"free rant" - The Letter

~something in here describing the dad, coming home and checking his mail when he comes across this letter from his daughter~

"Hi Daddy,

Sorry it's been so long in writing to you. I've been thinking some things over and wanted to figure out how to express some of my thoughts and feelings from the past.

There are several things that have weighed on my mind, especially recently - well in the last few years recently, that i think may have caused me to act in certain ways. Basically, while i have always had a mother complex, that somehow was coupled with an eagerness to accommodate.

When you and i used to drive on the expressway, i vaguely remember conversations we used to have about the poor state of young people, world hunger and other destitute adults. These conversations always seemed to get to you where you'd pretty much break down and cry to the point where we had to pull over so you could compose yourself.

Being little and seeing your parent cry would probably freak out some kids. For a time, i would get worried, mostly because i was afraid of being on the side of the road, but i thought it was my job to listen and make you feel better by being there. This apparently had a huge affect on me later on in life as i felt the need to be everyone's rock.

Do you remember these conversations? i don't remember us having them that often with Sarah (sister) in the car, though i'm sure it may have happened once or twice.

I don't regret having these experiences, and obviously they happened for a reason. My being, physical and emotional, was a comfort in someway and for that i am grateful. I've just been thinking about how that might have impacted me today.

Now that i have a life of my own, that capacity has grown and dwindled at the same time. At 7 years old, the fears and expectations of a child are very small and external forces may take precedence. But at 32, the priorities change to put the self first. I don't think i ever reached that point. Somehow i was forever stuck in letting the external forces take priority. With some help, i'm learning to turn those odds around.

In order to do that, there are some frustrations i wanted to tell you about, because it's no longer healthy (nor was it ever) to keep these feelings inside. For the sake of keeping the peace and for keeping the "smile" forever on i hid or cut off communications completely. So i will freely describe them below.

I was hurt to receive your email that you whisked yourself away to Puerto Rico. Like the other times you and mommy split up, i felt you were abandoning us. Not only were you going away, but you left me in charge to take care of the family. That was all in my head because i never saw mommy as a fit to take care of anyone. So when you left for the 3rd time, i wondered why you didn't reach out to us for help. Again in my head that i thought i could have helped, in a way to comfort you - even though that's not my role."

freewrite dream

Her eyes widened as she weaved backwards through the crowd. She could see white linen peeking through legs and shoulders. Step by step he was getting closer. Dark, brown eyes never left her face. his thumb flicked the hilt of his sword, readying for his move. she started to whimper to herself knowing he was after her. She couldn't tell why or what she had done to make him feel this way. all the takss at hand were completed and she did them with accuracy. but he was coming so close.

she backed further through the crowd until she came to a wall. juast as he neared her,, sword in hand and aimed at her heart she felt a pain in her back. she looked down to see a sword coming out of her chest just as the man in front of her pierced through her clothes. she couldn't see who stabbed her from behind but it didn't matter now. there was little pain, the swords were so sharp. she only felt faint, fell to her knees and blacked out....

freewrite

"you don't have to let go..." she heard through the pounding in her ears. "you can control it!"

"I can't... it's too much for me to handle!" she screamed from several feet above.

Ending it all now would solve several problems. She could destroy the next hundred square miles with ease. Flying higher she scoped the area. Several towns would perish if she unleashed this terror. Clenched fists blazed with an internal fire she called upon in times of need. Slowly her knees pulled into her chest and she raised her arms to cross them before her face. All she had to do was conjure up the energy.

The tears wouldn't stop, even though her eyes were closed. She could feel the wet drips roll down her cheeks until the fire kissed them away. Each flame flickered up in response to her anxiety. They fed on her anger and fear which could fuel them far longer than oxogen.

She opened her eyes and saw him below. He was crying too, but not out of fear, out of compassion. He didn't want to see her hurting, he didn't want the flames to wipe away her tears. That was his job. He held his hands out to her and she could feel his love. Not only in his eyes, she felt his very soul reaching out to her own.

Lowering her hands, legs and body temperature, the flames receded. She wasn't ready to meet him just yet - this was a defeat in her eyes. She looked at him one last time and shot into the sky leaving a trail of energy behind her like a shooting star...




