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Short Stories : What Do I Do With This Random Burst of Inspiration?

Short Stories : What Do I Do With This Random Burst of Inspiration?

 

So I have these moments, where sometimes, all of a sudden, I will have this itch and this immediate need to write. It was as if my brain was sick of having all these words churned inside it and had to immediately vomit it out onto a paper.

It happens at the most random of times. Though those frenzy need to pour out everything that is me onto a piece of paper usually never last really long. Which is why I usually end up with all of these chopped up stories that has no beginning nor ending.

For a while, I have contemplated what to do with these short stories. And then I realize, well duh, I have a blog. Why not post it there? 

But then, a debate started within myself. I mean, who would want to read chopped up stories without a head or tail from – practically – a nobody? 

Even then though, the curious and adventurous part of me won out.

So here I am today, baring myself to you, dear reader, who has clicked on this post without knowing what you will be getting out of it. For that, I sincerely thank you from the bottom of my heart for giving away your precious time to read my writing.

I hope you enjoy.

 

Short Stories : What Do I Do With This Random Burst of Inspiration?

 

 

Short Story : 

 

A single golden leaf pirouetted down an invisible spiral breeze, spinning through the air as it let itself be carried down. It shook slightly, as if it could have been whisked away any second by the grip of an icy wind, but it kept floating down the twirling course. The day give way to the night, trees don their vibrant hues, and a chill creeps into the air. Autumn, the end of a beginning. 

I stared out onto the street from the balcony up above, people bustling with life flowed down the wide avenue. The mood of the people swirled in unseen currents beneath the dark surface of their faces. The only sound was their feet on the aging tarmac and the howl of the wind rising above them. Pulling a cigarette from my pocket, and sliding it in between my index and middle finger, contemplating. I squinted my eyes, seemingly to be searching for a certain something, someone. 

Lighting the cigarette, I inhaled slowly, my system responding to the smoke. 

“Hey lass,” he said, wrapping his arms around my torso, kissing my neck. 

Blowing the smoke out of my mouth,  stomping what is left of the cigarette before heading back inside. “Wait for me here, i’ll be right out,” I said while heading into the bathroom, in which he responded with a grin. I pulled a bottle of rum from the cupboard, and downing it like it’s my lifeline, my “treasure” as i’d like to call them. 

“I will find you again. Even if that’s the last thing that I do.”

I stared at myself in the mirror, my eyes bloodshot and unfocused. Smiling to myself, I ran a hand through my hair, it is time to work. I walked out of the bathroom and towards the master bedroom,  drunker than I would like to admit. He was already waiting, sprawled on the bed, eager. Putting on my game face, I feel a sense of numbness descend over me as I moved toward the bed. All the while wishing he was someone else. 

 

 



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