Not An Ordinary Walk

by tiffanymy creative self, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

encouragement

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

by tiffanyI Am A Bagel, other updatesPosted on No Comments

bagel (2)

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.

My Monday Night (Sort Of A Short Story)

by tiffanyBrazilian Jiu-jitsu writings, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

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.

Imagine Dragons And Airplanes (a Short Story)

by tiffanyshort storiesPosted on No Comments

encouragement

She stood at the airport waiting for her ride wearing her green dress that flared at her hips. She waited as cars picked up loved ones and unicorns picked up their masters. She waited and waited.  She almost went back inside to call a taxi cab when a loud crashing sound and a terrifying roar of pain came blasting down the road where people were being picked up.

The lady looked towards the crash and saw a miniature dragon clumsily coming down a lane trying not to hit or even crush the cars in the other two lanes. Although he was a miniature dragon, he was still as long as a truck and each of his wings stretched out would also be as long as a truck. The lady gasped out of fear for the creature and for the people in the cars that he was trying so hard not to hit.

She feared for them until she saw who was riding the dark green scaled animal. Her husband rode on the dragon’s two person saddle. She smiled and rolled her eyes, “This is your surprise? We can’t afford a dragon!”

Finally her husband was close enough to climb down the great beast and hug his wife. He gave her a kiss in which he dipped her in his arms. When they parted he smiled his charming smile that made her fall in love with him so many years before. That is when he stated, “No, my new job is the surprise. This is just a little reward.”

“Nothing about a dragon is little.” The lady said and as she did the dragon leaned down to sniff her. He then lightly licked her as a sign of affection. She stared at the dragon’s purple eyes not wanting to like the animal, but finding that hard. “Just don’t fly too high, okay? I just got off a plane I don’t need to feel like I’m back on one.”

“Don’t worry honey. Bae, can’t go that high with two of us. One day soon, we should take him to a field, so that you can see how high he can go.”

She nodded and he loaded her two bags onto Bae’s back before helping her into her side of the saddle. They were then off flying a few feet over traffic; happily in between the airplanes and cars.

 

 

My Bad Morning (a Short Story)

by tiffanymy creative self, Real Life, short stories, Short Stories Portfolio, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on One Comment
My Bad Morning short story

Based on a true story.

I woke up today, not wanting to get out of bed. The reason was nothing big. I just wanted the weekend to come a day early.

My adult self woke up, and I got out of bed. I got ready and took part in my work’s fancy Friday. When you work in a company of hackers, who also have nerd tendencies, casual dress is more common than not. Most days people dress in jeans and t-shirts, but not on Friday. Friday people dress up. There is one person who appreciates fancy Fridays the most and who I believe started the tradition. It was this person’s birthday, so took part in what she enjoyed. I found my dress pants and my favorite button-up shirt. I put on my makeup and did my hair. Then I put my heels on and went out the door.

I got a latte from my favorite cafe. My day had a later than normal start, but it was going fine. It wasn’t until I got on the highway that everything stopped being fine. A loud noise erupted as if my car was driving on something. Maybe there was something stuck under my car. I got off the highway, and the sound changed a bit to more of a thud-thud sound, as if my tire was flat. It was strange since when I was on the highway it was just loud. I pulled into a grocery store’s parking lot and got out of my car. Something blew my tire with holes in all of it.

The Start Of The Tire Change

It was still okay. I was going to change a tire. How hard could it be? I had it all under control. I started by taking the spare tire out. This should be the easiest part, right? I just needed to undo the bolt and slide it out from under my car. It sounds simple, but when you are in fancy Friday attire you get determined to stay clean, and need to pull something out from under your car, things get difficult.

On top of staying clean, I did not want to get my clothes wet. It had rained the night before, and as soon as I tried to get the spare tire out, it started sprinkling. I ended up in yoga positions and weird poses just to figure out what I could do to get the tire out from under my car. After a fight and a struggle, I freed the dirty rescue tire from its cage.

Now, it was time to get the jack in place. Again, this should be easy, right? Don’t you just put it under your car and crank it up? Apparently, the answer to both those questions was ‘no.’ After the wheel did not move, but the car frame moved, I looked at my manual. It was inside in my glove compartment.

Once The Jack Was On

I went to the front of my car and saw my delicious latte sitting abandoned. I thought it best to show it some love by taking a sip. It thought it best to spill all over my car. Thankfully I did not get burned, because it was lukewarm by now. Yes, I got to enjoy one, maybe two sips of hot coffee before my tire blew and now the fight over the spare tire caused my coffee to be lukewarm.

