my rose has withered
it will never bloom again
the soil is dry
time has come to die
it will never bloom again
the soil is dry
time has come to die
Trying hard to write something these days, as usual, but it's still hard. Hoping that christmas will abolish this block, and make me write something new and good again.
Lately, I've been trying to cook up a sequel of sorts to Cassandra, while still thinking about how to actually expand on the original story itself.
I have a few ideas about how a sequel might happen, and I've even started writing some early drafts, yet I'm not completely feeling it yet. Hopefully, it'll come in time. Here are some of my ideas, for now:
- The sequel takes place in an entirely different era than Cassandra (envisioned somewhere between 1400's-1700's), such as medieval Europe, ancient Egypt, 40's Germany, present modern city or somewhere sometime in the future.
It's about a similar deal, where someone has a limited amount of space to write upon, but what he/she writes comes alive and provides a life-companion.
This sort of sequel could take on an entirely different feel than the original, and maybe even evolve in omnious ways. However, it'll most likely follow the tragic path trodden by its predecessor, let's be honest.
This kind of sequel could lead to another sequel (if successful, mind you, unlike the sequels I mention in my Sequel Post), all taking place in different times, having different twists to them.
- A story like the one above, but that connects the events of Cassandra to the new age in some way or other. This I've written part of, but it didn't turn out real well (I'll post it at the bottom here, for all to see)
- A direct Sequel or Prequel to Cassandra, that reveals something previously unknown about the original story, distorting the original view of the story (however, seeing how much I love the original, I doubt this'll happen ;p But it'd be a fun experiment).
Lately, I've been trying to cook up a sequel of sorts to Cassandra, while still thinking about how to actually expand on the original story itself.
I have a few ideas about how a sequel might happen, and I've even started writing some early drafts, yet I'm not completely feeling it yet. Hopefully, it'll come in time. Here are some of my ideas, for now:
- The sequel takes place in an entirely different era than Cassandra (envisioned somewhere between 1400's-1700's), such as medieval Europe, ancient Egypt, 40's Germany, present modern city or somewhere sometime in the future.
It's about a similar deal, where someone has a limited amount of space to write upon, but what he/she writes comes alive and provides a life-companion.
This sort of sequel could take on an entirely different feel than the original, and maybe even evolve in omnious ways. However, it'll most likely follow the tragic path trodden by its predecessor, let's be honest.
This kind of sequel could lead to another sequel (if successful, mind you, unlike the sequels I mention in my Sequel Post), all taking place in different times, having different twists to them.
- A story like the one above, but that connects the events of Cassandra to the new age in some way or other. This I've written part of, but it didn't turn out real well (I'll post it at the bottom here, for all to see)
- A direct Sequel or Prequel to Cassandra, that reveals something previously unknown about the original story, distorting the original view of the story (however, seeing how much I love the original, I doubt this'll happen ;p But it'd be a fun experiment).
my journey's over
I'm standing on the edge
and close my eyes
to this world of lies
my will is broken
it's the end of all my dreams
my soul yearns
for the valley of the queens
I'm standing on the edge
and close my eyes
to this world of lies
my will is broken
it's the end of all my dreams
my soul yearns
for the valley of the queens
The song that the above lines are take from is called 'Valley Of The Queens', by the amazing 'Ayreon'. I highly recommend that everyone listen to Ayreon, you won't regret it for a second. And 'Valley Of The Queens' is a really beautiful song that I just can't stop listening too, so check it out! I'm sure I'll get much of my inspiration from Ayreon in the future (the only problem being that I can't afford to be that ambitious in my projects ;p).
Oh well, for those waiting for it, here's the hastily scribbled thing that might evolve into a story interlacing with Cassandra. I guess it could have the working-title "Catherine".
From the top of the cliff, the view of the world changes. All you see is the violent ocean, the beautiful colors and its beconing sound. For a second, I thought I saw a red dress floating in the water, but in an instant it was swallowed by the sea again. I hear the whisper of a familiar name, spoken by a familiar voice. A tear traces the outline of my face, dripping from my chin, at once stolen by the wind and brought down to the sea.
In my hand, I was holding a book bound in red leather. An old book, it had been one of my only companions for years, as I had searched for the cliff. The cliff was different from what I had imagined, the author of the book had never really described it fully. The house on the edge however, was exactly how I imagined it to be. It was the only house I'd seen for miles, and it was clearly abandoned. The town mention in the book, Mirror Breeze, was long gone. When I passed the former town, only ruins still stood, and even though I searched for days, I couldn't identify the hovel that had once belonged to the old lady in the book. Perhaps it had been for the best.
Searching in records for a ship called Ophelia, gone missing, yielded no results. But I had found the house now, and the cliff.
This is where he jumped, this is where she dissappeared. Maybe then, this is where my Catherine dissappeared too. I threw the leather-bound book off the edge.
"Cassandra" a voice shouted from the sea, as the book was grabbed by the waves.
From my inner jacket, I pulled a machine-written manuscript. It was two hundred and fifty pages long, four years worth of fond memories. The title was Catherine, and the end was yet to be written. I smiled, as I stepped off the cliff. The pages of the manuscript flew around me, filling me with a peace I thought I'd never again feel.
"Catherine" I whispered, as I could swear I saw her waving to me from the top of the cliff. Next to her, a girl in a red dress stood, waving to me as well. Then I hit the water.
Oh well, for those waiting for it, here's the hastily scribbled thing that might evolve into a story interlacing with Cassandra. I guess it could have the working-title "Catherine".
From the top of the cliff, the view of the world changes. All you see is the violent ocean, the beautiful colors and its beconing sound. For a second, I thought I saw a red dress floating in the water, but in an instant it was swallowed by the sea again. I hear the whisper of a familiar name, spoken by a familiar voice. A tear traces the outline of my face, dripping from my chin, at once stolen by the wind and brought down to the sea.
In my hand, I was holding a book bound in red leather. An old book, it had been one of my only companions for years, as I had searched for the cliff. The cliff was different from what I had imagined, the author of the book had never really described it fully. The house on the edge however, was exactly how I imagined it to be. It was the only house I'd seen for miles, and it was clearly abandoned. The town mention in the book, Mirror Breeze, was long gone. When I passed the former town, only ruins still stood, and even though I searched for days, I couldn't identify the hovel that had once belonged to the old lady in the book. Perhaps it had been for the best.
Searching in records for a ship called Ophelia, gone missing, yielded no results. But I had found the house now, and the cliff.
This is where he jumped, this is where she dissappeared. Maybe then, this is where my Catherine dissappeared too. I threw the leather-bound book off the edge.
"Cassandra" a voice shouted from the sea, as the book was grabbed by the waves.
From my inner jacket, I pulled a machine-written manuscript. It was two hundred and fifty pages long, four years worth of fond memories. The title was Catherine, and the end was yet to be written. I smiled, as I stepped off the cliff. The pages of the manuscript flew around me, filling me with a peace I thought I'd never again feel.
"Catherine" I whispered, as I could swear I saw her waving to me from the top of the cliff. Next to her, a girl in a red dress stood, waving to me as well. Then I hit the water.
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