fig

23 ✨ she/they 🌿 reader & aspiring writer ✨ 🌱 if you want to see my writing I've tagged it #figwrites & my writing challenge #30minutesfig

[nervousyxunghuman]

08.07.2024

The bird was somehow even smaller up close, the fox sneered, how could it be that a creature so slight and unassuming could be the key to the rest of his life? He turned his back to the creature to save it from the discomfort of seeing his ugly nature of change. Small groans escaped from behind his newly formed teeth, the chorus of pain rattled around his rib cage as his body began to expand from within itself. By now, the boy was long used to the magic of transformation but his experience did not make the change any easier to endure. He worked to control the throes that came with the calamity of bodily change in effort not to scare the bird away. He knew that at the very least he could conceal his facial expression yes… but nothing could drown out his cacophony of agony. He felt every bone stretch, his stomach bloat, his organs expand - it was not a priceless magic, he just prayed the pain would be worth it.

After what felt like an eternity, in his newly human body the boy turned around, anxiety surging through his core. To his surprise, the bird remained by his side. He hoped that this was a positive sign, that it knew of his kind. That it knew the peril he was in. His eyes began to search that of the bird’s, he was looking for his answer. For an awareness. For a sign. He could sense that the bird was afraid but he did not know how to assure it of his innocence when just moments ago he was eyeing it up as his next meal.

[nervousyxunghuman]

19.06.2024

Fighting to gain control of its stomach and the heavy thrumming of his quickened pulse, the fox began to stalk the unknown visitor to the otherwise desolate island. This was his one shot to potentially escape the island, or all else failing, eat a satisfying meal. The earth felt cool beneath his paws and he slowly edged forward, as he prowled closer to the water’s edge the dirt felt damp and slick to the touch - all of a sudden a creeping doubt poured over his mind. He felt himself becoming more vulnerable, more visible with every step that he took. His movements were becoming easily traceable due to the large paw prints that now stained the terrain and his chances of a quick escape were narrowing as he felt his weight slowly sink into the mud beneath him. The fox felt heavy. The meaning that he had placed on this chance encounter felt overwhelming, stifling even.

Jealously started to arise from an unknown corner of his mind… he began to wish with every cell of his being that he too could grow wings and leave this place behind. It wasn’t the bird’s fault that it could fly so he knew deep down that his jealousy was misplaced but none the less the feeling continued to consume him. He watched silently as the bird began to flap its wings, ready to take flight and leave both him and the island behind forever. A murmur arose in his throat but his mouth didn’t seem to co-operate. His body froze, his mind continued to race. His inner voice was begging for the bird to save him, to take him away from this horrid place but he could not find the words to paint the picture of his mind. Guilt replaced the jealously that had taken over his mind - he had thought to attack the bird in truth and then he had willed for it to save him.

Turning his back to the bird, the fox reconciled with himself that he was not worthy of the bird’s help nor its attention. Another chance would come and he would be do things the right way. It was when he began to squirm under the underbrush once more that he felt a warm breath caress his fur.

[nervousyxunghuman]

17.06.24

From the tangled maze of leaves and other forgotten things, a creature slowly emerged with a deep growl emerging from its body. The unpleasant noise seemed to echo around the edges of its painfully hollow stomach. The island had offered no comfort to the fox. For the first few days it had eaten whatever it could find - most of which was already on its way to death so most ‘meals’ had been soured with the rotten taste of decay. He had tried to feast on bugs and what little green the earth produced but quickly found that life did not seem to find itself wanting to stick around in this queer place. After exhausting the little vegetation the island had to offer, he quickly turned his attentions to leaving the desolate place. It did not take him long to figure out just the depths of trouble that he has found himself in.