I sighed a heavy sigh and flipped through the manual to figure out what to do with the jack. It had now started to full-out rain. Once I thought I had everything in control, people asked me if I needed help. My Pride and my confident wouldn’t let them help. I would finish this task. I know I am a woman who is looking fancy, but I can do it. Everyone should be able to change a tire.

I got the jack in place and was ready to remove the tire. Now, I just needed to get the nuts off. In the movies, they make it seem pretty easy. Plus, this is harder than it should have been already, so now the easy part should happen. I am almost done. I just need to get the tire off.

Finally Changing the Tire

Well, after a few minutes of trying to getting them off with increasing force a nice older man came over to should be a trick. He got on the wrench thing and jumped. Yes, he stood, full weight on the thing, and jumped. Awesome I know how to do it now. I thanked him, thinking that was all I needed. I just needed a tip from a stranger. He accepted the gratitude and went on his way.

In my heels, I hopped with both feet on the wrench thing. Nothing happened. I had a thought of, “Hey, I’m light.” My next thought was, “Oh my goodness, I am so weak I can’t even get this nut to loosen.” After a minute of hopping on the wrench thing, another man came and helped me. He told me to lower the jack and loosened the nuts for me.

After I finished taking the nuts off the wheel was easy to get off. My little detour was close to completion. I just needed to get the spare tire on and then drive less than a mile to the tire store. By now, though, I knew that stupid tire would not be easy. I picked it up and waited until finding the issue. The struggle was aligning the holes with the bolts. This task felt like I was trying to line up an ancient key with its keyhole. It took longer than it should have. Of course, the entire process took longer than it should have. Finally, after one more person asked to help me, which I refused on the fact that it was only the spare tire now, I could get it on.

The Ending Of The Story

I got up with my outfit still clean and one more friendly person stopped to help. It was amazing to me how many people wanted to help me. I told the guy I replaced the tire already, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt for him to make sure they were tight enough. He did and could tighten them a bit more.

I was now off to the tire store, where I was told that I need four new tires. While they were pricing the tires, I cleaned my hands and arms, which were the only things to get dirty. It was then when I decided I never wanted to change a tire again, so got all four new tires, hoping it would at least postpone the tire-changing nightmare.

It was an hour’s wait before I could go to work. I got to work. After an hour, I made myself peanut butter on toast. I was still proud of myself that I did not get any dirt on my clothes. I tell you this because after I finished with my snack, I looked down and saw that some peanut butter had dropped on my shirt along with my pants. The only thing I could do was laugh. I can change a tire while staying clean, but I can not eat and stay clean.

I hope you enjoyed reading about my morning.

Want More?

If you would like to read more short stories please check out my Portfolio or perhaps you would enjoy watching readings of my work on YouTube. Also, I post snippets of my short stories and other writings on my Instagram account and Facebook page.

Travelling Bagel

by tiffanyI Am A Bagel, my creative self, short storiesPosted on No Comments

bagel (2)

Yes this story now comes with its own cheesy looking picture. 

After my lovely vacation returning home seemed like a prison, where no one appreciated me for being a talking bagel. No one values me for the bagel I am, so I am going to go traveling. I will see the world and learn all about the different bagel cultures around the world.

Yes, I am heading off soon, so next time you hear from me I will some where exotic. I will be in some new place where people don’t tell me to shut up or think me less because I am a breakfast food.

I told my friends that I was going to go travel the world and learn all about the different bagels. They only laughed and told me, “You can’t travel the world you’re a bagel.”

I will show them though. I will go and experience life.

This Was Written By A Bagel.

by tiffanymy creative self, short storiesPosted on No Comments

writing

Imagine for a moment going off and having a wonderful vacation. You lay on the beach for  days. You are free to do anything you want. The only thing you have to do is relax and have fun.

Well, I just had that vacation. It was a dream vacation. I was happy and it was as if the sun was shining just for me. I was warm and toasted from the sun with a big smile on my face.

After arriving home and unpacking I went out to meet my friends at the local bar where we hang out. I bounced over to say hello with my mind filled with wonderfully delightful stories to share with my friends. However, before I could say anything more than, “Hi guys.”

The guy with black hair and a beard shouted, “Shut up you’re a bagel!”

The group laughed and some one else chuckled out, “She’s a toasted bagel now.

I went, got myself a drink and waited for the laughter to die down. It did and by the end of the night I told one story about my vacation, which was really all I wanted to do.

