Snow, snow, everywhere. Uh... why isn't it stopping?

It hasn't snowed this much since I was little. It's definitely iced over quite a few times, and we got a random snow day at the beginning of Spring recently, but this much? No way. Everyone is boggled by it. Crunching through the thickening powder reminded me of a scene I wrote for a Creative Writing class recently. The instructor, author Brian W. Smith, wanted us to use as many senses in our scene as possible and gave us character names and an image to work from. It was quite a fun and educational class and I'm incredibly grateful for his teaching.


Lisa could smell the farm before she saw it. Horses and pigs hadn't been housed there for years, but they had left their mark, as it were, in a bitter-sweet musk that carried a mile up the road. As she pulled up she saw the bare, frozen trees reaching out like a spoiled child in a candy shop. Snow crunched wetly underfoot as she walked toward the dilapidated farmhouse with its broken windows and peeling siding and she wondered what brought her here, year after year, on this anniversary date. 

Mark wasn't coming back. 

Salty tears burned on her tongue, but they were part of the tradition now. A bird called out sympathetically, she guessed, and she waved appreciatively. "I'm good," she said lightly. "I'll be all right." She would, too. But not this year.


To make sure we don't end on a depressing note, I'll throw in another scene from that class:


The oomph-oomph-oomph of the bass was overwhelming but Mike sipped his bitter drink and decided to grin and bear it. If it got him laid, he'd tolerate a lot. The floor was sticky with spilled drinks by incautious dancers so he tried not to move much; the sensation sent nauseating flares of disgust up his spine. His nostrils flared. Through the haze of tobacco he thought he could smell something better - someone was blazing, probably trying to tolerate this place as much as he was. He squinted through the smoke, following his nose, and saw a young man standing alone by some kind of fake plant, looking bored and miserable. Target acquired.

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

C is cookie...

We judge ourselves really harshly. I'd be genuinely curious to know who doesn't believe this of themselves - I've been actively working on showing myself grace for the last few years, and it's helped me be compassionate toward others, but it makes me realize just how cruel I've been inside my own head. I already posted before about calling something 'Boris', and I try to continue ascribing to that mentality. Something is more than nothing. You can't edit a blank page. Perfection is the enemy of good enough. Assume everyone you meet is doing their best, and everyon's best looks different. It's hard. I'm impressed when I meet people who exhude calm and patience and generally seem to not let things bother them. I know that sometimes, that's come from hard, hard work. It's a skill like any other - some people can do carpentry, some can fix machines, some can stay calm in traffic. I've gone through some of the older scenes I've wri...
Read more

Poetry is a magnet away

I've almost always had magnetic poetry in my home. Not in my apartment, but growing up, and now in my own house, but I rarely mess with it. I get the rare bout of inspiration when I see a word here or there, or see someone else has created something, and I want to participate. I made this one last night, and I'm proud of it enough to share: Mask glory too poison and dread for grave panic Do away with every forbidden blaze seen as torment to the smiling prisoner; Seiged in a broken crypt – free and forlorn – fearing laugh's rotten conflict Honestly, the limitation of pulling from provided words seems to help me create these. Maybe I'll find myself with more inspiration in hand and a magnetic board as my medium.
Read more

All of the previous five...

... starting letters of my posts together spell 'llama'. It's the little things. I could have gone to bed, I'll have you know. 100% an option for me, but I'd asked for my computer to be woken up, so it seemed the least I could do to write another of these micro fictions. I also wanted to share a bit of the process of creation for magic systems. I have zero plan. I generally like to have consequences for magic use, and I always consider the punishment system that would need to be in place to keep magic users contained, how effective they might be, etc. Beyond that, wherever the spark blooms, my friends. For example: speaking with a couple of friends the other day and my buddy Ken tells me he's had an idea for years of some kind of 'street magic' that would take you from one street to another with the same name. I pondered on that for a moment and he, Brittney, and I threw around some ideas. That would be super cool! Brittney took it to gravestones, I took...
Read more