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Imogen and Louise both had Cerebral Palsy and miraculously, they were both affected in the same way. The only difference between the girls was their view on their disability and their outlook on life.

Imogen looked at the things she could do rather than what she couldn't and what she couldn't do like other people, she did differently. She looked forward and took everything one stp at a time. For Imogen, anything was possible if she put her mind to it and worked hard. Sure, life was tough and sometimes she was blue, like everyone. But every single time, with out fail, she'd get back up, dust herself off and get on with things.

Louise meanwhile would often wallow in self pity and feeling sorry for herself. She wondered if she could do things, then decided most likely not. She didn't try. She kept to her cozy, small little life and never did anything different or new. She wanted sympathy and often played the 'disabled' card. Louise was always too scared to do anything and she worried about possibilities that may not even happen.

Life is about perception, what view you take of the world and your circumstances. You're only human if you sometimes have bad days and think 'why me?' Everyone has those moments. But you also have choices. So, do you want to go out and live your life or do would you rather sit in your house all day and do nothing? Would you rather stick to the same boring routine you've had for the last twenty years or put yourself out there and try something new? Would you rather have a full interesting life or a boring, predictable one? So which view do you take? Optimistic or pessimistic? Positive or negative? Good or bad? Happy or depressing? Life is what you make it to be. It's your choice, so what do you choose?

Ageing

Like all little boys, Alan couldn't wait for his birthday, to be a whole year older and get closer to being a grown up. When you're a grown up, they said, then you can do anything you want, they said. At six, Alan didn't completely understand it but the general idea of growing up exciting him and, like all impatient little six year olds, Alan wanted to grow up. The only problem being time.

It seemed to drag on and on. Each day felt like a whole week's worth of days and to a little boy, that was a lot of waiting. But, with time, he grew, went to high school, the raging hormones kicked in and he was caught up with the rest of the teenage crowd, doing things he'd surely regret later.

Once he'd passed his teenage years and was climbing through his twenties, Alan felt relieved to be rid of the hormones and have the rollercoaster of puberty behind him. Now, he had bigger worries than who was going to the football game or whether or not the girl who sat in the back row liked him or if that person who seemed nice was safe to talk to, if he wanted to go on not being teased or picked on. No, now Alan worried about he was going to do with his life. As a child, he'd changed his mind quite a bit. One week, he would be a doctor, the bext a policeman, the next a teacher and the next a champion sports star. Through his teenage years, the phases had lasted longer and he'd thought much more seriously about them. Even during his years at university, the rest of his life had seemed a long way off until suddenly one day, it hit him in the face, like someone had slapped him. And there he was, fast approaching his thirties with still not a clue.

From there, Alan went through all the usual motions, taking things day by day. He established his career, got married, had a family and not thinking much further then tommorow or next week as he watched his children, walking the same path of ageing that he had done, and was still doing, just as everyone.

About his mid to late forties was when Alan no longer liked the idea of growing up. Instead, he wanted to freeze time, even make himself immortal, not that that was possible. He wanted to stop right there and not age another day.

At 50, Alan started noticing the older couples walking in the park or out in town. There was one he remembered, walking by the sea shore, arm in arm. The man held a cane tightly in one hand and each step he took was shaky, as if he could fall flat on his face at any given moment. His wife meanwhile held a walker carefully as if her life depended on it, her shopping sitting in the front basket. She too looked fragile and vulnerable. It seemed that even the slightest change in the wind's course could knock her from her feet.

Alan shuddered to think that he might be like that one day. Age, they had told him, was just a number. Growing old didn't matter. 'The Golden Years' they called it. But watching the couple walking by the sea, it didn't seem to Alan anything close to 'the golden years'. He didn't fancy losing his memories, or getting arthritis. No, he didn't fancy getting closer to death or being sick all the time. Granted, not everyone aged that way, but some did and Alan's greatest fear was that we would be one of them.

Although, Alan realised that he'd led a great life, and by golly, it wasn't over yet. Even if he was getting older, he thought, so what? I can still have just as much fun as when I was 5 or 15 or even 42.

The Coveaus

Eli and Damon looked around the dark room. They had plastered themselves against the wall and stayed there ever since the lights had gone out and they heard the click of the lock on the door, trapping them together in a small room. The mysterious, eerie noises had begun not long after the loud click of the lock. One could pass it off as the wind, but Eli and Damon knew better. They'd watched too many horror movies to shrug at strange noises.

Both of them jumped at the sound of footsteps, a sound akin to thunder in the otherwise deathly silence of the deserted room. The already defening sound grew louder still as the footsteps came closer and Damon and Eli looked around frantically for the source of the noise.

Suddenly, the room was flooded with a bright light as the aliens came in. Eli and Damon froze. All they could do was stare. The creatures were tall, had no head and bodies that were covered in a black and white swirly pattern and had a gapping hole in the centre of their chest. They also had an old fashioned lantern hanging in mid air, not far from their non exisistent heads.

"People are detected." One said, its voice deep and somewhat soothing yet its manner of speaking robotic. "Humans." Said another, its voice exactly the same as the first. There were at least ten of them, all standing in a row each looking exactly like the one before it.

