As part of my new life choices, I’ve been going through the storage unit that stores everything I own, and I’ve been deciding what to keep and what to throw away. Taking a minimalist approach, anything that I couldn’t think of a use for (minus sketchbooks and notebooks) was thrown away or donated. However, in so doing, I’ve come across a lot of things from my past. Including some things that I’ll be sharing with you guys here.
Specifically, I found several papers I wrote in highschool, and some speeches I wrote in college, that I’ll be transcribing up onto this blog so that you all can laugh at teeny-bopper me. Also, so that I can see how I’ve progressed since then.
Starting first with a paper entitled Journal 2, which contained the prompt, “Imagine if you were the sole Survivor, write your story.”
My name is Mary Magdalene (here, in red ink, my teacher wrote ‘She was also infected w/ a ‘legion’ of demons’), my mother named me after her, hoping that she, being a saint, would bless me with good health. I have always been a healthy girl, and my father was hoping that prince prospero would take me for his bride.
So of course, when prince prospero invited me and my 3 sisters to his retreat, my father sent us.
When we arrived, prince prospero greeted us, as all of his guests, personally. We stayed in his Abbey-like castle for weeks.
I spent most of that time in the chapel. I would never admit it, but my real goal was to become a nun and save the world it’s demons. My parents don’t believe it, but I have actually seen a demon. He looked human, but for his wild, red eyes and hair, and his pointed ears and teeth. He was what had set my heart on the convent.
I was in the chapel also, praying to the lord and my patron saint, Mary Magdalene, that my wish be granted, when two of my sisters came in squeeling, interrupting my prayer.
“Shush, Jewel, shush, May! This is a house of god!” I hissed at them.
“Oh, dear sister! It is wonderful! The prince Prospero has organized a Masque! all are to attend! How shall you go, Jewel?” May bubbled.
“I am thinking of going as a succubus, and scare the men!”
“Ooooh! That was my idea!”
“You both are wicked, wicked little girls to speak of such demons in a house of god! out with you! out with you both!” I cried.
I felt that I would not give in to that temptation. I have given of myself wholy to God.
But later on that night as I read my holy bible. I heard screams downstairs, and soon even the music stopped.
I went downstairs, still in my supper gown. It was about midnight and I heard the old black clock strike eleven and cease. I had a horrible feeling.
I went downstairs and walked through the seven rooms of prince prospero’s favorite Masque hall.
Soon, I came upon the terrible crimson-black room. There in the center surrounded by dead, bleeding bodies, three of which I realised to be my sisters, stood a thin man, in a red costume, that reminded me too much of a shade I had seen before. His hand went for his mask, drew it from his face, and then he slowly turned towards me.
It WAS him! the demon I had seen as a child. The one who took my mother but half a year ago!
I found myself praying to the lord and mary Magdalene to protect me just as I had that day. The demon smiled at me, grinned really.
“Begone, foul demon!” I screeched
He nod his head, and disapeared, off on another misdeed.
Soon authorities arrived. My father was called, and he could not stand to look at me. So, finally, I got my wish.
I was sent to the convent.
Now, I’ve transcribed this with every single spelling error from the original. Just looking at it, I can tell you my writing has improved massively from high school. But anyone with a fanfiction.net account can tell you that. If I look, I can see the beginnings of habits I still have to this day. That is, short paragraphs, being unable to spell Realize correctly, overuse of commas.
Looking back like this is a wonderful thing. And it reminds me of where I started from, and why. This story was originally based off of a reading we did in that class, The Masque of the Red Death. It had captured my attention the way horror stories always do. I loved it. But I was also a little shit at the time and greatly enjoyed throwing myself into anything I loved. Which meant the narrator was essentially me, with a different backstory.
Nothing wrong with that! Self-insertion is some of the best learning you can get, honestly. So I’m proud of 14 year old me’s work. I might rewrite this, someday. Take it out of first person, add some details and flourishes. Fix the sentance structure. It might make a good companion piece someday. For now, it will sit, here.