Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Fiction. Show all posts
Friday, January 24, 2014
Easier Said Than Done
Friday again. Wahoo! Blogathon number fifteen. The weeks of writing are just flying by! Today's prompt is a bit different than the others so far. A little bit of fiction. Write a very short piece of prose that begins with the phrase, "The night was replaying in her mind like an irritating pop song.”
I almost feel like I have to write a disclaimer today…. Listen people, I am actually a pretty decent writer. If I had taken more time on this I am sure I could have come up with something better. But that is the beauty of this blogathon. I just write. I don’t strive for perfection. I don’t get crazy about the little things. I am just having fun with it (and yes…. I used the word “damn” for those who dislike even the mildest of colorful metaphors, it just seemed like it needed it). I just wrote down the assigned sentence and started writing. I don’t know where this came from and I certainly don’t know where it is going. That is the beauty of a little chunk of prose. The writer doesn’t have to know. That is up to the imagination of the reader.
Yeah this one is certainly easier said than done. But here goes....
The night was replaying in her mind like an irritating pop song. What was it about these events anyway that made her flesh crawl? The loud music, the mindless chatter, the hundreds of people suffocating in a tiny room. But this time was worse than it had ever been. Not because anything was particularly different…. But because she could not get it out of her head for the life of her.
She fiddled with the straps on her heels as she prepared to venture out on another day. Living the dream. She let out a humorless laugh at the thought. How come they don’t tell you the dream is really just that – a dream.
It was just another Katy Perry song that one hates and yet somehow knows all the words to. Over and over it plays until every line is torture. The boss she had to schmooze, the balding guy who hit on her, the inappropriate jokes she had to laugh at. When would it end?
And it hit her then with a horrifying and sobering revelation. It wouldn’t. Once the final chords play and she feels she has a moment to breathe, it will be just another song on another damn night.
After all, this was her life.
Want to try your hand at this fun little creative writing prompt? I am interested in reading. Link below!
Friday, January 10, 2014
Who Would You Fall in Love With?
Today's post will end the first week of the blogathon. We have the whole weekend off before we start again with prompts and inspiration on Monday :)
Our theme for today is inspired directly from the heart of a lover of literature, imaginary characters, and enjoyment found in escaping into different worlds discovered between the pages.
Name your top three favorite literary heroes and why.
1. Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.
This one is a no-brainer for me. He is truly one of the most wonderful characters ever written. Tall, handsome, witty, rich, intelligent, generous, all balanced by a tasteful amount of sarcasm, pessimism, and pride (well, tasteful after Elisabeth get's a hold of his heart). Every single time I read this book I find something new to love about this character or a novel way to be inspired or amused by his behavior. Truly a wonderful hero.
2. Sir Percy Blakeney from The Scarlet Pimpernel.
I read this book for this first time at age twelve, and I am pretty sure a little piece of my heart belongs to Sir Percy, the valiant hero of the French Revolution. A more intelligent, good looking, romantic, or brave hero was never written. I have to share a quote from him to demonstrate what a wonderful character his is.(Yes, I REALLY am aware that he is a fictional character and that this was actually written by an author.... but when I read.... I become involved with the characters. They become my brilliant friends. People I learn from, respect, and sympathize with. Other readers understand I am sure). Having said that, Percy:
"And 'twill be when you understand that your idol has feet of clay that you'll learn the real lesson of love. Is it love to worship a saint in heaven, whom you dare not touch, who hovers above you like a cloud, which floats away from you even as you gaze? To love is to feel one being in the world at one with us, our equal in sin as well as in virtue. To love, for us men, is to clasp one woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins with us. Your mock saint who stands in a niche is not a woman if she have not suffered, still less a woman if she have not sinned. Fall at the feet of your idol as you wish, but drag her down to your level after that - the only level she should ever reach, that of your heart." - From Baroness Orczy's I Will Repay.
3. Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights.
