I Always Feel Like…

So, there I am, eating lunch the other day and this acne-faced teenager sits at the table next to me. He couldn’t have been older than fifteen, his face in his phone the second his butt hit the cushion. He pushed his glasses up as his mom talked to him about what he wanted to eat, and the second she leaves, his greasy hair flips back over his face and he’s gone into his phone again.

I go back to reading my book and eating my tacos, looking up periodically to see if the kid ever comes up for air. It must have been a good minute or so, but about the fifth time I look up, there he is, his phone propped up and on the screen, zoomed in, is the girl sitting twenty feet away. The gall! Here this kid is taking photos of some girl he probably doesn’t even know.

I watched as he snapped a few more photos of her and then close down the phone as his mother came back. She was all smiles, none-the-wiser to her son’s proclivities. I tell you, I felt the need to tap her on the shoulder and give her the what-for.

I mean, who does he think he is, spying on other people like that?

***

 

Something I wrote for my fiction writing class.

The Drive…

She was angry. I knew it. She only ever got quiet like this when I had done something to piss her off, and for the last hour of the trip, she looked out the car window, arms folded across her chest, and stared at the landscape that blurred by.

“Hey,” I finally said, “want to talk to me? I could use the distraction.” She didn’t move her face at all. Yep, she’s pissed I thought to myself. “Honey.” I reached across and laid my hand on her leg. “Honey, what’d I do wrong?”

You know those moments when you aren’t sure whether or not you did the right thing but you know you just have to do something in order to move. Forward, back, sideways. The direction doesn’t matter, but you just know you can’t stay where you’re at. Yeah, this was one of those moments because as I placed my hand on her leg and she continued to ignore me, I squeezed her knee.

“Why do you have to be such a child?” she said and reached down to slap my hand away.

“Ow!” I yanked my hand back as the sting turned to a burn. “Why did you do that? What did I do wrong?”

She turned to me, her eyes smoldering a wicked heat toward me. Her words came out measured and paused like slow drips from a faucet. “You know exactly what you did wrong.”

Ok, I’m an idiot, I get that. Apparently, it’s what we guys do, but I’ll be damned if I will ever understand women. This was just going to further prove my theory that they are all irrational beings driven by emotional bouts of craziness.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” I said.

I would tell you what her face looked like, but to be honest I was too busy trying to make sure I didn’t wreck the car. After all, crashing at 80 miles per hour will end an argument really quick.

“Really? So, you are just going to sit there and pretend that you didn’t eat all my Twizzlers?”

Oh, did I forget to mention that part? Yeah, it’s because I totally forgot I did, too. While she was sleeping. But hey, she left the package open and I got hungry.

“I… uh…” I did my best to smile a sheepish grin. “Sorry?”

“Yeah. You will be tonight.”

“Oh, come on….” Who knew she liked Twizzlers that much?

This is a story I had to write for my college class using indirect, direct and summary dialogue. As that last line says, who knew there were so many types of dialogue.

The Kiss…

My first week's response from my college class where we had to use the above famous photo from Life Magazine as a prompt. The instructions: 250 words, max; tell the story behind the kiss. Seems simple...

 

Sarah’s alarm clock had failed and now she sat on the bus, running her sweaty hands down her nurses uniform. The ship would have pulled in over thirty minutes ago. He was going to think she forgot. He was going to be standing on that pier, looking for her, and she wasn’t going to be there. Tears began to form in the corners of her eye as she wished the bus to move faster.

***

Billy stood on the bow of the ship looking sharp in his dress blues. He looked at the crowd of people gathered on the pier. Continue reading The Kiss…

That Changes Everything…

What follows is an assignment I had to do for my creative writing class that I am currently taking (which is also taking up a lot of my time, hence my absence). I was required to use the prompt, "that changes everything". Hope you enjoy.

Charlie set his cup down on the food court table and took a seat across from Lucy. “Why is it so hard?” He never stopped looking at the pretty blonde behind the counter.

“Because you’re a wimp.”
“Thanks, that’s helpful.”
“Well, then just go ask her out.”
“Yeah, and make a fool of myself.” He grimaced. “Is that what you want? To watch me crash and burn. Bet you would get a good laugh from that.”
“You found me out. I’m just all about embarrassing you.”
“With friends like you…”
Lucy smiled. “So what if you embarrass yourself. Girls like that.”
“No, girls like guys like Steve. The cool guy with the right clothes, the right car, and the right looks. How is a guy like me supposed to compete with that?”
“Don’t.”
“What?” Continue reading That Changes Everything…

The First Time…

It was the first time, and it wouldn’t be the last. But that first time, I didn’t know any better. It was clumsy. It was awkward. I was scared out of my mind. And it was pure luck that it happened.

Most will tell you their first time was a matter of planning and preparation. That they put hours and weeks into making sure they were ready when the time came. They’ll brag about it afterwards like it was just another day, Continue reading The First Time…

The Winds Have Blown…

The winds have blown

Filled with a furious anger

The winds have blown

And the sea is cross at our course

Since we dared to defy danger

And left the safety of Bangor.

The winds have blown.

***

Jane’s Poetry Challenge #37

Photo by Odilon Redon

My first rondelet so I'm not completely sure I got perfected, but it was a fun poem type to try..