maintain your interest.
Olivia, writing on a whim…
face..
The cursor flashes expectantly as I thump in the letters of my desired destination.
One word. One word chosen from an infinite amount. A sheltered, convenient escape from inevitable suffering and pain. That is all I need – my treatment – and then I will be hauled into reality once again, unpleasant veracities greeting me. As I snap my cursor to the suggested search of Facebook with a capital F, a blue login page welcomes me, the final stage of transit before I am plummeted into a fantasy.
Email or Phone: ninjagirl@blackbeltblue.com
Password:
On the Internet, I can be anything. No one will know. I don’t have to be the 13-year-old nobody shadowed by her suffering older sister, invasively nosy mother. I can be anyth-
As I reach to type my password, the hollow and frustrated sob of my sister suggests my comfort.
She’s crying, again. The arrow on my screen hovers over the red cross, imprinted in a desolate corner, and with reluctance, I hear the click as the boarding gate snaps shut. Instead, a monotonous mauve background burns my eyes. I flip the laptop shut and glance at the fluorescence of my alarm clock. 11:58PM.
She can’t sleep, again, stress seizing and tensing every bone. It’s as though she is relinquishing her sanity, when she encounters a stress attack. The insomnia has majorly affected her – Mum was told today that it has developed from an acute to chronic condition. But it’ll all be over soon…
As I nudge the door, I see that Daphne’s eyes are inflamed, burning the crimson red of blood as she weeps. Her body trembles in my embrace, opaque mascara dripping from her lashes. Across the room, a cluttered mass of studying material occupies her desk.
“Year 12 bugs, huh.” My pathetic attempt at comfort.
I don’t hear an answer. Just a reassuring squeeze that she hasn’t lost it completely.
It doesn’t stop till 1:07AM, when her bleeding eyes droop and mascara-stained lids enclose her vision. Our arms are wrapped around one another and we are one…
a) Audrey awakens in the morning, sprawled out on her sister’s bed, the house and Daphne’s bedroom vacant of its owner…
b) Audrey awakens in the morning, sits at her desk and enters her digital fantastical world before a devastating calamity…
c) Daphne receives an anonymous letter structured in verse, and its composer unusually familiar…
Olivia, writing on a whim…
Dear Bloggers / Photographers,
As you may know, a fresh term has dawned on us, bringing new projects to complete! Last term’s project entailed students engaging in a Passion Project, where I learned about photography.
This term, we are assigned the task of writing our unique Choose Your Own Adventure novels. This entails the writer posting a chapter each week, and asking the readers to vote on an outcome, requiring the writer to continue the story based on their choice.
Below is my character planning, voluntary (Self-designed) book cover and overview (blurb) outlining my story.
Cover Designer: Olivia Cejnar using Canva
Audrey would have won the coin toss if she’d chosen heads. Her sister wouldn’t have driven them to Coles under the influence of sedatives that should only have taken effect an hour later. The car would have remained under a protective layering of steel casing and Audrey might have posted her latest photography collection on her Facebook page by midday.
Her sister would have fallen asleep, engaged in the thrilling plot of another sci-fi novel. Their mother would’ve had to adapt to the lack of quinoa in the fridge instead of insisting Audrey and Daphne buy every 250 gram packet Coles had in stock.
Perhaps Audrey would have noticed her sister gulp down the sedatives as she slid her hands onto the steering wheel.
Daphne certainly wouldn’t have fallen asleep and crashed the car.
Audrey would have won the coin toss if she’d chosen heads. Her sister and best friend would not have died in the seat next to her, the windshield coated in a blood that shimmered as blue and red flashing lights surrounded their heavily damaged Mini.
But Audrey picked tails.
