A Thousand Lives [Music Meets Story]

If I could live a thousand lives, what would I see?

I would see ember evening skies of suffocating smog, dusty with the ashes of a war-torn city. The sunset in the horizon now shrouded by devastation, absent of the welcoming starry night that once filled the world with awe. For reality was a macabre series of hopelessness… of which, I could only pray, would never be the future of those to come.

If I could live a thousand lives, what would I see?

I would see a multitude of broken souls, whose eyes dimmed with life as their will to live wavered. I would question if what I saw were true, for how could there be such disparate worlds, coexisting in such a time—of both carefree innocence and breathless fear, where fate had predetermined whether one lives or dies. Unsettling it was, for such a conflicting habitat to own this reality, with no saving grace—no reason nor choice. But perhaps, the future was different.

If I could live a thousand lives, what would I see?

I would see a rising courage for a new world. From endless defeat to a cry of victory—a movement to live, with flags waving high in the fight for freedom. Righteous anger filled the disposition of many in their quest to own the choices they were gifted. Oh, how the world has changed—suddenly, destiny belonged to those who owned it. Suddenly, to be human was to defend one’s rights. Was this the future?

If I could live a thousand lives, what would I see?

I would witness what seemed impossible eons ago—a coming together of all and sundry. What one would deem an unlikely marriage, in a time of great segregation, became a normality. Diverging paths with little commonality had united for the greater good. From a thousand lives, the passage of space and time had proven my faith in humanity was not in vain. There was… indeed… a different world beyond the now.

If I could live a thousand lives, what would I see?

I would see lifetimes of turmoil, pain, and despair. Yet, in the midst of it all, I would see hope, change, and the true meaning of life. For a thousand lives on a single planet paints a story from a palette of a million hues, not of mere black and white as many souls often choose. And should any being grasp the nature of living, as I have from an ethereal plane, they would know… a thousand lives is never worth more than one.

Still, the question remains—if I could live a single life, would I glimpse the same?

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This story was inspired by the original composition, Wish You Were Here by Ülvi Zeynalov.

Music Meets Story © 2020 by Jeyna Grace. All rights reserved.

(Click HERE for a list of stories in this writing challenge.)

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The Reality Of Fiction

Last Thursday was the 1st year publication anniversary of The Slave Prince. It marked the sixth year of my relationship with Thom. And… looking back at Thom’s life, I realised that some stories will never truly be over.

Prior to the publication of the book, I wrote a ‘farewell’ letter to Thom. Though I knew our relationship had ended, it wasn’t really goodbye. Thom will always be there—somewhere, out there—even while I work with other characters. After all, our history together has shaped my present—there is no way that he could ever disappear from my life.

Funnily enough, I’m not sentimental with all of my characters. It is only the ones I’ve known for years who tend to linger on. And, as I embark on a newer adventure with Robb and Myra—of which their tale might go on for far longer than I had previously envision—I have an inkling that they too will join Thom when it’s all over. Which… makes me glad—thankful they are here to stay even when the work is done.

Truthfully, writing isn’t always fun. And my relationship with my characters is one of the factors that make writing their stories meaningful—it is they who make the experience memorable. Because, let’s be honest… I’ve spent more time with these fictional people than with the friends of my reality. They—Thad, Thom, and Robb—have molded my life just as much as I have molded theirs. They have helped me to understand myself better—to grow in trying seasons—carrying parts of me in their personas. Despite their different stories and identities, I trust them to bear the unfiltered and tangible version of me. Despite their fictional disposition, they are real.

‘Of course it is happening inside your head, Harry, but why on earth should that mean that it is not real?’

Ask any author and I’m sure they can name a character that is far more real than reality itself. These characters break the barriers of imagination—the reason why Thom’s story feels like a personal experience, why I sometimes find Robb to be annoying, and why Thad will never be forgotten. But… it doesn’t stop there. At the end of my own story, I hope that these people wouldn’t merely be a part of me—that they wouldn’t die with their creator but will live in you.

I hope their lives will be an encouragement in your difficult times. I hope their stories will be a light in your darkness moments. I hope they linger on because they have become a part of you—as real as they can be… in what we call ‘this reality’.