Heathcliff... the truly tragic hero of Bronte's work. This character is akin to the bad boy of classic literature. His poetic nature draws the poet unto himself. And yet his dark side shuts the noble out. While reading the sketch of his character throughout the pages I love him and hate him, pity him and blame him, hope for him and then against him. It is an amazing literary creation which excites such confusion of feeling.
These are my choices for wonderful literary characters. I am curious to see what others would choose. Link below!
Our theme for today is inspired directly from the heart of a lover of literature, imaginary characters, and enjoyment found in escaping into different worlds discovered between the pages.
Name your top three favorite literary heroes and why.
1. Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice.
This one is a no-brainer for me. He is truly one of the most wonderful characters ever written. Tall, handsome, witty, rich, intelligent, generous, all balanced by a tasteful amount of sarcasm, pessimism, and pride (well, tasteful after Elisabeth get's a hold of his heart). Every single time I read this book I find something new to love about this character or a novel way to be inspired or amused by his behavior. Truly a wonderful hero.
2. Sir Percy Blakeney from The Scarlet Pimpernel.
I read this book for this first time at age twelve, and I am pretty sure a little piece of my heart belongs to Sir Percy, the valiant hero of the French Revolution. A more intelligent, good looking, romantic, or brave hero was never written. I have to share a quote from him to demonstrate what a wonderful character his is.(Yes, I REALLY am aware that he is a fictional character and that this was actually written by an author.... but when I read.... I become involved with the characters. They become my brilliant friends. People I learn from, respect, and sympathize with. Other readers understand I am sure). Having said that, Percy:
"And 'twill be when you understand that your idol has feet of clay that you'll learn the real lesson of love. Is it love to worship a saint in heaven, whom you dare not touch, who hovers above you like a cloud, which floats away from you even as you gaze? To love is to feel one being in the world at one with us, our equal in sin as well as in virtue. To love, for us men, is to clasp one woman with our arms, feeling that she lives and breathes just as we do, thinks with us, loves with us, and, above all, sins with us. Your mock saint who stands in a niche is not a woman if she have not suffered, still less a woman if she have not sinned. Fall at the feet of your idol as you wish, but drag her down to your level after that - the only level she should ever reach, that of your heart." - From Baroness Orczy's I Will Repay.
3. Heathcliff from Wuthering Heights.
Heathcliff... the truly tragic hero of Bronte's work. This character is akin to the bad boy of classic literature. His poetic nature draws the poet unto himself. And yet his dark side shuts the noble out. While reading the sketch of his character throughout the pages I love him and hate him, pity him and blame him, hope for him and then against him. It is an amazing literary creation which excites such confusion of feeling.
These are my choices for wonderful literary characters. I am curious to see what others would choose. Link below!
Thursday, October 17, 2013
A Little Bit of Fiction… Comical or Sentimental?
A few weeks ago I mentioned that our October writing challenge was "An Out of the Ordinary Day." The potential and ideas are limitless with this one. Happy, sad, comical, serious? We could write about whatever we wanted.
In September, I was surprised at how like minded my brother and I were in tone and underlying meaning... not sure if we are quite so similar this time. You may laugh or you may cry. Either way, it was good fun to write.
And so, without further ado, an out of the ordinary day....
Amy’s eyes popped open with a start. It was the kind of awakening that occurred with the sub conscious feeling of oversleeping. Grabbing her cell phone from the side table, she rubbed her eyes and focused on the time, 7:25. Oh crap, she thought as the jumped out of bed.
There
was a brief moment of deliberation between spending twenty minutes primping or
stopping by her favorite coffee shop on the way. She chuckled a little. Who was
she kidding? It was a no brainer. Coffee always took priority on a morning like
this.
Running
to her closet she grabbed a black pencil skirt, the first shirt her hand
touched, and a pair of pumps. Getting dressed while brushing her teeth was an
art she had mastered long ago. Pulling her hair up into a messy bun on top of
her head she was out the door by 7:33, simultaneously sleepy eyed and put
together.