(sorry - several different storylines all mixed into one. still trying to figure out my own style. and don't be worries about the subject.... there are lots of scenes i've been meaning to write about and some of them are dark and scary, others silly and light)

^_^

freewrite (thanks to sorcerer's apprentice)

she stepped up out of the mouth of the subway. a gust of wind splashed her face with a few raindrops of the finishing storm. it was a refreshing chill after being in the stifling heat underground.

her pace was slower than normal due to a growing headache. each footstep pounded her skull so she padded lightly on the cracked sidewalk. at least the rain was helping cool off her head.

she reached the street corner and her book bag started to vibrate. it was either a text or a voicemail, she thought, until it kept going. a smile slipped across her face as she tried to guess the caller and as she pulled the phone out of her bag the smile faded.

i really don't want to write about that - it's an unhappy subject and while my mind requires me to write about it i refuse to :(

not tonight.

freewrite

i have energy and i need to write now when i have a chance. it's amazing how the city can take on so many faces when your mood changes. i've seen at least 10 different types of beautiful - the kind that makes you cry, the kind you see from crying, a greener kind when i'm happy, blues when i'm sad... wah don't like where that sentence was going.

maybe i should try dr. wicked's lab. nah, i'm doing okay writing so far, just nothing with substance. i'll figure something out.


it always came back to the red door. she couldn't stop thinking about what happened that day.


wow... i was about to write a part 2 to this but i feel like i can't write better than i did then.... scratch that. Here goes nothing...

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

...my feet stumbled forward and i was standing beyond the gate. with my next breath, my hand was caressing the painted wood. and as i exhaled, the door closed behind me.

it was dark inside. my eyes were still used to the brightness of the morning but my nose led the way. i followed the faint smell of bacon and cinnamon toast and headed down a hall of some kind. It was long and narrow and i held my hands out for additional guidance. no furniture or paintings were here, but there was a small molding about half way up. if i knew more about architecture, i could describe it better. ornate gargoyles bit at my fingers about every five steps. by the time i made it to the end of the hall, my eyes could see what was around me.

the hall i just went down was a service entrance. it was wide, but meant only for transporting goods. arrows just beyond the red door were painted on the wall, directing where each item should go: to the right, food and pantry items, to the left, furniture and linens and up the stairs - clothing. there were sconces above me, but you'd need a ladder to get to them. flameless candles stood atop each metal platform and offered light when used. no electricity was present in this part of the house.

finding all i could, i turned to continue down the hall, then came across a heavy velvet curtain. Just as i reached out to pull it aside a knocking sound came from the wall. i froze in horror, thinking for the first time i've invaded someone's house. what if i was found? how could i explain my trespassing? Maybe if i could just get a little farther into the house. the smell of bacon was much stronger on this side of the hallway, perhaps the kitchen was near?

i pulled the curtain aside and was greeted by an empty home library. Bookshelves lined every wall and even framed an old TV set in it's wooden box. dainty furniture was placed just right for conversation, but didn't look all that comfortable to sit in. A victrola sat in one corner with it's matching records on the bookshelf just behind it. a door to her left was closed and dark from beneath but a door straight ahead was wide open, sunlight pouring in. this room had no windows, as if to protect the books from sun exposure. she'd love to return and see what books were on each shelf, maybe on her way out.

(some how i suddenly turned to the third person... i think i might end up doing that for the story, since it seems to come naturally. but i'll return to telling my story again - sorry about that :D)

As i got to the middle of the room i heard another sound from behind the bookshelf. it was similar to a rat trying to escape quickly from a predator since the movements were quick and sporadic. i froze each time i heard the noise until it seemed to stop. i went on to the next room.

this looked like a bedroom as it had several antique dressers but the bed was missing. i took a look at each to see the cracking paint and remembered a time when i was invited to the CEO's house as part of the new employee hiring welcome. his house included several dated pieces, which i thought was silly to have since they were all cracked and looked broken. this type of furniture seemed to fit in this place though. it didn't look as if someone placed it here - but as if it just belonged. a whispering call asked me to touch it, to see if it was real and my fingers obliged. the cracked paint didn't crumble under my hand but seemed to welcome my touch. "love me" it called out, "we've been incredibly lonely."

i pulled back a bit, as my heart felt a twinge of pain. everything here was a bit sad. something or someone was missing and this place wasn't complete until that thing was found. i moved onto another piece that was set into the wall. Only the drawers and doors stood out from the wallpaper. i pulled on one drawer but nothing happened. maybe it was stuck so i pulled a little harder. After a third pull, i gave up on that drawer. I tried another just beneath it and that one took the entire draw panel right off. now i've destroyed someone's property. what should i do now, i thought.