To The Beach

by tiffanymy creative self, short stories, Stand Alone Short StoriesPosted on No Comments

writing

I took a walk today to give myself time to think. I walked down to  the beach, thinking inspiration will find me with my feet in the sand. Yet, even before I stood on the shore I was reminded of my mind and a muse came whispering in my ear. He said, “feel your feet on the rough ground below. The asphalt hurts the soles of your feet, right?” Yes, the road below me was rough and hard to walk on without any shoes being worn. Still, I walked on knowing that the rough road would make the soft sand feel that much better.

I got to the stairs that led to my destination of cooling sand on this wonderfully peaceful evening to find that the night had long-held claim over the steps. The darkness of this alley way was caused by the two homes that blocked any moonlight or street light from entering. Still I felt the each step on my way down knowing that once I turned the corner there would light once more.

Now, at the bottom with my feet in the sand and my eyes taking in the romantic moonlight, the ocean breeze blew cold. For a moment I thought it was too cold, but when my ears opened they heard the breeze creating a melody with the ocean’s waves crashing on the shore and the distant wind chimes singing like bells, I knew that no cold would be too much for this beauty. The breeze then felt fine and reminded me that my body was still hot from the workout at the gym. The wind became a comfort not a burden, calming me instead of shutting my senses down.

I walked along the dark shore keeping my senses aware but my mind was thinking. It realized that although the road was rough relief came. Although times were dark,I light was found around a corner. Finally, my mind realized that although it may seem like the wind is cold if you change your perspective something that seems like a burden can be a comfort.

 

For a Second Time I am A Bagel (short story)

by tiffanyshort storiesPosted on No Comments

writing

 

I am still a bagel living my bagel life. I wake up and go to work. I come home and some night I hang out with friends.

While sharing conversation and company with my closest friend a question about pain came up. My friend did not ask about sorrow or the pain that came from hardship. His question was more simple. “Can bagels feel pain?” He pondered out loud to the group.

I was off put a little by the idea that the thought even arose in his head. Of course bagel felt pain. Every living thing can feel pain in one way or another. I being a bagel physical feels pain when some one pokes me, squeezes me too tightly in their hands and when they start to cut into my sides. Every time a knife comes near I must declare that I am still living and beg them not to cut me open.

I also feel great emotional pain. I feel this deep sorrow when I see my people sold as slaves to become someone’s breakfast. My heart breaks when I see the joy of a monster biting down on an unfortunate bagel. As that monster bites down on their bagel my soul crumbles as it can feel the mashing and breaking of a fellow bagel.

I am lost in my thoughts of pain as my friends continue to ponder and had almost come to the conclusion that bagel could not feel any type of pain. It was at the conversation’s end that I told them that bagels could feel pain.

The did not believe me and one of the others changed the topic before much more could be said. I did not mind the change in conversation, since I did not want to explain to people who should have known that bagels feel pain.

It appears that this whole “I am a bagel” is starting to be a thing within my group of friends.  I am not fighting it and actually may start a video series about being a bagel. I just need to make/ get a bagel puppet. I say get because it’s just going to be a bagel with olive eyes and pretzel sticks for legs and arms. The friends of a bagel may be difficult to do though.

We shall see what happens with this. I am enjoying writing the short stories at least.

I Am A Bagel

by tiffanymy creative self, short storiesPosted on No Comments

writing

I have weird friends and I hope this will make them smile.

I am a bagel. My eyes are black olive stuck by toothpicks into my bagel head. My tongue is cream cheese. My legs and arms are pretzels.

“How do you talk?” “How can you type?” “How can you write?” “Why do you talk so very much?” “What is life like for a bagel like you?” These are the questions that I am continuously asked as I walk around with herbs for my hair.

I was riding in the car talking, enjoying the conversation between me and my friends when out of the blue for no reason I could tell the one in the passenger seat yelled, “Shut up! You’re a bagel.”

I was quite shocked and did not know how to react. I indeed was a bagel, but that had not stopped me from talking before. “Why?” I quietly asking hoping that I would not anger him more.

He simply laughed and laughed. Soon he was able to speak. “You’re a talking bagel.” He spoke as if he did not realize for the years we were friends that I was bagel who could not only talk but also walk and live an almost normal life.

“Yes, and,” was my reply all the while the drive sat quiet listening in on the short conversation.

He was amused by the realization that a bagel was talking to him, “How do you talk?”

I could not help but smirk as I answered, “With my mouth and with my tongue.”

“You are a bagel, though.”

“Yes, and you are human.”

The driver finally chirped in and said, “Seriously just shut up. You’re a bagel.”

With that last statement I kept my mouth shut and allowed the humans to talk as I sat in the back simply being a bagel.