Some news!

This week is one of the shortest school weeks for me.  I get Wednesdays off, as I said earlier, and then today is "academic planning day" at my school, where you meet with your tutor and "Discuss your progress and goals."  Let me show you an average academic planning day.
Tutor:  So, hows school going?
Me: Good.
Tutor:  Are your lessons going well?
Me: Yep.
Tutor: have you joined some clubs?
Me: I have.
Tutor: Do you have any problems you have to discuss?
Me: Hmmmm... Nope.
Tutor:  Okay, that's great.  see you next week.
Me: Bye.

Now because of that, we get the rest of the day off.  Yaaay!  And Friday is teacher training day.  Again, Yaaay!

I want to start this post with a thanks.  The blog of joe has been up with a week and since then had 205 pageviews.  It's safe to say this is the most popular online venture I have done.  Well, excluding a water fight video I filmed and posted on youtube that got 1,300 views.  Anyway, thanks to everyone for reading the blog, sharing it on facebook and telling your friends about it.

Also, it's that time again.  More writing at 250 pageviews! I have some things i'd like to share on the blog that I wrote earlier this week.  They're 6, VERY short stories- I've said too much already.  Wait till 250 views.

Finally, there's a big decision that i'm thinking of making.  Well, when I say thinking of making, it means i've pretty much made the decision.  I have a habit of quickly picking things without looking around for other stuff.  So if I was shopping for, say, a kindle, somebody would tell me the keyboard one has free 3G on it and i'd just be like, "Ooh, I want that one!" Without looking at the others.  (Glad I didn't decide I wanted the keyboard one, apparently it's the worst.)  I'm rambling again, aren't I?  Gotta stop doing that...
So, back to this mystical decision of mine.  I've heard that since I wrote my book, my writing skills have improved dramatically.  Hearing this, I'm starting to contemplate writing another novel.  Yes, I only just finished my last book, but if you love doing it and it doesn't hurt anyone, why stop?  This idea is one i've been sitting on since 2010 when I first envisaged the world it's set in (That sounded a little pretentious, but i'll go with it.) Ever since I sort of built up the world's lore as a hobby.  i've changed it and changed it around so much to make it feel right.  For this reason, it seemed like a really good book idea where i've got everything set to go.  I really didn't want to muck it up and after about two failed book attempts, I decided to wait until I felt ready to do it.

Now is that time.


Damn, that was epic!

But i have to refrain from writing this first, because I still want to finish Red zone, my 4 volume short story i shared with y'all the other day.  I'm really enjoying writing it and I don't want to abandon it because I get caught up in "Novel Fever."




That's all for now peoples.  Keep on sharing!

As always, Stay frosty.



-Joe

There's no feeling like mild excitement...

Everyone probably knows that in a school science lab the chairs are backless stools.  now, because of my hypermobility, I can't sit on these for more than five minutes before i'm in agony from back pain.  So, it was arranged that a stool with a back would be given to me in my science lesson.  The only problem is, though, in other lessons the other kids take it to their places, so when I come in the teacher tells me to get the chair for myself and I end up doing a walk of shame down the classroom with my chair, because to everyone else it looks like i'm just taking the chair.  I just want to clarify that to everyone in my science class.

In other news, Someone threw a football at my head today.  Ow.  It was intentional as well.  I know, right?
If the people who threw that at me are reading this, i'll give you some friendly advice.  Don't do that.  It'll probably come back to you in a bad way.

Anyway, when I said I was mildly excited, That was another lie.  It was a good blog post title. I'm actually very excited.  Remember how I said the starlight foundation was trying to get my book published?  Probably not.  Just a reminder in case you don't remember: They are doing that.  Well, they approached a buttload of publishers (Buttload, so poetic) about the book.  One of them was the extremely popular publishers penguin.  They didn't want to publish my book, but they did offer me a tour of their offices.  And, it's next week.  By the way, they scheduled that months ago.  It's not that short notice.
So yeah, super pumped for that.

Also, I though i'd give you an update on how the search for a publisher has going.

Have you seen that picture on facebook, where it says need experience to get a job, need a job to get experience?  That sums up publishing a first book.  So starlight suggested to go down the self-publishing route.  For those of you who don't understand just how literal self-publishing is, it's where one would print their book their selves and promote it themselves.  We're really thinking of doing this because it's a great way to get your name out there in the authoring world.

That's all for now.

Stay frosty,

-Joe

150 Pageviews!

Welcome! (again) I'm still trying to find a sign on phrase.  I'm starting to think welcome (again) is actually pretty good.  It's no "How's it going bros" Though.