Amy smiled bigger, “Have a good day!"
The dragon’s face changed completely as ten shades of off white spread from one cheek to the other in a great smile, “You too. Off to the office?”
Amy assented as she reached for her latte, “See you tomorrow.”
She walked out of the coffee shop, smiley and full of life until her car came into view and she stopped short. There, walking around with a ticket book in her hand was stern looking police woman. Glancing over, she saw Amy approaching. “Is this your car miss?”
Walking briskly over with her most apologetic smile, Amy made what excuses she could. She was running late for work, had overslept, was only in the shop five minutes, she would never do it again. Affecting her sweetest smile, she shrugged her shoulders and waited for the outcome.
To her surprise and relief the rotund woman slapped her ticket book shut and let out a low chuckle. “Well, you wouldn’t want to be late for work. Just park where you are supposed to next time.” With that she walked away, chuckling to herself the whole time.
Amy didn’t have time to think about the strange encounter. Ten minutes later and she was sitting at her desk.
The morning flew by in a quick succession of odd moments. She had two meetings with two very different men who simultaneously carried a presence of awkwardness and confidence. They each entered her office with self assurance, and yet they struggled to maintain eye contact, they didn’t know where to look, and they returned her smile in an uncomfortable manner. While making her notes she couldn’t help thinking that in a different environment, when she was not expected to be the very essence of professionalism, they would each have made an interesting character study.
When her last appointment for the day left her office she decided to call it a day. Her shoes were hurting and her shirt was itchy. Plus, she hadn’t eaten anything since the morning, if a latte can be considered eating.
“Weird day….” She mumbled to herself, shutting her front door. Heading to the restroom, she took a mental inventory of the fridge, trying to determine which meal would quickly satiate her every growing hunger pains. Washing her hands, she examined her tired eyes in the mirror. Sighing, she gave herself a quick once over. Then she started. Her eyes popped open. Oh no…It couldn’t be….
Bringing her face closer to the mirror, she opened her mouth to display that beautiful smile, about which she got so many compliments.
All the blood drained out of her face as her whole day… her whole weird day flashed through her mind. The dragon lady, the police woman, the awkward gentlemen… oh dear.
There, spread across her two front teeth, was a great smear of bright red lipstick.
In September, I was surprised at how like minded my brother and I were in tone and underlying meaning... not sure if we are quite so similar this time. You may laugh or you may cry. Either way, it was good fun to write.
And so, without further ado, an out of the ordinary day....
Amy’s eyes popped open with a start. It was the kind of awakening that occurred with the sub conscious feeling of oversleeping. Grabbing her cell phone from the side table, she rubbed her eyes and focused on the time, 7:25. Oh crap, she thought as the jumped out of bed.
Driving
on auto pilot, she went over her eight o’clock in her mind while slapping on a
little mascara. That helped, she looked alive at least. Red lipstick. That
would do the trick. Smearing it onto her lips in a quick and proficient way,
she glanced quickly in the mirror. Not too bad for having just rolled out bed.
Still, she was thankful her meetings only took her to lunchtime.
Ten
minutes later and she was pulling into Joe’s Coffee. No parking available.
Really? There was a no parking zone right in front on the side of the road. She
debated for a second. It would really only take her five minutes to grab her
coffee and go. Would she get in trouble between now and then? Parking quickly,
she glanced around self consciously before running into the shop.
She got
in line and peered around to see who was working this morning. Lovely. It was
the dragon lady. Amy had been going to this particular coffee shop and she
could swear that this woman didn’t know how to smile. Customer service was
obviously not her strong suit, and here she was, working in a coffee shop. Amy
was pretty sure that Loretta, that was the dragon’s name, hated the sight of
happy people. As a rule Amy was a happy person. They say smiles are contagious…
but so far nothing rubbed off on this barista.
