Aaaaaannnnd this is what happens when I am bored and have no creative juices. So sad. I shouldn't post this. You can only read it if you promise to forget it and never speak of it again. lolz.
The bridge rumbled beneath my feet.
Skeletons danced across the street.
Cracks formed in the gray concrete.
A monster wielding rage appeared.
Smelling of all things evil and fear.
I looked for a weapon that could be near.
The ground broke away.
No escape, I had to stay.
Staring down the monster made of rot and decay.
It breathed hastily in and out.
Ugly and forever and deafeningly loud.
Its figure advanced towards me across the empty ground.
Time was of the essence.
How little of it was left in the present.
When the monster had shown you the end.
It grew until it was always and forever.
And my last thought was never, never
Would we again be together.
Inside the monster it was dark and frightening.
No light was present, not even lightening
Your memory was the only thing brightening.
When I lost it.
The monster became lit.
And I knew I fit.
The monster and me.
Tuesday, October 26, 2010
Wednesday, October 13, 2010
Best of the Brine
Celebrating our 20th "Best of the Brine"! Wowza! Thanks for reading, hope your eyes haven't bled yet. ;) Also, last month we celebrated one year of blogging (fairly) consistently! Crazy, right?!
Gone
Among those in heaven, it has long been known that their return to their loved ones on Earth would occur at a distant point in the future. But that is only among the dead, otherwise known as insider information.
So, how is it that I have come upon this knowledge?
It really just dropped on my head the moment my real eyes, those made with flesh and blood and DNA, closed for the last time. I had one more living thought, and then I was somewhere else. The street that I had been smeared across was gone, and I was surrounded by white.
There was no pain, no blood, just my favorite outfit as I stared down at my body. The white slowly drifted away from me and a gate appeared several yards away. It was the single most beautiful structure I had ever seen. A metallic substance unknown to me that shimmered when the light hit it at every angle twisted around itself and skyrocketed upwards. Just to the right of it stood a podium, with a thick book and quill pen resting on top of it.
I approached the podium, beginning to feel strange about the fact that there was no one else within eyesight. In delicate handwriting I saw the list. Thousands, or more like millions, of names were etched into the pages along with a date. I skimmed the list, seeing a few names I recognized from the past few years and days, until I reached the last name.
It wasn't mine.
Silently, I wondered if I was supposed to write my own name in. I dismissed the notion since every other name on the list had been written in the same beautiful cursive. There was no variation at all. No one else had written in their names upon arrival. Someone had been here to greet them. But I stood at an empty podium and an empty gate.
For another moment, I considered putting down my name and came to the conclusion that it was the right thing to do. Whoever was usually at the podium might need to know I had been there. I tried my hardest to make my writing legible with the ethereal pen and then set it back down just the way I had found it.
Turning to the gate, I couldn't imagine it would be easy to get through it without someone opening it for me. But as I approached it, the huge doors swung open, revealing a long road that stretched out for what seemed like forever. So I began my journey down the road, considering the fact that it might take me an eternity.
After only a few moments, I noticed a golden sign floating above me. It read simply: Touch the place in your heart that you wish to be, and it will be so. Love travels the greatest distance. It was rather inspirational to give me any kind of concrete answer, but I decided to try it. There was still no one around, so if it didn't work, at least no one would see me acting a fool.
Hesitantly, I placed my hand over my heart and thought about a place I wanted to go. The first place that came to mind was the smell of cookies and mint and fresh cut flowers. My surroundings shimmered until I recognized where I was.
My grandmother's house came into focus around me. Cookies were cooling on the counter, a small glass bowl of mints sat on the center of the kitchen table and fresh cut flowers were bunched together in vase on the windowsill. It was exactly how I remembered it. Except for one thing that was missing: my grandmother.
"Grandma?" I asked in a small voice.
No response came. So, I searched the house and backyard with no success. She was gone, just as everyone seemed to be. Had there been some big, important meeting called?
My curiosity had been sparked, so I started to visit every place I had ever loved to try and find someone, anyone, who could answer my question.
But with each place, I only found more of the same: nothing and no one. After a dozen places, I finally resorted to visiting anywhere I could think of that would have a large amount of people. Disneyworld. Yankee Stadium. The Eiffel Tower. No one. Everywhere was empty. I began to worry that something was wrong.
