Category Archives: Writing Exercises

These are writing exercises, with minimal editing/proofreading, used to encourage creativity and help develop writing ability.

Who?..What?..What?..II

I entered as a last resort; sliding backwards until I was completely against the back of the wardrobe as I quietly pulled the door shut.  Darkness filled the space between me and whatever else was around.  Nothing was visible by reflection.  I sat motionless for a moment or two wondering what to do next.

I reached down to my left feeling the smooth finished touch of the wood.  It seems someone took special care when assembling this piece.  It must have cost a fortune…Wait.  What’s this?  Hmmmm.  I still can’t see anything, leaving me to resort to touch.  Quite cold I must say, and stiff as aboard.  Though it doesn’t seem to be very large.  It is, however, quite heavy for how small I presume it is.  Must be dense; filled with lead maybe, who knows.

Argh, if I could just open the door for one moment to shed some light on the situation my curiosity would be quenched.  Does it have a smell?  Not really, and as for taste, don’t’ even think about it; I’m not putting anything in my mouth before at least a peak.  I can’t seem to find an end to it though.  It’s strange and rather peculiar.  It’s not too heavy, doesn’t seem too big, yet I can’t find an end.  I have managed to locate the confines of this closed wardrobe, yet the object in my near proximity seems to extend beyond all perimeters.

Hmmm, where to go from here.  Well, I suppose I will just pull and pull and eventually an end will come, right?  So, I pull and have pulled and am still pulling, though no end has been found.  I am still here.  I do however hear noises outside the small confines of this space.  It seems the noises are even in reference to my pull.  As I pull hard and fast the commotion outside begins to over take the free space to such an extent that I lose my ability to capture my own thoughts, so I slow down.  Now everything is quite peaceful.  I gently tug with ease and smooth motions, and in return the outside is serene like; birds chirping, I imagine butterflies randomly launching themselves through the air, while the wind blows soft and flowers blossom.

Once again to the rapid pulling and aggressive nature of trying to find an end, and disruption of chaos fills the outside space.  Racketing, banging, so obnoxious I imagine too much more and I would disrupt even the wardrobe and possibly find myself vulnerable to the outer elements.  So I pull faster, faster, harder, with more might than before, seeking the end, struggling to maintain my high pace I pull even harder until . . .

It’s quiet.  It’s over.  The struggle has ended; there is no more pulling.  The noise has faded, peace has sounded, and I have lost my wardrobe perimeter and am without borders.  No longer sheltered by the light-refracting wardrobe, I will blossom as my fellow flowers.

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Damn, Joanna

It was Joanna that started the whole thing.  I should have never fallen for such a trick – so childish of me. Scared, aren’t you Peter she said, mocking me with her eyes and heating my temper to a boil.  I had to go.  I had to see what was inside.  Plus, I was so frustrated with her thinking I’m scared that I had to at least leave.

I stormed out without so much as look in her direction and headed straight for the cellar.  It was a bit chilly that evening, and I had forgotten my beanie at of my hateful departure.  O’well, I though to myself as I strolled across the courtyard hoping that Joanna was regretfully watching.  Knowing her though, she wasn’t, or at least not with regret.  She probably couldn’t care less.

I stopped to think for a moment at the threshold of the cellar.  What if it’s real?  What if the stories are true and I never return from the dark depths.  The air must have been warmer on the other side of the door, as I could see breath creeping out through the crack between the door and the ground.  It was eerie, I must say.  The steamy air spiraled into itself as it rose towards the night sky.  At one point I think I actually stopped breathing becoming mesmerized with the exhaust of the door as though it was breathing for me.

SLAM!  Followed by complete silence and I was on the other side of the door, without being aware of moving from my halted position.  How did I get here? I wondered.  I wasn’t with fear or even nervous of my surroundings, which were blanketed with a thick impenetrable darkness.  I was at peace. I stepped forward and felt no ground beneath me.  I was weightless.  I expressed no effort as I moved forward through the cellar.  I noticed that I was not even lifting my feet, or swing my arms in my normal loco-motion as I penetrated the dark recess of the cellar.  Where was I?  I reflected.

