Sarah

Seems like I have a habit of forgetting to write down my prompts at the time. Whatever it was, I think the writing turned out pretty nice, like a little horror story prologue (I'm a sucker for horror movies)

This is so stupid thought Toby.

Sure, he was the one who hit the ball through the window, but why couldn’t they just ring the doorbell and ask for it back? He could even apologize. But then again, they were just teenagers, aren’t teenagers supposed to do dumb things like this?

“Stupid” he repeated under his breath.

Having successfully climbed the fence, he now found himself in the neighbor’s backyard. Save the moon, there was little else that illuminated his surroundings.

“Agh goddamnit, didn’t even think of bringing a flashlight! Stupid! Stupid!”

It took him much longer than he would have liked, but he finally found the broken window. He tried to peer inside, but it was too dark to see anything. Fortunately, the hole was large and close enough to the lock that he could reach in and open it. After a minute of cautious fumbling, he heard a click.

“There we go.”

Very slowly, he swung open the window and eased himself inside the house. Blinking a few times, he allowed his eyes to adjust to the dark before resuming his search.

“Come on, where is it? It couldn’t have rolled that far…”

He tried to picture the trajectory in his mind and, after 23 steps, he found the ball resting at the bottom of the stairs.

“Yes!”

He quickly bent down and retrieved it, holding it tight as if it might try to escape.

Okay he thought. Now I just gotta get of here and-

“What are you doing here?”

“Arghomygod!!” Toby half-screamed. Looking up, he found himself face to face with a little girl.

Whew, it was just the neighbor’s creepy adopted daughter.

“Hey there…” Toby started. He tried to think of some excuse for him being there, but his mind came up blank. So instead, he changed tactics.

“Hi, my name’s Toby. What’s yours?”

The little girl stared at him with pretentious black, dead eyes.

“I have many names. But you can call me Sarah.”

That’s a weird response he thought, but decided to let it slide.

“Okay then…Nice to meet you Sarah.”

The Monochrome Man

I forgot what the prompt for this was, but the concept is simple enough: A man who used to live vivaciously, full of joy and laughter, until some unknown tragedy struck and stole all the color from his life. Another unfinished piece, but I hope you enjoy it in all its shortness.

On the hill lives the Monochrome Man,

The one who sees the world a different way,

In black and white and shades of gray.

His complexion matches his vision,

A dull affair with not a shade of color,

Some would even say he looked a bit sour.

Every day he would go into town,

To tend to his shop, the only paint store around.

He never spoke unless spoken to,

and limited his responses to a word or two.

He went about his day like a man broken and bent,

A dark cloud loomed above him wherever he went.

Children feared him,

Grown ups avoided him.

He ate, slept, and spent his days alone.

But he wasn’t always like that, you see.

The older folks remember a time

When he was a man smiling, happy and carefree.

Rainy Day

Prompt: choose 6 adjectives to describe yourself, then write a character based on the antonyms of those adjectives; these were mine:

1.  Shy
2. Introverted
3. Short-tempered
4. Imaginative
5. Indecisive
6. Philosophical

Antonyms

1. Outgoing
2. Extroverted
3. Patient
4. Pedestrian
5. Confident
6. Analytical

I should’ve known from the sky this morning that it was going to rain today, hence the umbrella. What I didn’t anticipate was the ridiculous downpour that it had turned into by mid-afternoon. It is now precisely 5:30pm and the rain shows no signs of stopping. Luckily I’m a patient man, and have nowhere else to rush off to for the remainder of the day. “That’s fine, keep raining. I can do this all day.” I told the rainclouds as I looked up with a half smile on my face.

“Hey don’t jinx it idiot! Are you trying to piss off the sky?”

That’s my best friend Harry. He’s a little more…superstitious than I am. In fact, he and I are quite the opposite in a number of ways. But when you’ve been friends with a guy for 20 years, you learn to embrace the differences.

Indecisive Dave

I can't remember what the prompt was for this piece, but I do remember that I based it on one of my many personal flaws; and magnified to a comically ridiculous level.

Indecisive Dave, that’s what his friends calls him. In fact, that’s what everyone calls him, just not to his face, but he knew anyway. He hated the nickname, but he had given up on trying to defend himself; and frankly, it really was a fitting one for him. Ever since he was a little boy, Dave had been tiptoeing between life’s choices, whether they be potentially life-changing or so insignificant that it would be a waste to spend even a single second thinking about them. Because of this, his friends and family have learned to tailor their time with him into a strictly structured routine. But even so, the most mundane of choices challenged Indecisive Dave. Going into the same restaurant, presented with the same menu, it would still take Dave an ungodly amount of time to decide on what to eat.

Dusty Windows

Prompt: 4 words from a random word generator. Ocean, doorway, march, yellow. Couldn't quite fit all of them into the piece, but 3 out of 4 ain't bad.

Yellow sunlight filters through dusty windows,

Soft and warm to the touch, almost inviting.

Yet I remain in my sanctuary, my prison, my bed.

Eyes still closed, my mind imagines what lies beyond those windows,

My only doorway to the outside world.

A vast expanse of ocean, perhaps,

Its waves crashing and retreating in an endless dance.

