#and in my first bad year with ocd it was practically drilled to my head that God doesn't hate

[maganne-bonete]

Actually I'm coming into terms that I might have a divinity kink in this fine early start of the lenten season

[princelockedinatower]

Peppermint

The dark streets aren't a place for anyone or anything at night, that is... except for the ones who have no place within the light to begin with. 

I and the others I am meeting are the exception. 

I waltz down the carriage lanes of this old sleepy town in my favorite dark jeans and a black knitted sweater, a forest green cloak draped over me with the hood down, catching wisps of dark figures in the corners of my eyes. These creatures are not quite of this world, nor is the figure, visible only by the translucent outlines of white waltzing along with me tonight. The common folk need not fear these creatures, unless you know they exist they are impartial. Then even if you do, leaving out some seeds and honey as an offering will keep you from harm, give them blueberry tea if you want some good luck. 

Tonight I climb the hill just beyond the old yew tree the fae adore and that everyone refuses to cut down least they fear a despicable end. No one besides me and a few others dare to climb it at night, they say strange things happen there, dark figures prowling about almost like regular animals, yet their limbs too long and narly. When climbing you’ll get an ice chill down your spine, a sinking feeling in your gut and the one clear thought you can manage out is something along the lines of: I should not be here. 

The way I and the other I am meeting ward this off is by leaving generous offerings before we ascend. I find McDonald's fries generally please them, so arriving at the foot I leave four extra large fries and a pack of chicken nuggets, right beside my coven’s other offerings. I can see no figures awaiting me from where I stand, a bad sign usually but I start up the hill against my better judgment. 

Reaching the top, my calves are burning, the trek never gets easier. I lean down to massage my right calf, my dyed red hair falling around me and pale skin a sharp contrast in the full moon’s light. As my hood falls over my eyes I spot two figures lying on the ground, one covered with a light blue cloak, dark tightly braided hair and face peeking out, the other a maroon cloak and a hot pink dress. 

I address the girl with the maroon cloak first “You hiked this thing in heels? What are you? Cat woman girl?” I ask rummaging through my bag for my supplies. 

Bonita laughs “You wish hun, got your supplies?” she says sitting up elbowing Makena. 

I nod, both of them standing and whipping out their supplies from their own bags. 

We start to set up the temporary alter as Makena speaks, getting our attention “Bonita, Roxy-” she hesitates on her next words, half way done her particular task to set up “This might be the last time we pray and do a spell together, you know, with all of us off to college in a few weeks,” she says, her voice wavering a bit while fiddling with her long curly hair. 

Bonita’s eyebrows shoot up and she makes a face before chuckling “If you’re implying that we’re gonna grow apart sweetie while we’re in college you better evaluate dear Roxy’s OCD level schedule of communication and visits,” 

Makena blushes and shrinks but laughs with us at my expense. 

We make short work of setting up the rest of the altar and preparing to pray. 

Tonight I’m going to pray to Sarasvati for help forming and performing my Valedictorian speech, something I desperately need. I’ve been rewriting it for a week now and still haven’t made any headway. I also need to pray to my main hoe Soma to make Grad amazing and Dhat to bless the spell we’re about to do. I’m not sure what Bonita and Makena pray about, or who to, guess I never really asked. Regardless we each get into our preferred positions and pray to whichever gods and goddesses we choose about whichever we want. 

The graduation ceremony took place in pitch black, the sun already set, small shifts of movement coming from the rows of seats and the rafters, family and supporters brought together alive and passed, human and not. The only light coming from the spotlights on the stage as Principle Chiba gave an inspirational and touching speech that moved everyone here. Applause began and continued as I replaced Mr. Chiba at the podium, soon it died down and I spoke a silent prayer I would do well before I began.

“Fellow classmates, graduates of 2018, I will not bore you with a lengthy speech going on about things that don’t matter, we all have better things to do. Instead I will give you some words of advice given to me by someone I miss dearly, who has gone on to University in a very far away place yet I remain close to. That advice is to simply, remember to call. Call to say how beautiful the leaves are on the trees outside your dorm window. Call to ask how they’re doing. Call to just say I miss you. Call to make them open their bedroom window because they’re home for the Holidays and you’re outside freezing, 20 ft up in the air on a tree and regretting every life choice you’ve made up to that point. So call, it keeps you close to those you care about. Thank you.” 

