This is weird, but I write because I struggle to formulate verbal products. I get tongue tied and will misspeak, but I can write. It has come back around for me to explore my creative depth and challenge myself to surpass my own goals.
Moment Of Truth
I felt my muscles loosen with the steaming mineral rich waters after tossing, unable to sleep. The baths were silent at 2 am which suited me perfectly. My coach-de facto was in bed resting. His lack of hovering gave me time to ponder a few things. Just a moment to think of the last few months.
Dancing in the Weeds
They walked into a quiet hovel, mouth dry and eyes weary. There we no frills. No bells and whistles. The establishment if it could be called that was bare bones and they appreciated that. They looked around and found there were empty benches and chairs scattered through out the room. The walls were once a light gray but now yellowed with age and remnants of old ink. The floors were a type of wood but sank in places from years of improper care. There were end tables of formica and particle board that crumbled in the slightly damp atmosphere.
Shadow and His Funny ways
When I was a little girl, at the ripe age of nine, I got a cat. It had been some months since my dog got loose and was hit by a car. It was my first pet and I was heartbroken. Every time someone mentioned his name or showed me his picture, I would cry. I lost my first furry best friend.
Truth in a Cloth of Riddles
He sat at the small round table and waiting for the woman to become settled. The room smelt of heavy floral musk and dried spices. It was ensconced in sheer, soft gauze that moved and flowed with each draft. A delicate lace was draped across the surface and a largish cup was sat in front of him. It had leaves and dried bark at the bottom, a loose tea. He watched with interest as the woman lit candle after candle while humming a soft tune. Each candle seemed to dance in time with the airy notes as she completed this task.
When Did I Know You
The crash of thunder woke her from her sleep. Moving the thin summer quilt, she looked to the cooled spot where Rin had laid the night before. On the nightstand was a plate with fresh grapes and berries with muffins and a thermos. On the covered plate was a note folded a top.
Coral and Pearl
They forced him to attend this gala every year. It was always a fundraiser that wanted to help orphaned pigeons or something equally as ridiculous. Benefactors arrived, took pictures, schmoozed up to some richer than life old lady with five or more hefty cats. The equally as bad, rich, geriatric fart that popped more Viagra than a pharmacy could prescribe in a week. Both had a high chance of flirting with something young enough to be their grand-daughter (or Great- grand in Ms. Juylawitz’s case).
A Twisted Tale- Rin's Tale
Rin sat in his basement art studio looking over his portfolio of works. Around the room were sketches and paintings in various stages of work in progress and finished. He’s had hundreds of years to perfect his pictures, but none spoke life like the ones of the soul he sought. He sat in front of a few rough sketches of the girl he drew his name from.