Wood burned sign

I just made this little thing with a wood burner.
And a knife.
If I could type a suspicious evil face I would.
And a hand drill.
And some sandpaper.
Maybe a pencil? Not sure.
Anyhow, all dangerous weapons, yaaay.
Maybe not sandpaper though. Just… painful. Not easily resulting in death as the others.

I’m not actually this creepy.

(Add another suspicious smileyface here)

I’m not really sure what I should do with this, maybe put it on a bag of forest tools or somethin’?

Leather Pouch

I made this little leather pouch a few days ago, and it was surprisingly simple. I just used a leather punch and counted out all the holes so that it would fit together, then carved a little wooden fastener and used a wood/leather burner to make designs on it. I was going to burn designs on the pouch itself but the leather was very soft and it bunched up a lot and with a funny colour when I tested it on another piece, which explains the penciled in designs. I used a type of leather cord to hold it together, which is reasonably strong but it shed all over me when I was pulling it thrIMGP6366ough the holes.
Sorry for not posting much recently, I’ve been pretty busy rehearsing for the school musical, The King and I. It’s amazing how much work you have to put in even when you’re not a major part. I’m so tired now.
I think school has actually destroyed my creativity. I can’t make things anymore. I’m too tired.

A currently untitled short story

I was bored so I wrote this little story. It’s loosely based off one I did for school, cause my plot ideas are rare. Very rare.
And oh this has probably been done before. Sorry if it is.
(comment ideas for titles please if you can 🙂 )

Your voice still haunts these walls.
I can’t take this any longer.

I can feel your breath on my hair sometimes, you know. I can hear you smile. The air turns warmer when you do.
Your ghost is entwined into these walls, these broken, stolen memories that fresh paint can’t fix, no, fresh paint and new furniture won’t take away the memories, the memories that haunt me. You’re haunting me, sister.
Why did I let you go? How did I let you die?
It’s killing me.
You’re killing me.

I push away the cold covers of my bed and pull on my coat and shoes. I put up my hood and push myself out the door. I need to get to somewhere you’ve never been. The city is haunted.
The night air is cold, freezing my skin, but I breathe it into my lungs and it fills me, oh it fills me with such joy to be away from you.
But I can never get away from you.
Your blood is my blood. Your hair is my hair. You are buried with me.
I step over the already frosted grass, and over the wall, and I stumble down to the riverside, the water shimmering with glints of orange streetlights.
Nothing stirs but the far-away roaring of engines. I’m alone.
I let a single tear fall down my cheek.
But I’ve cried too much for you, so I let no more fall.

“Hazel,” I hear, and I turn around to see a woman standing in front of me.  Her hood is up, covering her face in shadows.
It’s probably someone from school, to say sorry for what happened. I instinctively cover my neck, from the scars I got in the accident. I’m not ashamed, but they make people go weird.
“What is it?” I blurt, annoyed at the disturbance. But a little glad for it too.
“I need to talk to you. This is important.” She says. I hear her voice breaking in sadness.
“Okay” I say quietly, and step a little closer. She moves away.
“I’m sorry. But I have to tell you something, and I’m here to save you. You can’t let this kill you. It wasn’t your fault!” She says.
I’ve never told anyone. I’ve never told them that it was me who caused the accident. They all think it was just a fault on your behalf. They don’t know that I was shouting, telling you to turn back, sobbing in despair.
You should have taken me home without question. You should have taken me to them and told them what I was.
But you hesitated.
And in that moment, you killed yourself.
No. I killed you.
But I never told anyone. How does this person know it was me?

“It wasn’t you. I know this. It would have happened to anyone. You could have left the building a few seconds later, it would have happened too. It was just a coincidence. It was the fault of the other car that sped across your path, if it was any fault. I have to let you know this.”
I’ve already thought this through.
It was me.

“I know what you might be thinking. That nobody could know this. But I know this. I’ve tried everything. You have to stop this now. You’re not going to get anywhere by moping around, blaming yourself for this. It could have happened to anyone!” She cries, stepping towards me. I back away.

“If it could have happened to anyone, why didn’t it kill me. Why did I live, and not her. She was my only friend. She was my only family. She could have lived without me! But I let her go, I made her die. I… I even wanted her to die, in that moment before she did.”

I’d never realized it before. Before it left my mouth. I sway and lean onto a tree in shock. I wanted you to die.

“Hazel!” She shouts, “You did nothing! Look at yourself! What are you becoming? Are you going to spend the rest of your life like this? Are you going to simply waste your life here? Is that how you’re going to honor that girl, that beautiful girl, your sister, who you claim you let die?” She comes closer. I see tears streaming down her cheeks. “Do you think she would want that? Would she want you to sacrifice your life for her? Cause I don’t think so. I know she wouldn’t.”

I sit down on the ground and cover my face with my hands, choking back tears.

“Do you want to become like me, Hazel? Do you want to waste your life trying to find some way to get her back? I’ve done everything I could for you, okay? I’ve traveled far, done a lot of things I shouldn’t have. And you know the one thing I’ve realized?”
She pauses. I look up and see her shaking hand wiping tears from her eyes.

“You can’t bring someone back from the dead. You can’t un-kill someone whose time… whose time it was to go. Your sister loved you. She wouldn’t want you to do this. Please, please don’t try to bring her back. Look at what it’s done to me. I could have had a family, a house, a happy life. I could have got through this. I could have lived for her. But look. Look at what you’ll do.”

I can’t grasp what she’s saying.
Through my tears, I see her take off her hood. I see the dark hair, and for a moment I think it’s her. I think it’s her, come back to life.
But then I see the scars on her neck, and I gasp with the realization.

“Look at what you’ll do, Hazel. I figured it out. I discovered how to move through time, all for her. I went into that accident a thousand times. I tried to change little things beforehand, to slow you guys down. But every time, those things affected other things. And every time, she died. I even tried to kill you as well once. I have lived for death. And when I lost count of how many times I’d tried, and failed and said that the next time, I would save her, I became more desperate. And only recently, I realized, I managed to convince myself that she was going to die, whatever happened. And I realized, it hit me, that I’d wasted my life. I’m not old, Hazel, but all that traveling has weakened me. And so I came looking for you. I needed to release myself from this life. You’ve got to let go. You have to save yourself. Please. Do this. For me.”

I stand up, my shoulders shaking in coldness and in pain, and she puts her arms around me and holds me while I cry.

“I’m sorry for letting you live like this. But I don’t know if I can let go.” I sob into her shoulder.
She holds me tighter.
“Release me. Don’t let me live this life of pain.” She says, nearly desperate.
And so I try my hardest to will myself to believe the things she’d said.
She begins to fade.
“Thank you, Hazel, thank you. Live her life too. Live for both of you” She says. Her voice is becoming faint.
And in silence, she fades.

I’m releasing you, okay? But I’m never going to forget you.
And so I turn, and under the shallow flood of orange light, I walk back home.

Tomorrow is a new day.
It’s time to change.