I don’t think we called enough. 

Sitting here, awkwardly in this cafe we used to come to in high school when conversation just flowed, I wonder what went wrong. I know we didn’t follow the schedule, school and life got in the way, but… that shouldn’t stop us from reconnecting.

“So, any special someone in your guys lives?” I ask, a small forced and nervous smile on display as I grasp my mug. 

My sister Sofia shoots me a sarcastic thumbs up. I’m tempted to flip her off. 

Bonita nods “Their name’s Avery, they’re pretty nice,” she says looking down into her mug.

“I’m not seeing anyone right now actually,” Makena says, taking a bite of her pastry. 

I nod my head, this is not going well “That’s nice,” I take a sip from my mug, racking my brain to come up with something to start a decent conversation. 

Makena pretends to get a text and looks at her phone “Sorry guys, it’s been fun but my mom wants me home to make sugar cookies, see you later!” she says practically sprinting from the table.

I know she was pretending because she always has her ringer on, in high school it used to get her into so much trouble. 

I remember when it went off in the middle of a lock down drill, school took it away for three days, and like any teenagers would we concocted elaborate schemes to get her phone back. None of them worked of course, including the one where Bonita tried to tell the receptionist she was Makena was mom, but we had fun nonetheless. 

“I should actually go too, I got some stuff that I need to attend to,” Bonita says laughing half halfheartedly.

I nod and watch her awkwardly leave. Letting out a defeated sigh I let my head fall into my arms. Why was talking to them after a year so hard?

“You ok?” my sister asks, sitting down across from me. 

The phase sent me over the edge, tears started spilling into my cardigan then running down my cheeks as I lifted my head. Unable to speak, I shake my head. 

She grabs a tissue from her bag and hands it to me “You know you could always try doing something you guys used to do back in high school together,” she suggests sipping her drink.

I sniffled “I don’t know, I noticed Bonita wearing a cross and Makena started wearing a hijab,” I used the tissue to wipe away the tears “They’ve changed a lot…”

My sister nods “Sorry I’m not more help…” 

“It’s ok, they’re allowed to change it’s just I didn’t expect them to so much,” I say, my phone starting to vibrate. 

It’s Vincent, one of my new friends from Uni, I answer it “Hey tic tac, whatcha need?”

He laughs “Nothing, just want to know how the old reunion is going,”

“Not well, but I know that’s not why you’re calling, what did you do this time?”

“Can’t a friend bug another friend anymore? And besides it’s not me, it’s your roommate, apparently she accidentally turned your sheets orange when washing them,” 

I chuckle, and rub my face “How bad is it?”

“Bad, very bad, looks like leftover prison suit material was used, then bleached in some places,” 

I laugh genuinely “I’ll be sure to pick up new ones when I get back then,” 

“Good, those sheets have seen better days. What’s up with your friends? Thought you were really excited to see them,”

“Well, I was, but… they’ve changed a lot. They’re not the people I used to know back in high school and I don’t know how to reconnect with them,” 

Vincent sighs “You’re not gonna like what I have to say about this but you need to hear it,-” he pauses and I scrunch up my face. What could he possibly have to say that I wouldn’t like? “-Sometimes, through no fault of anyone involved, relationships just… don’t last,”

I blank for a second, shocked he’d even say something like that. “What the hell? What am I-” 

“You didn’t let me finish!” he interrupts his voice weakly raising an octave. I huff but let him continue“Sometimes they don’t last because people just change too much, and that’s no one fault, people need to change so they can grow. And sometimes that means you change so much people lose connection because there’s nothing to connect with. That doesn’t make sense, umm, ok, take two people at the start of a relationship. They both love to… drink coffee so every day they go out to drink coffee,”

I chuckle a little raising an eyebrow “Coffee? That’s the best you can come up with?”

He shushes me playfully “Anyways, so a little later in this friendship one decides to give up coffee due to Insert Reason Here and they stop hanging out as often. Since their entire relationship is based on coffee and now that’s been taken away, they don’t have anything in common. They drift apart and remember each other as a good friend they had,”

I nod and ponder what he said “So… people can just drift apart? In that situation aren’t you supposed to try to make new common interests?” 