worry didn't have enough time to set in. As i tried to put the drawer face back, i noticed that behind the face panel i removed was a richly colored wood panel. . i knocked and the panel was solid wood. there was no way a real drawer could fit in there. so i followed the wall to see where the door might lead. it was a wall that jutted out just beyond the bathroom. it sectioned off the room for what looked like function of a dresser, but only the face was implemented. As i went around to the back of the wall, i could see a shoddy cover-up of a door to what must have been a building structure some years ago. (i'll really have to work this one out to get what's in my head on paper)

following that wall and the bad cover up, i heard a rustling, just like the knocking earlier. I looked over to find a staircase that was sectioned off by baby safety gates. paper was moving around on it's own and when i moved in closer, i found a small grey monkey trying to get up to see me. this grey monkey was familiar as i knew it's owner. but to think i'd be in his house.... i held my breath and listened to the heavy footsteps making their way down the stairs...

need to get out of my head....

she ran. she had to run away from it. the thing that clouded her mind, her every waking moment. had to get away. she closed her eyes and slowed to a stop. her hands rose to her face as her knees gave out. the tears came.

where was she? she couldn't open her eyes. the effort seemed too much. all energy she had was used to banish the thoughts that threatened to suffocate her. was she still standing? no, she could feel the cold wet concrete through the seat of her jeans.

it could have been hours or seconds that she sat there and fought off the images and assumptions. time was not recognized. there was one phrase, one feeling she was trying to protect.

"am i being treated fairly?" it sounded hollow if she said it aloud. keeping it in her head didn't give it enough importance. had the past really screwed up her point of perception? she wasn't sure if she was capable of enjoying something at face value any more.

a smile or kind gesture was used to prepare her for a truth that was not easy to tell. a caress was forced by an external stimulant. complements only meant something was wrong. was she wrong for thinking this way, no - this was what she did to mask her true feelings.

when she was little, she was honest and blunt, inconsiderate to how her words affected other people. it took her several painful lessons to see that some thoughts are better kept in her head. not everyone wants to know how you feel. sometimes people just like to have someone listen. she learned well and started to keep her thoughts to herself.

as she closed her thoughts up, she started to become self conscious. all the ideas started to fill her head and it became very crowded. she started to internalize the feelings she had toward others and didn't want anyone to know what she was thinking. once and a while she opened up to tell someone an honest idea and she was laughed at. this made her close up even more.

people became objects to judge on sight so she knew how to protect herself. no one would ever be let inside. she would be safe so long as she kept a distance from all around her. she didn't need them anyway.

(wah... got hungry, got frosted flakes and lost the rhythm... maybe will finish later :P )

nyc writing (Harlem's Hollowed History)

inspired was i by a walk down 137th street.
castles past their prime stared down at me with curious eyes.
'would she see us, would she care' they cried to each other.

i touched the wet bricks that water wore away.
some would claim the pipes had leaked, but i knew this damage.
these buildings had seen better days, the grooves were from tears.

in a time long ago and sadly forgotten, this used to be a kingdom.
grand lords and ladies danced in each hall and celebrated life like none other.
oppression couldn't reach them here, or so they thought.

the tides rolled in and things changed for the worst.
living became a burden and the kingdom was slowly fading from sight.
each proud building was left to deteriorate like their spirit of celebration.

the wonder of how things were consumes me.
there is a hunger for knowledge of the past while trying to preserve it in the present.
just think of all that could have been offered if the celebration always continued

midnight freewrite

i know i should be sleeping but i felt i should write. it's been so long since i've wirtten a story that i feel it's time to put something on paper. i could also be because i'm reading this good book called "a children's story" pleas eforgive me for for forgetting the writer - i'll look it up later and maybe comment on it.

so i was thiking about a story that welnt something like thiss.....

wah, this freewrite is not coming out how i want it. i have to exercise this muscle - it's terribly weak again and makes me want to cry. my wants and needs are so spread out it's hard to focus on just one thing. there's so much fear i'll miss out on something that i tend to do a little of everything insteadof a lot of one thing.

