B Minor Thoughts
Inspired thought vs. original inspiration. I can’t really take credit for anything I write. None of us can. All the product of too many influences and too many years spent around other people. My world view slants under pressure. French words slip in sometimes. La nuit venait…etc. Song lyrics, commercial jingles, movie lines.
For instance: “The sun also rises…” Ernest Hemingway, the Thief. King Solomon, the Wise. Ecclesiastes to 1920s Paris. Of course, Solomon’s line was in ancient Aramaic or Hebrew so the nameless translator had a hand in this as well. And all for a simple observation made by how many people over how many centuries who woke up and looked outside and said, “hey, the sun also rises.”
Originality is a pleasant fiction.
Let’s Make a Story - I
Directions: First person to like this, reblog and add a sentence. Only one! First person to like the reblog, add a sentence…and so on. Include the tag “let’s make a story project” with reblogs.
He stopped by the gas station for coffee but came out with a greeting card and a pack of unfiltered cigarettes.
An intercepted message brought me much madness and a fit of righteous anger, both red and fiery. But time was short and distractions would have to wait. I didn’t sleep the night before I was supposed to slay the dragon. A woman in distress doesn’t get the press it used to so I wore the leather and lace costume of a battle-maiden, shield and sword at the ready. The sweeter enchantments of the earth and sky had left me at the city limits. Going in alone, knowing survival favors the fittest. With steely nerves, I decided to stick with the plan. My weapons were sharpened and my will determined. I did not expect you there; I wouldn’t have guessed it. A fighting stance had shackled my heart in irons and left me cold and nearly wicked. But no worries, your familiar laughter undid it.
This is a very brief excerpt from my forthcoming fantasy novel “The Black Deep” published by Eggplant Literary Productions as part of their Transdimensional Library Project.
The end of the world came in on a rush of wings
But not angel wings, mister. I swear to God, I saw the whole thing. The city was dead quiet at ten after two. The witching hour—you know it well. Yes, I had a couple drinks. Well, I’m drinking gin now, if you must know. Why? Because juniper berries are timeless. Jesus. Stop judging. I can hear you muttering in your head, even halfway around the world. Anyway, a city bus went by with flashers on, a homeless man offered me a cigarette—no, I still don’t smoke. The whole thing went up in flames. My dreams and regrets, I mean. I thought of you and that was that. Sat down on the curb and picked at a run in my black nylons. Pigeons fluttered overhead, wide awake and out of bed. Missed you. Haven’t stopped since.
Give me his address and I’ll go punch J. Alfred in the face
Do I dare to eat a peach?
What a stupid question.
Do you like peaches? Are they delicious?
Then eat it. And stop bothering me.