I've hit 150 pageviews!  yaaaaayyy!  It's been such a long... three day journey.  Like I promised, I'll post some writing on here for everyone to read.  This time, i'll give you the first few pages of a new short story "event" That I'm working on.  Sophisticated, am I right?  The idea is it's four short stories that carry on from each other, and when you put them together, it makes a very, very short book.  It's called Red zone.  Fun fact: I originally named it dead zone, but I have been informed that Dead zone is a Stephen King novel.  That guy is always stealing my ideas....

The story is set on another world, and about a teenage boy called Milo, who grows up generations after a cataclysmic event that threw civilization back centuries.  He's left his "Hometown" (hinting at something with the quotes there) to go on a pilgrimage across the country, but to get where he needs to go, he must pass through the "Red zone," which isn't exactly a holiday resort.  What was once a giant metropolis, is now a place full of warring factions, ash storms and collapsing buildings.  Have fun!

Just a footnote:  When I said "Goes on a pilgrimage" earlier, it may sound like it's a massive plot hole I can't be bothered to patch, but the idea is you find out where he's going later on.  Anyway, enjoy!


RED ZONE: DO NOT ENTER…  Reads the sign standing on the side of the road.  I stare at it, squinting through the ash flying through the air.  It’s a rusty old sign.  The message on it has been painted over some directions that the sign had originally been used for, by the looks of it.  It’s scrawled in red paint.  One of the only memories I have of my dad, my real dad, was a piece of wisdom he gave me.  If something is written in red paint, listen to it.  But I can’t this time.  If I ever want to see him again, I can’t.  I take my rusty old hunting rifle from the bonnet of the car that I had put it on and continue down the highway, as I have for an hour or two now.  It’s raised up on a bridge and it leads right into the city.  Below me is just wasteland.  I tried walking down there, and I almost sunk in the ash.  Of course, there’s still ash up here on the highway, but not as much.  The road is littered with abandoned cars that are rusted down to the core.  Dust covers all of them like a blanket.  I weave in and out of them quickly, expertly jumping over debris and navigating parts of the bridge which have fallen down.  I walk for another half an hour or so, trying not to think about the dangers that lie ahead, but also not being able to stop thinking about it.  In the ten years I lived in Lawson, I heard stories about the dead zone.  I heard stories of monsters that lurked in the sewers and came out at night for food.  I heard rumours of savages who lived inside, of people who ripped each other to shreds with their bare hands.  Of course, I dismissed all of them, but now, it seems pretty hard to do that.  There’s something about this place.  It’s quiet, like everywhere in the world, but for some reason, it seems like it shouldn’t be quiet.  I tell myself it’s just nerves and carry on.

About an hour later I spot a truck down the road.  More of a large van than truck.  It sits sideways in the road, two other cars jammed into its side, denting the metal.  I decide that it might be a good idea to take a look on the top of it, see where I am.  At the moment I can only see a few meters in front of me.  There’s an ash storm raging.  I climb up onto the bonnet and place my hands on the roof of the cabin, lifting myself up right onto the roof.  I thought that maybe from up here I could see further, But it’s not much different.  The ash flies much quicker from up here though.  I pull the cloth wrapped around my neck further up my face so that I don’t inhale any.  The soft, dust like particles blow into my eyes though.  I don’t have any sunglasses, so I have to wipe my stinging eyes every few seconds.  I stand up there for a few minutes, trying to see what’s up ahead, how long I have to go.  I want to find shelter by night.  Then, in the background, I begin to hear something.  Like a mechanical purring.  Then in gets louder, beginning to form a roaring sound.  Then, I hear crashing and metallic scraping.  Panic begins to rise inside me.  I grab the strap of my hunting rifle and pull it so the gun swings from my bag, resting on my chunky pack, to my front, where I grab it and hold it tightly.  My mind goes through all the different myths I heard.  Maybe it was one of the automated metal flying machines that I heard about at the marketplace a year or so ago.  I suddenly catch myself thinking about all the stories and almost pass out from the fear.  It’s getting closer.  I see lights appear on the road.  I have to move.  I run across the top of the truck and fall to my butt as I near the edge, sliding right off the edge.  I’m about to roll as I fall to the ground but my muscles won’t work with me, and I land flat on my face.  I know I don’t have any time to inspect how hurt I got from the fall.  I’m on the very left side of the highway, a few meters away from the barrier that separates me from the wasteland.  For a second I think about jumping over, but instead I pull myself behind a car.  I try to stay strong as I hide in cover, trying to fight the “Why did I do this” thoughts.
  At first, I don’t dare to look up, thinking that whatever this hulking thing is, is going to see me and I’ll be dead before I can run.  But I have to know what it is.  Riddled with fear, I raise my shaky head and look through the glass-less windows of the car out to the road.  And there, pushing a car in front of it, it comes into view.

