Thank You

I just wanted to say what an amazing year it's been. A year ago I made a silly resolution I wasn't planning on sticking to because I never do stick to my resolutions. But I tried it out, and I succeeded.. Not every blog was a story. A lot of it was just a paragraph of mumbo jumbo. Why then, did I continue? 'Cause it prevented writer's block from setting it. No matter what I wrote down, I no matter how it came out, there was always something there and as a writer that's relieving to know. I don't know how many people followed them word for word, but the point was I did it for me and I turned blank walls into sentences. I do not think I will continue this this year. Well actually, I very well might. But I think it best to drop this blog in all of its confusingness. I write for myself and I am glad to have been able to share that with you this past year. Hopefully the next will bring just as many stories. I hope to focus more on my novels rather than random bits and pieces that get me distracted. Maybe you will see them in the sores one day. Thank you.

The Final

She sat at the desk, the cat was on the printer and the music playing in the background. It was here she continued doing what she loved best - writing. No matter how short or long the sentences, no matter the time of day. It was amazing really, how many hundreds of stories could be pumped out from the single individual. How many different phrases could be typed in a keyboard's lifetime, how many stories it could share. Already, she could see the letters being worn off, but they had and would last her for many stories to come. She wasn't finished yet. She was only just starting., and with a bang of illegal fireworks outside, why not?

[118 words]

Prisoner's Podium

He stood at the front of the room, speaking freely in front of the other inmates. A guard stood off to the right behind him, another by the door, but he could tell nothing was going to happen here. There was that air of calamity. Everyone in the room was hanging on every word of the prisoner. He looked a smart man, a positive one, didn't look like he really belonged here at all, but Thomas had said there were wrongs in his past, just as there was with everyone here. Even himself, although they were not the same reasons that got himself locked up. He shook the thought from his mind and focused on the inmate, Nick the others called him. For a flicker of a moment, their eyes met and he could swear there was a hesitation in his spoken words, but he looked away quickly and Damien dismissed it as part of his imagination.

"You are only as good as what you let let yourself be."

Absently, Damien found himself nodding slightly, agreeing. He could listen to those uplifting talks all day, if there weren't people out there wanting to kill him.

[195 words]

Part of Life

It wasn't what you expected from a space like that. A place to feel young and be silly, yet still have incredible goals to achieve and the ability to share that with others. To an outsider it wouldn't sound that bad. Probably sound a piece of cake. To those who knew though, they knew it was epic, and troublesome and hard and challenging, somehow worthwhile. You had to give it credit. It wasn't just for children, because it wasn't the easiest game out there. Sure it was fun, competitive. But if you truly engaged with it, it could be incredibly challenging and that, it would appear, to make it beautiful. For while the goals could be so important to you and yet so hard to achieve, they seemed so much closer, much more within reach, than the ones you set yourself in the outside world. You could see exactly where your goals were headed in that space. But not in life. Life was strange and unpredictable. And this was just another part she associated with it.

[176 words]

Two Sentences

Life doesn't always turn out how you want it to.

Deal with it.

[13 words]

Sick Dog

"I'm sick!" he screamed at the two men trying to drag him away. "Go away!"

"We don't care if you're sick. You've got work to do."

"Do you want to get thrown up on?"

Just then, a third man entered the room and Terrier looked away, finger still twirling around the sheet he had in his hands.

"What seems to be the problem?"

"He says he's sick," one of the men advised, grabbing a fistful of Terrier's hair and dragging him into the light, "Does he look sick to you?"

Terrier chanced a glance into the eyes of the man who had turned his world into horror and chaos.

Cameron studied him for a moment, before lifting a hand to touch his forehead. Terrier stepped backwards, stumbling over the mattress but managing to hold himself up.

"If he says he's sick, he's sick," Cameron ensured, and Terrier held in a sigh of relief. "He knows we'll beat the crap out of him if he is caught lying, and he has no reason to lie. Isn't that right Terrier?"

Terrier gave a nod of his head, but stopped at the nausea it caused him.

"Leave him rest," Cameron ordered the other two away, "He'll only have twice as much to do when he's feeling better."

Terrier shut his eyes as they left the room, before collapsing to the mattress and pulling the sheets tight around him. Cameron had a soft side? No. Things were only going to be twice as worse when he was next checked up upon.

[257 words]

Writing Woes

Writing comes and goes. Certainly, unless you're in the mood to write, a lot of it can turn out poor, or even horrid. Quality should be valued over quantity, but sometimes, you have to give yourself permission to write badly. That way you can learn, edit and improve. It's the will power more than anything that keeps you going, and it is a hope to avoid such long, writing droughts that stories, or random thoughts and musings, can be written down - whether in ten or a thousand words. It's is not so much the stories or the whatever you classify them as that are important, but the value of what you are doing. What you are trying to achieve and prove to yourself you can do. It is an exercise to keep the blood in the typewriter keys and the ink in your veins. It is one hell of a task.

[152 words]