Gone
Among those in heaven, it has long been known that their return to their loved ones on Earth would occur at a distant point in the future. But that is only among the dead, otherwise known as insider information.
So, how is it that I have come upon this knowledge?
It really just dropped on my head the moment my real eyes, those made with flesh and blood and DNA, closed for the last time. I had one more living thought, and then I was somewhere else. The street that I had been smeared across was gone, and I was surrounded by white.
There was no pain, no blood, just my favorite outfit as I stared down at my body. The white slowly drifted away from me and a gate appeared several yards away. It was the single most beautiful structure I had ever seen. A metallic substance unknown to me that shimmered when the light hit it at every angle twisted around itself and skyrocketed upwards. Just to the right of it stood a podium, with a thick book and quill pen resting on top of it.
I approached the podium, beginning to feel strange about the fact that there was no one else within eyesight. In delicate handwriting I saw the list. Thousands, or more like millions, of names were etched into the pages along with a date. I skimmed the list, seeing a few names I recognized from the past few years and days, until I reached the last name.
It wasn't mine.
Silently, I wondered if I was supposed to write my own name in. I dismissed the notion since every other name on the list had been written in the same beautiful cursive. There was no variation at all. No one else had written in their names upon arrival. Someone had been here to greet them. But I stood at an empty podium and an empty gate.
For another moment, I considered putting down my name and came to the conclusion that it was the right thing to do. Whoever was usually at the podium might need to know I had been there. I tried my hardest to make my writing legible with the ethereal pen and then set it back down just the way I had found it.
Turning to the gate, I couldn't imagine it would be easy to get through it without someone opening it for me. But as I approached it, the huge doors swung open, revealing a long road that stretched out for what seemed like forever. So I began my journey down the road, considering the fact that it might take me an eternity.
After only a few moments, I noticed a golden sign floating above me. It read simply: Touch the place in your heart that you wish to be, and it will be so. Love travels the greatest distance. It was rather inspirational to give me any kind of concrete answer, but I decided to try it. There was still no one around, so if it didn't work, at least no one would see me acting a fool.
Hesitantly, I placed my hand over my heart and thought about a place I wanted to go. The first place that came to mind was the smell of cookies and mint and fresh cut flowers. My surroundings shimmered until I recognized where I was.
My grandmother's house came into focus around me. Cookies were cooling on the counter, a small glass bowl of mints sat on the center of the kitchen table and fresh cut flowers were bunched together in vase on the windowsill. It was exactly how I remembered it. Except for one thing that was missing: my grandmother.
"Grandma?" I asked in a small voice.
No response came. So, I searched the house and backyard with no success. She was gone, just as everyone seemed to be. Had there been some big, important meeting called?
My curiosity had been sparked, so I started to visit every place I had ever loved to try and find someone, anyone, who could answer my question.
But with each place, I only found more of the same: nothing and no one. After a dozen places, I finally resorted to visiting anywhere I could think of that would have a large amount of people. Disneyworld. Yankee Stadium. The Eiffel Tower. No one. Everywhere was empty. I began to worry that something was wrong.
Monday, October 11, 2010
Best of the Brine
White as Snow
Stumbling through brush, knees bleeding and nearly blind from tears spilling down my face, I knew I was nowhere safe. The forest had always been a forbidden and frightening place that I had watched from my window for the first seventeen years of my life. But as I run through it now, I long for my window and nice things.
The sun begins to set, and soon all I can see are the images from the terrible morning burning against the backs of my eyes. A handsome young man, known for his hunting skill took me to the edge of the forest at the request of my stepmother. He was to show me his talents, which I was excited for. The young man had always caught my eye, and I often wondered if the feeling was mutual.
When he rose his bow and arrow, I knew it was not.
Just then, my foot catches a stray root protruding from the ground. I land face down in cold mud, wondering how my life has come to this. What had I done to deserve such a punishment? The question remains unanswered as I try to blink away the tears in my eyes. Shivering and alone, I think back to how I ended up here.
Early in the morning, my stepmother had stopped by my room and brushed my hair.
"Like fine black silk, my dear." She had cooed.
My stepmother usually didn't pay much attention to me, so her affection was a nice surprise.
Her cool hand ran down the side of my face, barely brushing the edges of my lips. "Beautiful red lips, as if dipped in blood."
I blushed at her compliments, not used to them coming from her.
