Saturday, March 12, 2011

My First Post

So...I don't blog.  Now, pick yourself up off the floor and please try not to laugh.  I don't know why I don't blog.  I've been told that I should.  After all, I write, and every writer is supposed to have a presence on the web, right?  I know this; it only makes sense.  And yet...I don't blog.  I've tried to.  I failed.  But, hey, if you fail then you pick yourself up and try it all again.  At least that's the idea.

Now, why did I decide to try this whole blogging thing just one more time?  Because a Terrible Mind made me do it.  No, seriously, Chuck Wendig over at Terribleminds did something evil...and good.  He posted this picture for his Flash Fiction Challenge, and my brain immediately started formulating a very short story.  While it's not as good as some of the other entries (I loved reading them and enjoyed the different scenarios), it did help me break through a particularly nasty spell of writer's block.

And now, for better or worse, here is my entry (edited to make reading it on the web easier) - which happens to be my first blog post:


She hated life.  She couldn’t let go.  It was the paradox she couldn’t free herself from.  The street below bent and bowed with life, breathing people in and out of the buildings that lined the busy sidewalks.  Little creatures running from one place to another, never looking up, always looking down, ignoring the very things she desired.  Beauty had had a place here once.  Beauty would have a place here again.  Just not in this endless moment…her moment.
 She could feel the gray clouds skitter overhead, tumbling and rolling over each other until the sky was full of their thick, wrestling wisps.  It would rain soon.  The little dots below would become a sea of bumbling black covers, sometimes punctuated by a bright, rebellious hue.  She had been that hue.  She had burned hot and sure.  She had feared the fading.  The fading which never came.

The room grew restless, the bricks along the corner of the building expanding in anticipation of rain.  Her corner room.  Her corner window.  Sometimes they came.  No one stayed.  The paradox shifted, righted, snapped into place.  Hate them, love them, let go of them.  She might remain quiet, but still her visitors could feel the war of animosity and despair.  Felt, but never seen.  Experienced, but never documented.

 If they could only see.  If she could make them.  Her mistake was a purgatory of gray, a waiting maelstrom of silence.  She could shout with one sad glance what she knew as truth.  But they never looked up.  And so she stayed in her room.  She looked down at the belching and staggering of life.  She turned from the ignorance that weighed on their shoulders, turned back to the agony of wanting and not having, never seeing eternal youth, only knowing her mournful heart.  And waited for someone to look up.


  1. God that's depressing, but I think that's what you were going for :) I really like the imagery of buildings as living beings making a city feeling like a flock or herd of wild animals. I appreciate that there's pretty much no fat - it's very tight.

    You can read my entry if you get bored or something :)

  2. Beautifully written. I felt certain she was going to jump. Glad she didn't. :o)

  3. I don't know why this one came out as depressing. It just sort of decided it wanted to be. So, yeah, I suppose it's supposed to be sad. lol I took the "flash" as writing the first things that came to mind, then making sure the thoughts were coherent, so I didn't really expound. Hopefully I'll be able to do more challenges like this one and actually write a happy story. Believe it or not, I'm really a happy person. :)

    By the way, I really enjoyed your entry, too. I'm glad I wasn't the only one who saw the hotel as being haunted.

  4. Excellent, sad picture, I absolutely enjoyed it! There are so many opportunities you can think of here: is she alive? Is she old or. Young? Is she a human? I like the pieces that make me think, thanks for this. (Sorry for any missPellings: blackberry and blogger don't mix very well.)

  5. I got the impression that she was the one doing the haunting and it painted a picture of dark despair. Being alone and confined to a particular place when no one can see or hear you is truly a curse. You really let us get to know this poor creature, and her plight is heart-breaking. What happened to her? Did she do something to deserve her situation? This can effectively stand alone, but it could also be part of a much larger piece. Perhaps some backstory first, then move on to more of the present? I would be very interested to see where this would go.

  6. Wow, Joyce, you've sparked my writer juices! I really did do this as a one off, but you're right. There could be so much more to this. And you did hit it spot on: she's a lonely soul haunting one place, in despair because she's utterly alone. But now you have my brain quickly making a story for her, how she got there, why she can't leave, and what's going to happen to her. Thank you for the little nudge!

  7. "The street below bent and bowed with life, breathing people in and out of the buildings that lined the busy sidewalks."

    Wow. I love your writing style- quite poetic.

    Keep writing! :)