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Deserve

Ryan threw the smooth stone into the black river. A breeze tousled his hair, and the faint sounds of a band playing across the river drifted between the falling leaves. Ryan suppressed a shiver to reject the ideas of him being cold or needing to go back to the apartment to ask Sandra to let him in to get his jacket. She would have let him in, of course, but the idea of asking her for anything made him sick. Ryan slammed his fist into the soft, brown dirt which looked black in the dark of the night. The lamp posts lining the sidewalk caused his elongated shadow which reached towards the river to react more dramatically than the action had been. Shadows have a tendency to do that - make things look more intense, sometimes even more raw than they truly are. Pushing himself up onto his feet, Ryan hocked up some spit and sent it flying into the river. He didn't allow himself to watch the ripples reach their extent. He hadn't the time. Pushing the library's revolving glass do
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A Sausage

Franz almost sliced his finger again as he sped through chopping the rare sausage that had been purchased today by his master. He quickly flipped the sweet smelling meats into a frying pan along with some of his favorite spices. Although Franz was usually a silent chap, today he could barely contain his desire to whistle a happy tune. The sausage had a secret meaning to Franz. You see, Franz had a friend who lived outside the estate. This friend had made a promise to Franz during one of their many talks which were held between Franz's window and the rooftop of the nearby building some five feet away. His friend, Lilya, had promised that she could get him out of his master's control within a fortnight if he wanted her to do so. Franz, always the skeptic, hadn't believed her. He had demanded a demonstration of her power. Lilya asked what the master would never buy at the market. What could she use as proof that she could make him do whatever she pleased? Thus the sausage
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Blades

Petra drew his sword halfway out of his sheathe and checked to make sure the blade was still attached. Darwin next to him chuckled without looking down. "Cork it, Dar," Petra muttered angrily, but Darwin continued to laugh through his nose.  "Didn't they take it when you were in the middle of the fight?" he said.  "Yeah, so?" Petra retorted.  "Why would you check your blade before the battle if they are probably going to take it during the fight?" Darwin asked, finally looking over at Petra.  "How in the fires of Lynn am I supposed to know what faeries are going to do? Next time they might just take my legs. That might be what really gives them a laugh," Petra slammed his sword back into its sheathe. He folded his arms crossly and spat down into the muddy ground around him.  "I hate this place," he said, "sign up for glory, they said. Defeat the goblins, and come home a hero, they said. Nothing
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Eye Contact

Marge's diner was unusually full this morning, and the smell of eggs, bacon, sausage, and pancakes nearly overpowered the normally ruling scent of coffee. Cups clinked in the washing trays, Stella called out orders in the incomprehensible diner code she loved to use, and Ron, in his old cardigan, stood by the front door pretending to read a newspaper while waiting to pounce on an unsuspecting victim to declare the downfalls of the up-and-coming generation of impertinent youngsters. Danielle sat in her booth trying to hide. Normally when she came to Marge's, she felt invisible, and once or twice it had bothered her. Not today though. Today she wanted nothing more than to be invisible. Ryan hadn't meant to be rude, but though she loved her bother, he could be an absolute blockhead sometimes. He hadn't realized she was within earshot, but that made his cruel words even more poignant. His declarations of the improbability of her ever finding a man stung. He had derided he
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A Quick Philosophy

"If you aim at nothing, you will hit it every time." Zig Ziglar Here's my attempt at clarifying the target that this blog will attempt to hit. I believe it was Stephen King who said (and he may have been quoting one or many other authors) that if you need to write every day if you want to get better at writing every day. While I've used some apps to write on my phone, it simply isn't the same as sitting in the chair, putting your hands on the keyboard, and cranking out some ideas. (BIC-HOK [Butt in Chair; Hands on Keyboard] as the folks over at Writing Excuses refer to it) This blog is an effort to provide me with a little bit of motivation to try to write every day (or at least more frequently than I have been). That being said, I am not going to limit myself to simply creative writing posts. I may occasionally throw in an idea that struck me and tweaked my perspective a bit because that's what good ideas do, and when you get a good idea, it's usua
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