Depressing stories are -so- depressing

                Reading The Swimmer was really saddening. I thought it was just really funny at first, since I heard about it from Inx and M- before I ever read it myself. They made it sound so amusing, emphasizing the “we drank too much”, and making it seem extremely comical. But when I read it, I was just confused from the beginning, and I became more and more depressed as I read it. At first, I thought he was just a drunk man who was a socialite and therefore no one cared that he was crazy, but the more I read the more I realized that he was actually a social outcast who had both a drinking and a financial problem. The storm and the dry pool was a really nice foreshadowing touch to the humiliation and realization that what he remembers isn’t complete and isn’t true anymore.

                Honestly, I realized that I really dislike these stores. I like “happily ever after”s, stories that are fun and frivolous and don’t contain much conflict if any. Of course, I realize that conflict is a fundamental part of a good story, but… well actually, I just like stories where the conflict is resolved, in an extremely clichéd manner. Such as, the prince saves the princess and then they get married and live happily ever after. It makes me feel content on the inside. Of course, but that’s not good literature. I feel like things that are classified literature are stories that end very realistically, aka there is no happy ending, no prince charming, and if you don’t die or your close family/friends don’t die then you’re lucky. How depressing.

                I think I will write my story to have a vague “happily ever after”. But I’ll qualify it so that people aren’t angry at my lack of originality and insistence on writing happy chick flick-y stories. Just because I can’t really face conflict very well doesn’t mean that I can’t write good stories. I just write clichéd ones. Get over it.

Put me in, Coach! - Rose Emily

Rose Emily stared outside from inside the empty hardwood-floor studio with floor to ceiling windows at the wildly raging waves, dressed in hot pink yoga pants and a simple black spaghetti strapped camisole that accentuated her curvy figure. The dark sky threatened to spill torrential floods, and the wind was already howling. She should’ve moved to California, rather than this little town of Carrillon Point. The view was supposed to be calming for her yoga classes, yet today they were nothing but worrisome. “I hope that tree won’t come crashing down.” “Did I bring in that sweatshirt I left outside?” “Oh no, my plants!” She could see those thoughts on the faces of her students, and it caused them to wobble and tumble over as if the tempest itself has pushed them down. At least this was better than the snow. People constantly cancelled their classes due to snow, and she was lonely without any human company, and her lovers were less likely to visit her when it was challenging to get to her studio.  

She pulled out her hair tie and let her golden waves cascade down her shoulders. She turned toward the mirrors and put on an alluring smile. It quickly disfigured into a smirk as she thought of all those unwitting and unfaithful men that fell into her trap. Oh how she loved it! With a simple dazzling smile or seductive pose, she could lure those weak males into darkness, into the realm of unfaithfulness. It didn’t matter that they don’t love her; she just wanted to fill their minds with guilt, to shatter their ideal and sunshine filled lives with their soul mates. They were even unaware of her purposefully dark intentions and blamed themselves, which of course made it all the more fun. It didn’t lessen the number of people who would sign up for her classes, since yoga was “all the rage” and she was the only instructor in the tiny town. She sneered contemptuously at their shallowness. She was in a position of power, and she loved every second. With a quick flip of her blonde hair, she sauntered into her house, waiting for the next class to start.