The last thing I remember is glass shattering on the wall; small fragments of glitter-like pieces sparkled as they submitted themselves to gravity’s pull.  The door slammed and I walked across the courtyard . . . Wait, we don’t have a courtyard.  The bright flash of light and the evil eyes staring at me as though I had interrupted something.  The gunman’s face was masked and I remember a voice saying you showed up at the wrong time.  But, then there was a courtyard, and the entrance, and I entered, or no I didn’t – I found myself here.

Who. . ? What. . ? What. . ?

It’s a burden of the sort.  One in which I have yet to have the pleasure of supporting.  She is magnificent in appearance and elegantly bolsters her load of many dimensions.  A left she will take in time; as soon as she is at the threshold of another life.  It’s in the darkness that she hides herself.  She stays their, for to be revealed is often too much to even consider.  And so, she will always maintain while contained within in order to surpass those of the upper class with immense compassion.

It’s her gait that speak wonders and encourages onlookers to dare to inquire of her.  What is she holding?  What does it say?  How does it speak and where is learned?  She is mesmerizing and they call her…every chance that they are given.  If within an earshot, an earshot then received.  She beckons to be beckoned, though so revealing that many are deemed unworthy by revelation of what lies within.

She is piercing in every peer and peers at everyone piercing to soul and enlightening with spirit.  She is all I can dream of, all that I can imagine, all that I desire.  Untouched, her beauty is second to none.  Unannounced, her presence is known by all.  Unseen, her beauty is forever remembered, cherished, held within to the depths in order to never be forgotten.

She is enough for everyone; enough for anyone; too much for no one; too much for just one.  We will find her, for she has found us.  She has turned the corner in pursuit of you, of me, of us.  She has nothing to hide and is in desperation to share all with all.  Alone she is not and together we are.

Who is rounding the corner? What’s their secret? What are they carrying?

It’s a burden of the sort.  One in which I have yet to have the pleasure of supporting.  She is magnificent in appearance and elegantly bolsters her load of many dimensions.  A left she will take in time; as soon as she is at the threshold of another life.  It’s in the darkness that she hides herself.  She stays their, for to be revealed is often too much to even consider.  And so, she will always maintain while contained within in order to surpass those of the upper class with immense compassion.  

It’s her gait that speak wonders and encourages onlookers to dare to inquire of her.  What is she holding?  What does it say?  How does it speak and where is learned?  She is mesmerizing and they call her…every chance that they are given.  If within an earshot, an earshot then received.  She beckons to be beckoned, though so revealing that many are deemed unworthy by revelation of what lies within.

She is piercing in every peer and peers at everyone piercing to soul and enlightening with spirit.  She is all I can dream of, all that I can imagine, all that I desire.  Untouched, her beauty is second to none.  Unannounced, her presence is known by all.  Unseen, her beauty is forever remembered, cherished, held within to the depths in order to never be forgotten.

She is enough for everyone; enough for anyone; too much for no one; too much for just one.  We will find her, for she has found us.  She has turned the corner in pursuit of you, of me, of us.  She has nothing to hide and is in desperation to share all with all.  Alone, she is not and together we are.

Sábado 6 de Dezembro

There is a lady bug that lives in my front room.  Not here if it’s a grid or guy, but nonetheless it’s a blessing.  It may be the coolest thing that is going on my life right now.  We will say it’s a he.  He has been hanging out with my wife and I for a bout 3 months now.  I have read that we need to know the Father.  How badly we do need to know the Father.  The question is how?  Through Jesus is the answer.  Well, then how do we come to Jesus?  I am not sure, though I feel that I should have a scriptural memory somewhere in my bank of synapses to suffice this inquiry.  I will look for this, hopefully, and bought down the answers.  I want to know the Father.  I want to know.  I do want to come to Christ.  To know – it seems the path is laid, it is just a question of when.  To follow, rather to walk is a difficult thing in this context.  WE battle our selves, just as in this very moment.  mY mind struggles to bleed the words lest someone take notice and be made aware of the true state the authors heart.  Being naked in public is not easy on the nerves.  For we are naked, and maybe this is why we clothe ourselves with every think that we can wrap our finger around, except for that which has given us, and that which we need not even so must as utter the word please – but rather just accept.  Though the entire force of the world is against us and to hold up such weight is nearly impossible for such a lowly creature as oneself.  So, let go.  Release your struggle and fall letting the world crush you.  Welcome.  So – there s a ladybug living in my front room.  It’s super.  I really don’t know how to take it.  I haven’t been this excited about something since I can’t even remember.  I just wish maybe that we could talk.  What would a ladybug say?  Imagine just how big this room is for the little guy.  At least a few thousand times larger to him than I.

