Some Sort Of DreamWard Bound

success

This week was a good week. I was productive, although you, my blog, saw none of it. I have a couple of poems that I will be typing up and posting this week. I also worked on my book for 7 hours last Saturday and painted for a few hours on Sunday.

In addition I am gearing up for my first improv show. I’ve of course have acted in scripted plays and musicals before, but never an improv show. I am really excited to be getting back on stage. It is not for a couple of months, but we still need to get performance ready.

Since it is almost Halloween I am also working on getting everything ready for my work’s Haunted House.  It is turning into more work than I have time for, but it is fun. Really, anything besides writing and acting takes up too much time in my opinion, at this moment. It is fun being creative in this way. It is basically putting on a production with very little resources.

This week’s post is pretty short and I am trying to think of other things to write, but there is nothing. I also just want to type up the poems I wrote and get going on my day, so that is what I will do.

I hope you have a wonderful week and enjoy or enjoyed the two posts that I wrote this week.

weekly writing prompt

Pen Poem

I Am A Soggy Bagel

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Today I got dressed up. I felt like I needed to look good. I wanted to take extra time for myself, so in the morning I woke up early. I put on my new cream cheese spread and wore heels. I even did my make-up. I was looking amazing if I do say so myself.

I started my car and went to work. I was on the highway when it started to rain and then I got a flat tire. I pulled over to change the tire. As soon as my car was safely on the side of the highway the clouds fully opened up. Have you ever seen a bagel in high heels changing a tire when it was raining buckets? I am sure I was amusing the drivers with all four tires intact that drove by. I just know it was not fun changing that tire and I was almost instantly soggy. After a few nice people did stop to help I finally had my tire changed to the spare.

I stopped, soaking wet, at a tire store. They changed the spare out for a new regular tire and I was off to work, again. The only real different was that I was no longer fancy or looking amazing. I was simply a soggy bagel in heels.

I Am A Hurt Bagel

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The other day I woke up and my body was a bit stale. I thought nothing of it until later in the day. I started to workout with Baguette. I stretched and then ran. I was fine until we started to do the floor exercises. I should restate that. It was not until I tried to do the floor exercises that I started to feel real pain. I was falling ungracefully as Baguette showed me what to do. Yes, she did the floor exercises and I flopped around. I wound up getting unnaturally twisted up and my staleness turned into real pain. It was so bad that I could not fall asleep that night.

Thankfully us Bagels heal fast with a little wet heat. I was back to my non-exercising self within a day.

 

 

Weekly Writing Prompt (#29)

encouragement

  1. Write a poem describing physical pain. Start the poem with creative imagery about how the pain started but then go into how it feels. What causes it to grow? Where is the relief?
  2. Do you have a mentor? Write a character description about him/ her. What are they like? What makes them someone to look up to?
  3. Retell a story you heard from a friend or someone else in your life. Use different names and if you forget a detail use your own imagination. Basically use a story you heard as a prompt, trying to keep it as close to the original as possible.
  4. Two brother’s walk into a bar and start asking about the strange local crime that has happened. You hadn’t heard about anything strange, but the more you listen the more you realize you fit the target demographic. What do you do? What happens next? (yes, I am ready for Season 11 of Supernatural to start.)
  5. You meet the person that you have you are the biggest fan of. You’ve waited in lines and get up to actually see him/her. What do you want to do? What do you actually do?

Black clad Assassin

black Clad Assassin

 

The perimeter of his little camp must have been weaker than he thought because he was awakened by the nose of a black horse with black eyes and black reigns. Everything about this horse was black including the rider who sat on the horse’s black saddle. The only thing that was not black was the whites of the rider’s eyes.

The rider stared at William, the now frightened man, as the black leather clad rider dismounted the black horse. William could see the crest of the deadly assassin clan pressed into the leather right where the heart should be. No one knew if this clan had hearts or if they were monsters sent to kill the poor mortals that got in their way. Not much was known about them. Only two things were known for sure, their crest had five stars and a bird, and a single assassin could kill entire villages.

Slowly the rider, who wore 2 swords, walked over to William. Only when the black clad rider was looming over William were words spoken. “Do you have food?” The words came from behind the black clothe mask, however they were surprisingly feminine. William could tell that the low register of the voice was forced and it was softer than he was expecting.

“You’re a lady.” A shocked William stated.

Before William could answer the question or even think another thought there was a dagger pressed against his throat. “I will slice your throat either way.”