~~~~~
Name: Kessinger, Audrey
Age: 13
Origin: Australia, WA
Relations: Kessinger, Daphne (sister, deceased); Kessinger, Easton (father, alive); Kessinger, Cordielle (mother, alive)
Pastimes: Photography, posting photography collections on Facebook
Best friend: Daphne Kessinger (sister)
Diagnosis: Severe Traumatic Brain Injury, comatose for 3 months
~~~~~
Name: Kessinger, Daphne
Age: 17
Origin: Australia, WA
Relations: “ Simmons, Jason (boyfriend)
Pastimes: Reading, studying, sleeping
Diagnosis: Insomnia – treatment: sedatives
Fatality: Fatal Traumatic Brain Injury
~~~~~
I do hope you remain engaged in my novel as I progress through it and stay tuned!
Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…
Dear Bloggers,
As a fresh term has dawned on us not two weeks ago, we are required to discover and set new Term Goals, reflecting on our performance in achieving those from the previous term. In my case, my goals were achieved, and well, as it directly related to the completion of my Passion Project (see previous posts). I have thought about and set this goal as it is a significant aspect of my life of which I aspire to improve!
Specific
This term, a significant goal of which I aspire to complete and achieve includes spending an increased amount of time during the week improving my fitness and physical activity. Previously, my stamina and physical fitness have not been areas of which I have devotedly worked with and improved. In order to be able to participate widely and ably in various sports, to increase my fitness level would certainly be beneficial.
To do this would also enhance my results and ability in terms of sports and will enable a larger and vaster variety of sports of which I can happily and physically participate in. To successfully and subtly achieve this, I will aim to, as well as the various sports (weekly P.E. classes, weekly tennis lessons and this term, weekly netball) boost my fitness and stamina levels by jogging and sprinting our local oval perhaps a few times a week, as well as pay more attention during P.E. I have also considered joining Athletics, which has been encouraged by the coach.
Measurable
I believe that this is certainly measurable as my fitness and stamina will visibly improve as the year draws to an end. If I am successful, I will aim to be able to comfortably run 800 meters / the Rosie Run and my sprint times faster than those of the athletics carnival. By the end of the year, I will measure whether this has been achieved, as well as by gathering feedback from Mrs Moore.
Attainable
If I set my mind to the task and remain committed over the semester, I believe that (possibly) I can achieve this and increase my physical performance and ability! As well as this, I will not seem so frightened and exhausted after participating in physical activity that is taxing on my body.
Realistic
I do think that this is a fairly realistic goal, as physically, this is possible. It is merely mental and motivational boundaries that are restricting me in my ability / physical stamina.
Timely
I believe that, in many ways, this goal is timely, as it will either be complete or incomplete by the close of the semester. My Personal Best scores in P.E. should be increased and I should feel great when participating in (currently) taxing physical activity!
Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…
Photo Credit: We Love It
lies –
soft
smooth
shielding
of the truth
lies –
scalding
malicious
a dagger
against reality
lies –
protective
or harmful
right
or wrong?
Olivia, writing on a whim…
Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)
lemon smile
you bear a
disposition of
ignorance of
beauty
your vibrant arms
enclose me
an embrace of
warmth
melting the frost
layered upon
me in
a cold world
without you
vivid
ablaze with ethical
perfection
what would this world be?
frozen, numbed
no sun to thaw
the envy
bitterness
sabotage
the imperfection
of Earth
Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…
Photo Credit: www.prevention.com
echoing voices
penetrate
the depths of each
crevasse burrowed
into me
my heart drips
and oozes with
hostility
adversity encasing it
in a pandora’s box
filled with bittersweet
futures
encouraging my
bloodlust
pills
nor potions will restore
my sanity this time
they will not repair
the shatters of a
broken heart
Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…
Photo Credit (x3): Olivia Cejnar (me!)
a swelling of
the heart
every inhalation brings
sweating of
my palms
of scalding fires
when I see
you
your piercing eyes
burn
infusing my world
with
the sweet fragrance
crisp taste
of something
mysterious
and new
this must be love
Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…
Photo Credit: Olivia Cejnar (me!)
life
climbs, stumbles
to the moon
the climax plummets
and inevitably
life will too
black
and white banners
mark its halt
and the finish line,
but oh
was the journey
majestic and
the athlete
was triumphant
with success
Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…