the stories are constant in my head. every face i pass has a story, every building, every crack in the sidewalk. my city calls out to me begging for it's story to be told. but not the one you see at barnes and noble. not the one you read about at the library. the very soul of my city calls out for the true story to be told.

i'm saddened because i feel i'm not up to the task. but she calls out to mek, every night i pass through her neighborhoods. I can see her - in the child that waved hello on the subway and smiled, he needs life on paper. a story must be written about every thing every living being.

my timeis plentiful and there are enough stories to write in a lifetime and more. only how to start. poems, short stories, not ever a novel - that would be too presumptuous. it must be in the style one experiences. fleeting moments and carefree passes through the hall. that is how i'd tell her story.

endless love is so cliché

He could see the faint glow of the moon's reflection just over the trees. The lake must be beautiful, he thought. Stars twinkled down to show him the way through the Pines and Firs as his steps quickened. This time he was away for too long.

It wasn't a far walk to the lake and he thought it best to leave Cassie behind. Her hooves would make too much noise along the path. Not that he needed to be quiet in these parts, but disturbing the silence didn't feel right. At his best, his boots whispered along the dirt path. She wouldn't mind, though. It was his way of telling her, "i'm coming...soon."

The last tree cleared and he dropped to his knees. There, on the lake, was the moon's reflection. While it's luminance lit up the area, it was not the source of the light shone over the trees. His hand trembled as he reached out to a figure in the water.

"Forgive my absence. It's been far too long since..."

"Hush, my love," her voice danced to his ears. "You're here now. Come to me."

He stood, eyes fixated on the light in the lake. One foot after another he was drawn to her. She called him and he obeyed. As he neared the lake's edge his eyes adjusted to the light. Little by little her form materialized. The outer curves of her shoulders were the first he noticed. Their width were matched by her round full hips. Next he could see the back of her head trailing with a braid that draped over one shoulder.

She turned to face him with puffy eyes and arms crossed. While her voice could hide any trouble she was having, her body could not.

"I had a terrible dream," she began. "You became sick and died. Nothing i did, nothing i tried could help you get better. There was nothing i..." her voice trailed off.

He moved in closer and listened.

"I couldn't help you. I couldn't save you. I was hurt that my time with you was so short," her arms grew heavy and fell to her sides. She dropped her head and continued "Nothing... all the love that i had wasn't enough to save you. i couldn't keep you with me."

His hand rose up to caress her cheek as a warm tear rolled down his fingers.

"I'm here now, we have this moment. Let's not waste this precious time we have together," he pulled her into his arms and held her tightly.

"My love for you i so deep i cannot love another if we should part. I want you to know, until your last breath that i have always loved you. I don't want you to feel that you were ever alone," she mumbled into his shoulder.

---

(grrr.... somehow this didn't turn out how i wanted it to.... perhaps i'll revisit. she was supposed to be the strong one professing her love - but maybe that's just too mushy :P)

freewrite. romance

is it really meant only for books?
for women to fill it in their head through fairy tales and movies?
this one thing thought of from someone's head.
romance

maybe i'm just overcome with emotion.
seeing other people's feelings - how easily it gets to me.
why do i share what they experience.
empathy.

just fiddling around with some verses... think i'm too tired to write. have to start practicing that muscle again.

freewrite - first of 2010

this is my writing exercise for the night. let's see what i can dig up from my head.

she closes her eyes and notices her fingers start to fly. she's no longer sitting on a bed, but on a toadstool. it's large, similar to the one from Alice and Wonderland, but it's colored in the bright orange and red most known from Super Mario Brothers. She can almost hear each item around her being pixellated. First the toadstool goes to 256 colors, the orange turning more into a yellow and it feels a bit rigid under her bottom. the pillows that are next to her turn into two goombas, silently pacing back and forth between two green pipes. the dolls that were on her bed become the vine plants coming up from the pipes. she's turning her room into a video game.