Quinta 30 de Outubro

Tired.  I think that I have said that before.  Tired of being.  Tired of school.  Tired of structure.  Tired of chaos.  Tired of you.  Tired of me.  Tired of day-to-day routine.  Routine that just simple goes and goes and goes on and on and on like a witches wheel.  Should get rusty after a bit and begin to decay, as most things here – if not all things here.  Why do we go through phases?  From the light of the soul to the dark side of the soul and in between the two are many stops and side attractions.  When will it stop?  Will it stop?  Maybe it will stop for you, and for me, and for him or her for some time, but when it stops for one does it stop for the other all the same?  Or, is everything a self-centered experience?  IT seems the latter is possible.  WE can only know what we experience, and we can’t experience another’s experience – we can only experience for ourselves, firsthand.  Hmmmmm…..I receive this message sometimes.  ALL CAPS is another one that I receive sometimes.  I’d like a hammock between two trees, shaded on the beach or just surrounded by green breathing foliage, and a book to consume with my eyes.  This seems so peaceful, because I am tired.  Tired of prescriptive reading.  Tired of responding.  Tired of answering.  Tired of… … Not real sure, but I am tired.  How is that I have become tired?  And, a new day will dawn awakening, and then once again after some time the state of being tired will grow once more.  Then it will be removed and refreshed I will feel, though I anticipate darkness to tempt once again, and I will attract myself towards the shadow of night.  It’s safe there.  It’s a place to contemplate.  A place to rest.  A place to shed burdens without notice and a place to emerge from renewed.  A place inside, that I might confide, this place I find, where nothing can hide.  But it’s dark, how can nothing hide?  It’s a strange thing, you see.  Though dark, it sheds light on all that there is.  Though dark, it is contrasted greatly by… 

Terça 14 de Outubro

In silence we will speak.  In silence we will write.  In silence we will error and correct.  The letters are wrong – they speak of freedom.  To be free.  What is it to be free?  What does it mean?  Freedom to choice…Freedom to wait…Freedom to sell…Freedom to buy…Freedom to know…Freedom to understand…Freedom to excel…Freedom to obtain…Freedom to be free…Freedom to be…What is it to be?  To be alive…To be you…To be near…To be me…To be him…To be them…To be uncovered, naked, shown to the world – vulnerable and hesitating to speak your mind.  But your free.  So shout from the roof.  Let your mind flow and let your mouth be open – your tongue loose – but wait.  To speak, is that freedom?  To be let loose one’s thoughts.  Thoughts conceived.  Conceived by learning.  Learning from experience.  Experience with others.  Others of ignorance.  Ignorance of bliss.  Bliss of arrogance.  Arrogance of anger.  Anger from information.  Information of others.  Others of reputation.  Reputation of lies.  Lies of honesty.  Honesty of self.  Self from another.  Another from perception.  Perception from conception of regression turned to suppression by compulsion of hesitation to accept what was acceptable and has already been accepted though now is forgotten and has become the cause of deficiency.  The world is amazing.  We are incredible.  We are so strong together.  We are so marvelous when we are strong together.  We are what holds everything together.  We are what tears everything apart.  We are everything in everything.  We are – therefore we were, so in turn we will be and this is our fate.  A circle that will never intersect itself, that will continue to expand, that is constant motion, that is life, light, and is what we see when we see.