Patrolling around the outskirts of the island he found that he could not see any signs of life, even across the vast spreads of clear azure waters there seemed not be a single soul around. In fact as he peered down into the endless spread of water he found that the only creature he could find was his own reflection. With what seemed like endless supplies of time the fox combed through the depths of his mind for answers… How did he get here? Did somebody take him here? Where in the world could he be? His exercises in thought proved just like the land to be barren, he suspected that he had lived before coming to the island but he could not remember there being a ‘before’. In fact he could neither visualise an after, to him it seemed there was only him, the island, and the now. The three seemed to be an impenetrable trio. He could not see a life for himself that went beyond these lands, that was until the curious bird appeared in the stream on an otherwise unremarkable day.

[nervousyxunghuman]

15.06.24

Shaking the damp from her body the bird slowly emerged from the water, reluctance weighing down her every step. After looking around to check that she was alone, she tucked her head beneath her wings to comb her bill through her feathers. It was in these moments of peace that she felt most like herself. After preening she readied herself to leave the stream behind, to return to the skies and ultimately the noise of the wider world.

Placing one foot in front of the other she forced herself through the underbrush in search of a reason to stay - whilst the water had been soothing, heavenly almost, and the isolation a rare comfort these reasons alone were not enough to justify leaving her whole life behind. There were people out there who depended on her and she could never forgive herself if she were to leave them behind.

Deep in her thoughts, the bird reflected upon the island, it was she felt, the most unremarkable stretch of land she had ever seen but even in saying this, if she could convince those close to her to uproot everything to move her with her she would. She knew however any mention of the island and its beautiful stream would be met with nothing more than a cacophony of judgement riddled laughter.

[nervousyxunghuman]

14.06.24

Giant feathered wings eclipsed the slither of a stream that glistened beneath them. The light was bouncing off the water in a way that compelled the bird to interrupt its journey, to take the time to soak up the serenity of the otherwise unremarkable land. The water felt like home, yet the creature knew in its heart that it would find no welcome upon its arrival. It seemed from up above that no living soul lived there and in a way this made the land all that more inviting. Never before had the bird found a place to be alone, truly alone. Even the vast and endless sky seemed to be more and more crowded these days, life had started to burst out of every pocket of the world, unrelenting in its rapid rate of growth. The bird missed her sense of freedom and in this light the temptation of solitude became too much for her to ignore.

Tucking in her wings, she plummeted toward the calm waters below and found herself revelling in the surprising warmth of its embrace. She let herself float there for a short while, enjoying the gentle caress of the stream and the magical feeling of weightlessness. Both her body and mind started to feel at ease, up until this point she had not realised it but amongst the water she came to the conclusion that for all of her life she had felt heavy. Heavy with worry. Encumbered with with the troubles of others. Weighed down by the restrictions placed upon her. And now she felt nothing at all. The bird had become one with the water, she could not make out just where her feathers ended and the stream began. If she could have stayed on the island forever, she would have but soon enough the weight of the world came back to confront her and she knew that she had to move on. Solitude would have to wait yet another day.

[nervousyxunghuman]

13.06.24

Bear Island had always been a bleak and dismal place - in fact, it was known as the land where both men and dreams went to die. The soil bore no life. No seed could grow there despite the efforts of countless men who in their hubris thought that they could be the ones to conquer the barren wasteland. Bear Island broke both tools and spirit, it would stand unchanged, unwavering whilst the lives of those who tried to tame it would come and go in the blink of an eye. At one point in time, the island stood as a test of man’s strength, courage and bravery - if he could defeat the Land of the Bear then it was believed that he could do anything, and many died trying over countless centuries. A man could take a ferry to the island for a small fee and he was allowed only to take with him what he could carry. After paying for the one way journey, he was on his own. His business was between him and the land alone. The bodies of those deluded enough to make a pact with the island never made it back across the waters, their souls are said to still linger, trapped in a place between the land and the sky.