"And of course your skin," her hands paused at the base of my neck, "as white and perfect as freshly fallen snow."
Our eyes met in the mirror. I had never heard her speak in such a way about me. "Thank you."
Her gaze turned towards a faraway place, her eyes took on a quality of memories revisited. "I never thought you would be so beautiful, but the mirror doesn't lie."
She left then, her black dress sweeping through the doorway.
I am pushed back to the present and my miserable situation. For the first time, I notice a light through the thick treeline, just stealing through branches and trunks as big as me. It is a flicker, but it burns inside of me like a blazing fire.
Stumbling through brush, knees bleeding and nearly blind from tears spilling down my face, I knew I was nowhere safe. The forest had always been a forbidden and frightening place that I had watched from my window for the first seventeen years of my life. But as I run through it now, I long for my window and nice things.
The sun begins to set, and soon all I can see are the images from the terrible morning burning against the backs of my eyes. A handsome young man, known for his hunting skill took me to the edge of the forest at the request of my stepmother. He was to show me his talents, which I was excited for. The young man had always caught my eye, and I often wondered if the feeling was mutual.
When he rose his bow and arrow, I knew it was not.
Just then, my foot catches a stray root protruding from the ground. I land face down in cold mud, wondering how my life has come to this. What had I done to deserve such a punishment? The question remains unanswered as I try to blink away the tears in my eyes. Shivering and alone, I think back to how I ended up here.
Early in the morning, my stepmother had stopped by my room and brushed my hair.
"Like fine black silk, my dear." She had cooed.
My stepmother usually didn't pay much attention to me, so her affection was a nice surprise.
Her cool hand ran down the side of my face, barely brushing the edges of my lips. "Beautiful red lips, as if dipped in blood."
I blushed at her compliments, not used to them coming from her.
"And of course your skin," her hands paused at the base of my neck, "as white and perfect as freshly fallen snow."
Our eyes met in the mirror. I had never heard her speak in such a way about me. "Thank you."
Her gaze turned towards a faraway place, her eyes took on a quality of memories revisited. "I never thought you would be so beautiful, but the mirror doesn't lie."
She left then, her black dress sweeping through the doorway.
I am pushed back to the present and my miserable situation. For the first time, I notice a light through the thick treeline, just stealing through branches and trunks as big as me. It is a flicker, but it burns inside of me like a blazing fire.
Friday, October 8, 2010
Well, I've been trying for a week to come up with a new short story to post, and it seems the wells have dried up for now. Sorry to those who actually read/enjoy our weird little postings. This week has been swallowed by Indy duty, tv shows and actual work.
Not to mention, we have been thinking about retooling one of our stories so the past two days have been spent writing new beginnings...eight to be exact about it. And, after all that, I still can't decide on the perfect way to start the story. I've been trying to be technical about it, but I just want to fall in love with something and frustration is setting in.
Let's break it down.
I love who we now begin the story with, but what is he/she doing? (sorry about being so incredibly ambiguous about this lol) What is THE EVENT that starts it all (and no, I'm not talking about the stupid NBC show)? I guess my problem is I want it to be perfect. I want the hook that makes you go "I gotta read this in the next six hours or I'll die". We are closer to that than ever before, and I know it will come to me as I'm in the shower one day (all the best ideas arrive there, I don't know why...it's a strange phenomenon). But until then, I'm just going to stare at the wall and make myself think.
I can't even come up with a clever way of finishing this post. I need to visit the creative juicer machine in the sky.
Not to mention, we have been thinking about retooling one of our stories so the past two days have been spent writing new beginnings...eight to be exact about it. And, after all that, I still can't decide on the perfect way to start the story. I've been trying to be technical about it, but I just want to fall in love with something and frustration is setting in.
Let's break it down.
I love who we now begin the story with, but what is he/she doing? (sorry about being so incredibly ambiguous about this lol) What is THE EVENT that starts it all (and no, I'm not talking about the stupid NBC show)? I guess my problem is I want it to be perfect. I want the hook that makes you go "I gotta read this in the next six hours or I'll die". We are closer to that than ever before, and I know it will come to me as I'm in the shower one day (all the best ideas arrive there, I don't know why...it's a strange phenomenon). But until then, I'm just going to stare at the wall and make myself think.
I can't even come up with a clever way of finishing this post. I need to visit the creative juicer machine in the sky.
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