It’s a truck.  Not like the one I was just standing on.  A hulking, giant truck.  It’s about 20 meters long, the metal it’s made of rusted.  Flags with symbols scrawled across them in red paint hang from the side windows.  The carriage the truck is pulling behind it is painted in some places with black and red paint.  Attached to the front is an ash plough that goes all the way up to the windows of the cabin.  Stuck on the front of it is a wreck of a car, making a horrible scraping noise as it gets pushed along the highway with the slow moving truck.  Then I spot something I can’t believe I didn’t see in the first place.  There are people sitting on the top of the truck, legs dangling over the edge.  They’re all armed with rifles, machine guns, pistols and machetes.  They start shouting to what I think is each other, until I see there are more of them on the ground.  Just feet away from me.  Patrolling the highway.  I suddenly feel unsafe in my hiding space, but don’t dare to move.  I keep watching to see what’s going to happen as they get nearer to the van blocking the way.  The truck keeps plodding along the highway at about five miles an hour, smashing anything in its path until it gets close to the truck.  Then there’s a sinister hissing followed by a gut-wrenching screech and the truck rolls to a stop.  The engine randomly cuts out and the men begin to climb down, shouting as they do.  I listen carefully to what they’re saying.
“I don’t care how, just find a way through!” The man driving the truck shouts to his friends.  I see there are five from the truck and four more on the road.
“We could use the explosives, but that could mess up the whole bridge.”
“Boss, can’t you just push it out of the way.”  Calls out a voice dangerously close.  I realize he’s right on the other side of the car I’m behind.  I reflexively duck down, but still listen to what they’re saying. 
“I don’t think that’s gonna work, bro.  There’s a whole pile up on the other side of this truck.” One more, distant voice replies.  My heart sinks in dread when I hear they’ll be stuck next to me.  I have no idea how to evade them without them seeing me.  I think for a second that I could always just reveal myself from hiding and hope they won’t attack me, but my hopes of doing that are dashed when the man in the cabin shouts, “If you find anyone, you know the drill.  Leave ‘em, or shoot ‘em!”
I try to fight the idea that this is it.  That my journey’s over before it’s even started.  I just sit behind the car.  Listening to see what’s going to happen next.  In my head, I’m trying to plan what I’m going to do, thinking so hard, going over all the scenarios.  I’m thinking so hard that I hardly notice when one of the men comes over to where I’m hiding.  I see him just in time. He’s just about to round the corner of the car and see me, but I react quickly.  I fall to the floor and roll under the car, ripping my long overcoat on shards of glass on the tarmac as I do.  I silently watch the man’s feet as he walks past the car from under it, fear constricting my muscles and my breath.  I wait a good minute or so before I even dare to breathe again.  My hands are pressed up against the bottom of the car.  There’s so little space under here my nose touches it.  I compose myself and come up with a plan.  I’m going to get back out and find out just how many of them there are.  With any luck, they’re moving the truck and they’ll be out of the way.  I begin to shimmy out from under the car, making sure I don’t even make the slightest noise.  I reach the edge and peek my head out, praying the men are gone.  It’s clear down the side of the road.  I roll out and pull my pack with me.  Now I’m sitting on the side of the road, head down and rifle clutched in my hands.
I can hear sounds coming from behind me, and I see that all the men except the driver of the truck are behind the van, trying to move the piled-up cars next to it.  I begin to survey the road ahead of me, noticing the ash storm has died down a bit.  This allows me to see a site which puts a shred of hope back inside me.  About 100 meters ahead, I spot the outlines of buildings which hulk over the highway, all lined up against a road cutting through the one I’m on.  It’s the outskirts of the city.  I’m trying to remember the map I bought from the market in Lawson, fearing that if I try and retrieve it from my pack, I’ll make noise and be seen.  I know that a few miles from here, the actual city starts.  I summon courage from the sight.  I know that I can make it out alive.  If I make a run for it down the highway and find a way down, I might be able to outrun these guys.  I take a minute to plan my route through the cars, knowing I just have to get out of the driver man’s range of hearing and I’m clear.  Then, I take a deep breath, spring into a crouch, and swing my rifle onto my back.  I stay in that position for a few seconds, thinking I’m going to go but not actually moving my muscles.  Then, at a complete random time, I put my hands in front of me and forward roll from the car, landing behind the next one.  I check that driver hasn’t seen me, my body pumping with adrenaline, and break into a silent run, going up the highway.  I vault over the bonnet of the next car and spin away from the one after that, that’s parked sideways on the road.  I reach a point on the road where the bridge it’s supported by has split into two.  It looks like the part I’m on disconnected from the next part, as the road is a meter or so higher than it is on mine.  To get up, I have to scale a concrete ledge that was once attached to my road.  I don’t even plan my jump.  I spin left, swiftly pull myself up onto a car bonnet that’s pressed up against the jump and leap across, swiftly rolling on the hard ground and landing in a crouch.  I scarper over to another car to get cover and then stay there for a few seconds.  Now that I stop I can’t believe what’s happening.  There are men a few seconds away from me who want to kill me.  I’ve never been so vulnerable in my life.  At this second I begin to question what I’m doing.  Why did I ever want to leave Lawson in the first place? I remember hating it there, but now, Thoughts of that huge town just bring feelings of regret.  Regret that I ever left.
I’m so lost in my thoughts that I almost scream when I hear someone call out to me.  A shiver leaps from my feet and jumps through me.  I pull myself together and nervously look around the edge of the car.
I can’t believe my eyes when I see more.
More men.

