Writing Starter #52

The daycares were the first target to be infiltrated.  The candy stores were next on the agenda.  If we could secure these locations early on in the invasion, I knew we would have them.  No human would ever expect an attack from the interior of the most innocent human concoctions.  Humans are so foolish.  They create these meaningless buildings with meaningless pursuits and yet they think they've created a "safe-zone" or something.  It's the same with churches, I don't care if a million dirty humans are praying to their invisible gods, I'll burn their churches down while they kneel.  KNEEL TO THE ALMIGHTY ALIEN RACE.

Writing Starter #51

The magical wand was my new best friend.  He talked to me at night, night, night, and day.  In the evenings we would chat.  In the mornings we would play.  He told me to read the rules:  rulebook.  I didn't want to read it though, didn't have the time.  Didn't want to spend the time so I didn't read it.  Instead we played, me and the wand, we would play.  But then one day he was gone:  magic wand.  He was gone because I didn't read the rules, didn't want to I didn't have the time, so I didn't read the book, so he was gone, gone, gone.

Writing Starter #50

I crawled out of the box, relieved to finally breathe fresh air once again after my 2,000 year imprisonment.  The two figures backed away with looks of horror upon their faces.
"What?  Never seen a Kraken before?" I said with distaste.  "The nerve of young people these days."
I slithered towards the door, parched.
"Wait!" cried one of the figures.
I slowly turned my head around.
"Am I gonna have to kill you?" I said with a hint of boredom.
No response.
"Guess that's a yes."

Writing Starter #49

JIM:  So. . .

MR. BILLIS:  What?

JIM:  Uh, what's. . .  what do we like, talk about?

MR. BILLIS:  Nothing.

JIM:  Oh.

MR. BILLIS:  (after a pause) I'm being forced into this.

JIM:  I'm sorry.

MR. BILLIS:  Look Jim, neither of us really want to be here, now do we?

JIM:  I do.  I did win the contest, fair and square.

MR. BILLIS:  That you did. . .  unfortunately.    

One-Act Play Fischer EARLY ROUGH DRAFT

“Rough Air” by James Fischer

5 Characters.  

Mose - A rather large gentleman, a pleasant and kind fellow.  He very much dislikes making others uncomfortable.

Laurus - An uptight businessman with, always worrying about checking his e-mails.  Very controlling and unpleasant around strangers.

Pancrazio - A very strange individual, at least by the definition of strange that most of us abide by.  To him, he is completely normal and justified in everything he does.

Flight Attendant - Male or female.

Pilot - Male, 50s.  

Setting.

A row of three cramped seats on a plane, and the aisle next to those seats.

Play.

(Mose, Laurus, and Pancrazio enter with suitcases, walking down the aisle towards the seats as the pilots voice can be heard in the background)

PILOT:  We have a completely booked flight today, so please be respectful of all the other passengers around you.  It’s gonna be a. . .  Well, we’ll be a little cramped, but I’m sure you’ll all manage to get comfortable with each other.

(Flight attendant enters from downstage, going up the aisle)

MOSE:  (To the flight attendant as he/she tries to squeeze past the three passengers) No no, I’m sorry. . .  This can’t be right, I was sure I bought two seats.

FLIGHT ATTENDANT:  I’m sorry sir, but we are completely full on this flight.  No seat is open!  You’ll just have to-

MOSE:  (Trying to whisper) You don’t understand I won’t. . .  I can’t fit with the way I’m-

PANCRAZIO:  You’ll be okay man, we can make it work!

LAURUS:  (scoffing) I don’t think so, get this fatso out of here please.  I need room for my laptop.

MOSE:  (After an uncomfortable silence) Well I sort of have to get to Chicago to see my daughter. . .  trust me, I bought the two seats ya know, I just (trailing off) apparently it didn’t go through or what have you-

Writing Starter #48

BENNY:  You don't have anything to say to me?

MATTHEW:  No Benny.

BENNY:  You don't want to say "I'm sorry"?

MATTHEW:  Benny. . .  I can't.

BENNY:  What?  You don't have the A-BIL-I-TY to say TWO SIMPLE WORDS?

MATTHEW:  You know that's not it Ben, I just-

BENNY:  WHAT?  You just WHAT?  I'm so sick of this Matty, I'm SICK.

MATTHEW:  Alright fine you asshole, let it be this way then.  You know I can't do it, you know I-  You know I wish I could.  But the way things are right now it's just-  It's not happening Ben, it's just not.

BENNY:  (Pause) I'm sorry Matty I didn't mean-  You know I didn't mean that.

MATTHEW:  I was wrong too Ben.

