”Diary Dearest”
By Bligh
Diary dearest
How do you start one of these things then? I've never written one before at any rate. Is it like a letter? If so, formal or informal? Or is just like a chat with a friend? AGH!! HELP! WHAT DOES ONE DO?!? Ahh well, this'll do I suppose. So...I suppose I should introduce myself.
The name is Bella Arkelia, thats r-kay-lee-a; not r-kell-eea. Oh does that pronunciation thing really matter? Am I getting off track again? So anyway, I'm an artist, I draw stuff. And before that, I was a pilot in the navy. Other than that, I play the violin and I'm all but reduced to a crippled wreck at any form of social interaction. So...what do I talk about? Just what I think about whats happening? Myself? What happened today? Hopes and aspirations? Hmm...I suppose what happened today is as good a start as any.
I’m really not sure what to call today. Odd? Bizarre? Exciting? Out of the ordinary? Who knows, heh, or cares? Anyway, I guess I should divulge or this exciting and meaningful information rather than just randomly writing nonsensical words in the hope it actually comes out in some kind of meaningful verse. So, yeah, this ought to be fun. Okay Bella, deep breath, you can write this. It isn’t difficult. Just keep doing that thing your currently doing with the pen. Ready? Good. So...I ACTUALLY MET SOMEPONY NEW TODAY!!!
What? A little anti-climatic? Or just plain stupid? I know it sounds like nothing but, I’ve never really met anyone new, just as a normal pony if you get what I mean? Just, outside of drawing stuff for bits. Anyway; I guess I should actually get into what happened? Yeah, probably for the best. So...where to start...? The beginning? That works I guess? Yeah, the beginning. So I’m packing up my stuff to head for home, saddlebags on my back, sketchpad on the top, hoodie on with the drawstrings pulled tight. Work had been quite quiet, nothing much really happening other than the occasional rustle of wind, leaves cascading down to the ground and all those other fancy things writers use. Y’know...called something like similes I think? Oh bugger, I’m getting off track again aren’t I?
So as I was saying, I’m all but ready to go, shutting up shop for the day, like, literally have the keys in my hoodie about to step outside to lock up when this random stallion walks in through the front door, mustn't have seen the hours on the door I guess, and starts looking around. I know it sounds normal, accidents happen and all that stuff but still, I honestly didn't know how to react. I mean, you know what I'm like don't you? I just tend to switch off once I'm shut for the day. So anyway, this stallion walks in and starts looking around the ground floor, the bit I leave open for clients to browse while I work upstairs. I don't want to be rude obviously so I try and remain quiet, or at least as quiet as you can be when sweeping up pencil shavings and what have you, arts always better if you can appreciate it without all the stress and background noise of modern life isn't it? Oh, arse, why do I keep going off track so much?! Ugh! Focus Bella! Focus! So where were we?
Oh yeah, we were in the process of sorting out the pencil shavings. So, naturally, I try and remain as quiet as possible while this stallion's looking around. It's gone five at this point so I genuinely don't know how to tell him that I need to close. He looked...focussed? Yeah, focussed. As if studying all the drawings in detail rather than just at face value. I don't really see anyone do that anymore. Actually study some drawing or picture and see whats in it. Not in the pretentious artsy-fartsy way, but more just seeing how much work went in.
Anyhow, it takes me a few minutes but I finally get the courage to clear my throat and start talking. I can't even remember what I said first, think it was something like,
"Erm...sorry but I'm closing up at the moment. You're more than welcome to come back tomorrow though." sounds about right. So he turns around and, well, looks a bit crestfallen (?) is that the word? Yeah, crestfallen, makes me sound more clever! Naturally, I immediately feel terrible about it and continue,
"I...I can leave it open a little longer. If it's no trouble to you of course?" Please remember that I'm barely squeaking this out the whole time. I can't really remember what happened next, words seem to get faded but anyhow, I think he said something like,
"Oh...ahh well, if you need to close then go ahead; I can always come back tomorrow." before turning to leave but still, I don't know what but something, I don't understand it, compelled me. Is that the right word? Yeah, compelled, to try and and get him to stay; even if it was just for a few moments more. Like a drug, I just couldn't do without it.
"The...the offers still there, if you want it..." I continued nervously, deciding to sweep some pencil shavings up off the floor.
"Really? Well in that case I'll have to take you up on that offer." he chuckled before turning back to look at the sketches on the far wall. I don't really keep anything over there other than some of my first sketches, the one's I did to calm down or de-stress after a combat sortie. They're only different in that they're the only drawings I ever did on my military life. I still remember them now...the first was the Temerarie, that hulking grey beast they called an aircraft carrier going through a storm. I think I was quite proud of that one, especially the detail in the way the waves crashed against the bow. The one next to that was another I did while on operations, think this was in the desert. That was just some helicopter lifting off out of the dirt and heading back to the carrier, I managed to get the sand and dust details down to a tee on that one! Proper tidy and all that jazz they say when you do something well. So, by the time I've finished sweeping, he's all but gone round the flipping gallery before he stops at the portraits in the far corner; and the one I'd just finished for this client. I was hardly going to tell him it was a self portrait but still, it was fairly bare bones and...well...a bit crap if I'm honest. Just a simple self portrait of myself in pilots gear striking some fancy pose; took it from a picture someone snapped a few odd years back, why I'll never know. Ah for Celestia's sake I'm getting off track again! So where was I? Oh yeah, Mr Mysterious Stallion had just finished looking at that stupid picture.
Anyhow, he just turns around as I dump the shavings in the bin and says completely out of nowhere, "I must confess Miss, you are a wonderful artist." It wasn't a posh voice. Well, thats a lie I guess. It wasn't posh as in, "Hor hor hor! poor people!" (I probably would've throttled him if it was but thats a story for another day). I guess I was quite quiet at first, just trying to do the remaining work I had, then one thing led to another and we just started talking. Fuck, I don't even remember what it was about; we just did. Just sitting there, having got two mugs of coffee, and just talking about life.
So, I guess I need to say who he was and what he was like? Yeah, that works. So, his name's Banquo and he does some magical, complicated physics stuff; when he's not being a primary school teacher. Quite how any pony can do that without going insane I will never know; but I guess the closest thing to it would be patience. Either way, we're going to meet up tomorrow! Wait, we're...meeting up...tomorrow...fuck...
Either way, I'm just going to finish this off and go sort tomorrow out. I'll write when I can; promise!! :3
Regards
Bella (does that work? Or is it too informal for a diary? For Celestia's sake Bella! Just get your head out your arse and sort this out!!!)
Author's Note
Thank you very much for reading this. As usual, I'd love to hear your feedback below on what you think and where I should take this next. I'd like to apologise for odd Bella's writing is but I was trying to go for two things. First, stream of consciousness (see "Mrs Dalloway" by Virginia Woolf) and while on the outside, she is quite timid and submissive, she thinks faster than she speaks.
