30 minute post #9

You wake to the alarm blaring in your ear. You silence it with the swing of your arm.
*thwack*
The noise stops and you're left with the conscious knowledge that you did not die in your sleep. Talk about depressing. You soon find yourself filled with dread at the thought of having to exist for another day. Having to walk around and wear that mask so that nobody asks you, "What's wrong?", "You're awfully quiet today, wanna talk about it?" Yuck. The thoughts are quickly displaced by a feeling of hunger that seems to be spreading from your stomach. You roll out of bed and head downstairs.

It's not everyday that you realize that you don't want to live anymore, but once you realize it, It kinda sticks with you. Especially with you, at least. You arrive at the office bright and early for 10 in the morning. Your boss is surprised to see you even decided to show up. You give him a acknowledging nod and head over to your cubicle. He's probably gonna go off on you today, but it does not matter.

You'll never start

Nope you wont. because you're trying to find a good time to do it. You could start today. Its a shitty day to start. You're busy. You have too much to prepare for. You just don't have time. All-in-all its a pretty good reason not to start. Imagine though, if you were to start today. If you did start today every time you have a reason not to start wont seem that bad in comparison. If you can work on it today there will be very few reasons that can stop you from working on it in the future. And you would probably finish it. But you won't start today. If you're honest with yourself you'll probably never start, because trivial things like sleep, and comfort are more important to you. If you really wanted to do it, you'd start today.

*Disclaimer : This post was not written by me but by somebody else.

30 minute post #8

The tiny strands of hair  on Calebs arm stand erect.  His throat starts to swell and his heart feels as if it's going to burst from his chest. Around him, all of reality becomes silent and time slows. He is gripped in the moment as he stares down the barrel of the gun aimed in his direction. His mind is telling him to run, to put one foot in front of the other, to escape to safety. But, he stands there.

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Caleb jerks up in his bed now drenched with damp sweat. His hands fumble in the dark for the lamp switch on the bedside table. The light illuminates the room casting itself upon the minimal furnishings and small bugs who scatter. He begins feeling along his torso. His hands pat and lay over each blemish and scar he's managed to accrue over the years. He stops. One of his fingers has founds its way to a particular scar. The mound of flesh over the scar resembles an oval-like ring.
he lowers his head and turns off the light.

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Authors Note: I'm still getting back into the swing of things. I have not written in quite some time. [insert sad face]. I will still be posting stuff even though alot of it will not be good!

30 minute post #7

Spot dug through the heap of debris with his bare hands.The chamber was filled with the echoing sounds of clunking of metals as he threw unwanted chunks to the wayside. He was a rodent, with the way he furrowed through the trash with his tiny hands. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he knew that he had to dig.

Down the hall from the chamber that Spot was occupying, Clarissa was fumbling with a strange object. It was cylindrical and metallic with markings etched into its surface, as if deliberately placed there. What ever the object was, she was pretty sure that she could trade it for some food or something.

An hour went by and Spot was still digging. By this point, Spots hands were covered in cuts and scrapes, but he kept digging. He was adamant.

Old Pens part 2

Authors Note:

heres a short update of part 2 before I post part 3.

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It never occurred to me that I would have a midlife crisis at 28.

 I roll out of bed and go downstairs for breakfast. My moms left early, but she left me a plate of eggs and bacon. Neatly arranged in  a smiley face with ketchup laced eyes. There's a note folded into a slender rectangle lying next to the fork. Of course it was a mushy as i expected it to be. My mom's always done this kind of thing since as long as i could remember. After devouring my food, I got ready and left for work.

My current profession isn't as glamorous  as I want, but it's only temporary while i work on my draft. Being a professional barista is a noble profession nowadays. I mean who else is gonna get people their chai mocha soy latte. My shift consists of coffee and people from all walks of life. Most of whom, are teenagers. I'm so very envious of their youth and their choices. I almost want to scream at them to not make my mistakes behind the taped smile on my face as I hand them their mochas and their caramels. I never thought I'd hate coffee- a writers best friend- but after serving it for 9 hours a day, it's the last thing i need when i go home.

When my shift is over, I force myself to not order a hot cup before i start walking home. It's  6 in the afternoon, and the autumn air is just right. Having been couped in that heat shaft for too long, this is just what i needed. I feel like I can almost forget about the deadline for my draft looming overhead. Actually maybe I will. I decide to cut through the town park. I haven't been there since I was a kid. it wouldn't hurt to see what's changed.

As i'm walking along the wheathered gravel trail. I see kids tagging each other on the hill, as parents yell their "Be carefuls," and "don't be so rough". I soon come across an old oak, and a thought emerges.

"I wonder..." I trail off. My body is moving way before my mind catches up, and that's when I see it. On the other side of the tree, etched into the bark. it's still visible. "S and M forever." My stomach explodes and I burst into a high pitched laugh. I probably looked crazy, and before you say anything. The S is for Sarah and the M is for  Molly. And then I'm brought back."Molly." her name falls off my tongue, like a leaf from a tree. She was my best friend who i haven't spoken to in years.

I remember going off to college and promising to call her everyday. I didn't keep that promise. My thoughts bounced through my head as I stood there under that oak. Then the chill of the wind brought me back from my thoughts. I headed home.

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The walk back  home became a sort of stroll through memory lane as my thoughts were filled with my old friend Molly. Even though I was in a grade level above her, Molly was my closest friend growing up. Her mom was a banker and her father was a lawyer. They were always off working and providing or whatever, so Molly had quite a vacancy in her life, which me and my family gladly filled.

We would spend so much time together people would think we were sisters and considering how often we slept in the same room, we practically were. Molly was a good kid, who always did her homework and loved helping around the house, so of course my parents loved her. In a way, she was kinda like the me my parents deserved. But they got me instead. I remember whatever I was into, Molly would be into it too, be that movies, music, boys and even writing.

And then the memories really started flooding my minding. All those nights, staying up late writing stories, making up characters, thinking up sequels to our novels we were gonna publish. We made a promise to each other when I graduated high school. We were going to be writers, the both of us. I then wondered how she's doing. Where was she, what was she up to these days?


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[11:30pm]

My eyes stared fixed at my laptop screen. I'd just sat down to write two hours ago, and i'm feeling a bit proud of myself. So far i've managed to write three whole paragraphs. Believe me when I say that it's a lot, for a pseudo-depressed aspiring writer that is. It sort of makes me want to celebrate with a three hour break, but that's a habit I need to cut. No early victories. But maybe a short break wouldn't be so bad. I open a tab and find a funny video to look at, and before I know it, i'm asleep on the couch.

That night, I dream of Molly.