HA... the ceiling is made up of flashing gold boxes, their question marks teasing and calling her to knock them over to see what's inside. she does to find a growing vine that leads up to the clouds. now she feels blocky as she stands in one motion and looks down at the plumber pants she's wearing. She deftly climbs the vine to find a world full of coins and clouds. They look so high but as she reaches up her legs can't help but jump to grab them. Now she's flying through the air and wait... there's a tail behind her. She can wiggle a bit and get ever so higher. More coins, she laughs.

her eyes open and suddenly she's back in her bedroom. the pillows are neatly at the top of her bed and the dolls lay where they have been next to her. she looks around and is happy she's not in a video game. where would she sleep? were there any bathrooms in the level? what would happen if she really fell down the well - could she just start again at the beginning? things she never really thought of, it's just a game after all.

how would she feel if she stepped on the goombas and they disappeared. would she feel remorse for killing something, even if it was an enemy. all good questions and none she'd care to think about while playing the game. why would someone purposefully make you think about reality in a simple game as that. the whole point is the take your mind off the drama of every day, right? she's very happy she has video games to escape to, but it's also nice to know there's a soft bed waiting for her at the end of the day.

and to totally switch topics, she wants a nice garden that will hold all the veggies she'd cook with. if it were up to her it would be nice to have a farm - work hard, have real troubles. she's starting to feel like the troubles she has are made up or could be prevented. it's not like she's fighting Bowser to save the life of the Princess. she's fighting off bill collectors and rent responsibilities. but one thing is for sure... hahahaa.

that last line might be omitted for the sake of my job. ha... to think that i can't speak my mind because the internet has made the world a much smaller place. yes, i think i will remove that last line - maybe i'll make it my facebook status. no one would understand if it was out of context. sometimes i do wish i could be in a video game - but not really. just have the chance to go someplace different. to see new things and not have to worry about the money that must be spent doing it. i want to learn for the sake of learning. guess i'll have to stick to books and the library. that's the only real way to do anything for free anymore.

guess i just, i don't know- i'm very lucky. i'm able to have my own place and have enough money to help my family when the need is there and to still enjoy life a bit. it's not that i really want more for me... i just want more so i can help the people around me. guess my time is almost up and now i can watch the time tick by. if i were writing an essay, i'd say there was no way i could pound out 800 words in about 15 minutes. But look at me know. There's 800 with 45 seconds to go. seems it's all a state of mind. i could probably get to 1000 if i wanted to. seems there are so many things we're all capable of but we just don't have the want to do it. the Will is there if you cultivate it. you just have to want it.

why the hate?

she paces back and forth with her fingers tangled in her hair. one moment she wants to pull as hard as she can because she doesn't know what else to do. the next moment her palms are cradling her throbbing head. the feeling of hate just won't go away.

it all started when he came into work. his "i'm always mellow" façade fooled even her, until she disagreed with him.

"We can easily do it this way..." she started to suggest.

"NO. We're doing it my way," he grumbled on the phone.

Not used to hearing such tone from her managers, she agreed for that moment. But why was he so mean all of a sudden?

'That was the beginning' she thought. Now she had to sit down. Her stomach was starting to rumble and she didn't feel well. Before she lost her footing, she made it to the couch and lied down.

"Deep breaths.... just breathe and let it go."

Her passion for living was so great it intensified feelings toward others. In love, this was incredible for her partners but for her enemies, it was a burden you wouldn't wish on anyone. Once someone showed a sign of irrationality due to power given, it was hard for her to take that person seriously and her rebellious nature to prove she is right comes out.

Which is what got her in trouble the week before. Some unusual activity started up at work that kept her busy for quite some time. As always happens when she's bombarded with requests, he comes over to ask generic questions expecting very specific answers. She let him know she'd look into the issue as soon as she can.

When she didn't get back to him in a reasonable matter of time, he began to slam her with emails asking for status updates and other requests. On a dare of her own conscience, she shoot back an email telling him she'd email him when she was ready. Then she prepared for the tone of voice, the disapproval and the condescending attitude. She could take yelling and insults, but having some idiot with a high ranking title talk down to her was unacceptable. She'd have an attitude all her own.

She was wrong, perhaps sinking to his level, but what right did he have to treat her this way? It wasn't as if he didn't treat others this way. She's heard people in his office disagree and the tone would come out. If only she had the wisdom to fight him with intelligence and not emotion. This was just too close to her pride and she couldn't let it go.

