Sleep Deprivation

He didn't get to sleep that night. Not that he hadn't had many sleepless nights, but that was one of those I can't stop thinking no matter how hard I try nights. Sleep was impossible with so much on his mind. So many mistakes. So many tears. How could he fix such wrongs? He deserved this sleep deprivation. In any case it gave him more time to think. Sure, most of them were bad thoughts, but there had to be some good in them, yes? He hunted for that spark. That light. Something good must come of this. Some ingenious plan. Some hope.

[103 words]

Too Easy

I held the door knob preciously in its place, listening for anyone that might have heard the click of it opening, the creak as I opened it slowly inwards. I then crept slowly, silently, up the hallway I had walked previously, my heart thumping like crazy. Then I took a different, unknown route at the end of it. It led to a bare kitchen. An empty kitchen. Where was everyone? This was too easy. Much too easy. My brain was telling me to turn back now, but my heart was urging me forwards. As I crept towards the sliding door, I found another obstacle-free zone. It wasn't locked. Freedom was just beyond that fence... I slid the door open and before I could stop myself, ran.

[126 words]

All Love

Some watched over her from birth, each birthday, went on every holiday. Others were simply there. In the background. In the foreground. The majority of them remained, although some were now misplaced in a box or on a shelf, they were still with her. Each bore the friendly, well known smile. Some had been stitched and worn to pieces. Faded. Full of sweat, blood and tears. Some were as good as new. But all were loved.

[76 words]

Worth It?

After a while, I tuned out to their swearing and just sat there, with my arm around her trying to comprehend our situation. I had just put both of our lives in jeopardy and we were no further to freedom then we were before I'd pulled such an act. It was a stupid thing to do. But I had seen them. They were cops, I had known it. But what would've happened if they had caught us? They'd blame me just as they'd blame the others. Wouldn't they? Not that I minded. If it meant getting her out of the danger that she was in, it'd be worth it. Maybe.

[110 words]

Writer's Ramblings

The cursor linked a steady rhythm on the blank page, the quietness of the house penetrating, ideas empty. But people claimed there was no such thing as writer's block. As long as you kept up your writing, as long as you wrote something, anything, it would still count. Writer whatever nuisance is on your mind, write from your stream of consciousness, and something will eventually come up, some usable story idea, some spark. Thing is I could be here for hours if I were to do that, denying each idea as something worthless. I could write a novel on my thoughts alone, except of course no one would read something like that - every single thought on my mind? I guess you wouldn't really get writer's block then surely, because then you'd just ramble on and on, without much care because, again, no one as going to read it. But where was the joy in that? The accomplishment? Aside from being a completely boring novel, you'd just have wasted precious years when you could have been working on your other manuscripts. And you might have one, three good ideas in that to come out of a story? Or would there be more? Of course you'd never be able to truly tell unless you did it... which I had no incentive to. Or did I?

[224 words]

Caught Up

25 September 2010

I wanted to retort, to retreat further into my cage, but before I could stop myself I was clambering out, desperate to stretch my legs. I wanted to make my run escape, but again there were more of them then there was of me, and so I settled with just crawling out. Cameron wasn’t with them. I didn’t know if that was good or bad, but I kept my mouth shut. Someone had the lead to the collar in their hands and that scared me. They reached down to attach it. I scrambled away, crawling unconsciously towards the door, though at a much slower pace then them and they caught up with me much too easily. I heard the click of the two chains meeting, the instant pull of it and I stopped struggling, eyes for the ground. I would not look at them. I couldn’t look at them.

[149 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]