Writing Starter #47

DEBRA:  (Now alone, Smoky lays dead in the sand beside her.  Speaking slowly with many pauses, full of emotion).  Well here we are buddy.  Right back where we started.  And yet this time everything is different.  This time I'm gonna have to leave without you. . .  as hard as that's gonna be I just gotta accept it.  Because that's. . . that's life and that's.  That's death I guess.  Now I've seen it, now I know what it looks like.  I guess I still don't know what it feels like though buddy and you. . .  you know that now eh?  They'll be catching up pretty soon now so I. . .  I've gotta leave you here.  (Fighting through tears)  Leave you. . . here.  It's been a hell of a. . .  hell of a ride through it all buddy and I just.  I just want you to know I'll never be forgetting you.  (Rising in volume) I'll never be forgetting you and I'll never overlook you, I WILL NEVER TAKE YOU FOR GRANTED AGAIN.  (After a long pause) So goodbye.  
(Debra steps into the hot air balloon to make her escape).     

Writing Starter #46

SCIENTIST:  It's a completely logical solution.  

GMAN:  Not even close Rivers, not even close.

SCIENTIST (RIVERS):  Would you at least listen to the plan before you berate me?

GMAN:  I didn't get this position by being Mr. Nice guy.  Explain yourself in 2 sentences or less.

RIVERS:  It would be impossible to explain that quickly!

GMAN:  You have 1 sentence left.

RIVERS:  (After a short pause).  Humanity's only hope.

GMAN:  Dinosaurs.

RIVERS:  Yes!

GMAN:  Dinosaurs?

RIVERS:  Yes.

GMAN:  Alright, talk me through it.    

Writing Starter #45

JAMES:  It's not a question of what movie YOU like best.  It's a question of what the best movie ever MADE is.

MOM:  Well, that's a subjective question, isn't it?

JAMES:  And I'm looking for an objective answer.

SISTER:  My answer changes every other week.

JAMES:  Many people would argue that it's Citizen Kane.  

MOM:  I would argue that you can't even answer the question.

JAMES:  I guess you could be right. . .

SISTER:  I think that whatever movie YOU enjoy most at that particular time is the answer for you, and everyone can just have different answers to the same question.

JAMES:  You're missing the point completely.

MOM:  Just stop arguing about it, clearly none of us care.

JAMES:  We have to care!  These are important question. . .  Maybe it is unanswerable.

SISTER:  Can we just start the movie again?

MOM:  Yes, PLEASE!  

JAMES:  Fine.  It will remain unanswered for now. . .

Writing Starter #44

Immediately after he walked out of the door and I shut it behind him, I knew I had to tell someone.  How can you get hear that caliber of secret and not want to share it.  I couldn't handle the information alone.  I needed to tell someone to even believe that it was real; To make sure I wasn't just going crazy and hearing things.  A father.  He was going to be a father.  The only other people who knew were the mother and his parents.  And he told me of all people.  Didn't he know that I can't keep that type of secret.  Next time I saw Jerry I told him right away that we needed to talk.  This wasn't going to be weighing my mind down any longer.
The moment it left my tongue I knew it was wrong.  It wasn't my place.  Now he would tell someone else, and they would tell others, and soon the whole school would know.  That's exactly what I was supposed to PREVENT from happening.  But I guess it's just human nature to cause these types of things.  It would have gotten around anyways, right?

Writing Starter #43

Joe was a simple janitor, with a simple life.  He had never experienced a whole lot of excitement, or adventure.  This all changed, the day the alligators attacked.  It came like lightning, out of nowhere.  Students limbs were being ripped from their sockets, their flesh being torn apart by razor sharp teeth.  Joe snapped into action as readily as he could, but he was not equipped to deal with this sort of catastrophe.  In the end, Joe failed to save all but one student.  And that student's name was Barack Obama.

Writing Starter #42

Once upon a time, there lived a young boy named Jack.  He had a wonderful Fairy Godmother who was always watching over him.  When Jack traded away the family's cow for "magic" beans, his mother was furious.  However, Jack's Fairy Godmother floated down and comforted him after the incident.
"And then she took the beans and threw them onto the ground!" Jack cried.
"Oh dear, well let me just whip up a big pumpkin carriage for you!" replied the Fairy Godmother.
"I don't think that will help. . ." said Jack to himself.

Writing Starter #41

Once upon a time there was a Lion with the strongest teeth in the world.  He took prided in his shining, sharp teeth.  They were all he had.  Then one day, a Monkey on roller skates came cruising through the Lion's neighborhood.
"Hello there, Lion," said the Monkey.
"Get out of here!" shouted the Lion.
The Monkey sped toward him and in the confusion the Lion fell and all of his teeth were knocked right out of his mouth.
"That's what you get for being mean to me!" teased the Monkey, as he sped off.
It was then that the Lion realized that he had nothing to live for.
"I shouldn't have let my happiness depend on something that I could lose!" thought the Lion.