However, like many other things in history, the challenge of the island came to fade from man’s collective memory. The common people tired of fighting for something that they could not have, her unrelenting nature became nothing more than a bore. It cannot be said with certainty when this shift occurred but something snapped in the minds of men and they found themselves seeking out new conquests that they knew they could control. The drive was gone, the status of the land depleted. Of course the island itself did not care, she carried on life as she always had - solitary in the vast and endless oceans of the world. Bear Island knew no friends, it had not needed them and would proceed to stand the test of time in its unbroken isolation.

[nervousyxunghuman]

30 min a day writing <3

I'm challenging myself to get back into writing by writing for 30 minutes every day (well... most days)

I'll tag the posts #30minutesfig

[nervousyxunghuman]

Before me stands the door to my next universe,

Unbeknownst to me, I begin to approach the portal to my end,

Entire worlds it holds in its hinges,

Here I stand with a multitude of choices,

Colours flood my vision,

Valleys and streams of endless possibilities,

Painted visions of infinite futures,

Forever paints itself on my skin,

Sadness looms beneath the surface.

I secretly yearn for more even in the face of infinity.

I turn my back on the door.

It turns its back on me.

[nervousyxunghuman]

19/02/2024 - Walking in Nature

I'm walking, just forcing myself to move forward at this point.

I'm covered in mud, but still, I move on. I'm starting to feel lighter already.

I remove my headphones and listen to the bird song - there's no sweeter sound.

I gasp as the mud tugs at me once again and I laugh at the mental image of me face down in the ground.

I whip around to see if anyone can see me laughing like an idiot, to my luck the coast is clear.

My eyes glued to the ground, set on avoiding the worms, I hear a piercing cry from up ahead. My head darts up. My heart rate quickens. I wonder if I should have stayed home.

I force myself up the trail, my cheeks reddening against the cool wind that nips at my skin. I know that if somebody needs help I can't just walk away. I couldn't live with myself and perhaps, if it's serious, they can't live without me.

As I reach the crest of the hill, I see it. A bird with outstretched wings, shouting toward the sky. Its feathers are black, pearlescent under the shimmer of the sun rays that are shining down through the newly parted clouds.

When I had started this journey, the air had been cold and unforgiving and the rain was constantly threatening to come back to loosen the ground beneath me.

But all I can feel now is the warm embrace of the sun, all I can see is the glistening blue sky contrasting against those dark, giant feathered wings.

The bird stares right at me, its beady eyes piercing my own. It squawks that horrible cry again and takes off, leaving a single feather behind. When the coast is clear I scramble to grab it.

I hold the feather and then I too, scream at the sky. It's at this moment that I realise that life isn't too bad after all.

[nervousyxunghuman]

I don't know how to focus on a writing project when I read across so many genres... like I want to write about dragons, cowboys, werewolves.... but not all at the same time... How do y'all cope with it?

[nervousyxunghuman]

I made mood boards for the two main characters in my current romance project - can you tell I'm on a thing for cowboys??? HAHA

[nervousyxunghuman]

24/01/24 (woah cool date) - new story pt2 electric boogaloo

I woke up today and picked up my writing project again, here is some descriptive work I tried out (I have never tried this before tbh)

Wren adjusts the glasses that are falling ever so slightly down her nose which is sprinkled with a litter of sun kissed freckles. Her glasses look old fashioned, they are large, round and patterned by a gold specked tortoise shell finish. They suit her well I think but self admittedly I don’t know a lot about fashion beyond Wrangler jeans and belt buckles. Wren has short curly brown hair that falls loosely onto her shoulders, I couldn’t tell you the style or what shade it is but I can say that its well, nice? I’d need to work on that compliment before I give it out I laugh to myself. She seems to be rocking an old timey look (I’m sure there’s a name for that, perhaps I’ll ask her for it) with an oversized jumper fit for anyone’s grandpa tucked into a brown tartan skirt and wool tights (hey, perhaps I know more about fashion than I let on). Around her neck is a gold necklace that has a tiny bird in the centre, its cute, I wonder if its the bird she was named after.

[nervousyxunghuman]

23/01/24 - new story ??