"i want..." the tears are streaming down her face now, her head buried in one arm. "i want to let it go. i don't want to let this get the best of me. I know i'm the stronger one, but i have to learn to let this go... i have to let the hate go before it destroys me."

freewrite - letter found in a bottle on the east coast

feelings are like waves. they make you sway back and forth, choosing one side of a decision in happiness and another in anger. Sadness breaks your heart as you discover yet another path... maybe that's another reason Buddhists suggest making yourself into an island. no matter how hard the waves pound back and forth, you're still an island.

i'm stuck on a boogie board in those waves. they are taking me in one direction one day while i try my best to paddle away from the current. am i foolish to go against the grain? it's always taken me to my goals before. why is it so difficult to do it at this time? perhaps because the feelings are so much stronger now. so much more...

there's never a time for a clear head or a safe assumption. everything must be weighed and counted. i won't let the waves drag me under. i'm still afloat. i can be that island and that is where i intend to stay.

free write - realization

blah... don't like my writing tonight. i just want to paint a picture of someone in the shower. the walls are dripping with condensation as the hot water runs. drop after steamy drop splashes against her forehead and cools as it runs down her cheeks. this time is her time. she turns around to let the water hit her back - the heat and constant pattering massage her tense shoulder and neck muscles. without thinking, she smiles.

how easy it is for her now to look back to see how foolish she was. he couldn't use her anymore. his flowery words told her she was the only one to help him. she could see now he only meant to use her up until she had nothing left. it almost happened, but she got away.

the water burst a bit more as she turned the knob. somehow tonight the water couldn't get hot enough. she thought about the call he made earlier that day. she didn't pick up, she didn't dare. he never cared what she might have been doing, so long as he could get in touch with her. not leaving a voicemail also made it easy to bear. this was one chapter she wanted to close and never revisit.

it was amazing how she could see it all now. especially how she could put it beyond and not cater to his needs... even if he really did need her, it wasn't her job any longer.

write or die - the past

1000

32

lab.drwicked.com

okay well here we go. i can't believe how much i've wanted to write recently. i was so afraid i'd lost my ambition, but i thought if i wrote every day, that would get the juices flowing again.

yesterday i wrote about a red door. today, who knows what i'll write about. hopefully it won't just be blogging... right, here we go.

eyes closed, she listened to the whisper of the drapes. a warm breeze swayed them back and forth over the radiator. it was hot in the room, how she hated the stuffy room. flowers surrounded her bed like a funeral parlor. well didn't they want her dead soon anyway? it didn't matter. it wasn't their consistent bothering that made her worry.

all her life she struggled to make sure everyone around her was comfortable. if money was low or bills had to be paid, she gave up her own bills to make sure everything worked out. she didn't want to see others suffer. she knew that beyond all else, she could take on the burden of their suffering - she was strong enough.

what worried her now was her leaving this world. her brothers and sisters were all grown up and her parents moved on with their lives too. but what would happen if someone needed money or emotional guidance, or just a shoulder to lean on. had she been too concerned to let them live on their own? were they capable of taking care of themselves, or did she always give them an easy way out.

"why do you worry about such things..." the question hung in the air for a moment. Suddenly, she realized it was spoken aloud.

"who are you? how did you get here?" she was neither scared or shocked, but amused that someone was standing before her reading her mind.

"i'm here to guide you to your next life. You cannot make it on your own because of attachments you refuse to give up."

she stared at him curiously now. it was young man in a loose white shirt and black slacks. his hair reached just below his ears and he had beautifully trimmed sideburns.

"what attachments," she smirked. "i cannot leave until i know they are okay."

"That's not why i'm here. That's not your true worry." he picked a flower from one of the bouquets.

"of course it is, why else would you be here?" this time, she was surprised.

"because you are still linked to your husband." he dropped the flower.

her body stiffened and she looked up to the ceiling. blinking quickly, she tried to get rid of the tears that were forming, but at this stage in her life, she couldn't blink them away any more.

"i want nothing to do with him. nothing, do you hear me? i've had enough of worry and what-if's that i can't run my mind through any more scenarios. please leave me al..." her last word faded into a sob and she covered her face with the crook of her elbow.

"you don't have a choice. this is your last unresolved attachment that must be faced and resolved. if you refuse, your life will be spent attempting to fix it..."

"no, yo-you can't ma-make me." she wiped the tears away but they wouldn't stop.

"you have no choice. i will try make it as painless as possible, but it won't be easy. come, take my hand..."

his hand didn't seem the least bit comforting. the thumbs were nibbled on, cuticles split and raw skin showing, and the veins popped out of the back of it, as if he didn't eat enough. still, she didn't want an eternity of trying to fix the relationship she let fail. she weakly reached out her hand and touched his...

she was back in the year 2002. before her stood a judge, her ex-husband and his brother. she gasped and started to shake, this was her wedding ceremony. she shouldn't be here, this happened already. she tried to speak but noticed she could only see what was happening through her own eyes. she couldn't control her body or voice.

