My soul loves the rain:
It seems dreamy and poetic.
Fog rolling in after love departs
Is such a perfect metaphor
To describe a dismal day
And a lonely, broken heart.
But my head dreads the storms,
Which trigger loads of pain–
Not of the romantic variety,
But actual pounding migraines.
Blustery winds stir up debris,
And dust swirls through the air;
I want to celebrate thunder
But feel nothing but despair.
Yet, when pressure subsides,
And the world sparkles clean,
I adore rain once more…
My equilibrium restored.
“Wot the Seven Hells is that?” Patryck stared at the tattered and stained document his commanding officer had spread out on the wooden table.
“It’s the new map. They’ve divided up the lands all different now since the Day of the Dragon.” The commander looked down as he spoke. They were silent for a moment in memory of that horror. All present had lost many loved ones in the firestorm.
Foxcroft poked at the map. “That blue there is where the Iron Islands are just as before. I heard Yara got away from King’s Landing in a hurry.”
“Almost as if she knew.” Patryck said. “You think the Dragon Queen warned her?”
The commander shrugged. “Can’t trust a foreign usurper. But they didn’t seek any advice from seasoned military men, only imps and eunuchs.”
“Where are we headed?” Foxcroft asked, which was the question on everyone’s mind.
“New orders have arrived by raven,” the commander announced. “Danger stalks our wise one and he has seen his own death in a vision. Note where the red river diverts at the yellow marking. We go there to Eagles Nest to guard his nephew. Be ready to leave at first light.”
The men nodded and drank, oblivious to the presence of the new servant, a plain girl from abroad, who was listening closely while she served them ale.
Via Rorschach Test
The answer to this question varies with my mood. Some days I have a story to share that I think people will enjoy. Other times I simply need to express myself and words are my best tool for that. There are times I feel like being clever with language. Other days I have this ridiculous notion I’ve come up with something important to convey. Once I answered this question by talking about how writing fiction and poetry is the best way for me to organize my scattered thoughts and make some kind of sense of this messy world too.
I was thinking about all this a little while ago when I re-downloaded my drafts of Attractive Nuisance and Sweet Nothings from the cloud. The other day I’d told a friend I hadn’t been working on a novel lately, only flash fiction and poetry, because I can’t focus for more than a few minutes at a time. But ever since yesterday, when I impulsively replied to Jim’s post about a song, by jabbering on about an old pile of writing, I’ve been energized about working on this layered tale again.
Thing is, I don’t think it’s coincidence that this happened at the end of a week when I’m feeling especially frustrated at other people’s behavior. I’ve never been good at seeing patterns in the actions of real characters unless they’re completely obvious. I’m much better with fiction. And, of course, writing my own gives me a feeling of control I get nowhere else ~ I create a new world, populate it with my creations, and make them do what I want.
Just noodling. Back to work! 😀
Posted in Books, Noodling, Poetry, Writing
Tagged fiction, flash, inspirational, language, navel glazing, psychology, RDP, romance novels
Kevin never had been good with rope, which is why he killed his lawyer with a nice clean punch to the throat.
Next, he stole the dead man’s clothes, swiftly switching his prison garb for the distinguished navy blue suit, white shirt, and red tie. Kevin slipped on the brown wingtips, not bothering with socks. He was in a hurry.
Kevin patted his new pockets, making sure he had the lawyer’s ID and car keys–some things, you couldn’t skimp on. Lastly, he removed the Rolex from the dead man’s wrist. It was a fine piece, but alas not for him. He passed it to the guard on his way out. That guy had some bad habits.
In the parking lot, Kevin discreetly beeped the e-key until a vehicle responded. Ah, a Lexus. Nice. His disposition was cheerful as he found his favorite radio station and exited the visitor’s gate. Stomping on the gas, he made a zigzag down the empty road as he continued his escape.
But suddenly blue lights flashed behind him at the next stop and Kevin was forced to pull over. Remembering he had the lawyer’s ID, he forced himself to stay calm as he showed the officer the registration from the glovebox and the driver’s license.
“What’s the problem, Officer?” Kevin asked calmly. “I’m late to a meeting.”
“I’m sorry, sir.” The policeman looked at the license and then at Kevin. “But your tags are expired and you don’t look anything like this photo. When did you shave your head and get the cobra tattoo?”
Sterling Q. Posh IV waited next to the fish tank at the library for his date. Her name was Skye Raine and he didn’t think they were a match, but the dating site had given them a score of 99.9, and Sterling didn’t argue with numbers. Oh, here she was… finally.
