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 ^_^


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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.

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.

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.

freewrite

The silence stiffened her. Every second was another empty hiss in the receiver. She could open her mouth and say something, but what was the use, it wouldn't make her feel any better. She was here in New York, he was far away, beyond the reach of her unmoving hand.

"yeah, i'm okay." it was a lie. nothing was okay. her feelings for him were slipping with every phone call they made. she couldn't touch him, he was becoming a memory and all too quickly. he wasn't there to comfort her, he wasn't there to tell her he loved her. empty promises meant she should let go. to protect herself.

"okay, i'll talk to you tomorrow then." and with a sentence, any last remaining hope of being saved was broken. the frayed rope just snapped in two and now she was going to bed alone. again.

she felt angry, sad, lonely, and empowered. it was one more nail in the coffin - something else to help her become stronger to live on her own. each time her feelings went unnoticed she became a pillar of her own strength, building the metaphorical wall around her heart. someday, she knew that wall would be too high for any man to climb. but maybe that's what she wanted all along.

but for now, the wall was only five bricks across, two bricks high. was it unhealthy to count the amount of times she was ignored, probably not. but she did. the calculations remained in her head like any good aquarian has an instinct to do. she'll hang on to that calculation for dear life because if she couldn't grasp that, she would fall apart.

now the doubt set in. was this really what she wanted? why had things changed so drastically. did she notice them change at all, or did she never really see clearly how things had been in the first place? he listened to her, complimented her style, looked past the body and into the mind. but is that how all men seethe their way into sex. was she completely take in by charm? it couldn't be that. if only for the reason that she was just as sexually charged, if not more so.

after doubt comes insecurity. maybe she's changed, and hasn't realized it. maybe she was better, or more appetizing when she wasn't the main course. isn't it true that you always want to try what someone else has? is history repeating itself? he's getting tired of her. there's no need to write stories or poems or tell her how much he loves her because he's already got her. what if she just doesn't have staying power? is that what happened the last time? is that why it didn't work out. she just wasn't good enough.

her mind is pacing back and forth, like she would do if she had the room in her small apartment. why couldn't she see that before? why does she think she can have what other women have? the face and body only lure them in, no matter what they say with their sweet talk.

she'll go to bed crying tonight, lonely and determined to live a lonely life in the end.