“Yah, but sometimes that just doesn’t happen for whatever reason and that’s where my wisdom comes in!” I can feel his overblown and ridiculously camera smile of annoyance from the other side of the country.

“I’m throwing a pillow at you when I get back,” I say going to hang up, his laughter ringing out. 

My sister’s nowhere to be seen, probably went to the washroom. I remain sitting, my drink all gone and the sun dipping down to paint everything a nice shade of orange. 

I wonder if Vincent had a point. I had tried to reconnect with my friends, but they just… were too changed from when I knew them… I could keep trying, but how many times would I sit through awkward conversations that lead nowhere before we reconnected or they started making up excuses not to come? 

I sigh out loud and play with my empty cup. Why do people and relationships have to be so difficult? 

I realize Vincent’s right… Why for the love of the gods does Vincent have to be right this one time? 

Sighing again I begrudgingly move up my flight up to this Thursday, two days from now. My parents moved after I graduated high school and my sister was seeing her friends so it wasn’t like it was an inconvenience to anyone. 

My sister reappears and sits down “Sorry, didn’t want to interrupt your phone call, had to go to the washroom,” 

“That’s ok, I was just about to leave, -” I stand up and hesitate to continue “-I also moved up my flight to this Thursday…”

“You sure? Shouldn’t you try to reconnect a little harder?” she asks, walking with me to the door.

I sigh “Yes, sometimes people just grow apart and despite their best efforts they just don’t recover,” I mentally kick myself for quoting Vincent, the jerk would never let me live it down. I grab a peppermint from the little bowl as we exit and pop it in my mouth.

“Sounds like you’ve made up your mind.” she comments getting in her rental car “Want me to drive you to the airport?”

“Sure, I’d like that,” I say with a sad smile. 

Watching her drive off and getting into my car, I feel my heart droop, finally realizing that was the last time I’d probably see my old friends again but, I also feel like a sense of dread has been scrubbed off of me. 

[feuilly-cakes]

Wayward Children books 2-5 Review

Author: Seanan Mcguire

I compiled my reviews for the rest of this series into one post for the simple fact that I read them all so quickly. My thoughts changed hour by hour and so I wanted to get them all in one place.

Down Among the Sticks and Bones (book 2)

I found this a fascinating exploration of Jack and Jill’s characters. The takes on gender roles and parental expectations were hard hitting and real, I really felt bad for these girls with their ridiculous parents. The Moors were just the right amount of creepy in my opinion; the danger was there and known but it wasn’t scary to the point where I found it difficult to read. I could appreciate the grimness of the world without being put off by it. I do think as a backstory it was very good, but I think if I had picked it up as a stand-alone I would have been less interested in it. Knowing what became of the girls after the end of the book while I was reading it upped the tension and the desire to find out exactly how that had happened, and if I had been taking it at face value as an adventure story without the big consequences after the end I wouldn’t have been so invested I think. That being said, I really enjoyed it and I was excited to get through to the next book Jack was in. 

Here are my thoughts on the characters as they stand by the end of this book:

Jack: I relate a lot to Jack in this. I kept forgetting she was a girl in the first book and she was mostly a character that was vaguely interesting but not someone I could relate to, so this connection was unexpected. Her OCD (or what looks like it anyway) is probably a big factor in this, but she’s also very queer, though not in the same way as me. Very relatable. Her struggle with caring about her sister while also being a victim of her was also pulled off wonderfully. She was the one I was rooting for in this.

Dr Bleak: I thought that Dr Bleak would be cruel or heartless, but I was pleasantly surprised. He’s a stern, practical man, but he cares for Jack and treats her well. He wants her to stay and to flourish in the Moors, and aside from toughening her up a bit for practicality’s sake he doesn’t want to change her.

Jill: She annoyed me. I understood why she is so messed up, but there’s no doubt in my mind that she is a villain in this. Certain events didn’t need to happen but she wanted them to, and ruined lives while doing so, and so any sympathy for her for what the Master did to her immediately vanished.

