Dreams

Composed 4/9/11
Description: This was written solely because the boy I was dating at the time wanted me to write something for him. This is the result, and I’m impressed with it, as it was so spur of the moment. It definitely reflects my feelings for him at the time.

Cheek cupped in hand, she stared blankly at that flashing, vertical line, the only black mark visible on the otherwise blindingly white page. Her unoccupied index finger dusted the keypad, sending the cursor to the bottom of the screen, where an attractive blue and orange logo called to her so temptingly. She hesitated, knowing full well that the next few seconds would determine the rest of the evening. Click it, and she might as well forget about being productive. Ignore it, and there was still hope, still a sliver of a chance that inspiration would soon find her.

Her fingertip was startled from the button as a soft buzz and brief glow caught her attention. A mixture of feelings welled up inside her at that moment – surprise, frustration, and a kind of giddiness that she would deny vehemently if confronted. Nevertheless, she did not hesitate to grasp the small device and flip open the top.

A smile was brought to her lips soon after, an eager reply swiftly returned. However, in the downtime of the conversation, she glanced back toward the screen and scowled. Never one for anger, however, her expression melted, and, with a yawn, she was encouraged to fold her arms on the desk and rest her cheek in the homemade pillow.

She woke up hours later, again startled by the persistent buzz of her nearby cell phone. Adrenaline kicked in, and her head jerked upward suddenly. She grasped for the phone, certain a hundred messages, their content increasing in confusion and possibly anger, were waiting for her. However, after she rubbed the sleep from her eyes, she discovered only one message – the one that had woken her.

Let me in.

Her confusion was broken by the loud chime of the doorbell. Continue reading

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Fairytale

Composed 4/29/13
Description: I woke up with some of these lines today, and I wrote most of this in the first hour I was awake. Sometimes my dreams (even though forgotten) must stir up something inside me. In this case this something turned out to be feelings that I thought had, for the most part, gone. Apparently, my unconscious isn’t done with them yet.

If life was a fairytale
Someday you would change
Something unexpected would happen
One of these days
You’d yearn for me
Like you thought you never could
Because I was there for you
Because I understood

You’d realize my love
Is what you really needed
To help you heal
To keep you undefeated
A perfect love story
Once apart, now embracing
Now that we’ve grown and realized
What sends our heart racing

But I wonder sometimes
If I need to do my part
What should I do
To steal the prince’s heart?
Should I try harder?
Should I persist?
More than once I’ve considered
An unexpected kiss

But in the real world
That’s not sweet
It’s aggressive
And the last thing I want
Is to be considered offensive
So for now I’ll fall back
And pray every day
Either you’ll come to your senses
Or my want will fade away

Motivation

Composed 4/27/13
Description: How I’ve felt today with regards to motivation… Not a good sign with finals coming up and all that.

Motivation is
Like directional ability
Speed and agility
Financial security
I don’t have it

It’s like
A Father’s love
Guidance from above
A hand to rub
I need it

It’s like
The perfect man
A day in the sand
A hundred grand
I can’t catch it

Motivation is
Like a text from you
A wanted job interview
A house with a view
Maybe I’ll get it someday

Arlo

Hachiko

Composed 1/4/11
Description: A little piece I was inspired to write after seeing this picture.

It is in the region of the Egova in which this tale takes place.  There it is said that the spirits once lived, for the deep slopes of the hills and mountains are cut into hundreds of tiny stair steps which lead to grand, smooth plateaus.   The plateaus are said to be where the houses of the spirits rested for thousands of years until these spirits, exasperated with humanity, destroyed their earthen residences and disappeared into the heavens – a world they created in which they could be alone and truly rest in peace.

However, it was rumored that some spirits stayed behind in Egova.  These few had grown so attached to this place that they would not leave; instead they vowed to stay on Earth forever, to watch over and protect the land.  The Great Spirit, who created the heavens and the earth, looked favorably on these few and blessed them with powers similar to his own.  This way they could protect the earth during his absence.

