Chapter 4 – Tears

CYOA, Writing

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:

  1. 6 votes
  2. 0 votes
  3. 6 votes

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!

  1. Audrey receives a letter from her sister and she leaves home to find her sister, who is alive!
  2. This isn’t a fantasy story. Daphne is very, very much dead. Sorry. Audrey goes onto Facebook to console herself, and meets someone with a similar story. They make friends and this new person takes her on an inspirational journey after meeting where she discovers happiness and beauty in a world of such misery.

Olivia, expression through the lens (and words)…



Choose Your Own Adventure – Saving Audrey

CYOA, Homework, School, Writing

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.

Saving Audrey-page-001

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.


Protagonist character profile

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


sub character profile

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…

Flush of Vermilion – ANZAC

Poems, Writing


flush of vermilion
across a field
as trigger pulled
eagle soars
paced for the kill
rooted deep in the heart
of khaki soldier
courage sacrifice
innocence mateship

bounds his ashes
even at dusk.
gaunt figures
vermilion flushed
are ragdolls
smiling ghosts
who fought for
our freedom
will be ever alive
in our thoughts
lest we forget

Olivia, writing on a whim…
May we all remember them.

ANZAC Rainbow

Life, MyPhotography

Dear Readers,

Yesterday, we commemorated the 100th year of the battle of Gallipoli, fought in World War 1 by the ANZACs. These brave men were sent, under mistaken commands, to the beach of Gallipoli to overpower the Turks, thus ‘throwing’ them out of the war.

However, the battle was horrific, 8000 men lost in the one battle, and a further 18 000 wounded. Upon entering the cove, they were slaughtered by the enemy and were greatly disadvantaged by their position in the bay. We remember these men today, after 100 years. We learn that war is not an adventure, not friendly, exciting. Merely man slaughter for what reason? These men were willing to die a gruesome death for their country.

we make war

The worst part is that they did not succeed, they lost too many men. We celebrate their courage, and their pain today, our gratitude for the war they fought, so that we may live in peace.

Here are some photos I took of a rainbow that appeared yesterday, after a light drizzle of rain. Let’s hope that this means never again will we make the mistake of war.





Lest we forget.

Olivia, writing (and photographing) on a whim…