They look like they’re from the same group of people before.  They’re talking to the driver, who’s coming towards them.  I don’t bother to listen to their words.  I’m panicking so bad I can’t even come up with a plan.  There are even more than before.  There closest one is a mere ten meters away from me.  In about ten seconds he’s coming to run right into me.  My head frantically spins around, looking for a way out.  A pile up of cars 5 meters away. A gap in the barricade a ways down the line.  I’ll never make it there.  I have to keep looking.  Nothing; no way out.  Wait… there’s a power line running along beside the highway.  The poles just about reach above the road.  Except a little bit down the line, the electric wire must have snapped.  It’s dangling down like a rope, and It leads straight onto the road below.  I check to see where the other men are.  I only have a few seconds.  My mind assesses what will happen, but at some point, my body takes over again.  I don’t even think about stealth.  Half crouching, I stumble across the road.  I’m too scared to look behind me, I just go.  And then, just as I think I’m clear, it all goes wrong.  Pain shoots through my ankle and I go tumbling to the floor, my head smashing into a car door as I descend.  The pain in my head is indescribable, and my eyesight can’t line up.  There’s two duplicates of everything, and there’s no way to know which one is real.
I’m screwed now.  I think to myself.  Tears well up in my eyes.  It was too quick.  I thought I could at least make it into the city first-
“Hey, there’s someone here!” A slurred voice announces.  Three looming figures appear in front of me, one of them real.  He has a gun in his hands.  And when I see that, I conjure up some sort of defiance inside of me.  I have to try and do something.
I think of the rifle and shiver.  But I know I have to.  I have to do it.  My trembling hands go behind my back.  My eyesight’s regaining now.  I see three people standing over me.  Two have their rifles aimed at me.  The others have their weapons holstered.  I can’t believe they haven’t shot me yet-
  I clasp the rifle on my back.   I can’t believe what I’m doing.  I don’t know how I’m going to escape even if I do use it.  One shot loaded.  Four men in front of me.  But my hands still pull begin to pull the rifle in front of me.  I do it slowly, so they don’t see what I’m doing, but then, as I reveal what’s on my back, it happens so fast.
One shouts in alarm.  I’m already pulling the bolt back.  The men holding their rifle bring their fingers to their trigger, but they don’t shoot.  It’s like they can’t.  I’m simultaneously standing and aiming the gun.  At my hip, I line it up with the rifle man on the left.  Bring my finger down to the trigger, hold it there for a second as the gun shakes violently in my hand, and then-
BANG.
What have I done?  Utter horror consumes me as the man looks down to his stomach, where blood is spraying everywhere, and collapse to the ground.  His eyes so empty.  The others begin to kick into action, and before I know it, I scramble over the bonnet of the car and sprint to the wire.  Behind me, A hundred tiny explosions erupt.  Bullets smash into rusted metal around me. 
What the hell have I done what have I done what have I done-
I blindly dodge the tiny metal cylinders that come screaming towards me and just run as fast as I can.  I don’t know how I’m ever going to outrun those men.  There’s an entire army of them.  I reach the end of the highway and jump up onto the thick barrier.  I don’t even have time to plan my jump.  I close my eyes, crouch, and propel myself off the side.  But as I jump panic causes me to seize up.  My feet slip.  I falter.  And then I fall.  It’s a jump that barely lasts a second, and I don’t know how it even occurs to me in that second to stick my hands out in front of me.  I feel something.  The line.  I force my hands to tighten and my whole body goes from falling head first to clinging to the wire.  I involuntarily zip down it and land at an extremely high speed onto the ash.