William, a simple monk who was only out of the monastery due to a change in assignment was silent until the assassin asked the question again, “Do you have food or will I have to slit your throat?”

“I have food. I have bread.” A shaky voiced William answered. He stayed still until the dagger was lowered.

He went into his satchel and took out his 2 loaves of bread and offered them to the one clad in black. She took one ripped it in half and gave the other half back to William.

When William gave a confused look at the woman who was supposed to be a ruthless killed she answered the look by sitting down and stating, “I will not repay generosity with greed. You are not my target, so you will be safe.”

Neither one of them spoke as they ate the bread. William simply sat cross-legged as he at and watched the assassin. She had pulled her mask up to eat and William saw that her skin was only black because of the black grease makeup she wore where her mask did not cover. She was actually quite pale, especially compared to his heavily tanned skin. He also watched how she sat. The assassin sat with only one leg on the ground. The other was bent with the foot on the grounds as if she needed to be ready to spring to her feet at any moment. She also kept her dagger in one hand and the bread in the other.

They both sat and watched the other eat uncertain what would happen if either one of them spoke.

When the assassin was done with her bread, she stood and stated, “Tell no one of this meeting or you will become a target for my clan.”

She mounted her horse before William could confirm that he would not tell a soul. She did not need to wait for the confirmation though, she knew her clan’s reputation and knew he would heed her command.

 

Otis, The Hunter.

 

 

 Otis, The Hunter.
roof otis 004

Otis, the fat grayish-tan feline with thick black stripes, almost sat down next to me as if he wanted to be near the comfort of a human. Before his bum touched the blanket I had brought out onto the roof, Otis heard a noise. It was the famed climbing of a squirrel, that needed to be hunted. There was no time to cuddle the squirrel invader had to be stopped. Only the heroic house cat could hunt and stop this beast, so Otis crouched down and very slightly crept to the skylight, that since it was raised gave a littler cover for his sneak attack. Then since time was of the essence he bolted towards the wild beast, which actually gave the squirrel enough time to see the house cat and climb back to the top of the tree yelling at the cat as it climbed. Otis, who thought himself brave and a great hunter,continued to stalked the frightened and angry sounding squirrel to another higher tree.

Unfortunately the hunt had to end since Otis is a fat house cat who could not even get onto one of the trees. After a minute or less Otis came back to the blanket wanting the petting he ran away from a few moments earlier.

Not A Ordinary Walk

encouragement

Take a walk outside and describe your path or street as if you are from a different planet and have never seen ordinary things, like trees or houses. This is from my weekly writing prompt series.

I walk down a hard grey path that has tiny bumps that would be unpleasant to walk barefooted on. There are dwelling places on both sides of this path with some green ground coverings. I walk down until I see an artificial looking hill that uses a combination of flat surfaces and tiny smooth cliffs. I walk down this built hill and find that the land below it is different.

This land has no path and is not as solid as the path or artificial hill.  Tiny grains of tan, white, and brown move under my feet as I walk. I am moving the land under me as I hear a rhythm of strange movement. There is a massive body of liquid creating this musical noise. The liquid mass stretches far beyond my sight and moves up as it sounds its rumbling music, but then it is pulled away. I pause and the clear liquid rushes over my feet. It is cold and I do not dare go in any further. Although what rushed over my feet was clear as the volume grows it becomes hard to see the ground or what is in the liquid.

I stay on the moving land before going back to the artificial hill and down the grey path.

The Bagel Love Affair

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I am a bagel and I think I am in love. I meant him the other day in a bakery. We were both there to say good-bye to family members that were sent there to leave this world. I was too late all the little bagels that I once called kin were already bought and eaten.

It was still early in the morning and his little cousins were still on display, just waiting for their turn to leave.

You see, he is a cupcake and a sweet one too, with thick Swiss butter cream frosting for hair and a double chocolate body. I couldn’t take my eyes off his sweetness, as he said good-bye to his cousins.

He saw that I had been too late to say good-bye to my kin, so he gave me a sugary shoulder to cry on. We walked around the little down town street, sipping coffee, and talking about how being baked goods was, especially when it meant knowing so little of our kind makes it pass a day old.

We soon had to part ways. He had to get back to work and I had to work on scheduling my traveling trip. We were able to setting up another date, before my schedule departure and exchanged numbers so that we would be able to talk as I traveled the world, learning about how different cultures treated bagels and now all baked goods.

