Some of these seem kind of poem-y. Poetry isn't something I would willingly delve into. Yet, if I frame some of this just right... You never know. Anyway, let me begin with the last one I worked on.
The grass and leaves exploded with life and freshness. The air was crisp clean and smelled sweet. The wind carried bird song aling on gentle breezes that even God himself stopped to here. It was a glorious day and the lush dreamt the day away. Hung over from a night of merry making and carousing. She partied long into the dawn and missed all the beauty and wonderment beheld by the breaking of day. How the lush wasted.
I feel sort of like I wasted my day a bit here. Next was Phantasm. This is the one that seems a little poetic. I am not knocking poetry, I just don't normally go there. What I'm finding as I write that some times my mind will take something and drag me to a place I rarely travel. I should enjoy the journey.
It seemed to be fading in and out of the shadows. The moon was full casting it’s silvery light over everythign it touched. But this gossomar creature flitted in and out of the light quick as lightning. Fading esscences danced behind it as it passed. A wiff of mint, a touch of lavender a hint of you. Is it really you? I have to ask. You’ve been goone for months now. No phone calls or letters. The only thing that remains is an old t-shirt, the scent long worn away. But you’re echo blesses me anew. A ghost that calls my name. Why me? Why now?
Mouth came before that. If you haven't realized by now I'm going backwards, in order of which they were completed. Mouth seemed to lean toward horror and frankly having once been the character and not suffered this fate, I consider myself very lucky.
Teeth! All he saw were teeth. Sharp pointy things. Row upon row of them. The more he looked the more he saw. The large gaping maw froze him in fear. He was petrified at the monstrosity. What kind of creature was this that rose from the deep to take him. Posideon had out done himself. The sailor sank into the water accepting his fate. He didn’t resist. He didn’t fight. As the huge mouth descended on him blocking out the sun he tried not to scream. Yet the pain and the force tearing him apart cause his to yell. No sound came. Water filled his shredded lungs and his own blood came rushing up.
The monster bit down again before rushing away. It’s dinner captured for the night.
The next Word Association is actually a memory. This is back when I was much younger and still wanted to save the world one animal at a time. For a brief moment I thought I might be an aspiring sports star.
I wanted to be goalie so much it hurt. Ever ever since that one day in gym class when I caught the ball that Timmy kicked. It came so fast that I didn’t see where it was going. All of a sudden it was in my arms. I’d caught it, and not with my face this time. I was going to be a star one day. I’d make millions and be on the front of a Wheaties box.
A year later in soccer camp I was placed in the keeper position again. Ball after ball went past me. Reality sunk in. Not only was I a terrible Keeper, I couldn’t play soccer.
The first and my favorite so far has to be Pander. I didn't know what the word meant. Funny, I thought up the word and wrote it on a note card. I thought initially it meant to sell something. I wasn't far from the definition but the whole meaning gave the word a sort of sordid taint. I love this word now.
The madam stood outside the brothel. It was early evening and only a few clients were expected tonight. The butcher across the street threw his waste on the street and eyed her coveteously. She remembered him. He was one of her first clients so many years ago. Back when she had to work the streets. The money he paid regularly helped her set up shop.
He watched her smoking her cigarrette. The madam winked at him salaciously. He gulped. He was a married man now. A pillar of the community. If he was seen going into her house of loose morals he’d be an outcast. The thrill of getting caught tempting him even more.
The butcher returned to his shop. Oh well thought the madam. Maybe another day. She dropped her cigarette on the ground and went inside.
I guess I'm done playing around with words for today. If anything I've realize that I can still write which is what I mean to do for the rest of my life so that's good. If only I can get my juices flowing on my novel. Work work work.