I don’t realize how many blank pages there are until I start writing. – Ash
Am I Write? # 49 – Where Do I Start?
Tag: story
My Feelings
that time in the evening
of a September day
is a feeling
a time when thoughts can drift
when sound stays quiet
the road a certain hue of grey
like the sky, maybe one shade away
sometimes I look down and count the patches
kick the broken asphalt
to the dirted sides
where the trees grow
the berries bush
and flowers wild
I look harder at things
appreciate that I am
then
remember someone
think of some time
escape back to a similar place
that time in the evening
I could see into kitchens
and all those moths swarming the post-office lights
hear dogs and guess which one
see cats and watch them go home
smell sawdust and smile
that time in the evening
of a September day
was a feeling
Am I Write? # 48 – Penned Up Emotion
Hand me a pen, and I’ll give you emotion. – Ash
Story Jots # 17 – Shooting from the Hip
The blazing gunfight ended a few moments ago. Cindy-Anne and Darby sit on a small hill, smoke cigarettes, while trying to catch their breath, and silently scour the bodies spread out all over the property in relief. Young Darby purses his lips, puffs a big “O,” and breaks the blaring silence.
Cindy-Anne, you’re going to be the death of me you do know that? You’re lucky I showed up when I did.
Whatever, Darby. I was doing just fine before you came and ruined my fun. I had it under control.
Under control alright. Billy Watson was about five seconds away from blowing that pretty little head of yours clean off those pretty little shoulders. Missed that part, did ya? Well, I’m sure glad he did.
Continue reading “Story Jots # 17 – Shooting from the Hip”The Dory Between Us
those days we spent in the dory
barely a word was shared aloud
our language was unique to only us
on the nicest of days that were just for you and me
no sun, grey skies, grey ocean…with a hug of a fog
you had no idea but I loved watching you
in awe…
of my captain
my grandfather, only different
when I did, I felt safe and sound
adventurous…like your first mate
catching our bounty of fish for dear Theresa’s table
Am I Write? # 47 – Find the Write Routine
When I am blocked, I’ll try any approach. Sometimes, the same approach as my physical fitness. Treating my creativity like an out-of-shape muscle. The more I worked on it, and fed it time, the more it would grow. Writing is muscle memory, now go flex your muscles. – Ash
Story Jots # 16 – Peephole Under the Stairs
Honey, have you met our neighbour?
What?
Our neighbour. The guy the landlord said lives across from us in the adjoining apartment. Have you met him?
Ah…no, I don’t think so. Why?
Oh, nothing. I was just thinking today about how strange it is that we’ve been in our new place for three months, and both of us have yet to lay a single eye on him. Don’t you think that’s a tad odd?
No, not really. Maybe this guy likes keeping to himself. He could work shitty hours opposite us or something. Who knows.
Yeah, I guess. But you would think we would have seen him coming or going at some point. His front door closing here or there.
Baby, you are being weird and uncharacteristically nosy. Who cares? Look, I am completely cool with not getting to know our neighbours. I hate those annoying stop-and-talks. Besides, shit’s tangly when people get too all up in your business. That’s the whole reason we moved. We hate people remember.
All I am saying is that I find it odd. I haven’t seen him in the laundry room, I’m there almost every other day. Both of us check the communal mailboxes coming in and going out, no sign of him there, either, and his mailbox is right next to ours.
Ah, there’s that weird again, babe.
Plus, it’s not only his door, I also haven’t heard anything coming from his apartment. Nothing. It’s always quiet over there.
And, there’s the nosy.
Am I Write? # 46 – Poof to a Proof
When I write, I disappear for a while. But I always come back with a story to tell. – Ash
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.
Continue reading “Story Jots # 15 – Grounded”Am I Write? # 45 – Let Me Put It in Writing
It’s not a blank page to me, it’s where the story begins. There’s an intimacy in that. Your work could have a million pages but you’ll never forget your first. – Ash
Earth To Ash 