Or maybe it is a forest that awaits,

Filled with the quiet chirping of birds and the rustling of leaves.

But I hear no chirps, no rustle, no crashing waves.

Of course, I knew perfectly well what is out there, all along.

Nothing.

There is nothing.

Were I to open my eyes now and stare out those tempting, taunting windows,

I would find only the void staring back.

The Coyote's Howl

The prompt for this very, very short piece was to find the photo of the day for our birthday month on the National Geographic website and write about that, and I really loved the image that corresponded with mine:

https://www.nationalgeographic.com/photography/best-of-photo-of-the-day/2017/july/

The site requires you to subscribe before you can see anything, but I figure I'll save everyone the trouble so here it is. The photo is titled The Coyote's Howl and is credited to Glenn M.



Before I actually started writing on this I did some quick Googling and learned that coyotes can be either social or solitary animals and can form loose temporary packs with other unrelated coyotes as well as being part of a more basic family unit, which I found very interesting:

The coyote’s breath materialized in a puff of white mist in the morning air. As it had happened before, and as it was bound to happen again, the creature found itself alone. It would be incorrect to say that it was lonely, for it felt no urgent need for the company of his fellow wolves from winters past. He would eventually find a new pack, as he always did. And so, at present, he felt content to lay still in the morning light.

Story Time

So...it's been another long break since the last post. But no more apologies! Let's just get back into the writing.

So it is now near the end of 2019, and I am happy to say that I've been a UBC DAP graduate for the past 5 months! Needless to say it's been a long, long road fraught with trials and tribulations and copious amounts of undue stress; but I finally made it to the other side! Better still, I've found my first full-time job and have been working for just over a month now. It's nothing exciting, just an accounting assistant doing data entry with some extra steps, but it's a start. Anyhow, the focus of this post is not on my work life, but on something a little closer to my personal interests.

A little more than halfway through my DAP program, I started looking into the various student clubs that were available to me at UBC. Part of it I think was to make up for the fact that I never joined any during my high school days, but mostly it was to find something I actually had an interest in; something that could serve as an escape from my life at that point. And soon enough, I found myself joining the AMS Writers' Guild as one of its newest members. Aside from giving me some much needed scheduled time in exercising my creative writing, the guild also finally brought me together with some lovely people who shared my love of writing; it was a place where I truly felt like I belong in a way that I never did before. Through this experience I was able to make some wonderful friends and expose myself to many forms and styles of writing that expanded my horizons.

Our meetings usually ran for 2 hours. For the first hour everyone would write on prompts provided by those who ran the meeting, and then we would all share our work afterwards by reading them out loud. The prompts varied each time and could be a piece of dialogue or a scenario or even an image or picture, but whatever it was it never failed to jump start our meeting and get our creative juices flowing. In the second hour we would have a choice of continuing with our prompt writings or working on our own writing projects or assignments. Thanks my time at the guild I've written quite a collection of incomplete short works and I thought this would be a good place to share them, beginning with this: Senior Danger

Prompt: “No sir, I am not underestimating the kidnappers. YOU are underestimating my grandmother.” (for some reason I turned the kidnapping into a home invasion scenario, oh well)

Kane was keeping his eye on her, just like he was told to do.

Stupid. He thought.

This was so unnecessary, the old hag looked to be in her 70s. Even if she wasn’t all tied up, it’s not like she could fight her way out. From the looks of it, she could barely go to the bathroom by herself. And why was he the one on guard duty? He was smarter than Dave, their so-called ‘leader’, and definitely more capable than Jay; that bumbling idiot.

A wheezing sound interrupted his thoughts. It started out soft, then steadily grew into a full-blown whistle.

“What the hell is that noise?!”

“Haven’t you ever made tea before?” Asked the old woman.

“That’s my jasmine tea in the kettle. You’d better go turn off the stove, before it’s ruined.” She said with a hint of irritation.

“Shut up! Who cares about your damn tea!”

But Kane went and turned off the stove anyway. Not to save her precious tea, but to stop the whistling noise. And it didn’t take a genius to know what would happen if he didn’t.

Stupid bitch, what makes her think she can order him around?!

He rounded the corner from the kitchen back to the living room; and found himself alone. Directly in front of him was an empty chair, where the old woman had been a few moments ago. It wasn’t just the woman that had disappeared. The rope that they had used to bind her was nowhere in sight as well.

“What the fuck?! Where’d you go, you old bitch?!”

His voice echoed throughout the house, but received no reply. Kane was suddenly very aware of the silence that had replaced his yelling.

This can’t be happening. She was just here a few seconds ago. What am I supposed to tell the guys? The old tart just up and vanished on my watch? No, that’s impossible. I have to find her!

His heightened awareness made him even more restless, but he forced himself to stay still. He held his breath, listening for any kind of noise other than his heartbeat, which was beginning to pick up speed. Kane stayed that way for about half a minute, until he finally let out his breath in frustration.

This isn’t working, I need to go find her. She couldn’t have gone far. He reasoned.

Slowly, and as quietly as he could, he ascended the short set of stairs leading up to the second floor of the house.