And Now I Write, Again (p 2/2)

So, as usual with this thing, it's been a while since I've posted anything. I don't know, I just haven't really cared to write anything on here. But I have been writing. I've filled a journal, started a new one, and have plenty of notes all over the place. Another bit of writing I've begun is something called "Daily Writers" on the Node (I have to invite you to that if you want to join. Just let me know.), by the folks at Nerdist.com. The idea is, you get a prompt (usually a word or a phrase), and you write for ten minutes. And ten minutes only. That's it. It may not seem like much, but it really helps. It gets you writing quite often, and frees you from feeling like it has to be perfect. So that's what you'll find below; a whole bunch of imperfect writing. I plan to start posting these more regularly. This was a great idea from my great girlfriend. :) Ok, so, here goes!

Node Daily Writers Wednesday, February 16, 2011 Topic: feeble




His mind cracked. I swear you could hear it. I was standing there next to him, in line at Starbucks, and I’m fairly certain I heard an actual cracking sound. It could have been something else, a coincidence set in motion by God to let me know that this was, indeed, the actual moment of the breaking of his mind. Or it could have been the sound of him coming undone. The sound of frustrations, piled on year after year, reaching their peak and crashing down. The sound of the building blocks that made up who he is, or was, having their final Jenga piece pulled. The sound of my closest friend realizing, too late, that he had tried way to hard to take care of everything on his own. Whatever it was, I heard the crack, and I watched him fall.



Node Daily Writers Thursday, February 17, 2011 Topic: piranha




The pain spread like fire. One prick, and he was dead before he hit the ground. The nano assassin worked efficiently. It should have; it cost nearly 3 million sckhreens. The design was modeled after a Biblical plague; it had the head of a man, the body of a locust, and the stinger of a scorpion. Armageddon brought about a lot of changes in the world.

One of those changes was the meaning of trust. It had gone from a pure, valuable thing, to a joke. Shelton found that out the hard way.

In the fractions of a second of consciousness that he had left, he realized who’d killed him. He knew who sent the assassin. He knew, as his skin began to feel like it was being eaten by a million tiny piranhas, that mother wasn’t happy. She’d made her choice. He’d screwed up one-too-many times, and she’d chosen his cousin. “You can trust me, son” didn’t mean what it used to.





..Node Daily Writers Tuesday, February 22, 2011 Topic: smitten




An Idea



-The two met years ago. No one was around. They found one another against all odds. They shouldn’t have. And they most assuredly shouldn’t have been able to stay together. The laws were not in place to support their union. They would have to change it all to fulfill their love.



-He came from afar; pale, small and rough, he was not attractive. She was larger, full of beauty, and anyone near her was instantly drawn in. He fell in love immediately.



-Everyone tried to come between them. They were hit from all sides by those trying to keep them apart, but nothing could separate them.



-Now, Mr. Moon and Mother Earth are together forever. The laws of physics have changed their ways to accommodate the two lovers.



Node Daily Writers Wednesday, February 23, 2011 Topic: masochist




I love the way it feels. I take hold of it between my thumb and forefinger, and slowly lift it to within an inch of my nose. I can smell it. I can smell the thin coating that gives it its sheen. I can almost see myself in it. I don’t know if it’s the coating, or my desire to be one with it.



But I love it.



After the opening ritual, I move my hand towards my other arm, and begin pushing it in as hard as possible. I move up and down the arm, digging it in as deep as possible. It nearly breaks under the pressure.



But I love it.



Then I lose control. I reach back and grab handfuls more. I shower myself with them, and press them all over until I scream with bliss.



I really, really love skittles.



[There could have been a lot more here, but I just couldn't focus during my 10 minutes.]










Node Daily Writers Thursday, February 24, 2011 Topic: carnation















…and her hand fell, lifeless, dropping a single carnation to the old wooden floor.















She’d always loved carnations. As a kid, she would go down to the flower shop and bury her face in a carnation arrangement. She would swear to you that each color had a different smell. Kaia, the owner, would listen for nearly to her for nearly an hour as she explained each aroma. Then, with a kind smile, she’d take her hand, walk her to the back, and ask her to “sniff out a red carnation.” But Samantha always had to leave then.















One day, she never showed. Her sister came the next day, in a rush, to tell Kaia that Samantha was asking for her. She had not stopped saying her name. So Kaia ran to the hospital, and in to her room. There sat Samantha, cold, not breathing…





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