Today's Monday.
A new day. A new working day.
And also the day when I start my diet for the week.
What? Don't give me that look.
I have never quit my diet...almost.
I work as a journalist at the New York Times.
And you may think I took it up as a passion.
Yes and no.
I always wanted to be a journalist.
But then I got to know how stressful the job actually is.
My job is to be the mediator between good and bad.
I have to share both sides of the story.
I tell you, it's pretty hard to do with my rude boss sticking his nose around every 5 minutes.
But don't get me wrong, I don't completely hate my job.
It's nice to occasionally make the front page!
Satisfying, honestly.
Another work day over.
Woohoo......
I didn't get the front page today, bummer.
What I did get was a holler from my boss to work faster.
Ugh.
My cat cuddles up beside me as I watch Netflix on my bed.
I take a bag of doritos and start munching with some ice-cream by my side.
Ohhhhh, right! About the diet...hehe
Today's actually my cheat day!
About the Creator
Gia
"To gain your voice, you have to forget about having it heard." - Allen Ginsberg
"Stay faithful to the stories in your head." - Paula Hawkins
“I write because I don't know
What I think
Until I read
What I say.” - Mary Flannery O'Connor
Peanuts and Crackerjack
Bottom of the ninth inning. The game is tied with two outs, two strikes and a man on second. I tap the bat on home plate. The rigid vibrations it creates reminds my aching digits that this isn't over. The practice swing only adds to the heft of mental burnout... Man on second, willing to chance it. Pitcher eyes him but doesn't give in to the dangerous bluff. I kick up dust, readying the peculiar stance I've had since the days of little league. The bat lays stiff upon my cramping shoulder. Pain has no reason to be acknowledged; it's a fleeting afterthought. The sun sits passed high noon, but the stadium lights are on anyway. They trick my brain into believing they are the cause of this sweltering heat. Sporadic clouds are motionless, they too, don't want to miss this exhilarating predicament. Anticipating the next pitch, intensifying roars from the crowd rumble the stadium... Behind me, the crafty catcher adjusts his stance and spits to the dry dirt. Behind him, the staunch umpire doesn't flinch or even blink; he knows how important his call will be. The pitcher winds up, his grip tells me its gonna curve. The release is fierce! Beads of sweat from his hair and face disperse in every direction as the force of his might is unfailing. My left leg lifts—an instinctual move that will increase the power of my swing. It's all down to my two, bloodshot eyes. They lock onto the speeding, white dot as it instantly becomes the target I intend to destroy. The swing is late, but I manage a solid tip. The ball is taking a fast bounce toward the pitcher who is recovering from the almighty throw! Man on second leaves in a desperate rush! I fling the bat to the side with a sense of urgency and make a mad sprint to the only destination I have—first base. Three defenders race inward to be the first to retrieve the skidding ball. Man is almost on third! I watch the open glove of my adversary, wondering if I’ve done enough to win this race. I switch my attention to his eyes, looking for a clue, some kind of reaction that tells me the ball is in the air and heading his way. All I see is frustration. The deafening roar of the crowd spikes! Something happens that I can’t see! My opponent abandons his post right as my left stride touches the bag. I waste no time turning my head to see the pitcher laying on his stomach, pounding the mound with an open glove. He misses the opportunity to out me and the ball has quickly bounced past him. Excitement grows! This isn’t over yet... It's become an imperative fight to tag out the runner heading homeward. The catcher falls to his knees in obvious despair as he watches my teammate make the run of his life. He knows it’s going to be close when he sees the shortstop fumble the ball a second too long. I jump up and down with no plans on leaving first base. All my chips are on the speed and agility of the active runner. His cleats dig into the dirt, trailing a dust-filled cyclone from the rapid and strenuous strides. With a thrusting dive and an outstretched arm, he lands on his chest to begin the crucial slide to home plate. The shortstop fires the ball to the catcher! It immediately begins closing the gap! Nail-biting doesn't begin to describe the anxious vibe permeating the stadium. The bench begins to celebrate even before he reaches the plate. Forty thousand cheering fans reach maximum crescendo, filling the air with a glorious sound. Everyone knows how this story will end… My teammate is met by the entire bench as his fingers inch across home plate, instantly followed by the unmistakable motion of the catcher's glove attempting to tag him out—its milliseconds too late. The ump swings his arms outward, officially calling him safe.
By Lamar Wiggins2 days ago in Fiction
referee and var cheating in a football match
Once upon a time, in the bustling world of football, there was a match that had everyone on the edge of their seats. The teams were evenly matched, the fans were roaring, and the stakes were high. But little did they know, a sneaky duo was about to wreak havoc on the beautiful game.
By Alif Masruri3 days ago in Fiction
My To Be Read List
I have been taking some time away from writing. I haven't forgotten about Vocal, the truth is I just have been too busy pursuing other things to write online and honestly, my little family and I just had a really hard month between the flu and a weird eye infection/cold circulating our house. I'm currently sipping some warm peppermint tea because my throat is sore.
By Chloe Rose Violet 🌹3 days ago in BookClub
Comments (2)
I love this masterpiece https://vocal.media/fiction/love-unveiled-a-billionaire-s-unlikely-union-with-his-servant
Relatabili-buddies! Great work!