8 Destructive Thoughts

On the outside, most people think I’m a self-confident individual. In fact, I once did a Johari Window test with the closest people in my life and the top characteristics they agreed upon were ‘confident’, ‘bold’, and ‘self-assertive’. Perhaps it has something to do with the way I speak and carry myself around the people I’m comfortable with. But on the inside, I’m not as confident as I seem. I’m just like you—I drown in insecurities. I struggle with doubt. I read too much into situations because I hope… I hope I don’t suck. And, there are times where…

1. I don’t believe I will ever be good enough—no matter how hard I try, I’ll be decent at most. It might sound strange, but receiving compliments make me a little uncomfortable because I find them hard to believe.

2. I’m insecure about my appearance—I judge my reflection every single day. There’s always something wrong with this body, and it doesn’t help that others have something to say about it too.

3. I question my personality—am I annoying? Am I insensitive? Do I make others uneasy with my straightforwardness? Am I a bad person for not caring enough? Why can’t I be more outgoing?

4. I wish people noticed me—if only I wasn’t invisible. If only I was an option.

5. I wish people cared more—I can always celebrate the ups publicly, but it seems I have to go through the downs alone. And if I do share my struggles, will anyone listen?

6. I am aimless. Directionless. Clueless—I wish I had more clarity. I wish I knew where I’m going in life. I wish I could see what’s coming.

7. I feel left out—I’m always a second thought.

8. Everyone else seems to be doing better—why am I left behind? There must be something wrong with me—what other reason could there be?

Recently, I began to realise how these crippling thoughts can and will destroy me. So I forced myself into a session of introspection. I looked at every single one of my insecurities and… I found reality:

He made me good. Not ‘good enough’, but good—I am fearfully and wonderfully made.

I have the power to define what I see in the mirror—I am a work in progress and I can achieve whatever I set my mind to. I have weaknesses, but I have strengths too!

My personality makes me, me—there’s always room for improvement, but I shouldn’t try to be someone else. I’m not a bad person, but I can be a better person.

People do notice me—more often than not, it is I who don’t notice them. I don’t make them an option.

People do care—I had and will always have support. All I have to do is open up and share more.

For He knows the plans He has for me—it’s a promise. And He never breaks His promises.

I’m not left out—I choose to be. The choice has always been in my hands.

I’m doing better than I think—there’s nothing wrong with me. I’ve done some pretty awesome things and I shouldn’t forget even the smallest victories. I might not be succeeding in a way others are, but I have my own journey and my own story to tell.

I don’t know what your thoughts are, but I have a feeling we share some of these. And I want you to know that all these destructive thoughts are nothing but myths. None of them are true. We are our worst critics. We judge ourselves more than we should. So don’t buy into these lies. Rather, choose to believe in the truths—we are flawed, we can be better, but there’s nothing wrong with us.

YOU are worthy. YOU are amazing. YOU are unique. YOU are stunning. And YOU are, most certainly, meant for greatness.

In The Between

“Let’s play a game.”

Those were the four words that started it all. It was not a brain game of chess or a tickling game of twister, it was something I wish I never played.

“It’s simple.”

“How simple?” I asked sceptically.

Greg was an old friend who had a doctorate certificate hanging in his bedroom and a strange concept of games.

“We will see who can stay in the between for the longest.”

“Speak English, Greg,” my other friend said.

“You know the moment when you’re about to fall asleep? The moment when your mind gets clouded with strange thoughts that overlap and make no sense? The moment when your memory fails you even though you still have some control over your consciousness? That’s in the between.”

“I bet you made that up,” I said with a chuckle.

“The term, yes. I just thought it sounded cool,” Greg replied.

“Right, so how do we stay in the between? It’s not like we can stop ourselves from falling asleep,” my other friend asked.

“I have these things that would keep your brain active,” Greg said, as he placed two little round patches on his temples. “Don’t worry, they simply send magnetic pulses periodically to stop your brain from resting.”

My other friend picked up the wireless patches and examined them before asking, “So what does the winner get?”

“Bragging rights.”

I laughed and shook my head. It was stupid but the game sounded interesting.

“Fine, whatever,” I said.

Taking the patches and placing them on my temples, I followed after Greg as he lied down and shut his eyes. I didn’t expect it to work so quickly but that Friday was a busy day for me, and my body accepted rest almost immediately.

As my mind drifted in and out of different thoughts, I found myself questioning everything in my head. But as I tried to find the answers, I ended up forgetting the questions instead. It was odd just to be lingering in the between, and when I finally stopped I felt even more tired than I was before.

“Not bad,” my other friend said.

When my eyes opened, I found Greg with his eyes shut while my other friend chomping down a bag of chips.

“Enjoying the show? When did you stop?” I asked.