Children's Story Words (Draft)

"Slide To Adventure"

Jerry was a smart little boy, who loved adventure.  

One fine day, he was playing in his back-yard.  He went down the slide!

Normally, it was a short slide, but this time it just kept going. . .

. . .  And going, and going, and going.  

Jerry landed in a forest clearing, on some soft, green grass.

“Where am I?” said Jerry.  

A voice in the distance replied:  “Follow me, and you will see!”

So Jerry followed the voice. . .

Over a blue rock. . .

Under a purple bridge. . .

Through the rainbow woods. . .

Over the pink mountains. . .

Over the red cliff. . .

Hang-gliding through the magenta sky. . .

Down the orange chimney and. . .

Into the kitchen!  

“You see,” said the voice.

Jerry looked up!

“It’s me!” said the voice.

Jerry was surprised to see his mother there!

“Mother!” said Jerry, “Why did you make me go through all of those strange places?”

“What are you talking about Jerry, you were just on the slide!” his mother said impatiently.

And his mother set the table, and they ate hot dogs for dinner.

Jerry looked out, and he saw the top of the slide.

But he knew the adventures that waited on the other side!

Writing Starter #40

Their feet began to grow sticky, as the waded through the cotton candy that covered the floor.  Suddenly they realized that they could no longer move, and then they saw it.  The giant cotton candy SPIDER.  It snapped its claws with a menacing glare, and began to crawl slowly toward its prey.
"I have come to eat your innards children!" the spider said.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOO!" they screamed as they were devoured.

Writing Starter #39

Once upon a time, in a particularly eccentric town, there lived a man named Dr. Funky Buns.  Dr. Funky Buns owned a nice little pet shop on the corner of Main Street.  When business wasn't going very well, Dr. FB (as he was colloquially known throughout town) decided to take matters into his own hands.
"If only there was a way to circumvent scientific morals and discover ways of creating genetically modified pets!" he cried.
So one night in his lab. . .

Final Memoir - "Pinky"

Creative Writing Memoir

James Fischer

6th Hour

Pinky

I am an awfully careful person.  Never took too many chances.  That’s why it came as a surprise to me when it happened, because I didn’t exactly know how to handle a situation like that.  It was definitely the flip-flops that caused it.  Started off as a perfect day.  The sun had smiled down on the courtyard and She said, “Let there be outdoor Choir!”  And it wasn’t even Choir really, it was more along the lines of “do-whatever-you-want” day for the class.  And I wanted to play catch.  

We were having a joyous time of course, jumping up the stone steps, calling for the ball, rejecting the listless classrooms for our outdoor paradise.  We decided to organize our efforts and turn it into a game.  A competition.  Competition equals fun.  At least it should, until you get too caught up in it all but that’s beside the point, the main point is I got caught up in it all, and that was my first mistake.  

  I thought I would stand behind everyone else, and the ball would bounce through their hands and go straight to me.  It was a genius plan of course, especially in retrospect.  I stared up at the spinning ball, squinting in the light.  It was veering off to the right!  I quickly changed my footing, both eyes fixed on the relentlessly rotating object that I desired to catch so greatly.  All of my weight, flying to the right, leg extended outward and then suddenly a searing pain in my foot and the whole world rotated just like the ball and then I was on the ground in a blur of green and brown.  

I slowly got back up to see that nobody had even noticed my fall.  They were all still in front of me, playing on as though nothing had happened.  I had caught my little toe on a small tree and fallen over.  I limped over to the pavement and sat down again to get my bearings.  I looked down at my foot and noticed something odd.  Do little toes normally bend that way?  I wasn’t so sure.  I started to tenderly touch the toe and maybe, push it back into place.  But then I had second thoughts after the shock of pain flashed up my foot and leg.  Not a good plan, I realized, so I walked over to my teacher, mumbled something about needing to go to the office, and promptly limped back inside.  

Limped up the stairs, limped to the office, limped to the bed.  At this point I felt more than a little light headed, but I decided to get a better look at what was going on.  My little toe was bent outward at a 45 degree angle, and it wasn’t moving.  The nurse offered to pop it back into place, which made me cringe immediately.  

“No, no, I’d rather they do it at the hospital, they can numb it up there I’m sure.”  

My Mom arrived soon, and then it was deep breaths for me, all the way to the hospital.  I was trying not to look.

After several waiting rooms, I finally got some help.  The doctors took a look.  