“Hi!” Skye said. “Have you been waiting long? Ooh, hello fishies!”
“Twenty-three minutes,” Sterling said. “I like your poncho. It’s quite… colorful.”
“Thanks!” She twirled around so he could see the poncho in its full glory. “I made it myself. Some of the stitches on this were difficult, but I was very tenacious.”
“May I be forthright?” Sterling asked.
He leaned in close and whispered. “I also enjoy crocheting. And knitting too. In fact, there’s nothing better than an evening in with a bowl of buttered noodles, a detective show on TV, and my basket of yarn. Except of course someone to share those pleasures with.”
Skye clapped her hands with glee. “Me too! This must be fate!”
Posted in Fantasy, Noodling, Relationships, Writing
Tagged #lightm0tifs, #p0eticlicense, 3TC, dating, fashion, fiction, flash, FOWC, needlework, RDP
“Those petit fours look so luscious, Sandy,” Eva said. “They must have five hundred calories each.”
Sandy smiled. “Thank you! I thought we all deserved a special treat for the anniversary of our club.”
Jill shook her head. “My doctor told me to avoid sugar. Honestly Sandy. We’re all too old to splurge like this. You should have made something more suitable.”
“Geez,” Sandy said. “You ladies are–”
“Hey hey!” Norm shouted. “Are we all ready to draw names for our partner swap?”
Sandy, Eva, and Jill rushed toward the front of the room, forgetting all about the petit fours.
May 2 Prompt ~ The Haunted Wordsmith
It was a day like any other day. Greg took the express ferry from the city across the bay to where his car waited in the lot. Then he’d drive home around the winding mountain roads. But tonight the sky swirled with dark clouds, and the water churned like a bubbling sauce. Most people moved away from the rails and huddled under the shelter of the tarp.
It wasn’t raining though, and Greg disliked being in a crowd. He stayed at the rails, watching the heaving waves. They were a deep, mysterious forest green right below him, and he glimpsed a twisting darker shape within. He tilted forward to get a closer look, and the wind whipped his baseball cap off his head. Greg saw it drop into the water around 20 feet away, gone for good.
Suddenly, an enormous creature surged out of the water. It had the head of an octopus but the spotted coloring of a big cat. Two of its thick, rubbery tentacles grasped the railing in front of Greg, and he leaped back, slipped, and fell on his butt.
One of the ferry workers approached and bopped the creature on the head with a pole. It let go of the railing and slipped back into the sea. “You okay?” the man said to Greg, helping him up.
“Yeah. Thanks.” Greg stared out at the water. “What the hell was that?”
“Lynx squid. They get enormous. It’s their prime mating season right now so they’re really active. They usually don’t come in the bay though.”
Greg stayed under the tarp for the rest of the ride.
Elemental writing challenge: water/mysterious
“Frank, I’m concerned about the amount of turnover we’re experiencing in the skirt department,” Jane said, frowning at the first quarter report. “It costs a lot of money to train new employees.”
Frank tried to soothe the VP’s concerns. “We’re trying to get these new employees to participate more in social events. That way we’ll feel more like one big happy family.”
Jane glared at him. “Frank, your job is to sell skirts, not teach the world to sing like in some sappy ad. I want results! And I don’t want to wait until fourth quarter.”
“You’ll get them,” Frank said confidently. “In fact, we’re having a fun modeling show next week to show off our summer skirts. You should join in, Jane. You’ve got great legs.”
Olivia felt happy about her date tonight so far. Andy seemed like a perfect gentleman. He’d brought her a lovely red rose and was a wonderful conversationalist throughout dinner.
As they left the table, Olivia made sure to notice how generous Andy was to their waiter, so unlike the miserly man she’d dated previously.
“So, Olivia,” Andy said as he drove her home. “It’s neat that you like to sketch and hike, but I should tell you I’m a storm chaser.”
Olivia was eager to learn something new and participate too. “What’s that? It sounds fun!”
He laughed. “Well, I certainly think it’s fun! Exhilarating might be a better word. My group and I watch for upcoming weather events, the bigger the better. Hurricanes, tsunamis, cyclones, you name it. And we try to get to the vicinity if we can.”
“Ookay.” Olivia felt puzzled. “But why?”
“To feel alive!” Andy moved his hands around his head, pantomiming the swirling motion of a tornado.
“I see,” she said, though she didn’t really. “But isn’t it dangerous?”
Andy nodded, his dark eyes glittering. “Sure. Last year one of our group died in a brutal blizzard. He got a great video first though.”