“Good
morning!” Amy said as she reached the front of the line. Her salutation was
accompanied by her biggest, brightest smile.
Loretta
took a moment to bring her eyes up to Amy, as if she was determining whether
she could ignore the ten people in line, slip on her “I hate people” shirt,
grab a chocolate filled croissant, and take twenty in the back. A couple grunts
later and she brought her eyes up to meet Amy’s smile.
It was
a strange moment. Amy wasn’t even sure what exactly occurred. The dragon’s face
relaxed a little and she almost looked like she was pleased to see her
overwhelmingly happy customer.
Amy
felt a little encouraged, as if all of her months of silently reaching out to
this unhappy person was being rewarded. After ordering her drink, she decided
to take it a step further with some casual conversation, “Beautiful day isn’t
it?” she smiled brightly again and looked into Loretta’s eyes kindly.
A
transformation occurred on Loretta’s face. Her eyes brightened and her mouth
began to tilt upward. She nodded a little.
Amy smiled bigger, “Have a good day!"
The dragon’s face changed completely as ten shades of off white spread from one cheek to the other in a great smile, “You too. Off to the office?”
Amy assented as she reached for her latte, “See you tomorrow.”
She walked out of the coffee shop, smiley and full of life until her car came into view and she stopped short. There, walking around with a ticket book in her hand was stern looking police woman. Glancing over, she saw Amy approaching. “Is this your car miss?”
Walking briskly over with her most apologetic smile, Amy made what excuses she could. She was running late for work, had overslept, was only in the shop five minutes, she would never do it again. Affecting her sweetest smile, she shrugged her shoulders and waited for the outcome.
To her surprise and relief the rotund woman slapped her ticket book shut and let out a low chuckle. “Well, you wouldn’t want to be late for work. Just park where you are supposed to next time.” With that she walked away, chuckling to herself the whole time.
Amy didn’t have time to think about the strange encounter. Ten minutes later and she was sitting at her desk.
The morning flew by in a quick succession of odd moments. She had two meetings with two very different men who simultaneously carried a presence of awkwardness and confidence. They each entered her office with self assurance, and yet they struggled to maintain eye contact, they didn’t know where to look, and they returned her smile in an uncomfortable manner. While making her notes she couldn’t help thinking that in a different environment, when she was not expected to be the very essence of professionalism, they would each have made an interesting character study.
When her last appointment for the day left her office she decided to call it a day. Her shoes were hurting and her shirt was itchy. Plus, she hadn’t eaten anything since the morning, if a latte can be considered eating.
“Weird day….” She mumbled to herself, shutting her front door. Heading to the restroom, she took a mental inventory of the fridge, trying to determine which meal would quickly satiate her every growing hunger pains. Washing her hands, she examined her tired eyes in the mirror. Sighing, she gave herself a quick once over. Then she started. Her eyes popped open. Oh no…It couldn’t be….
Bringing her face closer to the mirror, she opened her mouth to display that beautiful smile, about which she got so many compliments.
All the blood drained out of her face as her whole day… her whole weird day flashed through her mind. The dragon lady, the police woman, the awkward gentlemen… oh dear.
There, spread across her two front teeth, was a great smear of bright red lipstick.
The End
I opened my eyes suddenly. I
wasn’t at home; I wasn’t even close to home. I looked around timidly, the sky
was black as night, yet, it was bright as day. I was standing in a field of
white roses a subtle tick, tick, tick noise coming from somewhere just out of the
corner of my eye. Orbs of light were in every direction, and when I say “orbs” I
mean orbs. There were no lamp posts, no bulbs, just floating balls of light. I
think this was about the time I got really confused.
Around that time, I saw the door.
I don’t know how I didn’t see it before, a giant door the size of a cathedral,
splintered and white as paper, the only thing here besides me in a field of
white roses; wait, no, red roses.
