The Common Application

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The View reached out and grasped her hand—gentle, yet firm, as Father Time would lead an accepting being to death. They soared upwards; above the buildings and treetops, above the lakes and mountains. The View gazed at her face. It was lit like a child’s experiencing the world for the first time—awe. She saw the world in a new light while up here, in the clouds. The world was full of green and blue hues. A soft breeze caressed her skin. She was left feeling breathless and insignificant and inspired. The View turned and embraced the world as best he could with his senses.

“You must protect this world,” The View said. “You have been given only one. Cherish it. Work to keep it safe as though your like depends upon it.”

They softly landed on the forest floor where they had began. She was still in awe—breathless. Her ability to speak had stayed in the clouds. A soft-spoken “thank you” was politely muttered.

“My dear, do not thank me for I have given you nothing more than a view of the world.” The View stated calmly, his face gentle, genuine, fixed.

She stood there staring at the forest floor with nothing to say. She did not think he had heard her thank you, ah, but he had. She began to move her eyes about without looking in The View’s direction. ‘The world is filled with beauty—here and everywhere.’ It simply took a trip to the clouds, to see things in a different perspective, to realize this. Since she has experienced this beauty, this grace, it is her responsibility to now protect the world—against people like her old self.

 

part of hemmingway pastiche, a touch edited

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There was a live yet lonely mountain covered in trees quite removed from everything else. It had but a single trail and many birds and many foxes and many trees. It did not stand near water. The girl headed up the winding step mountain trail into an ocean of trees. Cool mountain air whipped her hair about and the trees danced. She walked at a brisk pace to reach the top before noon time hit and then slowed her pace. Time was plentiful.

He dashed about the car, parked alongside an abandoned dirt road, near a mountain covered in trees, to make sure it was animal proof. He danced about, locking and re-locking, checking and re-checking every nook and cranny the car had that could expel the scent of the food inside. The car was safe to be left alone. Without checking for vehicles he dashed across the dirt with the picnic basket in the crook of his arm to not drop a crumb of bread and dove through the trees to the trail up the live yet lonely mountain.

At the fifth bend in the trail, she looked through an opening in the trees out upon the landscape. The birds, ever excited to see a new creature, flew about her and the foxes, searching for food, bounded away, being more careful creatures than birds, from near where she was standing. The view was brilliant.

He saw her paused, facing away from him, inhaling the view, as he dashed around the fourth corner with the picnic basket then slowed and became quiet. He came up behind her and lightly pushed her from behind. The shock of the tap scared her, she jumped a bit and screamed, although there was no one else around to hear her, then whipped around.

 

Destroyed.

Like a ripe peach.

dropped on a sunny day

at a local farmers market.

Hustle and bustle keeps most distracted.

some step over,

others step upon.

Forgotten,

bruised, spliced, splattered.

walked all over.

as the sun departs,

and the moon rises

the street cleaner comes.

the gooey mess is wiped up,

a bare seed simply left

upon the street.

 

Earthquake

The ground began to roar and tremble. She fell to her knees crying out. It was 1906, the great San Francisco earthquake and the stage was set for disaster. A booming economy, growth, industrialization, yet everything started to come crumbling down, as it goes. The world split open and sucked everything in, the most hungry beast in the whole entire world. Who could have known that such a gentle and loving creature, one which provided so much could be so terrible.

She had been sitting at her desk, filing, a secretary, trapped. In no way was she unhappy with her life, she was simply stuck in a curious position. Married at 19, now 30, she was still in love with her husband, but saw no passion within him or herself. They lived together, asking all of the common questions. ‘How was work?’ ‘Did you get the drycleaning?’ ‘Do we need anymore milk?’

They had never been known for extravagance, but her life had simply become liveable. The only new life in their world was the daily newspaper, reporting on anything, yet missing everything.

Frantic, she curled up and covered her head. Standard procedure. The only thing missing was someone standing next to her, whispering comforting nothings into her ear. Perhaps she was the one supposed to be thinking comforting thoughts. ‘Everything will be all right.’ ‘Only a little while longer.’ ‘I hope she’s okay.’ ‘How long has she been crying there for?’ ‘thirty minutes.’ ‘Ever since the office mailman arrived she’s been like that.’ ‘She didn’t even get any mail!’ ‘Then why is she like that?’ A wave of “I don’t knows” swept across the crowed as though God was breathing life into the room.