“Before we make any decisions,” they said, “we need an x-ray.”

So I went back to that waiting room.  The lady was nice.  She told me to put my foot in several different directions for multiple pictures.  There was one in which my broken toe was pointing down at the table (it’s hard to picture without experiencing it).  I remember the feeling of the end of the toe touching the mat and thinking about what a strange angle my toe was actually pointing in for that to be possible.  

The x-ray revealed that the toe wasn’t just dislocated.  It was broken clean in half.  Completely broken like a little twig.  If the nurse back at the High School had tried to put it back into place, I would have had a bad time to say the least.  Thank God I didn’t go through with that.

So they decided that the best course of action was to put 3 shots in my foot to numb the area and then move the bones back into place as best as they could.  The doctor began to wash the area on my foot.

“I’m going to give it to you straight,” he said.  “This is not gonna be fun.”

Right when the needle entered my foot, every part of my body grew tenser than I have ever felt.  My neck was straining and my eyes clenched shut.  It was mostly because of my own anxiety that my body went into a state of panic.  And it was painful, more painful than anything I’ve ever gone through.  They were manipulating my foot and I could feel the numb movements.  It was a strange sensation, because I felt that my foot was being moved, and I felt the hands, but it was still incredibly numb.  Then I heard the CRACKing sound that I will never forget as they repositioned my toe to be straight.  It was a horrifying noise, and even though I didn’t actually feel the pain of the relocation, I was still terrified by the experience.    

When it was over I looked down to find my toe wrapped in a bundle of bandages and padding, completely protected.  The doctor told me that we would wait a week, and then I would see a specialist to check if it was healing correctly.  If it was still not completely straight I would have to get surgery on my little toe.  SURGERY.  For a pinky toe.  How ridiculous would that be?  

I would discover over the course of that week how much one broken pinky toe can really affect the health of the entire body.  I had to sleep with my foot propped up on some pillows every night, which kept me awake pretty much all the time.  This led to me being constantly stressed out, feeling sick, and I couldn’t even walk without hopping on one foot.  But the worst part of this whole ordeal was yet to come.  

As the week went by, I tried to stay positive about my situation.  There was no way I wanted to have to go through with surgery on my toe, for many reasons.  I was banking on it healing correctly on its own, and this was my mindset going into the appointment with the specialist.  

When the man came into the room, he asked some quick questions, very coldly.  He wasn’t a very likable or approachable person inherently, and I could tell that he wasn’t going to be very comforting.  He left for a brief period.  When he came back he had a large needle in his hand.  No warning at all.  

“I’m going to give you a few shots to numb your foot and re-break the toe to set it more straight.  They did it wrong last week.”

My heart sank like an anchor.  That was absolutely the last thing that I wanted to hear.  I would have to go through the entire horrible process again.  It was like reliving a nightmare.  I actually started to cry.  This was just more than I could handle at this point.  I was already looking at several months of recovery that would make my summer vacation essentially useless, and now I had to start all over from square one.  

This time hurt even worse than last time, probably because the needles were entering my already bruised and swollen skin for the second time in a week.  When it was over I looked up to see bloody papers and tissues surrounding my newly contorted toe.  This was really the final straw.  After all of that pain that I had gone through, this “specialist” had left all of the blood around it.  I’m not good with blood, and this just made me even more light-headed than I already was from this horrific experience.

After that it was simply just to wait and be impaired for the next several months.  This included prom, so I ended up bringing a badass cane as part of my outfit for that.  I guess that’s one silver lining in an otherwise completely negative experience.  I’ll never underestimate how much trouble one broken pinky toe can cause ever again.

Ways to come up with childrens' stories

1.)  When I was little I liked to play with knight figurines with my sister and make up medieval conflicts and stories.  I also liked to make imaginary adventures that my friends and I would go on.  Then I played video-games a lot.

2.)  "Have you ever done any drugs?"  "I thought this was stainless steel. . .  what the?"  "All the small things."

3.)  "But you only need the light when it's burning low / Only miss the sun when it starts to snow"  -Let Her Go by The Passengers.

"Count every star in the midnight sky / Count every rose, every firefly." -Count Every Star by The Ravens

4.)  Children want to be firemen and policemen and the President (jobs they can't have).  Children also want unlimited candy and games and toys and other such things.  

5.)  A swing on a tree that launches into space if you swing high enough.  Or a toy car that can turn into a normal sized car and talk.  

6.)  One theme could be, be nice to others and they will be nice in return.  Another theme could be, rules can be broken in certain situations.  

7.)  When I was younger, one question I had was, "where do babies come from."  Another possible question could be, "how did the mountains get there?"  