The tick, tick, tick, noise was
getting louder and louder. I looked around to see if I could find it, no
success. It wasn’t there, it didn’t exist, yet, it was chasing me. I could feel
it, pounding my brain, with the ever so subtle tick, tick, tick. I was scared
now, it couldn’t find me, if it found me I’d be gone, but gone where? Maybe
this is where; a field of white roses that aren’t white, and a door that is
just beyond my reach.
I was scared now, the ticking
noise was almost upon me, I couldn’t breathe, and all I could do is run towards
the door. It was further then I thought, I ran and ran, yet it only seemed to
get further away, and smaller, and smaller, but I couldn’t stop, I needed to
get away from the noise. I ran until I thought my lungs had burst and turned to
water, and thorns from the flowers cut me deep every time I took a stride. And
then, suddenly, I tripped, over what? I don’t know, maybe it never existed.
Flat on the ground, I look up to see the door almost touching my forehead, yet
this time it was different. It shrank so much while I was chasing it, Instead
of a cathedral; it was only as wide as a book, the knob was polished gold, the
door decorated to look like a clock.
I reached out in a desperate
attempt to escape the ticking noise and opened it, and then, I woke up.
I jerked up frantically, breathing
hard. I looked around, the ticking noise was still there, but it was just my
clock. I was in my apartment, not in a wasteland of roses, although, this was a
wasteland of its own; old, dusty, and small. I only had enough room for my bed,
a Television, and a mini fridge. “another dream” I whispered to myself. To get
my mind off of it, I decided to get ready for work.
I left the house a couple hours
early, it felt nice to get away from my old dusty room. I decided to walk to
work that day. The sun was shining, the air was cool, and there was a slight
breeze, perfect weather. I don’t know why the dream troubled me so much, but it
was finally starting to fade. I thanked the wonderful surroundings and all the
distractions. The colorful lights, smells and especially all the people waking
up and getting there start on the day; a man rushing to get his cup of coffee,
strutting into the store like it was his goal in life, A woman with a cigarette
in one hand and a cell phone in the other, rushing to her car like her life was
on the line, people just going along with their daily lives. The sidewalk
pavement thrummed like a living thing beneath my feet, with cars busily sailing
past me happily escorting their drivers to work. The hope of a smile flickered
on my face for an instant, and then it was gone.
I found myself at work suddenly,
as if I woke from a daze and the real world jumped on my back as quick as it
could. I sat there, looking at the papers on my desk, wondering, just
wondering. The ticking of the clock over everyone’s head stared me down like
prey.
Some days I’d never notice it. The
dull grinding of gears and the soft monotone melody of the second hand, but
these days it was always on my mind. My days were getting shorter, yet staying
the same; Time was passing me by.
Work felt structured and dismal, a
place where dreams rot next to the stapler, and home felt like the countdown. I
used to look forward to work; I’d hum a tune and sign papers like it was nobody
else’s business. Now it just felt like my life was draining slowly into my
savings account.
The wandering of my head stopped
suddenly. It was five-o-clock, time to go home.
I was in my bed suddenly, it was
late, I stared up at the clock, knowing that tomorrow was just going to be the
same. At least I could find solace in my quiet room, in my warm bed. I felt
comforted, slowly falling asleep. If only I knew what was waiting for me in my
dreams.
Money, so much money, falling like
rain, covering the ground for miles, it was beautiful. I smiled bright,
brimming with satisfaction. I did this, it was me, I finally succeeded. I
laughed, and skipped and played happily.