"why am i back here?" was all she could think.

"this is where it started. the guilt, the joy, the feeling of belonging to someone and being stuck with them for the rest of your life: the regret of not having a real wedding with the excitement of not doing things traditionally. sure you were with him far before that, but the attachment started here.

you see, having a boyfriend was a bit of another babysitting job for you. it was another person to take care of. he didn't compromise to take care of your needs, so you felt he was incapable of doing so. you put it out of your mind and just took it one day at a time. then you got married. deep in the back of your mind, something told you that this person that was incapable of taking care of you would need to be cared for on a 24 hour 365 day schedule. you let parts of yourself go at that moment to make sure he had what he wanted. you forgot the most important thing..."

"what is that...?"

"what you wanted." he tightly gripped her hand and they moved onto the next memory.

~~~~

not too bad for half an hour. i almost made it to 1000 words. perhaps in these 39 seconds i can make it all the way up. don't know. think i should write down my life story, someone's bound to read it. even if i'm pictured as the enemy, the person to hate, wouldn't it be interesting to see how many people like my life?

dr. wicked's write or die - freewrite

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lab.drwicked.com

a true freewrite. i have nothing to say at the moment. though, that brings to mind a certain red door i once came across while walking to work one day. the color drew my attention since it was against the boring greys and blacks of the city. this door stood out. i suppose i'll tell you what happened when i entered.

the handle was warm, a shock compared to the chilled air around me. my hands didn't grip, but caressed the tarnished brass doorknob. for some reason, i really didn't want to let go, except the mood on the other side of the door called me in.

my body rocked back and forth, as if it was fighting with my head not to go in. i thought of the warmth coming from the inside and i couldn't help but step in. the moment my foot touched the soft hallway carpet i couldn't think for myself anymore. my hands closed the door, locking the 5 locks from top to bottom.

gotta stop telling and describe what's going on. let's try this again.

i reached out to touch the doorknob as my heart raced. so cold was the air it must have looked like i was smoking. but that didn't matter. the tarnished brass was warm on my fingers. caressing the curves i turned the handle more as if someone asked me.

no don't like that either. i'm sure other writers have this sense of not liking what they write. but it does get frustrating. i worry about how i want something to look to someone, even if i know full and well they will read whatever they want to read. it's just important that i keep on writing. i just can't sstop. my life depends on it.

we'll see what happens next time. love this dr. wicked's write or die. helps to get a sense of purpose in writing.. and jogs my memory to do it properly.

as i approached the door, my body swayed. the heart pushed me to open the door while the start of a headache cautioned me to stop and run away. i couldn't resist the heat coming from the other side. i needed to get in.

The castle... (freewrite)

"Higher! It's still not tall enough..." the words flew from his royal mouth like arrows enclosing an enemy.

The prince's eyes didn't focus on anything but the wall of his castle. It would be a fantastic wall, built to scare away the enemy who tried to rush it and to protect the ones within. But so far he hadn't felt comfortable with the plans.

"Y-yes, sir" was all the architect could utter. Tavarius rolled up his seventh revision to the castle plans and bowed out.

"Marcello, show the man out."

"Yes, your highness."

When the room was quiet, the prince began to pace. Perhaps it wasn't the height that was bothering him. Was it the thickness? the brick used, the mortar? Day and night he thought about this wall and why it troubled him so. There must be something missing, something he hadn't thought about yet.

"If only father were here..." he sighed.

"If only...?" a smiling voice came out from behind a curtain. "Brother, what is troubling you?"

"Miranda, this is nothing for you to concern yourself over."

"Your darkened eyes worry me, Darius. If there were anything i could do to help ease your suffering, just say the words."

"You could help me fix the damn wall!"

"Brother, there's nothing wrong with the wall. No matter how strong its bricks or fine construction can make it, the wall is only as good as the people that support it. Father was weak and didn't have the strategical prowess that you have proven on the battle field. Go on with the plans. They are sound. Trust in yourself."

"But i'm not ready..."

"We adapt. Come, let's get some supper."

saturday morning freewrite

it's amazing what goes on around you. while i was riding the train the other day, i noticed a highly irritated woman sitting in the row of seats across from me. a man just squeezed into a 3 seater and decided he'd work on his over-sized laptop. elbows out, he worked in the tiny space, making her feel uncomfortable.