Writing Starter #38

The man who ate everything

By H.E. Fishbark

There once was a man who ate everything.
He turned into a planet, and soared past the moon.
He flew out of the galaxy, to a new planet.

"Hello," said the new planet.
"What's your name?" replied the man who ate everything.
"Jabari Parker," the planet whispered.

Writing Starter #37

I hate peas.

I hate bees.

I hate seas.

I hate freezing.

I hate when I bump my knees.

Mom said eat your peas.

If you don't you'll freeze.

And be attacked by bees.

And be thrown in the seas.

And I will bump your knees until they bleed.

I ate peas.

Writing Starter #36

It was a solar eclipse that had appeared suddenly, with no scientific warning of any sort.  Comets began to rain down towards Clarence's head as he bounded away from the impending black light of doom that was moving towards his favorite sleeping spot in his favorite field.  Could this be the end of Clarence the cow?!

TUNE IN NEXT WEEK FOLKS

END MUSIC JINGLE  

Writing Starter #35

“Why didn’t you see the tree? You were looking right at it,” Duck said angrily.
"I don't believe in trees," I replied.
"What kind of an answer is that?"
"It's a lie."
"Then give me the truth!" cried Duck.
"The truth is I'm blind, and I don't enjoy talking about it."
Duck paused, and then said slowly, "I'm sorry, I didn't know."
"The truth is, I don't even believe anything you say half of the time.  You say you're a Duck, but Ducks don't talk."
"Don't ever question me," replied Duck.
"I never have had any reason to question you Duck."
And then I went back to work in the garden.  

Memoir Draft Fischer

I am an awfully careful person.  Never took too many chances.  That’s why it came as a surprise to me when it happened, because I didn’t exactly know how to handle a situation like that.  It was definitely the flip-flops that caused it.  Started off as a perfect day.  The sun had smiled down on the courtyard and She said, “Let there be outdoor Choir!”  And it wasn’t even Choir really, it was more along the lines of “do-whatever-you-want” day for the class.  And I wanted to play catch.  

We were having a joyous time of course, jumping up the stone steps, calling for the ball, rejecting the listless classrooms for our outdoor paradise.  We decided to organize our efforts and turn it into a game.  A competition.  Competition equals fun.  At least it should, until you get too caught up in it all but that’s beside the point, the main point is I got caught up in it all, and that was my first mistake.  

  I thought I would stand behind everyone else, and the ball would bounce through their hands and go straight to me.  It was a genius plan of course, especially in retrospect.  I stared up at the spinning ball, squinting in the light.  It was veering off to the right!  I quickly changed my footing, both eyes fixed on the relentlessly rotating object that I desired to catch so greatly.  All of my weight, flying to the right, leg extended outward and then suddenly a searing pain in my foot and the whole world rotated just like the ball and then I was on the ground in a blur of green and brown.  

I slowly got back up to see that nobody had even noticed my fall.  They were all still in front of me, playing on as though nothing had happened.  I had caught my little toe on a small tree and fallen over.  I limped over to the pavement and sat down again to get my bearings.  I looked down at my foot and noticed something odd.  Do little toes normally bend that way?  I wasn’t so sure.  I started to tenderly touch the toe and maybe, push it back into place.  But then I had second thoughts after the shock of pain flashed up my foot and leg.  Not a good plan, I realized, so I walked over to my teacher, mumbled something about needing to go to the office, and promptly limped back inside.  

Limped up the stairs, limped to the office, limped to the bed.  At this point I felt more than a little light headed, but I decided to get a better look at what was going on.  My little toe was bent outward at a 45 degree angle, and it wasn’t moving.  The nurse offered to pop it back into place, which made me cringe immediately.  

“No, no, I’d rather they do it at the hospital, they can numb it up there I’m sure.”  

My Mom arrived soon, and then it was deep breaths for me, all the way to the hospital.  I was trying not to look.

Writing Starter #34

"Yes, this is how I express myself," said the small spider, clinging to the brick wall.  He set down his small pail of paint and began to climb back up to the top of the wall.  

"This painting took me 12 years to complete," chortled the spider.  "That evil man down there set me back quite a bit when he washed off my last masterpiece.  I never give up though, and I just started again of course!"

Then a rush of water knocked the spider to her death as her work was washed away once again, never to be remembered.  

Writing Starter #33

"I’m hiding in the tree tonight, and when they come back to finish it, I’ll make them pay," said the demon squirrel.  "Who is the impotent earth dweller down there?  I should kill him now so that he doesn't get in the way."  
The wall happened to be the demon meeting spot of the month, and the squirrel was disgusted at the art that now occupied its bricks.  The squirrel leaped down and viciously clawed out the old man's eyes before lying in wait for the graffiti artists.  They would regret ever mucking up his turf.  