Beneath the Sugar Sky (book 3)

I thoroughly enjoyed this book. The adventures through the realms were super exciting, as was seeing the original characters (from the first book that is) Rini was hilarious but also had depth and I felt so sad for her. I also nearly decided to count the amount of times people said vagina because of her but decided that would be far too difficult since it got mentioned a lot in a short space of time. She’s truly a character that one. I was surprised that Rini wasn’t the main character, not that there really are main characters in this book, but we mostly see things from the perspective of Cora, who I thought was nice but the self consciousness and self hatred got a bit much with her at times. She’s a byproduct of bullying and it’s all a bit dark in her head. I did enjoy her character though. The adventure was great. I was on the edge the whole time, because I felt Sumi’s death in the first book was super tragic and shocking, so I was rooting for them to fix that little hiccup the whole time. I’m also hoping that we get to see more of Layla in future books, because I feel she has great potential and could end up being a fave of mine. The illustration of her really made me in awe. Most of the illustrations in this book were lovely, but that one in particular was gorgeous.

In An Absent Dream (book 4)

This review is going to be a longer one, as I have a lot of feelings about this book. First, Lundy's tale was by far the most high-stakes and stressful for me so far in the series, barring the actual murder plot of the first book. Something about the way it was written, I'm guessing. With every new development I was more and more on edge; by the halfway point I was convinced something terrible was going to happen to Moon because of her increasing debts, and 3/4 in I had to put the book down for a day because it got so intense. The Goblin Market itself seems like a cruel and unforgiving place, even as the people within are all caring for each other. The descriptions were reminiscent of a Studio Ghibli setting, and I could see the appeal, at least aesthetically. The rules were what made it seem cruel to me, so I guess I would never have had a door there myself. One thing I didn't really call was that final scene at the market... [sp*ilers over on my goodreads ]

I related to and grew frustrated with Lundy in equal measure. Every time she made a sensible move it seemed as though she made an equally stupid decision not long afterwards. Knowing her far off future just made that frustration worse. The whole time she was in the Goblin Market or making plans to go back to the Market, I couldn't help but think of her poor family. How awful would it be to be treated like she treated them, to be discarded like she discarded them? She never felt guilt for all the worry she caused them, not even when she ran away for 2 years. Sure, sending her to boarding school was a bad move, but so was running away without even a note to say goodbye.

I suppose sometimes the best someone can do isn't the right thing to do, and this book sort of drills that message into your head, what with all the mistakes these characters make all the way, and the prices they have to pay.

Come Tumbling Down (book 5)

I had a prediction for this book: Jack was going to be turned into a vampire because Jill could no longer become one. The real events seemed far more ridiculous and a bit funny, until, as all things relating to the Moors, reality set in and it quickly turned horrifying. The way Jack fell apart due to her circumstances was absolutely heartbreaking and... well, let's just say it hit too close to home. The quest itself was fantastic - I enjoy when characters react to other worlds, and the way the rest of Jack's world was explored in more depth was fascinating. This story was the one I had been waiting for since reading Down Among the Sticks and Bones, where the girls could have gone in any direction and ended up away from the Moors, so the fact that we get to see one of those other directions in the form of the Drowned Gods was exciting and fulfilling. The conclusion to Jack and Jill's story was satisfying to the maximum. It was dark and real and exciting, the perfect ending to their story arcs, and though it all got wrapped up perfectly (to my tastes) and the story of Jack and Jill is over, Jack's story is really beginning anew. She does have a threat still lurking over her after the end, and it allows speculation as we are left to wonder what happens to her after [sp*ilers redacted]

Definitely one of my favourites of the series.

[emilyrumboldt-blog]

This time last year, I was nobody.

  Of course, that’s not entirely true. I was getting by, so to speak, minding my own business whilst coasting along in my own little fantasy world. Think of a cloud: drifting way up in the sky, no anchors or weights holding it in one place. Gravity is a stranger up there, so it would seem. What I am trying to say is that, in many ways, I was that cloud once upon a time. The funny thing about clouds is that they are so much bigger, so much more significant, than they originally appear; apparently the average cumulonimbus is about 1000 feet thick. And to think: before NCS, I didn’t even know that clouds had names! This cloud had a name, too. Emily. In fact, that might be the only thing about me that hasn’t changed, because this time last year I was preparing for the biggest, most life-changing opportunity which has ever found itself lying on my doorstep. NCS: The Challenge.

