I can;t remember where this idea came from. But, some depressingly horrible thought in my head decided to explore what Vaughn’s life would have been like if he never met Aria, and Sokola was the only family he ever had. Overall, I don’t think much changed, since most of the story was based on real moments in the genesis Vaughn and Sokola Daddy/Daughterdom. I do think it made Vaughn a lot more depressing, and a heck of a lot more lonely, since he didn’t have his girlfriend/pet to turn to for advice, and to cheer him up when things were difficult. It isn’t evident in this story, but it may have possibly made their relationship grow faster, without Daddy’s overly-proper girl getting in the way of playtime…and also, maybe, made Sokola’s little Electra complex worse, since there wouldn’t have been the competition. Regardless, I think this story ended up adorable, if not kind of depressing. I hope you enjoy it, and are ready for the lest Pig Week post tomorrow, whenever I finish it!
This story is interesting for me, because while I wrote it, it’s also helping me flesh out something that’s actually going to happen in my novel. Sans-Sokola, of course, but most of it still happens the same or similarly to how it happens here. There will be some small changes, and the whole thing will take a little longer without Sokola’s interference, bu the end result will be the same. So, enjoy! I haven’t decided yet, but maybe tomorrow will be a continuation?
So, I found some new prompt blogs. And, one of them, Picture it & Write, happened to have just posted a new picture. So, I figured, who needs sleep? Let’s type something up quick and set a personal record: 3 posts in 24 hours (the third one will be in a few hours)! Hope you all like it. 🙂
Oh, what a picture for my thirteenth Fictioneers story! So wonderfully creepy. It had so many different stories lurking in the shadows, waiting for me to locate them and weave the proper words to put them into motion. So, I chose a story about a girl who appreciates a rainy day as much as I do, and is no stranger to putting potential events into motion. And, as usual, in 100 words exactly. Enjoy!
I’ve always loved rainy days. While most people run indoors, away from the gloom, I walk the deserted streets, taking it all in. To me, rainy days always seem so exciting, so charged, so full of potential! Almost as if the dead could come back to life.
Hearing footsteps behind me, I smile and turn around. My friend James is walking down the street, from the cold home he had obtained last winter. I take his rough hand in mine, and now neither of us feels alone. At least, until the rain stops and my spell once again wears off.
Yay! With the publishing of this post, I have accomplished three things: I’ve gotten my blog back to it normal post-more-than-once-a-month status, I’ve restarted doing Friday Fictioneers, and I’ve reached 50 posts! (I think?) Anyway, I won’t bore you any longer with my self-celebratory dabble. After all, I have a story to tell, don’t I? (Which, might I add, is again 100 words exactly, as per usual!)
A World Of Her Own
They always said that she was in a world of her own. When they thought she wasn’t aware, they would stare at her. Then, they would whisper about how strange she was, and how they could understand why nobody wanted to be her friend, and how nobody would date her.
And it hurt. It hurt because she was fully aware. She just acted like she didn’t care, because it was easier than letting them see her cry.
Then, she would sneak into the music room and play the old piano. Then, she really did enter a world of her own.
I’m very attached to my friends. I actually got the idea for this story because my one friend wasn’t at breakfast (which we usually go to together) on morning, and I had woken up in a really blechy mood. It probably also didn’t help that I had had a nightmare two night prior that something had happened to her. So, I sat at breakfast, staring out the window, thinking about what it would be like if my best friend had died, and my mind had been blocking it out. From that, this story was born. And, here’s to hoping I never have to actually deal with anything like what the girl in this story does, because I doubt I would do very well with it. Enjoy!
This is a bit of a different piece than the rest of the month will probably be. Instead of a short story, like I’m trying to do for every other letter of the alphabet, I decided to post a self-reflection I wrote a while ago that happened to fit one of the categories I had decided on. This is a piece that I wrote very late at night, by the light of my phone, because I felt extremely sad, empty, and alone for no particular reason. When I’m in one of my “moods”, I sometimes think of myself as one of those old porcelain dolls, though the reasoning behind it differs from time to time. Either way, I channeled that into this piece, though the lines between symbolism and reality get a little blurred by the utter worthlessness I feel when I’m particularly sad. I hope I don’t anger anyone with some of the things I say, as I admit that there are some things I say that, though mostly just symbolic images of roughly handled playthings, are still things I am embarrassed to realize I said about myself. If anyone has any questions, feel free to ask, though I may not answer every question, should it poke too far into parts of myself I’m not comfortable exploring yet. Really, my reason for posting this is more in hopes that someone can relate to it in a “I’m still here. I’m still pushing along. You, the reader, can keep pushing, too.” kind of way. If I get a lot of negative feedback about it, I may take this down, but I’m hoping I can keep it up, in hopes it actually becomes useful to somebody someday. Or, you know, just melts into the oblivion of the ‘never read’ pile. Either way, it feel kind of good, though kind of nerve-wracking, to post something personal like this where everyone can see it.