Writing Starter #32

"I’m just glad they’re not any taller or I’d have to get out a ladder," grumbled Eduardo the janitor.  "Always in the courtyard, drawing dicks and swear words.  Makes me sick."  
He bent down and picked up the paint brush, getting ready to paint over the new horrific design that plagued the school's courtyard wall.  But when he looked up, he was shocked to find that a new design had taken its place.  Like a crop circle in graffiti form.  
He gave up and decided that it wasn't worth the effort.  

Writing Starter #31

The best part about my family is our enthusiasm and passion during our yearly ping pong tournaments. We always build a giant bracket (similar to March Madness) with all of the family members and then battle to the championship.  The table we use is about 80 years old, and we're all used to every dip and flaw of the sagging net.  It's like home court for us.  For the longest time, I always lost to my older cousins, and my uncles with their unforgiving spinning slams.  But now I've been the champion two years in a row.

Writing Starter #30

My favorite books when I was younger were always the Harry Potter books.  No matter how sad I was, or how bad of a day I had, they always managed to make me smile.  It was just so incredible and valuable to be transported to this magical world full of adventure.  And the characters felt like close friends by the end of it.  The universe was so engrossing and inviting.  I was still growing up when the books were coming out one by one.  Each time a new one came out was an exciting occasion, my family would go to the midnight releases and fight over who would get to read it first.  When it finally came to that last sentence, I was sad, but still satisfied.  I will always look back on these books with fondness because of the wonderful journey that led to their end, even if the ending wasn't the best thing ever.

Writing Starter #29

The CPA of DHS has been like a second home to me these past two years.  Relaxing in the seats, eating a snack, surrounded by my friends--members of the cast.  I spent more time there than at my house while I was in the musicals.  Always surrounded by my love of theater, and the people I love as well, doing what I love.  I knew the ins and outs of that stage.  How it worked, how it was built.  We built the sets there, practiced the scenes there.  Put on the shows there.  That was what was most important, that moment that made it all worth it.  The applause.

Writing Starter #28

The first time I drove a car.  Fear.  I could feel the pedal slowly push down as my father urged me on.  Suddenly the rush of unexpected speed and the sound of the revving engine overwhelmed me.  "The brake quick, quick!" I heard in the background.  Then the screeeeeeeching and the bump.  I could smell the rubber that was now on the ground.
"Not bad," said my Dad.

Writing Starter #27

When I was younger my cousin and I used to always hang out.  We were the best of friends, and I'll never forget him.  We're still friends, but a little further apart since he left for college.  I know that we'll always be friend though, because we're family!  Not much else to say on the subject.  Word.

Writing Starter #26

Mrs. Summers was a bummer
She was real mean.
She had a dog, its name was Trog
Its tail was red and green.

Song Lyric Brainstorm

Original Titles:

1.)  "Arriving Somewhere But Not Here"
2.)  "Heart-attack in a Layby"
3.)  "Way Out of Here"
4.)  "Fear Of A Blank Planet"
5.)  "Green Finch and Linnet Bird"

New Titles:

1.)  Green Bird Planet
2.)  Fear of Somewhere
3.)  Out Finch
4.)  Heart-attack Linnet Here
5.)  A Layby Somewhere

4.)  This song is about a person who travels to a faraway land to find themselves and get a new start.  The person in the song is afraid of what they will find, and what they are leaving behind.  The song is taking place in the present.  The faraway land is not a specific place, the song mostly takes place in the main character's mind.  The action of this song is happening because of the main character's doubts and fears that he must come to grips with.  The person's past life had disappointments and losses and falling outs with family members, and this made them want to leave that life behind forever and start new somewhere.

5.)  Doubt, Expansive, Unknown, Adventure, Risk

6.)  Fun, Friendship, Safety, House, Routine

Writing Starter #25

"Lazarus" by Porcupine Tree

Original Lyrics:  

As the cheerless towns pass my window
I can see a washed out moon through the fog
And then a voice inside my head, breaks the analogue
And says

Follow me down to the valley below You know
Moonlight is bleeding from out of your soul

New Lyrics:

As my cheerless thoughts pass your way
I don't see the washed white moon in the sky
And when a thought inside your head, creates the question
And you

Follow her down into valleys wide.  You see
Moonlight that's bleeding, you're out in your place.  