The short stories will be going on the website wattpad, where people can upload their writing and others can see it.  I hope you enjoyed these first few pages.  I'll bring you updates on how i'm doing with the story and tell you when It comes onto wattpad.

For now, Stay frosty.

-Joe


(Good news, I have a sign off phrase!)

ATS and stuff

Having a blog is sort of like an autobiography.  I recently read Michael Mclyntyre's autobiography, and then afterwards found myself thinking about writing things that happen to me in a future autobiography as they happened.  After about a week of this, I was confident that sometime in the future, I could write one, but then I realized that all these thoughts that I would fill the book with are completely random, unconnected things about probiotic yoghurt and architecture. (The two most random things I thought of while I was doing this post)  I had no way of linking all these things together, so i guess the blog is easier.

Welcome! (Again)

There's gonna be one of those (^) At the start of every post.  Just a random thought.

Now, If I may drill down to the bedrock of this post.

I'd like to thank everyone, firstly and... foremostly... That has viewed my blog and shared it on facebook.  In a night I've had 93 pageviews.  Keep sharing!
Also, I said I was going to post some of my writing on here, and I intend to keep my promise.  At 150 pageviews, I'll put something On here!

Anyway, down to a serious matter. (If this was a TV broadcast the lights would dim and it would go to a close up of my face right about now) I wanted to share with some of you information about my condition, Arterial tortuosity syndrome, or ATS, if you like abbreviations.  It's a very rare condition and I would like to clarify what it is, how it works and the other conditions attached to it.

Arterial tortuosity syndrome is a rare congenital connective tissue condition disorder characterized by elongation and generalized tortuosity of the major arteries including the aorta. It is associated with hyperextensible skin and hypermobility ofjoints-

Jokes, I'm not gonna make you read a wikipedia entry.  Like it says above, arterial tortuosity syndrome is a VERY rare heart condition.  There are about 50 people in the world with it.  It basically means the arteries are tortuous, or kinked.   This doesn't cause many problems (lie), at least for me it doesn't.  In America, there are quite a lot of other children with ATS. Most of them have an extreme case of ATS, or, I suppose, you could say I have a mild one.  Most of them have all had operations on their hearts to make their arteries wide enough to pump blood.  I could further show the tragedy of this situation by stating almost all of these people who have had operations are below 10 years of age.

Now you're probably thinking mine must be nothing compared to all this, but it's still very bad.  This is very complicated to explain, but another condition usually attached to ATS is hypermobility, or "Double jointedness." And another condition attached to THAT is chronic fatigue.  Now, if you have ATS, you might not have hypermobility, and If you have hypermobility, you might not have chronic fatigue.  Not for me.  I wound up with all three.  I want to explain all of these individually, so I'll split this into three groups and tell you about each one.

Arterial tortuosity syndrome (ATS)
One of the worst things, personally, with ATS, is the fact that my body needs all the energy it can to help deal with it, so I end up with a low immune system.  Bottom Line: I catch a virus like a hardcore football fan catches a ball accidentally shot into the stands by a player on the pitch.  This leaves me sitting at home a lot.  Another thing about ATS is because of my arteries, it's too dangerous to play any contact sports, but that's not too much of a drag.  I guess when you grow up without sports you don't really care when you can't play them.  Although the majority of my friends are lovers of sports.  That complicates stuff.

Finally, ATS causes flabby skin and droopy facial features. Now, some of you may be familiar with the common teenager's need to mock anything that looks different to them.  I've been left severely angry (Refraining from using stronger... vocabulary here) when people mock me.  Let me elaborate here.  People have said I had "Bingo wings," or mockingly asked me, "What's wrong with my eyes."  Of course, when they do, I turn round and explain to them angrily that it's the result of a serious condition and that only a sick person would judge someone like that, leaving them to walk away feeling extremely guilty.  Then I realize I only did that in my mind.

Hypermobility syndrome (double jointed)
Not as amazingly rare as ATS, in fact, it's extremely common.  This makes my joints, In layman's terms, all "Wibbly Wobbly."  My joints are prone to "clicking out" a bit as a result.  I can't write much because when I do my thumb painlessly dislocates (Picture that without cringing.  I dare you.) Which means I use a computer quite a bit to write at school.  This also means I can't walk very far either.  My joints won't take it.  Of course, this is one of the worst symptoms of all these conditions.  When i'm out on trips with my friends it's always a concern i'll get tired of walking.  The same thing happens on school trips, and a teaching assistant is always allocated to stay behind with me in case I lag behind the group, and believe me, i do.  I sometimes even have trouble keeping up with a group of friends walking to and from lessons at school.  The good thing is in 2010, I went on a two week intensive physio course.  Basically, I did leg exercises at great ormond street.  It was a really life changing fortnight.  I really strengthened my legs, met a lot of great people who also had hypermobility, and most of all, got an extended summer holiday.  Win!

