Legs crossed, a light stays on at the entrance opposite me, Continue reading “Armchair”
I felt like writing something today as I went to check the mail. I hadn’t written visually in a while and this came to mind after a hot shower. It’s not much but I was able to pull this emotional feeling from a friend’s passing last year. Continue reading “Sadness”
There sits a house shrouded by trees. The eyes occasionally open, dim and close from morning to evening. Inside, the furniture changes its course by day. Continue reading “Sickly beings”
For several years, I have owned several variants of a phone, from a flip phone to a smartphone. When I started, I used Verizon’s service and an LG flip phone with an external antenna, then I moved to not owning a cellphone at all. Finally, the day came when services such as Boost Mobile and StraightTalk came around and the monthly payments went down, even though I had to pay the full price of the phone up front. The bonus of these plans was that I was no longer regulated to “minutes” but to a monthly-payment plan that stayed consistent no matter what. Continue reading “Waiting on the Nexus 6”
Golden yellow and fire orange, three water-soluble paint gallon cans. One tattered, unkempt T-shirt and busting-at-the-seams, faded blue jeans. Barefooted with a flayed, thistle brush, standing in my new workshop, deciding which walls will exude Skittles-like rays of happiness.
I was reading Dan Erickson’s post, “the beauty of simple,” and saw that picture above. Just seeing that boat inspired these words.
DOMP-DOMP-DOmp-DOmp-domp-domp, the sound of feet running down the planks to the end of the dock. Domp-flup-domp-flup-flop-flop-flip-flop-flip-flop, a run becomes a casual walk. I have my trusty plastic red tackle box in one hand and my simple fishing rod in the other.
A classic wooden boat is tied catty-corner to the dock making a blop-dop-blop-dop-blop-dop sound as the waves rock it gently, letting it drift on the rope and by tension it is pulled back again to the dock’s anchoring stud. First my left foot then my right foot, I remove my sandals and place them on the edge of the dock for a soft spot to sit on. Whomp, I’ve sat down and to my left sits the box, which I open up and pull out a fake glittery-green-neon rubber worm. Grab my pole with a simple line and brass J-hook, slide that bait on it, attach a round, red and white bobber. With a thrust, the hook lands in the water. A strong, warm sandy summer breeze blows past and the bobber bounces up and down quickly with the waves. Pointing my toes as far as they can stretch, I kick them into the cold water and then try to lift the water up with my feet. The sun warms my face, the sky is cloudy and cool blue and all of the sudden I’m holding on for dear life because a Bigmouth Bass has just snagged my bait. Hook, line and sinker.
I’m laying on my soft feather bed in a cabin perched on a mountain, reading through a Louis L’Amour novel and the words blur into a dream. She’s screaming because he’s kidnapped her and I can’t run fast enough to rescue her. Continue reading “Writing while it rains”
Written on a whim:
Fried pork cutlets with a hint of salt and
mashed potatoes drowning in creamy light brown gravy. Green beans
glisten nakedly on the plate. He gazed into her face as she lifted a
small piece of pork to her moist red lips and bit into it. She looked up
and her eyes met his. He fumbled about for a napkin and downed a
refreshing glass of cold water, realizing he’d been caught.
I asked a friend, scriptwriter, to write two sentences which were
descriptive. Then I took one of his sentences based on that room setting
and wrote out my own descriptive twist. Later, he suggested I change
two words to make it more imaginative. He gave me, “creased” and
“faded.” Continue reading “Creased black boots”
Written for an English III Descriptive class. Based on true experiences.
As a boy in the savannahs of West Africa, I enjoyed going catfishing with my native friends. We loved being outside so much that we would spend the whole day just trying to catch catfish. With the sun on our backs and grasping our fishing baskets in our hands, catfishing became a regular activity. Continue reading “Catfishing in West Africa”