  My experience with the National Citizen Service has been, in many ways, the key to the locked door labelled “FUTURE” which I had been vacantly gawping at for so much of my adolescent life. It’s not that I wasn’t trying to get through; it was more like I had been brainwashed into thinking that life was easy, and that any door in the world would eventually open up for me given enough time. I could mutter Alohomora under my breath a million times and counting, though. That door needed a key, and that only came with experience. At that point in time, I only associated “experience” with work. Ah, work experience. By the time you reach my age, even the thought of the term work experience begins to tickle your nerves. Everybody wants it! Employers, Universities, UCAS: in fact, I have heard that godforsaken word so many times that I wish I could lock it inside Room 101 for all of eternity. Ah!

  All of a sudden, during one of those dreary Year 11 assemblies we used to have, a virtuous symphony of fanfares exploded upon us. The sky, previously murky and grey, was blanketed in a warm ray of light, and from the heavens above fell my guardian angel. An NCS worker by the name of “Pete” stood before us, singing a divine chorus about experiences and challenges far beyond the likes of anything our normal lives could offer. NCS: The Challenge. Of course, Pete wasn’t really an angel, but oh how much I wanted to get involved with this so-called “NCS” business. I practically ran home that evening – a miraculous feat in itself, considering my particular dislike of all things active – and forced my mum to sign the consent form. Before that day, I hadn’t even thought about the summer following my GCSE exams, but from then on my experience with NCS was all that I could think about for months.

  On the morning of August 11th, 2016, I felt more sick-to-my-stomach with anxiety than I had when coming out for the first time. I remember my alarm screaming obscenities at me for the fourth or fifth time that morning, promising an endless, terrifying wrath upon everything I loved if I didn’t get my lazy self out of bed, for the last time, woman! Well, something like that. It was stupid o’clock in the morning; the sun had barely risen above the line of conifer trees at the end of my back-garden, and both of my eyes were plastered shut with sleep. I sat up, and at once my ears erupted with a sharp, drilling pain, like a pair of needles were being shoved through them. Ear infection. Brilliant.

  Looking back now, I can’t help but laugh at my last-minute aversion towards the whole thing. On that morning, I just didn’t want anything to do with NCS! “I’M NOT GOING!” I would scream at my poor mother as she hammered on my bedroom door, fighting with all the strength she had to get me to cooperate. The thing about my pre-NCS self is that, unlike now, I had next to no control over my mental health. I was riddled with anxiety, with generous helpings of depression, PTSD, and OCD mixed in. My brain at that point was like a cocktail of negativity, garnished with whipped cream and a scattering of rainbow-coloured sprinkles. Meeting new people was one of my biggest fears, succeeding my crippling phobia of judgement, and so I was practically drowning in the proposal of meeting an entire wave of complete strangers.

  What did I think would happen? I have no clue. Whatever it was, however, it couldn’t have been further from the reality. I stepped foot through those doors, both hands shaking as I hauled behind me the most tragic offense of overpacking known to man, and I found myself greeted by the most sympathetically sweet smile I had ever seen. That smile belonged to an equally sweet woman, who took that stupid yellow suitcase of mine and led me to my group.

  I couldn’t believe my eyes.

  Before me sat the most incredible group of people I have ever had the honour to meet. No monsters. No ruffians or thugs. Just real, INCREDIBLE people. People who wanted to get to know me, who cared about me and the constant film references I make. People who would grow to be my fiercest friends, who in the next few weeks would learn more about me than I knew about myself at that point in time. People who, for the first time in my life, I could connect with.

  I have spent hours deliberating the best way to tell this story. NCS really was the best experience of my life; even now, a year on, I can’t stress that enough. Of all the places I’ve been, all the memories I’ve made, nothing quite compares to the independence and sense of worth that The Challenge gave me. In fact, I have so many priceless memories thanks to NCS that I can’t possibly share them all. This blog would be infinite! Instead, I have tortured myself by coming up with a Top 3, a decision which was incomprehensibly difficult to make. My chosen three are not just stories: they are anecdote ROYALTY. They are nostalgic, filled to the brim with banter, affection, and cringe-worthy soppiness which my NCS team will probably curse me for sharing. But first, here’s a little context.