Writing Starter #24

If I had to listen to only one song for the rest of my life, I would choose Rachmaninoff's 2nd Symphony.  It is currently my favorite symphony, and I feel like I would never stop appreciating its beauty.  The third movement is perfection, if you don't have time to listen to the whole thing, at least listen to that.  The symphony is such an amazingly cohesive work that starts in a dark place, and ends in a beautiful one.  It is quite a journey.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SvuitFzDxDg&feature=kp

Poem #11

I listened to the wind
It told me many things
I felt its power grow
And fill myself with thought
And add to what I know.

I listened to the wind
I felt it in my mind
I did not close my eyes
For fear of losing grasp
On what I felt inside.

I listened to the wind
I never had before
Its voice was not my own
It sounded of my past
A deep resounding moan.

I listened to the wind
For any sign of life
For any graceful word
Or any piece of earth
Remember what I heard.

Poem #10

The thinker looked up, and he set down his pen.
His work here was done, and he solved every one.
His last words had read:  Who will defend?

The pad was his mind, within it, his friend.
He let himself go, chased down by the gun.
The thinker looked up, and he set down his pen.

He knew who to trust, when it came to the end.
When they pulled out the triggers, he knew he would run.
His last words had read:  Who will defend?

Every last thought, they had said was a trend.
His eyes would glance up, and one look would stun.
The thinker looked up, and he set down his pen.

He licked all the letters, the ones he would send.
He winced at the sky, unfazed by the sun.
His last words had read:  Who will defend?

All of his thoughts, he knew would upend,
The acts of those who relied on his son.
The thinker look up, and he set down his pen.
His last words had read:  Who will defend?

Poem #09

(a) Slip (b) Sleep (c) Head (d) Light (e) Freeze (f) Death.

Running down to the water, I slip.
Running back to my bed, I sleep.
When I slipped I fell down and hit my head.
When I closed my eyes they emptied the light.
I slept on the ground outside and began to freeze.
I slept on my bed in the wake of my death.

I woke to surprise when I didn't find my death.
I thought it was all over after the slip,
and the time I had spent outside beginning to freeze.
I realized that it wasn't my turn to sleep.
I realized that it wasn't my turn to greet the light.
After I slipped and fell and hit my head.

It happened in the morning, the rock dug into my head.
Anyone who saw it would have known it was death.
Anyone who saw it would have thought the light
was coming to greet my after the slip.
I drifted back to my bed in my mind to sleep.
I drifted down to the water to freeze.

My body grew rigid and began to freeze.
The ice grew over me from my toes to my head.
In my mind I was simply in my bed ready to sleep.
And when I woke I was ready to accept death.
All of my thoughts were beginning to slip.
I crawled to the switch and turned on the light.

I flicked the switch, and on came the light.
I looked out the window and saw that the water had begun to freeze.
I wondered, is that what caused me to slip?
How had I fallen, and hit my head?
What would be the cause of my death?
What would begin my descent into eternal sleep?

The next night I began to try and sleep.
I couldn't close my eyes until I turned out the light.
I couldn't empty my mind of that experience, near death.
And then the thought hit me, and I began to freeze.
Was that what I hit?  My head?
Is that what I did?  Slip?

The fall didn't cause my death, the water didn't freeze.
I did not sleep, I kept on the light.
I didn't hit my head, I didn't slip.

Writing Starter #23

It's been awhile
Old friend.
I'm still the same,
In your mind.
You're still the same,
In my mind.
Who has really changed
The most?

Writing Starter #22

The flapping of the smock
Wrapping colors in nonsensical grandeur
Always quick to defenestrate.

Your brush out of the window
in anger
endlessly.

Poem #08

I'm sorry I led you
down to the water's edge
to the solid cracking of
icy frost slipping beneath
our boots.

It bounced and rolled on
as we set our gloves and hats
in rows across parallel
on two sides and prepared
to face off.

Flat-footed without blade nor
stick, a peculiar choice
of course.  But for us it
was something new to break up
the days of sameness.

Until face connected with
solid water, the metal wiring
of you protruding through
red flesh as the blood began
to drip down.

Pooling, liquid on solid,
you would end up breaking
the father's art in your hurry
but nobody minded of course.
The only downside was what you missed.

Writing Starter #21

Double-took, as a shadowy glance
quickly passes by.
Should I have stopped, maybe
in retrospect, I should have heard the glass shatter
as the gun went off
and ended that encounter but I missed it
and continued to drive.

Writing Starter #20

Washing forth with specks of brown retreating downwards,
the icy coolness meets old memories of
sledding once and crashing twice
once in body once in mind.
That memory never again to meet the eyes as melts away
your pain of joy.

Poem #07

Shakespearean Sonnet

I wake within the night and leap to feet.

I run to grasp the pen and pad, downstairs.

The bench will creak and groan and come to meet,

My legs and feet extend to end despairs.  

