Tag: just write

Story Jots # 14 (b) – This Droid Heart

That breakfast seven days ago was two piping hot medium-sized pancakes, infused with strawberries and topped with whipped cream. Tera’s comfort breakfast. Her favourite part was when the chilled whipped cream made a sizzling sound each time Roomer added that final touch. She adored that sizzle and loved that special requested morning menu item. She ordered it only on the days when Dr. Cross travelled to or from Earth. When he departed for Earth, its taste made her feel better. When he returned from Earth, its taste made her feel everything. The remaining days of the week between when Dr. Cross was onboard, Tera didn’t care what she had to eat. Never mattered. Everything tasted the same. The rest of the menu was bland like how time felt when Dr. Cross was away from the space station. Her days and nights seemed long, drawn out, and completely drab. The only form of excitement she experienced was watching the calendar by her bed flip to a new date bringing her closer and closer to when she would see Dr. Cross again. See her Eric again.

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Story Jots # 18 – Right For The Juggler

The circus is over, now comes the real fun…

Story Jots # 15 – Grounded

“What the fu…“

Before Ben Coleman could finish his f-bomb, or the joint he was pulling back on, the sky had begun to fill with people. Popping up all over the place. As far as his eyes could see, human beings appeared everywhere. First, one by one, then two by two, now it seems they’re multiplying by ten at a time. Suspended off the ground about a hundred feet or more, all spaced out sort of evenly. He slowed his car to a stop to get a grip on what was happening. This couldn’t be real. He looked momentarily at the bag of weed sitting next to him in the passenger seat. Pausing a second thinking maybe he was high. Baked on his uncle’s homegrown stuff. It wouldn’t be the first time. His uncle’s gear was always sort of “use at your own risk.” Thinking this, he figured it was another reason to pull over. See if he could come down a bit from his buzz and get his head straight. The people kept coming and it wasn’t long before he realized it wasn’t weed. He was buzzed for sure, but this was as real as it gets and now he was freaking out. His buzz was just making it worse.

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Story Jots # 14 (a) – This Droid Heart

Whoosh…
A door slides open from left to right. A young woman scurries across a bedroom as quick as she can coming to a stop at the room window. As soon as she reached the view which was into outer space, a transport pod shot away from the lower deck of the same space station she stood on the third level of. Every few seconds she waved both her hands vigorously hoping someone she missed already would see her farewell before the pod shuttle burned itself into Earth’s atmosphere becoming no longer visible. As soon as it did, her smile was gone. She felt a rush of sadness fall over her. It lasted but a few seconds until she remembered the promise she had been left with which made her smile come back.

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Story Jots # 13 – Back to the Futon

And, now you can open your eyes…

Wow… your DeLorean bed arrived. So, this is what we all got you for your birthday gift?

It certainly is. You could say this puts a new “spin” on “bedtime”.

Great and with puns included. It’s official, you’ve gone full nerd. 
 
Shush, your pretty mouth. You like it. I can see you do behind whatever that expression is you’re trying to make. Come on, be honest. It’s exactly what you expected when you said I could get whatever I wanted for my fortieth. 
 
Yeah, I rolled over way too easily it seems this “Back to Your Birthday” day.

Ouch!

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Story Jots # 11 (b) – Red Door, Blue Cadillac, And A Murder

Here’s where this story began…CLICK HERE!

Friday was gone. Saturday was coming up with the sun, and Ryan had still not been asleep. His acute insomnia was expected after he travelled. Triggered by past traumas. Any variance in his life could bring on his curse of no bedtime, sometimes it’s a week before he feels any sign of tiredness. It’s three days into his house swap, one of those life variances that was suggested by his sister, Laura. She has been telling him forever how it would be a good idea for her brother to get away for an extended period of time. To see and to get to experience another part of the country. A difference in atmosphere could be exactly what Ryan needed. An opportunity to leave that place behind for a bit. It’s been long enough with those bad memories. It’s time to heal.

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Story Jots # 12 – Signal Red

I’m bitten…

I will become one of them any minute. It can’t end like this. I promised. That day he took them from me. That monster, Roșu. I called him Red. He was the first one and started all of this. I called him that because it was all I could see when I thought of him. And it was all he wanted. Nothing, but red. Red everywhere. To feed his parasitic reign. An eternal starvation for existence and undying life sustained by the veins of human prey. Prey fooled by his dark fluence of sultry words and reverie. Like it did when he stole my family. It was his bloody thirst that started this hunt. Started my journey to find and destroy him. But, now I need him. I must stay alive a little longer. I have to signal Red. For a choice. A choice my loving husband and dear daughter never had. If he gives me that choice, it could be my last chance.

to be continued…

Story Jots # 11 (a) – Red Door, Blue Cadillac

Well, we’re home. This is me. 

Hey, sweetie. You awake? 

Oh, right. Of course, you’re not. You had that last drink now, didn’t you? With a little something extra from me. I knew you couldn’t say no. None of you do. My looks are a curse, I swear. Anyway, let’s go in… shall we? 

A man lifts a young woman out of his blue Cadillac and shuffles her half-limp body along with the weight of his own toward the front door of his house. She is wearing a short black dress that sparkled each time a streetlight caught her sequins a certain way. She was semi-conscious. She had no shoes, no purse, no phone, and because her makeup had long melted away you could tell she was half the age of the man she was now draped over. With her petite frame shifting over his shoulder with a step, her head drifts next to his. The man smiles and whispers something into her exposed ear.  

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Am I Write # 33 – Life Poetic

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Everything is poetry. – Ash

Story Jots #10 – Dying Truth

Hope was something she had let go of a long time ago. They all did. The only thing left was her and the few remaining days she felt she had to live. Her food was gone, and without a fire to boil the blankets of snow, consuming it to survive would only prolong the inevitable. Dead of winter had no mercy where she laid in wait, awaiting help she knew was not coming. Before long she too would be left frozen in time like everyone around her when their will to stay alive vanished. Those rotting bodies beside her were the only morbid company she kept. Her body ached and her mind continued to play tricks as she would awaken from unconscious drifts only to find herself still clinging to a cold pointless existence. She was scared but was getting used to the fact that she would die soon like those before her. Being the last soul alive it was now about preparing for it. Allowing the elements to take over and finally start to accept that this unforgiving place would be her prison forever. That was the dying truth.