Chronic fatigue syndrome
The worst of the bunch.  This is tiredness.  The severity of this conditions ranges from getting tired after a long day walking non-stop, to not being able to get out of bed in the morning.  Chronic fatigue is terrible.  At a lot of times, I can't manage a a full day of school.  I have to limit playing out with friends on the weekend to an hour, tops, or I won't be able to get out of bed the next day.  If I go to a shopping center for a day I'll be so tired when I get home I won't be able to think straight.  I cannot stress how bad chronic fatigue is.  Last year, my attendance at school was 40%.  I know, right?
I always have trouble convincing people I'm not just lazy.  usually when people ask about it, I just give them a half-baked answer and decide to tell them later.  Sorry about that.
After I get viruses, I tend to get very tired.  Recently, for example, I got ill for a week, but it's taken me more than two weeks to get back into school for two hours.  usually, I get Wednesdays, the middle of the week off, to rest and ensure I can go in for the rest of the week.  On the first two days of the week, I go in at ten.  and after all of this, it's still a rare occasion that i'll make it in for the four days I'm supposed to go in.


So that completes the complicated trilogy of conditions.  bad, huh?  I have to admit, though, although I really don't like all this, If someone offered me the chance to just be normal, with no complications or conditions, I wouldn't accept that offer.  It's made me who I am, and I know without them, I'd be a completely different person.

That was dramatic.  Let's lighten the mood with... KITTENS!

Aw, the little thing can fit in the glass!


Anyway, Thanks for reading.  May the forks be with you.  Isn't that the line?

-Joe

I'm joe!

So, This is my first post from my first (kinda) blog.  Soon i'll have to post a long, "Inspiring story" about everything I go through (I feel really stupid writing that, but, oh well) but for now i'll just tell you about me.

Ha, brief.  Never have I been, "Brief" in writing.

Well, First things first.  I love to write.  I wrote a book, the idea of which actually came to me in a cliche way.  Brace yourselves to cringe at the cheesiness of this- The idea came in a dream.  I know, Right?  Anyway, I don't want to say too much about it, as I want to do a kinda "First chapter release at 100 pageviews" or whatever, but I can say that my doctor recommended me for a wish from the organization "Starlight" and I asked to get my finished book published.  It's currently in the process of happening.  Yay!

Anyway, as for other hobbies, I'm pretty much  obsessed with gaming.  I'm typing from a top-of-the-range alienware gaming PC, which I have PACKED with games.  seriously.  I used up a terrabyte in two months.

I'm not really sure of the purpose of this blog, so I'm just gonna write what I think i'll write about in the future years.  I'll do a lot about writing, the progress of my book, and share some of my work.  I suppose the rest of this blog will be about myself, my conditions and my perspective on stuff.  That's what you've got to look forward to.

As for now, i'll leave you with an offering of some of my work.  I wrote this last year for history homework, where we had to write a first person experience of a gladiator in roman times.  I creatively and orginally named this, "gladiator."  have a read and, if I don't know you, then I'd love some feedback from someone who doesn't have to be nice about it.

I'm off to watch the big bang theory on E4.  Have fun!

-Joe

Once again, the crowd’s shouting increased dramatically to fierce roaring, meaning that the latest batch of gladiators had fallen prey to their opponents.  The tension was killing me.  I sometimes wished that I could escape from this horrid place, and be back home with my mother.  And sometimes I wished my time would come. I wished I would be called out into the coliseum and be granted a quick death with the minimum of pain.

  I passed the time by casting my mind back to the very beginning of all this.  I thought of the time when the soldiers turned up on my doorstep, sombre looks spread across their face, and remembering the feeling I had when they said my father (a military commander) had died heroically in battle.  I also tried to remember the feeling I had when I left mother, creeping out of our plebeian flat, Tears streaming down my face, vowing to return, with money, so I could provide a better life for both of us.  The main reason I was remembering these times, was not because I wished to pass time, it was to supress the feeling that was overwhelming me at that moment.  Another group of men were called out into the coliseum, but I was not.  I saw Aelius, a prisoner I had befriended during training get up, and my heart instantly filled with sorrow and desperation.  “Aelius, no..” I whispered. 

“My time has come, Septimus.  It was an honour knowing you.”

“There is a chance you may survive-“ I whimpered, sniffing back tears.