Just as I did, Greg opened his eyes and stared at the two of us. It took him awhile to fully get his brain aligned with consciousness, and when he finally did he asked, “How long have you two been up? Can’t believe you guys started the fun without me.”

“Your idea of fun is not fun,” my other friend said.

I nodded in agreement and checked my watch. When I saw that it was almost 7 a.m., I was rather shocked. I was in the between for eight hours but it felt like minutes. After that, I excused myself and was called a party pooper.

Exhaustion was heavy on my shoulders and I desperately needed sleep. So by the time I entered my apartment, I was ready to hit the sack. It was a beautiful Saturday morning and all I wanted to do was sleep, sleep without dreams and without interruptions. Unfortunately, I had none.

My bed was cosy, the curtains were drawn, and a soft relaxing melody was playing from the speakers. I would have fallen straight into a deep slumber any other day, but that morning I was stuck… stuck in the between.

I drifted in and out of thoughts, memories, and ideas but could not slip away from them. When I gave up trying and opened my eyes, my room was already dark. I checked my temples to see if the patches were still there, but from my memory I knew they weren’t. Something was not right and I called up Greg immediately.

“I can’t sleep. Your little game messed with my brain,” I said the moment Greg answered the call.

“What do you mean? I just took a nap and my brain rested fine.”

“Your brain is fine, but mine is not! I can’t sleep, I’ve been trying but I can’t,” I replied with a hint of exasperation.

“Calm down, alright. Try to sleep tonight, and if you can’t, give me a call tomorrow. I’ll come over,” Greg said.

I accepted his answer and decided to give it another shot. Maybe it was a temporary side affect? After fixing myself dinner, I took a shower and headed straight to bed. I also popped a sleeping pill just in case.  But as my head hit the pillow and my thoughts began drifting, it happened again.

I was semi-conscious in my head and I continued to stay that way. I tried to empty my mind, but every time I tried more voices and images appeared instead. I was stuck… stuck in the between.

When morning came, I rang Greg up and told him I could not sleep. He said he would come over after he ran some errands at his office, but I could not wait. So I headed to his office as quickly as I could.

By the time I reached the hospital, I jogged to Greg’s office and burst in with the words lingering in my head. “I can’t sleep, Greg. What am I doing wrong? What did you do to me?”

I sounded unlike myself, the calm and collected self I had pride in. Sleep depravation had a strange affect on me and I had no idea why.

“What am I doing wrong?!” I demanded, just as Greg asked his colleague to excuse him.

“It’s not what you’re doing wrong,” Greg quickly said as he pulled me to a corner.

“What? What are you talking about?”

“You shouldn’t be doing anything,” Greg answered.

“You make no sense!” I shouted.

Greg reached for my shoulders and began shaking me back and forth. I angrily attempted to push his hands away but I failed. Moments later, I found myself lying on a bed.

“Are you alright?” Greg asked.

Greg was hovering above me with his hands on my shoulders.

“You were yelling. You must have fallen asleep,” Greg said.

I slowly sat up and gave him a questioning look.

“I’m sorry. These patches aren’t ready. Lunch is on me, alright? Thanks for being my lab rat,” Greg said with a chuckle.

When he turned his back on me, I saw my reflection in a glass panel and immediately remembered where I was. I was in Greg’s lab helping him test out a new device. And though I could not remember what the device was for, I could remember my ‘dream’. It felt so real and I was glad it was over.

That day, I told myself to never again dwell in the between. No one was meant to stay in it. Yet somehow, I knew I would be drawn to it again. Hopefully… not any day soon.

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Strange story, I know. It makes no sense. So let me tell you what inspired this.

In the between is actually a human emotion we have all experienced; the unsettling feeling of worry. When we worry, we place ourselves in a world where our minds are filled with questions we have no answers to. This world stops us from getting rest and leaves us wondering what we did wrong. We are distracted by it and we start acting like a different person. Worry is a place between reality and imagination, but a place that cripples us the moment we are stuck in it. To get out of worry is to simply do nothing, because in reality there is nothing to be done in situations we cannot control.

I decided to write about worry because recently I was worrying. I suffered the same effects until I decided to let it go, and my latest post on my personal blog helped me deal with that issue. So if you’re worrying about something, stop! It’s a waste of time and energy.

Anyway, let me know what you think of this story in the comments below! Don’t worry, I love hearing your thoughts no matter what they are 🙂

© 2014 Jeyna Grace

(For more short stories, click HERE)