Journalling warmup:
Today I’m really struggling to sit down and write. It feels like pulling myself out of quicksand, making it over to here at my computer. I’ve had a snack - a slice of pizza and now a naartjie - I’ve created all kinds of Instagram stories and what feels like continuous excuses. Even though every other time I’ve felt like this it’s ended up worthwhile to sit and write, it’s still hard. I’m not sure if it’s just the continuous creative exertion that comes with a month like this where I aim to write almost every day? And to consistently produce content that’s not just in line with the prompts, but with previous parts of the story. I suppose I might be underestimating the level of effort this requires. And feeling overly judgemental of how my feed looks like at the moment - thinking it’s just “shabby” photos and bad lighting and quick sketchy artworks rather than other finished works that I really feel proud of… But then when it comes to putting in the work to change that - like putting up Planoly posts to schedule - it’s like a balloon that deflates…
Anyway. Okay, fine, I will centre myself (haha see what I did there? That’s today’s prompt in case you missed it…) and see what the story brings up today…
Ah, I’ve recognised a fear - this fear / belief that the process and inspiration for what I write will be far too random, that people won’t enjoy it or understand or follow it. Yes, I know I’ve mentioned that end result before, but taking a moment to acknowledge what I seem to think to be a possible cause…
Ps - I’m including this “raw” journal entry to keep it real… It’s so easy when we see someone’s finished work (even a zero draft piece) to lose sight of what goes into it, or to think it all comes easy… It’s a strange contradiction, this feeling of wanting to write, of wanting to discover more of the story and also feeling like I don’t want to. Yet again though, today’s session was worth it! I keep wanting to sit down and “brainstorm” (a random amalgamation of ideas rather than story scenes) to try and figure out where this is going, but just going to keep on following the characters instead…
P.P.S - I had no idea at the time of doing this sketch at Rosemary Hill earlier today that the prompt was “Center”. Only after checking the prompt list did I think - “Ah ha, this will work!”. And then that led to the piece of story you’re about to read…
Simone opened her eyes, expecting to be back in the gardens, to remember… Well, everything. She wasn’t quite sure where to start. Instead, she was staring out through a circular window, perfectly centered in the wall in front of her. In fact, all around her was this wooden wall, as if she was high up in a wooden tower with only that window letting her look at at the world beyond. With a sign, she was about to step up to the window and see what vista it would reveal, but Sir Time’s hand on her arm stopped her.
“What is it?” she glanced at him, surprised at the concern in his face. Hadn’t he said this would be different? They’d fixed everything… Hadn’t they?
He shook his head, as if he could hear her thoughts. “Something still doesn’t feel right. I’ve imposed this structure onto your memories—“ he gestured at the tower and the window. “It’s a construct used as a core part of Keepers’ training - it helps us to narrow things down, to focus on one element at a time. In our training, it’s used in various ways, but for our purposes today, I hope it would keep you—“ He broke off, and Simone waited for him to finish, but he didn’t.
“Keep me from what?”
“From disappearing back into your own memories.” Sir Time finally met her gaze again, the blandness in his voice something emphasising the seriousness of the threat.
“Disappearing… You mean I can get lost here and never come out again?”
Sir Time nodded.
“So what would happen to my body? And Tristan…”
Sir Time gripped her shoulders. “You’ll remain comatose until your body has used up all of the available nutrients… That’s how Tristan will find you — unconscious, or already dead — collapsed somewhere on the island. He would have no idea—“
“No idea that I was still alive here and could somehow be saved.” Simone shuddered and rubbed her hands across her arms.
“We can still stop,” Sir Time’s voice was soft, as if he almost didn’t want to suggest it. Simone had come to realise that their futures were somehow intertwined — what would happen to him if she didn’t go through with this? He looked whole, for the moment, but now that she looked carefully, there was an edge to him, as if this version of who he was could slip away at any moment. Then again, what happened to him if she tried, and failed? Would he whither away with her?
Simone shook her head. “No. We have to see this through. I have to see this through. It’s time to face my past, otherwise there’s no future for me to return to.” (@Todo what has increased the stakes so much? What happens in Simone’s past that this is such a critical decision point?).
“All right, as long as you know the risks. I couldn’t send you back again without warning you…” She watched him struggle with himself, as if he wanted to say something else.
Surprising herself, Simone leaned forward and hugged him. Awkward hat and big feet and all, it still felt right somehow. As if a part of herself had returned to her. She pulled back and looked at him.
“You were here all along, weren’t you? You could see what was happening, what the Royals was… But you couldn’t do anything to stop it?”
Sir Time nodded, his eyes flooding with tears. “I’m sorry Simone. I was trapped there with you, I was already broken then… I might not be fully restored, not yet, but something has definitely shifted. If we can keep the momentum of what we’ve started… We might both make it out of this alive yet.”
Simone gave him a firm nod, then grabbed his hand in hers, turning back towards the window. “Well then, Sir Time, let’s get to it. We have a memory to confront.”
Hand in hand, they strode towards the window. Simone suddenly felt Sir Time quickening his pace next to her, his hand pulling her along, and the next thing she knew they both jumped forward and leapt through that window…
The world shifted around her, the shape of the tower falling away to reveal the garden. At first, it was as if Simone was seeing herself from very high above, and in that instant she understood what Sir Time had meant when he said the circular window was used to centre the Keepers’ focus in training. It was as if all those shattered little blocks came together, weaving together all the bits and pieces of information that had been kept apart before into one big tapestry. And suddenly, in that instant before she connected back with her past consciousness, she knew what she needed to do. She couldn’t let the Royals keep their control of the Gardens, of Oasis, even if it cost her her life.
Word count: 818