Love making this...stuff..

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fresia it...side chapter fan fic...they all gathered around the communal fire. None knew the others, they ate in silence and were comfortable in each others presence. Too insulated with their own insecurities, and fear of interaction, they sat in silence, no one wanting to upset the delicate balance of shared comradity. They all retired to the warmth of their pillows and blankets, knowing such a conclave would be a rarity at best.
 
my opinion...
not everyone can do silence
they have to talk to fill up the space

not everyone can be comfortable in silence

so not everyone can feel comradery in the silence
not everyone can feel friendship in silence

just my thoughts
Hi Adam
 
Hi Rose...
I base this on the times I was homeless, and we were all very strung out and tense...it's a known meal...and we understood it would probably not happen again anytime soon
 
still...

comfortable enough to be silent

authentic

some people live life with their rose-colored glasses

they never get to a place in their inner development where they can be silent around others

accept others

Acceptance is something that I have noticed among down-and-out people... not just homeless... but anyone who is down

My opinion again... I think we, as people, learn acceptance when we are down... learn to appreciate others when we are down

And the highfolutin people (better-than-thou people)... they just never get to it.

And you know what, (my opinion again), in a way, that makes us better than them. Sad huh?

We go through hell... we can be authentic... we can accept others...

and the others who haven't seen the pain... they just don't get it. In their expensive houses, stainless lives, they can't get it.

what do you think?
 
I like the pictures you convey with your words... like the meal you wrote about

Some people would make a movie of it.

You convey it well with words.
 
It scares me..I meet these people In the real world..the farmers daughter is 62... the orphan I met on Tuesday....I'm not prepared to do the other 2
 
So.......................................

Our next player on our stage was, but still is, the type to not really grasp that life is different for others. That all needs should just be automatically filled, all aspects of life are just a manner of commanding it so. The epoch of financial comfort. Now, to be fair, they were never shown any other way of life. Straight from the cradle they never knew want. To know disappointment. To not have instant gratification. One of those that don't fully grasp life is in no way equal. Basically, the hero we love to hate. But, if we truly have any empathy, we will be able to allot at least a shred for this poor misguided youth. As I alluded to, this young man never knew anything but abject affluence and comfort. Well, not until he awoke to blood curdling screams, the acrid smell of smoke, and the confusing cacophony of unadulterated violence. He had no skills, no self preservation. He just sat, startled, confused. And very, very afraid. In the grip of animalistic panic, he watched, detached, as his door burst open. The silhouette in the doorway backlighted from nearby flames his poor mind couldn't perceive. It was death. The dark figure was death come to collect. Seconds stretched to minutes to years. The figure approached and slowly recognition inserted itself. Mable, or Margo, or Meredith? One of the staff. Her eyes white in panic, with her mouth moving...wait. She was screaming. His mind, finally unfreezing, could hear. He needed to leave, the people have come for his blood. His blood? Why, the people love me. >SMACK!!< He reeled. This lesser just hit him. She hit him. How dare she! But, before he could call out against this most hideous grievance there was...blood? His blood? This woman...but she had already stuffed clothing in his arms, and was pushing out the door towards the noise, and heat, and terror. But this one was strong, and forceful and out his door they went...left. Wait, left is for the lessers. The entered their door..and once closed it was silent. "Young James, you must leave or die. Down these stairs my eldest Jonathan will take you outside the town limits. This is your family seal, head North, find your kin." And she placed the ring in his hand, and half shoved him down the stairwell. Confused and unbelieving he walked down each step, his mind already locking everything away.
 
So, since this fun for me, and I don't actually any of this set in stone, I'm going to have a discussion with myself. I'll even make it somewhat user friendly. *Note: This is pretty much me in my own head always.

1.>actual me< I need to figure out a time, period for this.

2. >another one of me< No honeysuckle..what are you doing, castles and peasants? Maybe the great depression or steam punk, how about fairy tale land.

1. I'm trying to incorporate the characters first because

2. fresia your because, you'll just waffle then walk away. Thank God you're a baker, you'd die as a writer

1. Okay, maybe,but I haven't filled in the whole structure yet.

2. Well, that's ******* stupid. 'Hey, I'm gonna make a cake, but only guess at the ingredients' You stupid fresia

1. Well, fresia you, I don't see you adding anything

2. Ah yes,your complete inability to decide anything...blame others. That is always helpful.

And this goes on ad nauseum...I have learned to not do this out loud around people...they don't fully appreciate it.
 
We still have as yet unknown players. But one theme we will parse out of all involved in this unfolding story is the insecurities. They don't care for confrontation. They shy away from experiencing feelings and emotions. They do not ever want to ask themselves the harder questions. They prefer the silence and non expressiveness to taking any stand. The trials they will have to face will strip them bare. But. They will dig down deep, and find the resources they never knew they had all along. And in their journey we hope to identify with.
 

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