Involuntarily, Eli began to tremble, Damon following suit. "You will remain immobile." One of the aliens ordered. "Who are you?" Eli's question came out in a squeaky, timid whisper. "And silent." Commanded another.

The answer to Eli's question came in the form of what appeared to be a war cry. "We are the Coveau. The mighty, strong, indestructable, undefeated Coveau." "What is your inferior species?" Asked one. Damon and Eli both said nothing. "Speak!" Demanded another of the Coveaus. "I'm Damon, and this is my mate Eli." "You are partners." Another Coveau nodded its understanding. "No. Eli is my mate. Friend." "You are allys." The alien corrected. Damon nodded in response.

The Coveaus stood, facing them like soldiers, remaining silent, until finally, they seemed to come to life again. "You will follow us." A coveau ordered. Damon and Eli didn't move. "Please, just let us go." Eli begged. "You will follow us." The Coveau repeated.

When neither Eli nor Damon moved, four of the Coveaus stepped out of line, two standing at a attention on either side of Damon and the other two on either side of Eli. The other six turned away and began to leave, the march robotic and ordered. The coveaus linked their arms in with Damon and Eli's and began to move, forcing them to go with them. "Where are you taking us?" Eli tried. "You will remain silent." Insisted a coveau, squeezing harder on Eli's arm, punishment perhaps, for speaking against orders.

Eli and Damon were thrown forcefully from the Coveau's grip, falling flat on their faces on the cold, damp, cement street. They got up and turned around to see a  single Coveau, lingering in the doorway, watching them somehow. "You will not speak of the mighty Coveau." It ordered. "We shall remain unkonown and you shall not return here, for we dwell here now." Eli and Damon nodded, both unsure of whether they should be relieved or scared still.

The Coveau disappeared and the door closed behind it with a bang, not as thunderously loud as their footsteps, but still considerably startling. Damon and Eli looked at each other, their eyes wide and breathed a sigh of relief. They may never make mention of the Coveau again, but they certainly wouldn't forget them any time soon.

Rippled Reflections

I looked down, and in the water below I saw my life reflected in a series of images. It was like I was walking in a hall of mirrors. Reflections of myself were looking back at me from certain points in my life.

The first was my earliest memory. I couldn’t have been any more than three at the time. Mum was chasing me around the house, with a towel in one hand and a bar of soap in the other. I can remember giggling gleefully as I ran, annoying my mother more and more with each second that passed. I’d been playing outside, finger painting but had decided to use myself as the canvas instead and so I covered myself from head to toe in paint.

The second was of my first pet. A tiny little Italian grey hound. I’d been about 6, and at the time, had had just as much energy as the tiny, hypo energetic little dog. We had been chasing each other around the yard, but even though we were both had around the same level of energy, her four legs, even though they were tiny, beat my two. I simply couldn’t catch her.

Next. I was around twelve and rebellion was just beginning to set in. Mum and I were in the kitchen, screaming at one another across the counter. I’d been giving her attitude because she wouldn’t let me go to a party that weekend. At the time, it had been everything I’d cared about. One of the popular girls, yes, the popular girls was holding a pool party for her birthday and I’d been desperate to go because, maybe, just maybe, I’d have a chance at breaking in to the popular group. At the time, all I wanted was to be one of them.

After that was a memory from when I was around fourteen or fifteen. Many of my peers had recently been testing the boundaries, with things like drugs, drinking. Someone, I faintly recalled had even stolen at least two hundred dollars worth of makeup from Coles. Nasty rumours were flying around everywhere. It was a confusing time. The cruel nature of my peers combined with the hormones we all had raging through us, looking back, it had been, quite simply, hell. I was crying on my bed. The people who’d been my friends the day before had hated me that day. I can still remember screaming at my mother when she came in to console me. She wouldn’t understand. Get lost. Leave me alone.

The last reflection was from something that had happened earlier that year. It was just an ordinary day. I’d been with friends. I’d had a lot of them at the time. It was another long, dreary school day, but the parts that were spent with them seemed to last only five minutes. It was a break and we were just sitting together. It was one of my favourite memories. One of the happiest times I could ever remember.

As I closed my eyes, the reflected image memories all shattered like broken shards of a mirror. All the emotions went away and I felt nothing but the cold wind rushing past me as I fell. It felt like I’d hit glass as I hit the water and then nothing. All there was, was black.

Quidam

Quidam. It could be anyone. The person in front of you on the bus, a classmate you haven't gotten to know yet, the new nervous co worker who only started last week, a person you brush past on a walk. Quidam is a stranger who could be anyone you don't know. Quidam is new and mysterious. Just like any stranger or new person.

Just like any stranger, Quidam brings endless possibilities. The opportunity for a fresh start or a new friend. Quidam is a person who evokes mystery, and like many new things, wonder in young children. They may be a person who others a wary around out of fear of the unknown.

Quidam may be the person you cross the street behind, the kind stranger who stops to help you pick up the belongings you've dropped or the neighbourly person who greets you as you walk by. It could be anyone. So who is it?

Quidam is a nameless passerby, a solitary figure lingering on a street corner, a person rushing past, a person who lives lost amidst the crowd in all to anonymous society.