Hi. I should do what I always have done on this blog, huh? Ooops, I'm really sorry I've been gone so much. It's getting pretty hectic here with school/work/writing/video games/socializing and the blog has fallen behind. In any case, I apologize and I'll hopefully get back in the swing of things real soon. Until then, here's a couple creative writing exercises (free-writes) I've done based on prompts from school. Peep 'em if ya like.
"Mumbler on the Train"
“Fetch the Queen,” this ratty old bum mumbled, slouching in the seat beside me. “she’ll want to see this.”
What would you like to show her? I though, not daring to actually speak for fear of angering someone obviously off their rocker.
“The chocolate rabbit took my baby,” he glared out the window. “See! There they go!” he jabbed wildly at the darkness of the subway tunnel outside.
Chocolate rabbit? It’s not even close to Easter.
He rubbed his runny nose on one of his filthy hands, and turned away. Perhaps he’d finished speaking.
How’d the rabbit get your baby? Trying hard to use my thoughts to egg him on. We had a long ride before getting to my station, and I’d be bored as hell if this nut didn’t keep blabbering on.
“traded him for a bottle of whiskey.” He hiccupped and an empty glass bottle crashed to the floor from under his jacket.
Fair trade for both parties I’d say.
“if the bastard hadn’t swindled me!” He bent down and retrieved his bottle. “He took all the fucking booze outta it!” He folded his arms.
How’d he manage to do that? I wondered at him again, trying to keep it up.
“Magic.” Again, he hiccupped.
Did he just-?
“Yeah, and if you’d shut your brain up, I’d like to sleep. Gotta be rested fer when I go after that fucking chocolate.” He leaned his head against the glass and dozed off almost instantly.
An Eavesdropping Father. In the key of: concerned.
“Stop it!” She giggled, turning away from the doorway and my ill-conceived hiding place. “You’re so disgusting sometimes.”
The statement was true though my darling girl shouldn’t be laughing about it. This guy she was “Dating” was grade-A scum and even though I constantly reasoned against their involvement, she went right ahead and saw him. So headstrong. Just like her mother.
If only she could be her to see how our baby girl was behaving.
“Wait until after prom. You can do that, can’t you?”
I fought just about every fiber of my being to not rush into the run and tear that expensive little piece of shit phone out of her hands. Only seventeen and talking like this?
“I promise it’ll be worth the wait. There’s some things in this month’s Cosmo that I think will make it, like, 10 times better.”
Cosmo… that trash mag I bought her a subscription to for her birthday? I’ll cancel that right after this phone call, swear to God.
“Yeah?” She twirled a lock of her hair between two fingers while gazing, unseeing, out the window at the old oak tree with the tire swing I used to push her in. The same tree I built a fort in when she was 12 ‘cuz she’d just seen Swiss Family Robinson and insisted on living just like them.
“My dad said he’d be going out of town on business the weekend after, too, so that gives us, like, two whole days of being alone.”
I’m rescheduling that. Right after I cancel that stupid magazine, I’ll reschedule that meeting and ground my daughter for the rest of her existence. Even when I’m long-dead, I’ll hire someone with what money I have left to ground her in my place.
“Hey! Be nice! I love my dad, even if he’s been acting weird since mom died.” She rose from the bed and plopped down in her computer chair, swiveling back and forth while chatting away with her “boyfriend.”
Fine, so what if I’d been acting weird? I was married to her mom for over 20 years, dated years before that. That woman was all I had before bringing you into the world, and I swear if you bring that dog into my house to have sex while I’m gone, I’ll send you and him to go hang out with mommy.
Ok, maybe that’s a little extreme. I’ll just send him to see-- no, I don’t want him anywhere near my wife. Even in the afterlife.
“Oh, on his bed? Good idea.” I think I’m going to be sick.
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