Tag: 2021

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Weekly Update

by themarlenamarieLeave a Comment on Weekly Update

Hello Voidfolk and Voidfriends!

A few updates for you. I am currently on my last week of the first semester of school. I am STRESSed and working on my portfolio assignments. I will not be doing book reviews again until that is DONE with. Additionally, I am hoping to get back to the states for the break, but I don’t know if that will happen (new variant and all). As it is, I will be looking into the new site design soon! I promise some change is coming. Also I have to work on my end of the year posts, which honestly is exhausting to think about already.

I have started my Wattpad. Go over there to support me! I’m cross posting YP there as well as here. It is behind by a LONG while. But def give it a like and stuff. Maybe even stick around from the beginning again. Updates for YP are coming soon too.

How are you liking CON? My initial plan for it has been completely changed. Not the plot, but the number of chapters. As such, it’s going to be pretty much the chapter # equiv as YP’s end chapter count (yes, YP has an end chapter count). This can only be good news to you all, because CON is significantly longer in terms of chapter content. Hooray.

I know I was going to keep the YT going. And so with my break I’m going to try to do a plethora of videos and the likes, so that I can start posting those consistently. Additionally, follow me there. I have a TikTok too! Maybe I’ll actually post more cool content there. Not sure. I need to use my insta more, that’s for certain. REGARDLESS. New year goals are on the horizon. I just wanted to let you guys know I haven’t forgotten the ones I had for my blog. At least not all of them. 2021 has been a rough year for us all. But I’m still here.

Best! I hope your Holiday Season is amazing and many blessings to you all!

Until Next Time,

MM

Blog, Random Writings

The Cost (A Particular History 3) {RW}

by themarlenamarieLeave a Comment on The Cost (A Particular History 3) {RW}

Cynthia’s dreams are cyclical. The way she could weave images together and create false realities so grounded and potent was a brilliant feat. She could erase their very existence in a few choice words. It was an act of strength to destroy that which was created. I always envied her capability. In her hands she held the very fabric of time and space each moment she took to breathe. She was also an excellent liar.

Cynthia used to speak of far off places and sword fights. She dreamed of technicolor swirling waterfalls that cascaded into endless seas of silver and of floating castles that lived amongst the clouds yearning to touch the ground. She spoke of mysterious towns covered in the fog of always midnight where shadows lived and lurked haunting the inhabitants who never had arrived to begin with. When she was sixteen, she told me of floating to another world in her dreams where the man in black greeted her and asked her for a promise. She did not give it to him. Instead she followed him through unending staircases to stores she could list off in languages that I did not name.

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Blog, Random Writings

This is Love {RW}

by themarlenamarieLeave a Comment on This is Love {RW}
This is Love {RW}

She didn’t like the way that we were always together. She didn’t like the way that I would whisper to you in the night, or how you would giggle with me at our own personal jokes. She didn’t like when we rearranged her terribly organized house. She didn’t like us.

It is not so surprising. I have found that many people tend to lose their rationality when it comes to me. They twist about spouting words, red faced, and bathed in fear. How could I possibly be here? How could I intrude on their lives? I have long grown used to the calloused looks away, and the way that they pretend that I don’t exist. But you saw me.

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Blog, Random Writings

Echo {RW}

by themarlenamarieLeave a Comment on Echo {RW}
Echo {RW}

The echo of voices started soft. A siren song luring the mind deeper into the darkness. She knew she shouldn’t approach. Her mother had told her to avoid the voice when it came for her. 

The first time she had heard the voice was when she was ten. For a decade she had fought it off in her nightmares. It would come in the grey of the night as the wind lulled her to sleep. It started as a distant wordless vocalization that grew closer with each breath. She learned that voice was beautiful, but it could not be followed. She had to pretend that she did not hear its twisting serenade harmonizing with itself as the echo grew.

She had once asked her mother what the voice was. Her mother had claimed that the voice was calling them home. Her mother believed that they had left some strange land to come to this one. The voice was a calling to return, but they could not. Their homeland was dangerous, terrible; they had left it on purpose.

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