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]

New Outlook

26 October 2010

She thanked them as they closed the door, then sat down timidly on the bed. Why did he have to go and do what he’d done? What would she do now? She buried her face in her hands. Sometimes, just sometimes, she wished life was different. That things never had to change. Perhaps then living it wouldn’t be so hard. She should’ve been thankful. She was with nice people, it hadn’t taken long. But perhaps that was half the problem. It seemed too easy. What happened to how long these things were supposed to take? She combed her fingers through her hair and got up. Her feet led her to the window and she looked out over the street that wasn’t hers. The new outlook on her life.

[128 words]

Back Stories

She walked past the commotion, trying not to stare. Not that there was anything to stare at, it just wasn't something you saw every day. Something different to your every day schedule. The woman had finally sat up, the smell reached her nostrils as she passed, and four police officers now joined the previous two security guards, with gloves. Drugs? Possibly. She wasn't really one to judge or make up the back stories of strangers. As writers they were encouraged to do such things, but sometimes... you just couldn't. No matter how interesting or unusual a story they would make.

[100 words]

Smart Idea

I could not. I would not. I was not going to start another story. No way. I had enough on my plate. It would be a distraction. It would be stupid. It would be so ... funny! I mean, pointless. Annoying. Frustrating. Not possible. Why was I still thinking about it? It had to end now. Go away. Never come back. I had five stories in mind, without a sixth. But already, the sixth was clicking. It was going in the wrong direction. I pulled it back. I could not use it. I would not take it. I was not going to start another story. No way. I hadn't enough. It wouldn't be that much of a distraction, surely. It wasn't stupid. It would be so fun and silly. Different. A change. Possible. Why was I still thinking about it? I had to start now.

[145 words]

Press On

15 April 2010

I moved backwards and forwards, driven by the sheer force of who held me. I was making my mark on paper, spilling it to the world. No one would ever again question my capabilities. Our capabilities. It was time for my rest as they replaced me for my mate. He pressed on even harder, defining my points like they were all that mattered. It wasn't perfect - no one ever was - so why should we be any different? Oh, by the way. I'm a pencil =)

[86 words]

Different Angle

11 January 2010

There are saying that writers do not steal so much as a two word phrase from another. There are also sayings that writers will recycle words from others, as any good environmentalist would do. So when this comes to ideas, and plots, how does this change? How can we turn someone else's ingenious ideas into our own? Make them unique and different from theres, so no one can associate the two. You've just come up with the most amazing idea, but it's already partly been used. There's always a way to view it from a different angle, it just takes a while to find.

[104 words]