I like to put pen to paper. Not metaphorically speaking. I like to feel my pen slid across the paper. I like how my hands form squiggly lines into letter. I like how those letter form words, those words sentences. But I love how those sentences can build stories that make your blood chill.

Horror has always fasciniated me. It's not easy to write. What's scary to me might not be scary to you. So usually I write happy endings and positive characters. But sometimes I feel the need to write something else. Sometimes I write horror. Most people are shocked to hear that. When they find out that I like to write, they think that a sweet little girl like me would only write innocent chicklit.
One of my teachers found out this is not the case the hard way. The look on her face after she read one of my stories was undescribable. She was shocked. It brought a smile to my face. That's what horror stories are supposed to do: scare others shitless.
For the past couple of weeks I've been writing. Bits and pieces. It hadn't come together yet, but the outline for four short stories is there. Turning it into an anthology is my goal. Because I'm tired of writing sappy heroes and happy endings. I need to see something raw come out of my pen now.

We all have a little bit of darkness inside of us. Call it evilness if you want. Some people keep it quiet and small by watching horror movies or reading creepypasta's. They keep it inside and hide it. I let my darkness out through my words, I show it to the whole world by turning the nasty thoughts into gruesome stories.
The question is: would you like to read them?

I love the internet. I love how it gets me in touch with awesome people from all over the world, I love how it lets me speak my mind, but most of all, I love the opportunities it gives me.

In my previous post I told you about a writing contest I entered. I had to write about a travel discovery, which was about the only criterium I had to meet. My entry didn't win anything and after analyzing other entries, I think Ik now why: I wrote about feelings I discovered because of the beautiful place I was visiting. Most others wrote about more concrete travel discoveries, like a nice restaurant, a beautiful building, stunning music... I could've written something like that too. The problem is that the only concrete travel discovery I've ever made by myself that I could think of was... a toilet. This is what my entry would have been like if I'd written about that toilet.

The Toilet in Singapore
If you've ever been on a plane for more than six hours, you know what I'm going to say about airplane toilets. Same goes for anyone who's flown for less than six hours but forgot to go to the toilet before the flight. Anyway, if you've seen an airplane restroom from the inside, you won't be suprised when I tell you that I absolutely hate those toilets. The restroom isn't just insanely small, but the toilet itself makes noises  that sound like a dying rhinoceros when you flush it. So when I flew from Sydney to Singapore, I refused to go to the toilet on the plane. Stupid idea, I know, but I really hate the dying rhino sounds that make me fear the plane is going to crash. As a result I literally ran out of the plane when it finally landed in Singapore. I wasn't very happy with the prospect of using an airport toilet, which is usually a bit disgusting, but everything's better than an airplane toilet. I quickly found the restroom - and my jaw dropped.
The restroom looked like a palace. It was very light and modern, with dark wooden doors, a high ceiling and the biggest mirror above the wash basins. There were at least seven toilets, no lines at all, which is a miracle in any women's restroom on the planet. On top of that, the toilets were squeaky clean and there were flowers in the stalls. It was heaven compared to the small compartment on the airplane where sitting down meant banging your knees into the wall.
After washing my hands, I noticed a tablet on the wall next to the door. On the screen was one single question: 'How happy are you with this restroom?' I could rate it through a series of emoticons and of course I gave it the happiest rating I could. This restroom was the best I'd seen on all my travels and heaven on earth after seven hours on a plane.

This is what my entry would've looked like if I'd chosen to describe a more concrete travel discovery. Do you think I would have had a better chance of winning if I'd submitted this one?
Stay Awesome!

A little while ago, I entered a writing competition, hoping to win a US roadtrip and a huge amount of money. I didn't win anything, but I thought it'd be fun to share my entry with you. For this contest I had to write about a 'travel discovery'. I had a hard time deciding which one of my 'travel discoveries' I should describe, but in the end I chose for something I discovered last summer in Peru. I discovered that language barriers don't matter in those special moments that you're truly happy.

A Stranger's Smile
I was not exactly happy while walking the Inca Trail from Ollantaytambo to Machu Picchu in Peru. On the first day I'd contantly been awestruck by the Andean mountains and ancient Inca ruins. On the second day I came down with food poisoning. By the end of the third day I was so exhausted that I didn't even make it to my tent when I reached the campground.

Great things happen on the Camino Inka

I sat down at the end of the camp ground and let my legs dangle off the steep drop-off. About two meters below was the path to the restrooms. People came and went, but I didn't see a single one of them. Night had fallen and I was looking up at the night sky. Within an hour the stars would come out and the Milky Way would cast its glow upon the snowy mountain tops. But now there was nothing to see in the deep dark sky yet. Nothing but the moon.
On the campground the porters, who carried all our supplies and tents, had set up the dinner tent and were busy cooking dinner. I left it all for what it was and watched the fog rise up from the trees. The air was filled with the chatter of excited tourists and the clanging of pots and pans and dinner was prepared all over the campground. There was a sense of ecxitement and joy in the air, as we'd reach Machu Picchu the next morning, but I didn't feel it. I was exhausted and, for some reason, sad and worried about my future.
One of the younger porters walked by on the path beneath. He caught my eye and smiled. 'La luna,' he said. My Spanish was poor and I had no idea what he meant. He pointed at the moon. 'La luna,' he repeated and he smiled again. I smiled back and nodded. 'It's beautiful,' I said, even though I knew he couldn't understand me. That didn't matter at that moment. He smiled again and in that moment it didn't matter where I came from or where I was going. It was just him, me and the moon high above us, waiting there for the stars to come out.  A stranger's smile in the darkness changed my whole night around. There wasn't a single fancy adjective that could describe how I felt at that moment, but there was one simply word that could: Happy. For once I was simply and truly happy.

Apart from this entry, I also had to name two places I'd want to visit if I won the US road trip. I chose New England as area and these two places to go to. At least my reasons for choosing these places was original.

Maine, because after all the Stephen King books I've read, I really want to know why all the weird things always happen in Maine.

Boston, because my dad ran the Boston Marathon years ago and I'd love to see the place where he got so hungry during the race that he stole a banana from a supporter.

Sadly my originality didn't impress anyone, but at least I had a lot of fun writing my entry.
Stay Awesome!