here's a bit of a story freewrite i started on the train describing what she might have been thinking. i guess you could see my writing process, where i stop, crossout, start again. Perhaps this is a good way to see how my thoughts come together ^_^


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"What the hell is he doing?" her eyebrows scrunched.

A day of getting coffee, writing kiss-ass letters and .... (started over)

Her eyebrows scrunched in annoyance. The guy next to her just whipped out a 17" laptop between the Metro North seats. One long sigh from pursed lips foreshadowed their ride home. She leaned her head back and had to laugh. Just in front of her was a Sprout ad on the window.

"That's the kid's channel, right? The one where little ones learn how to be with their parents. What that would have done to my relationship with Mama. Too bad we never took time to make paper flowers."

A smile crossed her lips at the thought. Would it ever be possible to start over.

"Maybe i'll cal her tonight..."
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maybe i'll continue the story. thoughts of a train rider. maybe a little mroe research and body language reading is in order. damn i love to tell stories... ^____^

writing on the downturn

guess i've been busy lately. dreams have kept me up though... here's one i had last night:

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She enjoyed the scent of lavender. Every time she wiped down the counter, she would catch a whiff. Being economically sound wasn't so bad after all....

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and with that pause, the phone rang and i couldn't finish this story. i find it amusing how i have an entire build-up of a story but the reader doesn't have any idea what's coming.

more to come, hopefully i'll remember to finish this one.

some day, i'll have a complete story.

short story

going to attempt a short story. but now that it's forced, i wonder if i can do it.

perhaps this will turn into a free write. maybe i'll just close my eyes and let the words come out.

swirls of leaves danced around my ankles as i walked down the street. as a gust of wind picked up, i thought they might travel up my pant leg, but the dear little green things were content to stay close to the ground. a laugh escaped my lips as i realized i was thinking about leaves as living, sentient beings again. maybe it wasn't just a dream.

a bright ray of sunlight reflected from an apartment window, and i only had a chance to admire it's beauty for a moment before the bus arrived. as if they were threatened by the fumes, the leaves blew away as the hissing doors opened. i stepped into the bus, dipped my metrocard and with a familiar bleep, i was on my way to work.

every time i get on a bus i apologize to rosa parks. i happen to like sitting in the back, though i know times are different now. there's a difference when you're given a choice, or made to do it. but i take the seat in the corner, walking past little children going to school and older men in suits, also going to work. most of them don't bother to look up, unless i accidentally brush against their bags on the floor.

"sorry" i murmur, though they don't really hear it.

my seat is taken, and i sigh sadly. i just wanted to ride with a good seat next to the window. there was something i had to prove. two days ago, i walked to work, nothing out of the ordinary, but still, quite a distance. i passed through one of the city's largest parks and took my time. sweet grass filled my nose, singing birds drowned out the car horns and the sunlight danced between the tree limbs. i almost didn't want to leave.

as i approached the exit, something buzzed by my ear. i thought this early in the morning it might be a mosquito, so i swatted my ear and turned around to see what caused the noise. a leaf was dancing on the air, right next to me. there was no wind in the park, so naturally i was dazzled by the magic of its flight. it buzzed again, but this time, i could hear words from the buzzing.

"don't leave..." it pleaded. "come play with us."

my brows furrowed as i thought about the rationality of this happening. here it was, about 6am during the week, surely i was dreaming. there were leaves falling from the trees and on the ground, i must be seeing things. but the leaf danced closer and again, without a face asked,

"won't you stay...?"

looking around, i saw no one else in the park. i couldn't hear a car, or a truck, a subway or screeching children laughter. everything was still except the leaves. i apologized and slowly backed away from the leaf. inch by inch i made it out and the leaf fell to the floor. a car horn warned me of its turn and i jumped back up on the curb, barely missing being hit. from then on i agreed to take the bus crosstown.

reaching up, i grabbed the pole and held on for the rest of the ride. that couldn't have been real.

"leaves don't talk" i whispered to myself.

a little girl who had noticed me smiled and placed her finger to her lips. 'it's a secret" she whispered back.


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i don't think i like writing in the first person..... :-P at least not like that.