  NCS: The Challenge is an experience like no other, and I don’t mean that in the horrifically clichéd way. What I mean is that, unlike anything else in this big ol’ world, NCS actually gave me the motivation to stop bingeing Netflix in the sun-free zone that is my bedroom, and instead put on a pair of trainers and DO SOMETHING. The course is split into three phases: adventure, skills, and social action. Phase 1 is exactly what it says on the tin: an adventure. They ship you all off to Wonderland – South Wales, in my case – to take part in death-defying challenges, by which I mean a series of perfectly safe activities such as rock-climbing and coasteering, all of which are run by trained and experienced practitioners. In Phase 2 we stayed in accommodation at Reading University, where we spent a few days learning our chosen skill – photography – to present to a dauntingly-large audience of parents at the Showcase. Finally, in Phase 3, we took to Reading town centre to raise awareness of an amazing local mental health charity, Compass Opportunities, who work with adults in Reading to help improve their mental wellbeing. Our plan was to run a dramatic flash mob in town, but you’ll hear more about that later.

  At the end of all this, we graduated NCS with an impressive skillset appealing to any good employer, an INCREDIBLE addition to our CVs and UCAS applications, and a set of friends to last a lifetime. But you don’t really care about that, do you? I promised you my top three NCS memories. So, without further ado…

  3: THE LAST DAY™

  Alas, the last day. It seems weird, really, that the day which put an end to this magical adventure would find itself in my top three best-days-ever. But hey, not all finales are as dreadfully disappointing as the final episode of ‘Pretty Little Liars’. No, this was a finale for the Gods. Think of the ‘Friends’ finale, with its soppy goodbyes and happy sadness galore. I had never seen any of my new friends cry until that last day. They’d all seen my ugly, Kim K cry-face plenty of times, of course; I am nothing if not an emotional wreck. It had taken until that last day for us to process that, after all this was finished, there was a chance that we would never see each other again. That, of course, was a load of rubbish: NCS had made us inseparable, a band of warriors sworn to protect one another from the big bad world. We barely go a day without talking to at least one other Team SPICYyyy member (our team name was one of a selection of wonderfully wacky nicknames which have somehow stuck after all these months).

  But the Last Day™ was also quite possibly the most hectic, stress-inducing PANDEMONIUM to ever hit our busy little lives. Why, you ask? Well, cast your minds back a couple of paragraphs to when I mentioned our social-action project. Why we ever thought we would be able to pull off a flash mob was beyond me, but heck, we did it anyway. The plan was fairly simple: we would scatter ourselves around town dressed in hoodies and eerie facepaint, all surrounding our leading lady Ashley, who was dancing to grab people’s attention. Slowly, we would close in on her until she was completely overwhelmed by hooded figured, representing different mental health conditions and the effect they can have on the most innocent of people. After the demonstration, we would talk about the importance of Compass Opportunities and hand out leaflets.

  The problems started with the weather. Rain. Lots of it. I guess we should have planned for a downpour, really – we live in England, after all. This, however, was as though Mother Nature was performing a flash mob of her own, namely a modern rendition of Shakespeare’s ‘The Tempest’.  By the time we even arrived in town, the whole lot of us were soaked through from head-to-toe. To make matters worse, I had broken my toe a couple of days prior in a freak makeup accident, rendering me useless, our “loudspeaker” wasn’t exactly very loud, and our spot in town had been high-jacked by a friendly busker named Jack. Yikes. Team SPICYyyy, however, are no quitters, and so we spent the majority of the day singing acapella with Jack, helping him raise money whilst promoting Compass Opportunities at the same time. Success!

  To find out more about Compass Opportunities and the incredible work they do, please click here.

  2: THE VERY STRANGE EASTER EGG HUNT

  Imagine this: you are a normal person, minding your own business as you make your way through the bustle of your local high-street. It is coming up to midday, the sun is blazing, and you have just left MacDonald’s with a fist full of Big Mac when you see it. Right in front of you, barreling down the road, is a technicoloured Leviathan! You choke on your Big Mac, for you have never seen such insanity in your life. You blink: once, then twice, until you FINALLY realise that Leviathans do not exist, and the entity charging towards you is, in fact, a team of hyperactive young hooligans dressed in onesies.

