'The Messenger,' by Makenzie

  via

The things I’ve seen have burned my eyes like the white-hot sun with their glory.  The things I’ve heard with my mere human ears have stopped my beating heart with the weight of their holiness.  But some of the things I hear I do not want to say to my people, the children of Israel.

One day, I, Jeremiah, was told by the LORD to speak to the people in the courtyard of His Temple.  And everything in me wanted to run from the grim truth I had to tell them.  But I went, for I must speak His words.  They consume my soul like fire.
In the courtyard, the scalding sun glared down at me out of a devastatingly blue sky, and my robes clung with sweat to my skin.  I squinted at the faces of the people as they walked past through the quivering air.  The beloved children of the LORD were holding their heads high like their blind, traitorous hearts.  I opened my mouth to speak, but could not. My throat was clogged with a lump of fear, my lungs heavy as though full of liquid.
The sun shone brighter and brighter; and the words of the LORD burned in my soul.  I drew in a deep shaky breath and began to speak to the people.
“This is what the LORD says!” I called, with all my shaky strength.
My voice stopped the moving people to listen to me. After all, I was a prophet.  And though they didn’t realise it clear and simple in their own minds, I knew that they were hoping this time I would tell them what they wanted to hear, the way the false prophets do.
“If you do not listen to Me and follow My law, then I will make this city a curse amongst all the nations and the earth.”
A thin cloud softened the sun’s rays, a gentle breeze cooled my burning skin.
I had spoken.
The faces I had spoken to stared at me.  The words of the LORD were sinking in through their thick unprepared skins, pressing into their guilty souls.  For a moment, the courtyard could not move; till it was abruptly broken by a great storm of human rage.
“You must die!” a voice cried.  “You are a false prophet - you have prophesied against the city!”
They rushed towards me like the cold relentless waves of the ocean, and took hold of me with angry, bruising hands.  Then my people lowered me and my words from the LORD into a deep, dark cistern filled with mud rather than water.  Perhaps they thought that if they couldn’t see me, what I had to say was not the truth.  But my LORD did not abandon me to die in the mud.
It wasn’t long before someone pulled me up again into the pure gold light of the sun.

Note: this story was drawn from the book of Isaiah in the Holy Bible.  I can't remember what version it was but it was most likely the NLT or  the NIV.

'Placement' // a poem by Makenzie

I am not lizzy bennet.  No darcy is enraptured by

my beauty, my talent or my fascinating, independent wit.

I am the girl who dreamed I was her; 

then one day I saw my reflection,

 and it was harriet smith.

Perhaps that’s who we all are, girls?  Most of us, anyway.   Not that I do not see the way you really are something.  

I am, you are, we are all

as bright as strawberries and as sweet as a fresh summer breeze 

when the sky is blue.

But nevertheless, we are not lizzy bennet.  

I read it on pinterst – “lizzy was probably the most attractive woman in British literature.”*

So are all the other heroines in everything, and everywhere that stand strong, independent, beautiful, smart, tall, brave,

extraordinary.

Even their faults and flaws are attractive.  Who doesn’t want to be feisty and stubborn?

We, however, are just us.

 And we must humbly and therefore bravely

take up and accept the invisibility that is and will always be with and around all we do and what we are. 

But how is it possible to do this, and smile?

The lizzy bennets of the world – they are special.

And the harriet smiths, the mary bennets, the sickly daughters of lady de bourgh- they are nothings, and no one notices.

The pain we feel, the blood we spill,

If not illuminated by 

beauty and talent and fascinating independent wit

is, in the eyes of the average reader, not even considered.

I suppose that’s why I always notice the wallflowers and sidelines in literature. 

Because in those whose stories are invisible,

I see myself.

via

* 1047. Where is my Mr. Darcy? (n.d.).  Retrieved May 22, 2015 from http://cowbirdsinlove.com/1047  
[note: I am not recommending this website (which I do not read), I am merely referencing the comic).

'Reply to Darcy', by Makenzie (+ a tool for Austen fans or regency writers or both)

I'm on a bit of a Pride and Prejudice tangent on this blog at the moment, because I got to spend a whole term studying it last year (I was allowed to sit and read P&P in school hours.  HOW COOL IS THAT?).  Zerefore, I've got another P&P-inspired piece for your enjoyment. Firstly, however, I'd like to share a tool I found VERY useful for writing in regency/Jane Austen's style. It's  called 'Write Like Austen' and you can find it here. 

The piece I wrote is a letter from Elizabeth to Darcy after she has read the letter he gave her in response to her her very angry marriage refusal (in chapter 34).  Hope you enjoy it. :)  And if anyone has any thoughts, I'd love to hear them!  