Gertrude (A Character Description)

encouragement

Writing Prompt
Design a sci-fi/ fantasy hero. What is his or her world like? What is his or her background? What makes this character unlike the rest?  What makes them unique?

She lives in a city of wealthy skyscrapers and wrecked apartment buildings. She lives in a city where the criminals out number those who try to do good. Gertrude lives  in a city where heroes are few. That is why Gertrude lives in this city.

She tried many ways to help her city. The city that her father had fought to save as mayor and her mother tried to help by setting up clinics for those who could not afford medical attention. Her brother tried to protect the city  by becoming a police officer.

Gertrude never had one thing that she did to help the city. There was too many options and too many areas that needed help to limit herself. She fed the homeless, she helped with the clinics, volunteered at every event she could. Still her father was framed and died in prison. Her mother was murdered leaving one of her clinics and her brother was put in a wheel chair when a robbery ended in a shoot out.

Her brother kept her in the city, but after his injury she knew she needed to save her city a different way. She needed to become a real hero, some how.

After convincing her brother they started to set up a plan, a way to lower crime and protect those that needed protection. She trained and learned every fight move shown to her the first time. She watched action movie fights, competitive fighting matches and practiced shooting arrow along with guns. After  a month of training every day they decided they needed another team member.

They needed someone who could train with Gertrude. It would have to be some one they both could trust, both knew well, and both thought could bring something that neither of them could bring. The decision was easy. The decided to bring in Gertrude’s best friend, who knew about the technology.

Now they had a team and found that Gertrude could learn quickly how to move her body. Gertrude and her friend continued to train every day, while her brother worked on their armor and their armory.

It was another month by the time the team was ready to start fighting the crime that riddled their city.

Gertrude was presented her custom armor with arsenal attached on sunny afternoon in their dark basement. The sun streamed in creating a pool of light where Gertrude stood in her canary yellow flowing sun dress and matching high heel shoes. Her caramel colored hair was neatly curled as she looked down at the suite of black armor. She was cautious picking it up as she was unsure if she would like wearing it.

At first her hourglass figure did not fit correctly into the crime fighting suite. After her brother pointed out that she was measured while wearing a sports bra she was able to fit with no issues. The material was strong, but Gertrude could easily move in it since the armor itself was multiple pieces that moved with her body.

Gertrude was then handed a bandanna to tie her hair back with and a jacket with a hood to wear over the armor. Finally she was given large boots that also had armor around them.

When Gertrude was dressed in her crime fighting outfit she looked excitedly in the mirror and was shocked. “I look like a man!”

“so?” Her brother asked.

“I’m not a man,” was Gertrude’s answer.

“Right, but what does that matter. It’s not like you’re wearing it to get a date. You are wearing that outfit to stay safe.”

Gertrude gave a huff of defeat. Her brother was right. She was going to risk her life in the outfit she was wearing. She needed to focus on her safety, not appearance. “Plus,” she thought, “when people start looking for the vigilante. They won’t think to look for a woman if I wear this.”

My Monday Night (Sort Of A Short Story)

writing

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. It was amazing and now I feel slightly broken. I am energized even though I am exhausted. I want to sleep now that my night is over, but too excited to even think of fully ending the night. You see I was wonderfully hurt and carefully punched. I was stressed, pushed, and rolled. I learned what hurts and how to hurt, but never trying to hurt the other.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. I got to class early and started to prepare. I did not have a pen and there was no paper. I did not sit at a desk and no books would be found. I got to class early and changed into my warrior’s clothing. I put on the pants that match the top. I tied my belt as tight as it could go and I prepared for class.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. I ran among men and pushed myself to do what they do. I pushed myself hard as deep voices counted the numbers of the challenge. I struggled to prove myself to myself as the advanced classmates pushed on  stronger. Still I pushed on alongside them.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. It’s a night where I introduce myself to different men, well some are boys. I introduce myself to them all the same. I give them a fist bump before the fun starts. I push when they pull or pull when they push. If I stop to think they either help and tell me what to do or the show me how stopping is the enemy. I do not know most of these partners, but still we roll and tug at each other struggling to win the round. The first round could be easy with only clothes touching clothes. The first round could be a small lesson with my partner telling me how to win. Or the first round could be personal and trusting with a face full of your partner’s sweaty  torso. Any way the first rounds start they start, I learn, they end.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. Join me on this adventure of life and lessons. All the pain and sweat is worth it.