Her world was falling, all around. The walls melted and nothing was there. Pitch black collapsed all around. Her earthquake was over and the office men were clueless. How to take care of a crying child? Feed her comfort her and give her strength to stand on her own. Then no earthquakes will be felt.

 

Don’t Know…

At once, she turned to him and spoke. “I hope you can find your way now.” She glanced down at the blue marble floor, “That’s how the world goes. One day it’s all together and right in place, but the next, oh the next, everything is messed up. You can only turn to one thing now. Up.”

That’s how he was introduced to heaven by the most beautiful angel he had ever seen.

Her long, elegant wings gingerly spread out to test the air before she left. “this is where you were always ment to be. I’m glad you made your choice to come and stand here.” She began to hover. Her pure white gown blew in the wind like the only cloud visible on a summer’s day. Gentle, soft, all-encompassing.

There were no pearly gates as everyone had said. He was simply left standing in the sky, not our sky, but a sky much like it. Endless blue surrounded him and he finally felt a sense of peace. The kindest waves washed over his whole being. Everything had been completed.

Some may say that 30 is a young age to die at, but he knew, deep in his heart, that is how it was always meant to happen. Not as gracefully or as painlessly as everyone had said, but with all the overwhelming hurt that everyone who had ever lived or ever will live felt.

And so he was welcomed.

“A strong desire to write, but nothing to say” H. Murakami.

 

I found a few

stories I wrote around the age of eight or nine. They are rather entertaining. The spelling in awful and a few of the plots are all over the place, but over all very…interesting. Such as the story about the smallest clown in the world. She became to be so small due to an incident in a car-compound lot. she was picked up by a magnet, placed inside the bin, then shrunk. An amazing feat for a clown. She goes back to the circus, learns a show incorporating dogs, and gets married to the announcer at the circus. Yay for the accomplishments of the smallest clown ever. there was no point in saying this, simply found it entertaining.

 

The Bird and The Bee Side

The new album,The Bird and The Bee Side, released by relient k on July first is a fantastic album, showing a different, more acoustic side than their 2007 release Five Score and Seven Years Ago. It might be my favorite album yet of theirs, although mmhmm and Two lefts don’t make a right….but three do are both excellent albums. When I first heard Five Score And Seven Years Ago, I was slightly disappointed because it seemed as though they were trying to fit in with all of the other punk-rock bands and loosing their positive sound. So I thank relient k for going back to their old sound, weather it was the record labels decision or their own, i’m glad for the comfort their music brings.

 

The Novel?

I think novels would be kind of, well really, difficult to write. Too much patiences and planning. Or maybe it wouldn’t be. I wonder if they have the plot line figured out before writing the whole thing or if they just go for it. I don’t know, I’ve never tried to write a novel. It would just seem rather trying. I think I’ll just stay with introductions. Anyways, what this is leading up to is I wrote an introduction. But I don’t think it would be a novel introduction. Short story? yes. Just simply not novel material. What would be more difficult: a collection of short stories as long as an average novel, of a novel of average length? Both?

 

Let’s see.

Well I wrote something. Rather funny. Not really in the comical sense, but in the other one. I want to see if anyone can guess what I’m writing about. It will only be written a paragraph at a time. Never with the objects title given. ever. maybe in the very last paragraph of the  story–I suppose it should be called. This first one could be much much better, but I’m not in the mood to edit and rewrite. so here goes:

It dropped from its warm, soft, and gentle mother onto the cold, damp, lifeless, straw-colored brush. The fall, when seen from an untrained eye, looked as though a cliff-jumper making his first jump. . .without any way to stop him from hitting the ground. Fright danced about his muscles as the Earth came into greater detail. The vision of a fantastic death splashed clearly across his cheeks. Oh, but the grace and beauty, seen with a trained eye, are unmistakable. No harm is to come. The terrible fall is but a swan flying above the most crystal-clear lake one has ever seen–heavenly. Such is the beginning of a life.

 

New WordPress Design

Not exactly a fan. The new layout or design or just different colors are throwing me off. Something new-ish to figure out. Except for, it’s not all that different. Don’t know what I’m saying. Writing with no point. Again. and Again. and Again.