I started yet another project (number 3 now) AND whilst I wish I could commit to one I'm just glad I'm finding writing exciting again. Here's a snippet from today's session where an introvert starting over meets an overexcited extrovert on a plane - I felt inspired by WWDITS and Colin Robinson as an energy vampire LOL:

I felt harsh for silently judging Harper’s perky attitude as I really appreciated the company, but as we started to creep up on American soil my anxiety began to rise and rise and rise to the point where I felt like a pot of water about to bubble and splutter all over the kitchen. Her enthusiasm and never-ending levels of energy started to slowly exhaust me - perhaps my judgement had been right, she was a vampire after all just not the blood-sucking kind. I worried that all American girls would be this energetic and lovely and excitable and loud, and would thus suck the life out of me.

[nervousyxunghuman]

My dog is a model?? 17.01.24

[nervousyxunghuman]

17/01/24 - message to my younger self.

Growing up I used to wonder if there was something inherently wrong with me, something inherently unloveable. I was late to the game with finding love, or at least I thought I was.

As I grow older, and perhaps arguably wiser, I know now that life has a habit of finding its own path, its own route, you're just a passenger along for the journey.

Life is messy, it is at times unforgiving, cruel even - but in the end, it is all you have. No do-overs, no second chances. Life is life, and it's worth living.

I wish at times that I could tell my younger self this, that things work out, that life gets better but, perhaps in doing so, I'd change the path that I'm on.

All of my past choices, decisions, mistakes, fears, wants, and desires, they form who I am. Who I am now, who I was then, who I will go on to be.

I thought I was unlovable, I found it at times, hard to love myself the way I'd give love to others.

I can count on my hands all of the big regrets I carry with me from my lifetime. I try to rectify them where I can but some chances are gone now, some doors are closed, sealed shut. But would I take them back? If I could go back and stop myself, would I? Armed with the knowledge of what I know now? I think in a way, they too, have shaped me. For better or worse.

So I write this as a letter to my younger self. Things get better, not in a linear clean-cut kind of way, life doesn't work that way and its not supposed to. Its messy but we are still here, we made it and we are worthy of love, against all the odds that life has thrown our way.

We made it.

[nervousyxunghuman]

17/01/24 - reflection of your eye.

One of my main hobbies, the one I stick to, the one that sticks to me is comparing myself to others.

I don't know when it started, I don't know when I'll stop, but what I do know is that I have made it this far.

I know I am complicit. I have always compared myself to others when it has suited me. In school, we are trained to compare our success against our peers, against arbitrary boundaries and scores and endless reels of figures and progress reports and and and.....

I have grown up with my identity forming by how it is perceived by others, and I have perceived them in return. I am watched, I watch. I see myself in the reflection of your eye, just as I see you.

But now that I've grown, as we all do, life has moved on and I have found that there's no set of rules to guide us, no expected progression. We've taken our paths down the forked road. Life is limitless, limited. Endless, ending. There's nothing left to hold on to.

Yet I yearn for the comfort of being told that I am doing well. That I am making the right choices. I miss the guiding hand even when in the past it has scorned me.

I feel as if I have been left behind, in a grand ocean and I can no longer see the end of the waters. I am swimming, swimming, moving to no avail. There are no lanes in the water to move me forward, no sign to instruct me to follow a clockwise swimming pattern.

I am floating free yet the freedom feels as if it is smothering me. I'm drowning, drowning in myself, drowning in possibility. Others are swimming up ahead, am I too slow? Too far behind? Not as good a swimmer?

I look behind me, there are others there too. But I don't think that they are any less of a swimmer than I am. I think that they are - they just are. They are swimming too, staying afloat. So why do I find myself focusing on those I perceive to be ahead? There's no finish line in sight... so why do I assume they are winning?

I look again into the ocean, I see myself in the reflection once more.w

[nervousyxunghuman]

Snowy(ish) walks ⭐ - 17.01.24