Huntsford Parsonage, Friday 2 April, 11am

Dear Sir,               

Upon the perusal of your letter I have come to understand how mistaken were my opinions in regard to your character; and it is with no small amount of distress that I look back upon my previous words towards you.  Your forbearance under the circumstances could not be described as anything less than noble.

You were right in regard to my sister, Jane.  Her feelings are strong, but her character is such as does not make them apparent.  A mistake in judgment as to the extent of her regard for Bingley is altogether understandable.  And though it brings me pain to own it, I must allow that your concerns in regard to the propriety of some members of my family are not entirely ill founded.

As for Wickham, there can be no doubts as to the truth of your claims.  Upon reflection of his actions I see they all confirm your statements.  His conduct, past and present, has been despicable to say the least. In regard to Wickham I have been entirely misled, by nothing less than my own vanity.  I have looked no farther than what I could see in looks and manner, and therefore have mistaken his character and your own.  My behavior has been, to say the least, absurd; and I am entirely ashamed of my actions hitherto. Believe me when I say that I now comprehend the honor of being the object of regard to such a worthy gentleman as yourself.  I am indeed sorry for the ill manner in which I treated you.  Please accept my sincerest apologies, and comprehend that my previous opinion of you is only a subject of mortification to myself.   

With all sincerity,

Elizabeth Bennet

"Lady Catherine Recounts" (A Monologue), written by Big Sister/Makenzie

First of all, I'd like to announce that I've decided to no longer use my pseudonym.  I like my real name.  So from now on, you will know me as "Makenzie."  *bows*

Now, about the story: this is the written version of a monologe I had to write for school.  It's based on the character of Lady Catherine de Bourgh from Pride and Prejudice, and it 'fills a gap'
 in the story, where Lady C. informs Mr. Darcy of her meeting with Elizabeth: "she [Elizabeth] soon learned that they were indebted for their present good understanding to the efforts of his [Mr. Darcy's] aunt [Lady Catherine], who did call on him in her return through London, and there relate... the substance of her conversation with Elizabeth, dwelling emphatically on every expression of the latter," (Pride and Prejudice, p. 413).  Enjoy!
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[Lady Catherine is seated on a chair].  You will be surprised, Darcy, to discover where I have just come from.  I have been obliged to call upon a certain family, in order to gain knowledge about present reports concerning a member of it and yourself.  The family in question is none other than the Bennet family.  I see you are indeed surprised -such a visit was far beneath my situation. It had to be made, however.  Are you aware of the presumptuous talk that has been circulating about yourself?  It is widely believed, nephew, that you are shortly to be engaged to none other than Miss Elizabeth Bennet!  Your silence, I am sure, is a result of your offense at such presuming claims as these.

 As for my conversation with Miss Elizabeth Bennet- well!  I have never heard such impertinence, and such a lack of regard towards a woman of my standing.  She was determined against acknowledging the truth of my claims - insolent, headstrong girl that she is!  I reminded her of her complete lack of family, connections and fortune.  You yourself cannot be unaware that she has uncles and aunts in [spoken with great distaste] trade. And her father may be a gentleman, but her mother most certainly is not a gentlewoman.  And as her father’s money is entailed away from the female line, her fortune amounts to practically nothing.  But this is not all.  You may have heard something, Darcy, of the patched-up business of her younger sister’s elopement.  It is indeed a disgrace! And what is more, the man she married is the son of your father’s steward.  Heaven and earth! -Can you imagine the mortification of being attached to such relations?

I told Miss Bennet, also, that you are expected to marry my daughter; and that you have been destined for each other from birth.  This alliance is a matter of honour; one that is equal in great fortune and noble birth.  I have expected this happy event for many years; and you know that it was also the desire of your poor, departed mother.  But despite all I said to Miss Bennet, her opinions remained unalterable; though, after much urging on my part, she did finally tell me that she was not presently engaged to you.  However, she firmly refused to promise never to enter into such an agreement.   She seemed to think I had no concern in the matter whatever -I, who am almost your only living relative! And she had the impudence to believe that even if she did not marry you, your marriage with my daughter would not necessarily be secure!  Can you believe it?

Thankfully, I have no doubts that you will soon settle my anxieties in this regard.  Indeed, I know that you will give me your sincere promise that you never have, and never will have any desire of marrying Miss Bennet. [Pause]. Darcy?  Darcy!  Answer me!  Will you not give me your word?  You surely cannot be partial to Miss Bennet! [Pause.  Narrows eyes in suspicious anger] I know you are one who is not easily moved, nephew; so I will allow for your refusal to be a result of the independence of your nature.  However, be warned.  You know that such a marriage cannot be approved of by me, and to enter into it would be to secure my everlasting indignation.  [Stands.] Remember who you are!  You are a man of superior and noble consequence; from a family that has long been known and esteemed. You are Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy of Pemberly, and the proud shades of Pemberly are not to be polluted.  [Makes a sweeping exit].