“Yes, but the chance is thin.  I will almost certainly perish today.  Good luck, Septimus.” Aelius showed no hint of fear in his voice.  He was a stronger man than me.  He raised his hand and I took it, and then Aelius disappeared into the long line of gladiators going into battle.  I stared into space, thinking nothing, feeling nothing,  The sound of trumpeting beasts, Roaring crowds, and the instructor telling the warriors what to do filling my ears.

“ You will march into the coliseum and face the emperor, salute him, at do not turn your back on him!  Now go and die with honour!”  There was a bang sound as the wooden gate lowered and then the sound of boots hitting the ground.  The crowd’s shouting intensified again, and I went back to my thoughts.

  I thought back to my first day at my training camp in south Italy, when I had been handed a wooden sword, and was ‘assessed’ on my combat skills.  The pain that shot up my arm when the wooden sword struck it still stayed with me today.  Since then, I have always shuddered when thinking about being struck like that with a sword.  I was almost instantly branded as ‘bait’ because of my terrible skill when it came to fighting.  I had been in many mock-up one-on one battles, (that was all we seemed to do, as we were not allowed outside other than to do this)  none of which I had won, and after just a week I was told I would be shipped off to the famous coliseum to fight there.  That was when I realized what I had gotten myself into.  I didn’t know how to fight!  I couldn’t even push my old friends over, let alone thrust a sword into someone’s chest.  And if it did come to that, I didn’t know what I would do.

  When we still had our old house, a rat got in, and instead of killing it, I picked it up and released it.  I couldn’t hurt a thing.  He kept thinking about his journey.  Arriving at the coliseum, meeting the manager, and he remembered the feast that was provided for the warriors the night before.  I had the biggest, most appetizing meal sat in front of me, and suddenly I felt the least hungry I had ever felt.

  There was more roaring from the stadium.  My heart was in my mouth.  I was next.  “KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!” the crowd chanted.  After a few minutes the chant erupted into a deafening howl. And then a guard strode up the narrow passage and told the newest group to get up.  This was it.  I jumped up from the floor and my legs almost gave out.  I stumbled through the corridor, to an open iron gate were two guards stood.  As I went through A small, rusted trident and a net was shoved into each of my hands.  My arm gave out for a second because of the weight of the trident.  I fumbled with the long handle, as it kept slipping from my sweaty palm.  I finally gripped it and moved it around in my hand, getting used to the feel of it. I continued through the tunnel until I reached a turn off to the right.  There was a slight incline and at the end of it was a wooden door.  The gladiators formed two lines, one on either side of the corridor.  I shuffled into the rightmost queue, thankful  I  was not in the front.  The noise of the crowd soaked up all other noises around me.  The instructor stood in the middle of both of the lines, wearing a feathered hat and an iron cuirass upon his chest.  He shouted out the ritual, but I did not bother to listen to him.  Instead I thought about what I would do.  How I would fight.  I decided know that If anything, my goal was not to win, but to merely survive.  I knew I would be defeated, and that the crowd would demand my death, but when that time came, I would not plead to the emperor for my life to be spared.  I knew that it would have no effect.  Instead I would plead to my killer, to make it quick.  I couldn’t believe what I was saying.  I never thought this would be happening to me. 

“Go, and die with honour!”

“Here goes…” I thought to myself, before taking a huge breath.

There was a split second when I actually went deaf, before I stumbled into the coliseum and experienced the loudest noise I had ever experienced.  I collapsed to the floor, a mix of the screams of the crowd, the sun piercing into my head, giving me a splitting headache, and the immenseness of the stadium.  50,000, people, all staring at him.  I picked up my trident and pulled myself up, realizing that the floor was littered with bodies.  I followed the group of warriors, walking towards the emperor’s private box.  I stumbled along, making sure I didn’t trip over the bodies.  I realized I had forgotten about Aelius, and instantly scanned everybody I saw, longing that his body was not here.

 

“Please… please….”  And just like that, I saw him. His face pale.  His dark skin covered with sand and blood.  I was certain that I knew I was going to see this, but it felt so strange.  “No!” I screamed, my voice swallowed by the bellowing of the crowd.  Tears coming down my face.  I still walked, Forgetting about my impending doom, the dead bodies around me, and the roaring crowd, until all of the gladiators stopped, facing the emperors box.  I decided I could mourn Aelius later, and if I died then I would be reunited. 

The gladiators all raised saluted, and I reluctantly followed. 

