Write Here, Write Now

Daily Prompt Post: Write Here Write Now

 
This is meant to be a tiny piece of conversation in a novel I am working on:

I stare at her in disbelief, and maybe I should pretend that I don’t hear the words that she is shouting at me

The pang that rips into my heart is telling me that I’m right, I shouldn’t listen to her. “You killed our son!” My own voice echoes in the anger of the room.

She scoffs, “Son… there wasnt a gender. It was barely a baby.”

The anger in the room was nothing as intense as the anger that I feel creep into my body. The heat begins to flood into my face, and the veins in my neck begin to pulse loudly. “You heartless whore! That was our child!”

Her laugh sounds out in the room. It is her sarcastic laugh, more like a cackling witch. I remember that laugh from days of old, back in highschool. “I was seventeen, and you disappeared over night. I’ve paid for my sins, while you…you ran away.” I watch her stand, her head held high, an arrogance that I had missed for so long and tonight find agitating. “Jeremiah, don’t insult me again. You don’t know anything about me anymore, people change. Time sees to that.”

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BYOB(ookworm)

Daily Post Prompt: BYOBookworm

 

Meet Stanley Moore, he used to be a fun-loving man in his early twenties, but hitting his mid twenties has brought on some changes. His relationship with his long-term girlfriend has started falling apart, and she is talking about the big M, marriage. When Stanley accidently lets her cat out, everything changes and he is hit full force with a quarter-life crisis.

He runs into an old friend, meets the neighbor downstairs, loses his job, and in the end discovers that life is about growing up and growing old, and experiencing the new events of year, whether they are good or bad.

Nice Is As Nice Does

Daily Post Prompt: Nice Is As Nice Does

 

What is the nicest thing that I’ve ever done? I had to ponder this question. I’m not really the nicest person. To be honest, the last time i donated any money was to the girl scouts. That was mostly because girl scout cookies just happen to be super addicting.

But I did think of something….

I live in Texas and if you didn’t already know, Texas is hot during the summer. I was coming home from a concert in Dallas. I had spent the majority of Hell Yeah playing from the grass knoll with a handfan and ice in my bra. I’m a lovely victim of overheating. That should paint the picture of how damn hot this day was.

Anyway, the concert was awesome.

On the way home we got stuck at a traffic light in a heavily populated area for homeless people. A man was standing on the corner holding his sign and sweating. I’ve heard the whole campaign of, “don’t support the homeless people.”but if it was hot to me, it was damned hot for someone who had no where cool to go.

I relinquished my fan, extra batteries, water bottle, and $5.00.

That might not seem like a lot, but the man was able to cool down, gulp some water and had $5.00 for food, or whatever he wanted.

I’m not telling this story because kindness doesn’t have to be something extravagant, but came come in the simplest of forms.

Captive’s Choice

Daily Prompt Link: Captive’s Choice

 

I was given the option, and in that moment I was surprised that I would even be given the choice to pick my destination..  I quickly tried to run through a list of what could happen at each location, and the aspect of being locked in a large building was the most terrifying, my mind instantly began to draw pictures of zombie movies and other horrifying creatures. Given the situation that I was currently in, I concluded that the building could be closed off from the world even if I managed to escape the darkness, zombies and locked doors. What about gas chambers? Or lazers?

The option of the forest brought forth the images of being hunted. There had to be a reason that I was plucked from my normal existance and asked to make a choice. I decided then that being dropped into the forest sounded similar to the book, “The Most Dangerous Game”, and without a ounce of training, I would die quickly. Like a deer at a feeder barrel. There was a reason I was kidnapped, and I had to make the best choice for myself while expecting the worst.

“The island… is it habitable?” I ask, my voice quivering from fear. My last question had been answered with a closed fist, and I clenched my jaw expected the same treatment. “It’s an island.” said the man across from me inside the helicopter. He was wearing dark sunglasses, and a nice suit in grey. His hair was slicked back and thick black. He reminded me of rich business men, unaffected by anything as long as the money was right. He was conceited, his looks of importance to him. His fresh shaven face in the midst of a kidnapping told me that he had taken the time out to ensure he looked clean and put together.

“The island.” I mumbled.

“Ah, the island. Pilot, she chose the island!” he annouced, and after a few moments, the helicopter shifted and I swallowed the dread that came churring up at his excited annoucement of the island.

Progress

Daily Post Link: Progress

When I look back on this blog on January 15th, 2015, I want to see that I have completed my goal of at least trying to write once a week.

I want to be able to see well thought out blogs that are pieces of fictional fun that I can use in my novel writing and brainstorming. I want to see my work and my imagination.

I want to see a blog that has actually been used, and a blog that I will want to continue using.