Blue Eyes

Her eyes pushed past the haze and soon her body followed, pulled by a force through the unknown.  Blue eyes burned through the dark until they came to rest on a shape.  He talked, his words muffled under the cloud of smoke.  She didn’t understand. The smoke drifted to reveal, not a man, but a demon. It spit hail, snow, lightning, the worst storms she had ever seen. They lasted until the demon was reduced to a puddle. A shimmering puddle that showed all the colors of the world. The ugly colors and the most beautiful colors she had ever seen.  They swirled in this puddle until it became black. The puddle turned into a huge hole.  It floated into the air, and she watched as it attached itself to the sky.  The sun and the moon met in the sky as the world turned black.  The black hung like a cloak over the world.  It was so thick she choked, her ragged breathing echoed in the dark. The black filled her body, her mind and her heart. She stumbled as tears fell from her eyes and into the dark.  

She was scared but stayed transfixed as, slowly, the color came back, painting the world in light. The colors seemed brighter; the flowers blinded her as she walked. She was in a field, endless green as far as she could see. The flowers sparkled and the grass shone. The world was sprinkled in shimmering colors and she was happy. Soon she forgot about the black, she bathed in the light and drank in the colors. She forgot, but the world remembered.

Park Bench

 He sat hunched over, his neck stuck out from beneath his jacket and his jaw jutted forward.  He was almost bald; just a few white hairs struggled in the breeze.  On the other side of the street a woman was walking, her red dress danced around her legs with every step she took.  He watched her walk on the other side of the park and with each step she took his heart beat faster.  Finally she stopped at the crosswalk, looked both ways then ventured out into the street.  He wanted to yell “be careful”, but thought better of it and stayed quiet.  He jumped as a motorcycle flew by only a few feet from the woman.  She brought a shaking hand to her head, smoothed a few loose hairs and continued walking.  He shifted nervously as the woman finally reached the other side of the street.

He stood up slowly, shaking as he placed a hand on the bench to steady himself.  He looked up again; the woman was only a few feet away.  Her eyes brightened. She began to run.

            “Dad!” she exclaimed as she finally reached him. “Darling,” he sighed, as he drew her into a hug.

Waiting

            “Do you see our bus?”

            “Maybe. We’ll see soon enough.”

            “Or we won’t.”

Halloween

            John looked down; he saw a bug on his arm.  It looked almost like a ladybug, but he saw eight legs poking out instead of six.  That’s strange, he thought.  Just as he was about to flick it off, he heard a faint noise.  John looked around, but saw no one. Suddenly he heard the noise again. This time it was a little stronger. “Eat my feet.”  John was puzzled; he looked around, and still found no one. “What a strange day I’m having,” he said as again he lifted his finger to flick off the strange looking ladybug. “Trick a tree.” The voice said, a little louder this time.  John looked down at the strange bug and figured that it must be making these noises.  He raised his arm so the bug was right next to his ear. “Trick or Treat,” said the spider dressed up as a ladybug.

Ouch

I was walking down the street, looking at the scenery, when a bug flew into my eye…ouch.

I was just buzzing along, enjoying the beautiful day, when an eye ran into me…ouch.

I was walking to the kitchen to make a sandwich, when I stubbed my toe on the wall…ouch.

I was just hanging out, minding my own business, when I got hit by a toe…ouch.

Wrong

Max almost didn’t make it. Thankfully, for him, the bouncer was feeling nice that night. He stepped into the club, music blasting from the speakers. He scanned the mass of people; there were girls everywhere.  Max felt great; he had bought a new outfit just for the night. He stood there, to the left of the bar, in his new white Fubu sweatsuit, chain and black beanie.  Max let the music invade his senses. He started to sway.  To the right, two women looked over and started to laugh. Oblivious, Max continued to sway.  “Yo, this club is hoppin,’ ” he said to no one in particular as he walked up to the bar.

            “What can I get you?” asked the devilishly handsome bartender. Max looked around; there where girls sitting on every stool at the bar.

            “Uh, lemme get a margarita, shaken not stirred.” Max winked at the bartender. “You know, trynna’ impress the ladies,” he whispered as the bartender walked off, shaking his head. 

Max swiveled in his seat so he was facing the two beautiful women sitting next to him. “Uuhem,” Max coughed. The two women looked up from their conversation and sighed apprehensively when they saw what they were sitting next to. “Did it hurt?”  Max asked the women sitting closest to him.

“What?” she replied.

“When you fell from angel.”  

The woman turned back to her friend and they both started to giggle uncontrollably.

“What, what did I say?” asked Max, but the two women, still laughing, stood up and walked away. As soon as the bartender placed his margarita in front of him, he got up and walked towards the dance floor.  Max, still a little confused, decided to shake it off and have some fun.   Sipping his margarita he moved towards the mass of people on the dance floor. Just as he got there the song changed. “YO, diz my JAMZ,” yelled Max excitedly. Three people turned to look, only to see a goofy white boy dancing in the widening gap in front of him. 

Max spun around, he felt so great, people were actually watching him dance. With new confidence; he decided to try it again. Max looked around and spotted a group of woman not too far off. 

“Ladiiees.  How you doin’?” Max asked as soon as he reached the women. The group collectively shuffled a few inches away and continued to sip their drinks. Max decided to take stronger action; he tapped a woman on the shoulder. She turned to face a smiling stranger.

 “Do you have me in your pants? Cuz’ I see you in my mirror,” Max said, still smiling. 

 “Eww, no.” A look of disgust washed over her face. “Creeeep,” the woman muttered as she turned back to her friends.

Max, dejected, ambled back over to the bar. “Why can’t I never get no ladies? What’s wrong wit me?” he asked himself, taking a seat.

Across the room, a woman watched as a cute man sat down at the bar. “This could be my lucky night,” she said out loud. Every Saturday she’d come to the club in search of someone special, but in all these months, she has never been able to find “the one.”

Taking her chances, she walked up to the bar and sat down next to the mystery man. 

“Hey, Christie.” The bartender said. “The usual?”

“Sure, why not?”

Max swiveled around on his stool, to look at the person sitting next to him. Christie smiled. “Excuse me, did you lose your number, cuz I have a spare one,” she said with a wink.

Writers Block

So I am sitting here trying to write this story, but nothing will come. It’s so frustrating to have nothing to say. I could write about anything in the world, but when it comes time to sit down a write it, the actual writing part doesn’t work so well. Sometimes it’s so bad, I will be sitting on the bus, or standing in line, and the best, most genius idea will pop into my head. I’ll say to myself, “Ok now don’t forget that idea, that’s a keeper.” Then I get home, sit down at my computer and I cannot, for the life of me, come up with that genius idea. So instead, I start writing about a man who was standing in line at the grocery store, counting the items in his cart. It’s awful, absolutely awful, and I know I have something better inside of me that I could write about, but it never comes.   

There are also those times when you are just on a roll. You write and write and feel great. Finally, satisfied, you print it out, and hand it to someone to read.  You can tell its bad, they don’t even have to say anything; just the look on their face is enough.

“Oh, wow this is…great,” they say. That’s the worst. When you think it’s going to be good, but it ends up terrible, that’s almost worse then not knowing what to say in the first place.