Sparks of light dazzled the air;
little red fireworks nearly blinding my vision. Smiling, I heard a faint noise,
but when I realized what it was, my smile faded. I turned slowly, and there it
was, my clock. Terrified I looked around for any way to escape. There was none;
the clock ticked more and more relentlessly, Till every subtle tick sent a
shockwave through my entire body. It knocked me down, I was barely breathing,
every pound of the clock knocking the air right out of me. My eyes squinted
open and I gasped. The sky was on fire, little pieces of money-paper erupting
into flames and soaring towards my face, surrounding me with fire. Every little
tick of the clock beat me down further and further into the ground, and the
fire threatened to engulf me. I closed my eyes in utter hopelessness, tears
streaming down my face, but then, I heard a voice. “Are you going to open your
door” she said, and I looked at her, smiling at me, holding out her hand, like
she’s just going to pick me up and carry me out of this hell storm. I reached
out and touched her.
My eyes locked open and I was back
in my room. My door bell rang and I nearly screamed. I rushed downstairs and
opened up the door before it had time to ring again. It was her, the girl from
my dreams. She was a delivery girl, holding out a large package. She had soft
blue eyes, a devious smile, and black hair in a tight messy bun.“So, are you
going to sign for this sir?” she said, trying not to laugh. That’s when I
realized how odd I must seem, A full grown man answering his door in his P-J’s,
and simply staring at the lady with a very confused look. Slowly I came to my
senses, though, and said “oh, yeah, sorry you just look very familiar.”
As you might suppose, I was
incredibly confused. Walking back into my house with my brand new Hoover
vacuum, I came up with a clever plan. I walked straight from my front door to
my computer and bought another vacuum.
Four weeks, and five vacuum’s
later. I had a date.
My eyes opened wide. My day off,
the day for my first date in years, and I didn’t have a single nightmare. . . I
looked in the mirror, wearing a white button up shirt and slacks. I tried to
smile, but it just looked rusty and forced, and although I didn’t have any
nightmares, my hair was certainly a nightmare.
Getting ready and cleaning around
my house like a madman, my heart pumping with anticipation all day. If I
sprayed any more air freshener in my house I would probably pass out, so I
resolved to spend the remainder of my day watching the clock, ticking
sadistically.
It was time, finally. I walked towards her door, a small apartment
on a lonely street; my hands tightening with every slow step, and adrenaline
pumping through my veins. It was the most alive I’ve felt in years. I knocked
on her door, every knock resounding quieter and shyer than the last. “Just a
minute!” she yelled through the door, as I heard scuffling around and nervous
rummaging, and then her eyes were looking directly at mine, bright and wild.
Her hair was still a mess, yet it was perfect, cascading so curiously down her
shoulders, shining in the night light. Wearing a little blue sundress, I felt
like a dirty old dog compared to her beauty.
I felt even worse giving her the small rose I had picked on the way to
her apartment; a pathetic thing, with the petals already wilting and thorns on
the stem, yet, when I clumsily said hello and handed her the flower, her smile
made my worries melt away.
We walked around the carnival,
dazzling lights and noises and games all around. I could see her eyes flit from
one thing to the next, joyfully enjoying every little detail. We played games,
and I won her a little plush elephant, she wrapped her arms around it happily
and smiled at me, which just made me try again and again to get her more. I
failed, but she was still just as happy with the one.
I found myself staring at her,
wondering how with just the littlest things, she could still have the purest,
most hopeful smile. She noticed that I was looking, and smiled that same very
smile at me; my face red, and adrenaline pumping through my heart, for once in
what felt like years, A real, genuine smile appeared on my lips. After that I
just couldn’t get rid of it.
After so long of being so terribly
mad at time, it finally decided to go easy on me, the night felt like it lasted
an eternity, and I could just feel myself falling in love every second of it.
Taking her home very late that night, I knew things were going to be different
from here on out.
The truth was, I was nearly on the
verge of giving up. In pursuit of my job my greed overcame me. I lost who I
was, I lost my friends, I lost my family, and after so long of trying, my wife
left me. I was alone with nothing but a well paying job.
After nearly a year with this new girl,
a few things changed. I quit my job, I moved to a different place, and got a
new mindset. I finally knew who I was again, I could finally smile again, and
it was all because of her.
The End



