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

397

16

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."

writing begins!

just rewrote "Thank you... for everything" posted here: (Parts 1 & 2)

going to submit this week to a few contests.

will let you know ^_^

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 ^_^


~~~~~~~~~~~~
"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..."
~~~~~~~~~~~~

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:

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

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....

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

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.

excited about a new story

okay... i think i really have something good going here. one of my freewrites, the one on may 17th has really caught my attention. i was writing at a time where my emotions ran high and the feelings just hit close to home. i hate to say it, but you really have to write what you know.

so i think i'd like to ellaborate on that theme. a lonely woman who's been burned before, finds hope in her new lover, but becomes incredibly divided in her own mind. while she feels security in him, she is unsure if she should trust him, like she's trusted no other. i don't want to describe the entire character, i'd rather write about it, but i'm wondering how well i can make it flow.... we'll see.

next part coming soon.