The hesitating sounding of the keys.

The emulating motion of the waves.

The scratch of pen on pad creates the breeze,

Of sound and waves that meet the air and graves.

The soft resounding power of the note.

Creation of a new sporadic sound.

They spread and ripple in an even coat,

And give their love and joy to all around.

Returning now to bed and cover both.

The night of morrow sure to follow oath.  

Writing Starter #19

He was obsessed with the art enterprise,

But he'd never seen it.

The DaVinci painting met his eyes,

His gaze was what gleaned it.

His daring deeds were the acts of thieves,

The hotel lobby, seemed fit.  

One less decoration there.

The thief just said, who needs it?

Poem #06

"Anxious"

My whole life she,
Blames it on the anxiety
Like she knows exactly
What's in my head.
It's always,
I know what's best
I went through it
We're the same
We're not the same though
I know this.  At least I think I do.

I denied it,
Denied help,
Still do,
I'm better now.
Created divide, dug out, there to stay
Maybe.
But it's not so bad, I picture her as she is when she's happy, not mad about the invisible problem
that has made itself visible so often
But I deny it.
It's not there.

Found ways to cope
without the help of those who can find me ways to cope.
I know what's best
She's given up telling me I don't.
Once I knew my own flaws
I could work on trying to fix them.
Once I knew my own flaws
I could work on how to hide them.
Underneath.
You wouldn't even know they were there at all.

Poem #05

The thoughts of Justin King.

I thought this was stainless steel, it's bullshit.

I just at least want to get this writing starter done.

I only use this for the bottle opener.


I thought this was stainless steel, it's bullshit.

Dude, I'm not giving up shit.  I'm not!

I only use this for the bottle opener.  

I mix paint.  What the?!


Dude, I'm not giving up shit.  I'm not!

Do we all get to do this?

I mix paint.  What the?!

Don't mess with me.


Do we all get to do this?

I at least want to get this writing starter done.

Don't mess with me.

The thoughts of Justin King.

Writing Starter #18

"Tyler Woods"

Tyler Woods, despite contrary belief
Is not a golfer, in fact.
He sings songs, mostly R&B
The music he wrote wasn't wack.

He's produced with Pete Rock
And Statik Selektah
and also The LOX
He deserves respect-ah

Writing Starter #17

1.)  Rock

2.)  It's important because it builds mountains.  It's been around forever.

3.)

Rock, you're solid.

You're covered in moss.

Why don't you break?

Rock, you smell bad.

You think you're in charge.

I wish you were fake.

Poem #04

j a man riding a segway, doesn't know where he's headed.

A man bends down, head to the ground, hands to the knees, it's a plea.

m rolling rills, overcome the obstacles, two wheels not enough.

E overlooking cubicles, what needs to be escaped from, birds eye view.

S snake is in the way, overcome your fears.  

Writing Starter #16

Sharky:

shining fins,

shockingly grey scales.

Cuts a path through water.

Hides behind seaweed.

Still visible.

Cell.

Poem #03

Dark Purple,

looks like royalty.

Feels like a soft cape, Dark Purple.

Smells like new cloth, Dark Purple, or sometimes fresh grapes.

Tastes clean, like success, like dreams, Dark Purple weaves its way through my day.

Sounds like the city, the night sky, lights clouding further lights, Dark Purple is the destination.

On my Dark Purple days I'm focused, I'm feeling the thoughts that you feel when you're there, known.

Poem #02

"Couch"

The best part is the cushions.

soft as clouds

No, the best part is the length.

for height-endowed

No no, the best part is the depth.

for sinking in

No no no , the best part is the peace.

hear a pin

No no no no, the best part is the back.

for support

No no no no no, the best part is the legs.

four support

Writing Starter #15

Secret doors.
Creaking floors.
Art on walls.
Slippery halls.
Apple cores.

Poem #01

A pinecone, gently growing.
The river, gently flowing.
The crow, gently crowing.
And me, not giving a shit.

The leaves, gently falling.
The bug, gently crawling.
The puddle, gently sprawling.
And me, not giving a shit.

The forest, gently breathing.
The wind, gently screaming.
The Spring, gently leaving.
And me, not giving a shit.

Writing Starter #14

Monster at the window.
I hit it and then he's thrown
Down to the ground that's below.
I hear the door open slow.

Writing Starter #13

Object:  Shovel

Description:  My shovel can do a variety of things.  It can shovel snow.  It can shovel dirt.  It can shovel sand.  It has a green hand, and a shiny silver blade on the end.  My shovel is like a friend to me.

My shovel is the shit
I use it all the time
I love its every bit
And shovel up my mind.