Humans moved into the mountains once the spirits left, building small settlements directly into the ancient stairways.  In these first days, many villagers witnessed ghostly forms strolling in the distance, circling the communities.  Frightened by this, they built shrines for the spirits to show their good intentions.  The visions then stopped.  However, the villagers kept a wide birth from these shrines, arriving only once a year to tend to the shrines and present gifts to the spirits.  Disturbing a spirit’s shrine on any other day was considered bad luck – not only for the individual, but for all the people of the mountain.

Spirit sightings had been rare since those first days.  Only a certain few had witnessed bizarre or extraordinary events, things that could only be explained as the work of a spirit.  Miraculous healings, massive, destructive fires… Both were considered signs of favor or disapproval of the spirits, respectively.

But seeing a tangible form of a spirit was rarely heard off.  What they looked like was only known because of myths, and even they were contradictory.  Some believed they possessed human-like forms, while others claimed they took form as animals.

Nevertheless, as the years passed, villagers continued to pay homage to the shrines; though, stories of spirits were always told in past tense, as if the species had died off long ago… Continue reading

Snapshot

Composed 1-3/2010
Description: This is a piece I wrote for a creative writing class my senior year of high school. I loved that class, and this was by far the favorite thing I wrote for it. This piece was a practice in describing scenery. We were to pick a time period and location, do research on it (including clothing, games of the time, etc.), and describe an accurate “scene” from that time period using the elements we researched. So, while it lacks much of a plot, remember: the point of it was to depict an accurate, vivid atmosphere of the time period/location. It’s something you might see at the beginning of a chapter. It must have made an impression on me, as I would go to join swing club my sophomore year in college and become an avid swing dancer.. and next year I’ll be the president of the swing club!

It seemed appropriate to post it today: the day of my university’s spring swing dance!

This piece had the privilege of being published in the 2010 Spring Edition of Anderson University’s Literary Arts Magazine.

Shadowed by the high walls of the alley they waited, huddled around the door as if to fight off the night’s wintry chill. For many tense minutes they spoke only in muted whispers, but soon an excited murmur rippled through the dense crowd as the guard finally permitted entrance. Both music and light leaked out through the crack of the open door, and, jittery with excitement, each guest shouldered and squeezed his way to the front.

The wooden dance floor teemed with young men and women. Had it not been for the vibrant pinks and blues of the ladies’ dresses, however, all would have faded into the darkness behind veils of gray smoke. Light burst forth, yet, from the stage, where a dribble of sweat sparkled briefly before slipping down the deep brown skin of a trumpet player’s brow. The saxophonist, drummer, and pianist too suffered from the heat of bright lights and a snug stage; though, they continued to pierce the air with the clear, high riffs and syncopated beats thousands had come to love due to the popularity of the radio.

Below the stage, mini rainbows formed as the ladies spun in their colorful skirts. Their parents would have shunned their exposed knees and collarbones, but the young women only laughed as their partners joined them in the Charleston or swung them up into the air in the more daring Lindy hop. The way their bodies smoothly flowed from one position to the other gave one the impression of flying and inspired daydreams of Charles Lindbergh’s recent solo flight over the Atlantic Ocean. Continue reading

Princess

Composed 4/25/13
Description: Something I’ve been wanting to write for awhile, but the words didn’t come until today. I suppose my trip back to fantasy earlier today inspired the metaphor I needed.

She’s a princess
With pink rosebuds woven in
Golden sea waves
That lap against
Bleached white shores
Adorned with jewels
That sparkle in the
Dark colors of night

She’s like sugar but
No one doubts her spice
She’s the music and passion
Of an approaching storm
The lightness and laughter
Of a gentle rain
And her laughter echoes
Off the mountains
And smiles come to those
Listening in the valley

But she’s cursed
A dragon lives within her
And possesses her at night
It scratches at her arms
Trying to escape
It burns her with its breath when
It doesn’t get its way

It fears her potential
The hope she brings
To her people
The power she has to rule

And no knight can slay it
No potion can kill it
It’s a demon she must fight on her own
But the progress she makes in the morning
Reverses when it appears at night

But I don’t know who the hero is
In this story
Who’s the one
Who’s meant to save her?
Recently I’ve been wondering
If it’s me
But what can I,
A lowly peasant, do
To save a cursed princess?

