Here are some of the stories I've written for class, to escape, or just for fun!
I enjoy writing poetry in my free time or when I feel like expressing myself creatively but don't have the full developed idea for a short story.
Saturday’s her favorite day; it holds the most opportunity. Usually, the chimes that pull her from slumber are a nuisance, but today’s different. She practically leaps from bed and adorns herself with the clothes she set out the night before on her ottoman. Such behavior is uncharacteristic, but the eagerness for what this Saturday brings is enough to make anyone a better version of themselves. She grabs her backpack stocked with the day’s necessities and the ever important snacks, fluffs her hair, and hurries out the door.
The sun has just met the sky, but the hint of nighttime doesn’t dampen her mood. Today her walk holds a different attitude. Today she smiles at the people she passes on the street. Today the possibilities outweigh the dissatisfactions. As she arrives at the train station minutes later her ticket is already in hand. Sure, it could’ve been on her phone, but the sentiment is far more important than convenience today. Her smile beams at the train attendant as they scan the ticket, and she prances up the steps and onto the train. This train will be her keeper.
The scent of old corduroy and five dollar perfume waves over her. Her steps forward are gentle, contemplative. The unique smell carries her through the aisle as she searches for her seat. After only a moment, it catches her attention. A ray of sun is shining on the terracotta corduroy seat, the gold metal detailing on the leather armrest reflecting the light into her deep honey eyes. This is the seat where she’ll embark on this journey. She takes off her backpack which now occupies the seat next to her. A symphony of footsteps fill the air as more passengers board the train, each one with different feelings about this Saturday.
After dozing off momentarily, she’s jolted to consciousness by the jerking of the locomotive’s movement. A small smile waves across her face. Her journey resumes. She looks out the window to see the world move past her. Her keeper leaves the clasp of metropolis and they enter the natural world. Enamored by the highs and lows of the countryside, she digs around in her backpack for her trusty notebook, and begins to sketch what she sees beyond the transparent barrier separating her from the endless sea of thick green grass. Rolling hills, fields of flowers she couldn’t name if she tried, small and occasional bodies of water that mirror the reaching arms of the sun. After what seems like only a moment of her pen to the paper, she closes her notebook and props her arm on the armrest that called to her hours before. This scene will never leave her mind or heart.
The locomotive comes to a vigorous yet steady halt in a modest definition of civilization. She gathers her things, swings on her backpack, and exits the train with anticipation. She says goodbye to her keeper, and thanks it for their time together. Walking through the modest train station, her hands brushing over the barely overpriced goods in the gift shop, she embarks on the next leg of her journey. A gravel road heading uphill calls to her, and she listens. She heads down the path, not clouding her mind with music or busy thoughts, but instead with admiration for the green giants towering over her. She thinks about how these trees have witnessed lives be brought into and exit this world, survived conflicts great and small, and provided shelter and shade to an innumerable number of beings.
The path reaches its end, and she sees her destination, though she did not know it at the genesis of her journey. A cliff stares her in the face, overlooking a lake as vast as it is beautiful. She beams with happiness, and walks to near the edge of the cliff. Kneeling on the ground, she pulls from her backpack a small blanket, her notebook, and the ever important snacks. She appreciates and savors the time she has alone. She looks out over the lake and accompanying mountains, closes her eyes, and surrenders herself to Saturday.
Branches and twigs crowd my view of the sky,
Looking up I see clouds. I race them on their journey away.
Away from this life, away from the days slowly passing by.
I leap from stump to rock, distracted by a fly,
But lose my balance along with my sanity, enveloped by the open gray
Of the cumulus soaring above me. My voice strains as I cry,
But my cries of pain bring peace to all who hear nature’s lullaby
I’ll walk instead of leap, run instead of hop, someday.
I close my eyes and breathe in the sweet air of July,
Reminiscing the first time I snatched a firefly
Right out the sky at the peak of its day.
In this form I can only try,
Try to make the best of these new pairs of eyes
These new legs and arms and the feet always in my way,
Breaching my field of vision, an electric blue butterfly
My newfound instincts launch me into the sky,
I had this for dinner yesterday.
My gaze returns above me and track the clouds with my eyes, waiting for another day to pass me by.
Forearms stronger than a racing horse,
Patience dwindling over time.
Your temper snaps with the comb stuck in your hair,
Tears welling in your big brown eyes.
You smell of coconut oil and shea butter,
No amount of gel can keep you at bay.
Fingers pop as you massage the tension from your hands.
Inhale. Exhale. Stretch.
You head back into the belly of the beast,
You collapse on your bathroom floor.
A familiar hand lands on your shoulder,
You look up, red in the face.
Brushing, tugging, an occasional ouch,
The impossible is overcome with a mother’s touch.