My Blood Bunny

A very long time ago, I tried to do what could be considered my first creative endeavor. I was in what was kindly called a special class. Back then, students were separated by their mental abilities and disabilities. I’m dyslexic. Reading and writing was always a challenge. For some reason, instead of dealing with my limitations and I don’t know, help me, they just put me in a room with other children with similar problems. Anyone that could drag down the average was locked away. But I’m off track. Back then, in that special class, we were given weekly assignments involving vocabulary. We were to write a sentence showing we understood what the word means. Ten words a week showing a clear understanding of their meaning.

I decided to take those words and write a very short story. I had never heard of flash fiction or micro-fiction before, but I guess that’s what I was trying to do. My story was about a bunny. Really it was a mix of comedy and horror where I tried to describe a sadistic killer rabbit and its lettuce and cabbage victims. Think Peter Rabbit done as a horror story from the perspective of its veggie victims in the garden. The first week I was told it was clever; the next week, I received a lower grade for not working within the spirit of the assignment. I did everything correctly, including the proper use of the assigned words.

I just tried to be clever when she didn’t want clever. Back then, students in my special class were kept out of any contests, and with no clear goal, I gave up on writing. I never had the drive to do anything but what I was told. There didn’t seem to be an upside to being told I wasn’t good enough. The years went by, I tried to do other creative things, drawing, photography, and programming, but I was always too quick to give up. I did try and write, but anyone who had the displeasure to read my writing would tell me just how bad it was or worse the dreaded eye roll. It’s easy to quit when no one cares. But that was then. Time went by, and technology made it possible to write with help (spelling and syntax) to make writing a possibility. It was also (for the most part) a cheap hobby to start. With the help of the anonymity of the internet, I went back into writing my crappy fiction. Going back to that long-ago class, I made a simple mascot. I call it my blood bunny.

I’ve learned to not care what other people think about my crappy writing. I also know no one will ever read this even though I’m posting it to two blogs. There are just times when I wonder if I’m wasting my time. Oh well.

Thank you for your time.