Only the power
Of one greater than I
Could inspire such
A needed miracle

Cursed

Composed: 11/21/07
Description: I will periodically interrupt this mass of poetry with a series of (unrelated) short stories that I have written over the years, starting from a very long time ago. I’ve labeled this as being composed roughly November 2007, but in all honestly it is probably much older than that. This is simply the day I posted it on DeviantArt, and it was old then.

So here we are then, with a pre-high school piece. It reveals a lot about me at that time, I think (and not just by how much my writing has changed/improved). Firstly, this piece was inspired by a RPG I used to be a part of, and that basically tells the story of how I got writing; I was a roleplayer-turned-writer. Fortunately, the people who ran the RPs I was a part of had standards, so I actually learned a TON. I honestly would not write nearly as well without their guidance, especially when it came to creating realistic characters. This piece also gives you a clue into WHAT I enjoyed writing about: fantasy. And specifically angels and demons.

This piece is probably the best standalone piece of writing I did during that time period; it was the only one I do not TOTALLY cringe at while reading. So it’s significant by being the only “old” piece of writing that I like and have kept.

Anyway, onto the piece. In this fantasy RP one could choose to audition for one of the seven deadly sins. Meanwhile, my character was a royal who would have been significantly targeted had the RP thrived. I always thought it would be interesting to see how she would react if tested by one.

And alas, this piece was born. (Ezra, whom she mentions, is her guardian angel.)

She slipped the spoon delicately between her fingers before she dipped it into the gooey dessert, meanwhile observing her bowl with faint interest. It was a fine looking conclusion to the meal – a creamy white pudding with thin swirls of deep brown mixed within. On the top of the mixture tiny crumbles of another flavor were sprinkled, probably some kind of caramel as the dark tan color suggested. The smell was pleasing as well; the sweet vanilla mixed with the other two flavors to create a faintly warm but rich scent that made the young woman’s stomach ache in approval. A kind, serene smile on her lips, the young woman nodded to the maid in thanks. She then brought the spoon to her pink lips and let the gooey combination ooze into her mouth.

Ah! It was so delicious! The pudding was the most amazing thing she had ever tasted. Every amount of flavor was perfectly balanced, the texture smooth and pleasing to her tongue, ah… everything so rich, but not overly so… Just marvelous. The young woman let her tongue slip over her lips once the spoonful was swallowed, savoring the amazing taste. The spoon was stuck into the pudding again, this time bringing out more of the dish. The young woman let the sweet taste rush over inside her mouth again, and she quietly moaned in pleasure. The taste sent a shiver down her spine… Oh! She had to have more! Continue reading

Is It Really That Hard?

Composed 4/24/13
Description: My eternal frustration.

All I want
Is a devoted heart
To match an able brain
Passionate hugs
and kisses too
More topics than the rain

If I am
Philosophical
If I want some good ideas
He needs to be
Somewhat logical
To keep me safely sane

But if I feel
Alone and dreary
If I want his loving touch
He needs to express his love
Clearly
That’s not asking for much

I want
His mind
I crave
His heart
I need quality of each
This seems simple
But why does it
Prove so out of reach?

The Effect of Dancing

Composed 4/23/13
Description: Basically a description of my evening. It’s getting close to finals week, tonight was swing club officer elections (p.s. I’m the new president!!!), etc. At one point in the evening, I was feeling very flustered. However, right after the peak of my flustered-ness, I stepped out onto the floor to dance… and I felt almost giddy nearly instantly.

Too many tests
Election stress
That awkward guy
Wants to call me tonight
My face turns red
Just strike me dead
Big band plays
I’m swept away

Twelve seconds on the floor
All my troubles are no more