“Those who are about to die salute you!”  They shouted confidently, and I mumbled along with them.  The announcer said something to the crowd but I didn’t hear him.  I raised my trident and my net, keeping my eye on the gates.  My breathing was laboured, my heart was jumping out of my skin, and my head was pounding.  And then the gates opened.  A gladiator next to me wished me good luck, and I wished him the same.   About 10 men came through the giant iron gates, all of them wearing heavy armour.  Most of them wore visored helmets, leg guards, and armour on their arms. 

they all carried huge swords, some had maces or war axes.  I knew that one hit from one of those and I would be dead.  The crowd’s roaring became louder and louder, but I blocked it all away.  This was it.  From now, it was just us and them.  An armoured gladiator ran towards me, and I panicked.  I screamed (In fear, not anger) and feebly threw my net at him.  He quickly cut it to pieces with his sword and kept coming towards me.  I heard screaming and took a quick glance around me, and I saw utter chaos.  Blood flying around, new warriors falling to the floor, forming a fresh pile of bodies.   I glanced back and my heart skipped a beat as I saw a long sword thrusting towards me.  I heaved my trident up and parried the attack, leaving both of us dazed.  I had to make a move while he was dazed.  I raised my trident so that the 3 sharp points were aimed at his weak spot, the completely vulnerable chest area, and charged, bracing myself.  The result was horrific.  The trident plunged into his skin, like a hand plunges through a cobweb, splattering blood over Me, the sand around me, and onto my trident.  I had to twist the trident around to remove it from the man’s chest, and when I did, he lurched over and collapsed in the sand.  I stood over him, shocked. 

“What have I d-“ I started to say quietly to myself, but before I could even finish I was tackled to the ground by another gladiator.  I looked around for my trident and I spotted it a few feet away.  There was no way I could defend myself.  I was pinned down, the weight of the man’s armour squeezing the breath out of me.  The crowd was screaming- “KILL! KILL! KILL! KILL!”

I closed my eyes and awaited the horrifying pain as the man raised his sword.  But it didn’t come.  I opened my eyes and saw the thing I least expected to see.  One of my allies was flying towards the man that had me pinned down, and pulled him off with great force.  The first thing I did was scramble across the sand and retrieve my trident, before crawling back to my ally to help him.  I saw him on top of the enemy, punching him repeatedly, until the enemy broke the chain by grabbing a sword and slashing it into his throat, causing blood to spray from his throat, and from his mouth and nostrils.  And then a wave of rage spread through him.  I let my vengeful side take over and strutted to the gladiator, putting my foot firmly on his stomach so he couldn’t get up.  I used my trident to knock the sword out of his hand and just as I was about to bring my trident down on the blood soaked man, I realized what I was doing.  I felt the worst feeling I had ever felt.  I had killed someone, allowed myself to live instead of him.  He probably had a family.  And my saviour.  He had jumped on the man who was trying to kill me, sacrificing his life to save mine.  I stepped off the man and walked away, ignoring the carnage that was taking place around him.  I was aware that the man was already getting up.  I couldn’t live with what I had done.  I turned around and once again saw the gladiator who had killed my ally, gathering his weapons, getting ready to charge.  I wanted to let him attack me, I wanted him to kill me, to end this guilt.

 But I couldn’t bring myself to let my guard down.  I thought it was because I was a coward.  I was afraid of death.  I wanted to live, I didn’t care how many other people died as long as I was alive.  But as he ran towards me, something changed my mind.  I granted this man life, and he still attempted to kill me.  He could have left me and hid, or attacked someone else.  But he didn’t.  He chose to attack me again.  And now he would pay the price, because I am not a coward.  I am a gladiator.  As he raised his sword I slashed his chest with my trident, leaving him to collapse at my feet. I spun round and got a huge surprise, a huge sword piercing into my hip, causing an explosion of blood.  I fell to the floor, unable to move, hardly able to breath.  The huge open wound on my hip stung like a million hornets stinging me.  My ‘wounder’ raised his sword again, and I managed to work up the strength to move by arm in the weapon’s course.  The pain was excruciating, blood was pouring from my right arm.  But I had come this far, and I was not going to die now.  I used my last ounce of strength to grasp my trident in my good arm and raised it to the gladiator, who was glancing at the crowd.  I took a deep breath and the man looked back, and in a second realized what was happening.  I threw the trident as hard as I could, using it as a spear, and it lodged into his heart.

The man collapsed next to me.  I had done it.  I did my best to look around the coliseum.  Other than one other man, who seemed to be on my side, I was the only one left.  The last thing I saw was two soldiers rushing towards me.  And that’s when I realized.  I had survived.  I smiled in glee as the two soldiers kneeled beside me, inspecting my wounds, before slipping into a welcome unconsciousness. 

                      





 I had won.