  Yeah, we were the hooligans. Now, believe me, in normal circumstances I in no way condone the heinous act that is public onesie-wearing. Never. That is a privilege awarded only to the most special of occasions: Pride, pyjama parties, pretty much anything beginning with the letter ‘P’. However, when NCS threw a very strange Easter-Egg Hunt at us, Team SPICYyyy went all out. The challenge was simple, really: each team was given 100 tasks, and we had the rest of the day to complete them. Let the games begin!

  I could sit here listing every ridiculous thing we did that day, but as Fred R. Barnard said: a picture is worth ten thousand words!

  Cheeky Nando’s with Team SPICYyyy

Abbey Road

Mannequin Challenge: Family Edition

Eleanor and I – 100 Challenges

Yes, we’re twins

Squirrel, Celery, and Dobby

Team SPICYyyy

Yes, that’s an egg

Maddie and I – 100 Challenges

    1: THE METAPHORICAL CAMPFIRE

  I adore metaphors. My writing, by nature, is full of them; a trick for dealing with anxiety that I learned on NCS, in fact, is to turn all of your negative thoughts or experiences into metaphors and create stories out of them. My favourite metaphor of all, however, was born on the night of August 13th, 2016, two days after I had met the people who would change my life forever. Team SPICYyyy had spent the day rock-climbing and abseiling, which for me had been a metaphor for life in itself, leading to the discovery that I am much better at falling down than climbing up. I also found myself pretty badly sunburned, which was odd as I had become obsessed with a bottle of glittery sunscreen which transformed its wearer into a real-life Edward Cullen. Anyhow, by the end of the day, I had become such a scratching post for the claws of the cliff-edge that my fingerprints had been scraped off. The last thing I needed was a night in a muddy Welsh field, but that was exactly what I got.

  I hated camping. Actually, I despised it. The single other time I had slept outside had been on my Year 6 Residential trip to, wait for it, SOUTH WALES. Renowned for its sheep overpopulation and consequent poop-minefields. So, forgive me for being a little apprehensive when being told that I would be spending the night in a two-person tent with three other girls, a blanket of clouds threatening to burst over our heads at any moment. As it happened, however, our little camping trip became the mother of a million memories. We weren’t allowed to light a fire as the campsite didn’t allow it, but we quickly made our substitute. Shoving a torch inside an empty water bottle and dubbing it our metaphorical campfire, we sang and joked and laughed the night away. It was in this beautiful moment, all of us sat in our little circle with a ball of light at our heart, that I realised how special our connection was. The other teams were close – my twin sister was even in one of them, not that we spoke much – but not one of them had what we had. In two days, we had become family. No metaphor is needed to express that.

  Good morning Wales

  The funny thing about NCS is that, for me at least, it never seems to end. It’s like going to Disneyland, only for the magic to return home with you and slip into your mundane life, opening up doors to fantastic opportunities which you would have only dreamed of before. Since graduating, I have had my first part-time job, helped The Challenge to choose this years’ batch of Senior Mentors, and even begun to launch my writing career. It astonishes me that, a year ago, I was one of the shyest kids I knew – a cloud with no destination – and now I am on my way to publishing my first novel and getting my A-Levels! Now, free of the shackles of my mental health, I am able to pass through that door into a world of possibilities, and NCS: The Challenge was my key.

  Day 3

Day 3 – Pre-camp

We set our kitchen on fire…

Cheeky Nando’s with Team SPICYyyy

Wet suits

The dreaded hike

The girls

Yes, we’re twins

Light painting

Day 1 vibes

Eleanor and I – Showcase

Camping food

Abbey Road

Day 1

Eleanor and I – 100 Challenges

Beach babies

Good morning Wales

Mannequin Challenge: Family Edition

Day 2!

Yes, that’s an egg

When I couldn’t swim because of my ear infection

Day 3

Ready for the Showcase!

Maddie and I – 100 Challenges

Wet wet wet

This took longer than expected

Squirrel, Celery, and Dobby

Pre-Finding Dory

Team SPICYyyy

Day 3

Maddie and I – Showcase

Tired after day 1

Squad goals

MY NCS experience: a year on. This post is so nostalgic it brought tears to my eyes. @NCS This time last year, I was nobody. Of course, that’s not entirely true. I was getting by, so to speak, minding my own business whilst coasting along in my own little fantasy world.