Creative Writing #1 (Rain) - incomplete

prompt: In a world where water is used as a global currency it rains again for the first time in thousands of years.

the woman felt it first, a foreign drop of water on her cheek, then another, and another, until the droplets dropped faster and faster still. the feeling of cool water upon her skin made her gasp. tears threatened to fall, and her lips, oh, how they quivered. she looked up, saw the beauty of rain for the very first time. she was drenched now, from head to toe, her clothes clung to her, but she had no care. this was it, it was unheard of, to actually see it, feel it, experience rain for the very first time. she crumpled to the ground and looked up at the sky, laid on the mud with her eyes wide open, staring, just staring. she was a dreamer, but this, this was something even she didn’t think, dream, would ever occur. she first heard about “rain” when she was in her history class. she had been doodling on her notebook instead of taking notes, eyes glazed over, figure slumped against her chair. she had only been half listening until her teacher, an old grouch, started talking about rain, actual water falling from the sky. her interest had peaked when she heard the words “water” and “falling” and “sky” in the same sentence. money falling from the sky? that’s even more crazy than money growing on trees! arms raised all over the classroom, she remembers it like it was yesterday, how everyones minds had been sparked by the topic of rain and how her own had been buzzing in wonderment. a flurry of questions were asked.

“so what happened? why did it suddenly stop raining?”

“was it global warming? i heard from my parents that thousands of years ago people didn’t have to wear masks, or not all of them anyways, to breathe”

“was it some crazy scientist? government plan gone wrong?”

the teacher had been stunned by the sudden interest. who knew the topic of rain, out of all things, would be the one to bring his students out of their stupor? encouraged by their fascination with the subject, the teacher had gone on a long winded tangent about the history and the biology of rain. the way he talked about it seemed like a fluke at the time. the woman had her mind made up; believe when proof is given, but until then, it will only be make belief.

now, as the woman lay still, the feeling of rain on her skin, she laughed.

she laughed out of disbelief; eyes clenched tight, body shivering from a combination of cold and awe, she laughed until her voice turned raw.

if a passerby saw her then and there, drenched with water and mud, they would have probably stopped, marveling at the sight. there was just something so beautiful about the sight. woman and nature at one with one another.

maybe it was the fact that her mouth was quirked up a sliver.

how her body was slack against the muddied ground.

or maybe it was her eyes, squeezed so tightly that years worth of smiles, frowns, and anger showed.

how her eyes and her nose crinkled with delight.

if a passerby saw her on the ground, he would have stared. marveled at her beauty, but even the passerby wouldn’t have seen the tears running down her face. the tears streamed down her cheeks like a waterfall, rushing down as fast as a current. one won’t be able to tell the tears from the rain.

however, she was not crying out of despair, no. far from it. she was crying out of awe, wonderstruck from the imagery she was experiencing. there was just something so majestic and eerily beautiful about the pounding of the rain, the mud and the water and the cold.

a shiver that ran through the woman’s core reminded her of the time. to her, it had felt eternity. just basking in the feeling of rain, momentarily forgetting her current predicament. it had felt good, too good. she had to face reality now, stop day dreaming away. time is precious, but also a scarcity she couldn’t waste.

the woman slowly got up, her arms dragging on the floor, body moving on autopilot. she needed to go home before it got dark or else her mother was going to skin her alive.             

         

(totally incomplete, continuing later, i’m planning for this to be at least 800-1,000 words ; yes i will edit and capitalize things later, i just got lazy)

Creative Writing: #2 (unfinished drabble)

prompt: two characters from any book are stuck in an air-hot balloon. one has to jump out.

“Romeo, I love thee, so much so that my heart bursts at the mere thought of your name. I love you more than an artist loves his work. You are my muse, my inspiration, my only love. But god forbid if you don’t stop being such a coward, and actually start acting like a man, I will push you out of this balloon myself.”

Juliet’s eye twitched in agitation, arms flinging all around, as she pointedly glared at him. Romeo Montague, the sometimes dim-witted boy she (unfortunately; star-crossed lovers, really?) loved, was mortified, very much so.

Taking half a step back, Romeo’s back hit the edge of the balloon. He felt like a caged animal, cornered with absolutely no hope for survival. He whimpered as she inched closer, his arms thrown up in self defense, adams apple quivering.  

“J-j-juliet, let us think this through. I assure you, we will get through this together my love. No dying.” Tears threatened to fall as he tried to reason with the love of his life. Fate was truly cruel.

Juliet let a strangled laugh (sounding very much like a Siren), “You are the man Romeo. You are the one that must sacrifice yourself so that I, your fair maiden, would survive this tragic event.”

His whimpering momentarily ceased as he replied, “Isn’t that sexist?”

“No”

“Yes, Juliet. I’m pretty sure that’s you being sexist.”

“Definitely not, it is your duty to protect me from any danger. You said yourself when we made our vows.”

“You know what, we aren’t getting anywhere with these petty arguments. We should just jump together. For better or for worse, we need to do this together.”

She sighed, then began murmuring to herself. “If I had just picked Paris. I mean, Romeo is good looking, but that’s pretty much it. Why do I always get myself into trouble?”

Unbeknownst to the young couple, the hot-air balloon had been slowly descending unto the shark infested water.  


(yes, i am disappointed by the ending)

Creative Writing: #1

prompt: In a world where water is used as a global currency it rains again for the first time in thousands of years.

the woman felt it first, a foreign drop of water on her cheek, then another, and another, until the droplets dropped faster and faster still. the feeling of cool water upon her skin made her gasp. tears threatened to fall, and her lips, oh, how they quivered. she looked up, saw the beauty of rain for the very first time. she was drenched now, from head to toe, her clothes clung to her, but she had no care. this was it, it was unheard of, to actually see it, feel it, experience rain for the very first time. she crumpled to the ground and looked up at the sky, laid on the mud with her eyes wide open, staring, just staring. she was a dreamer, but this, this was something even she didn’t think, dream, would ever occur. she first heard about “rain” when she was in her history class. she had been doodling on her notebook instead of taking notes, eyes glazed over, figure slumped against her chair. she had only been half listening until her teacher, an old grouch, started talking about rain, actual water falling from the sky. her interest had peaked when she heard the words “water” and “falling” and “sky” in the same sentence. money falling from the sky? that’s even more crazy than money growing on trees! arms raised all over the classroom, she remembers it like it was yesterday, how everyones minds had been sparked by the topic of rain and how her own had been buzzing in wonderment. a flurry of questions were asked.

“so what happened? why did it suddenly stop raining?”

“was it global warming? i heard from my parents that thousands of years ago people didn’t have to wear mask, or not all of them anyway, to breathe”

“was it some crazy scientist? government plan gone wrong?”

         

(totally incomplete, continuing later, i’m planning for this to be at least 800-1,000 words so i still have need about 400-600 words lol ; yes i will edit and capitalize things later, i just got lazy)

Character Study (III)

Ragtag Team

Veins practically popping out of her skin, everyone with a set of eyes knew she was a ticking time-bomb. She was ready to get out of the plane, jump out if she could. I mean, really, who wouldn't want to get out after being squished in-between two hormonal teenagers on a 6 hour flight? The girl, brows knitted and mouth set in disdain, stood (albeit clumsily) and practically ran out of there as soon as the plane hit the ground. This is why she hated, eeerrrmm, disliked teenagers sometimes (even though she was basically, kind-of, a teensy-weensy bit a teenager herself). She looked around the gosh forbidden place, scanning for some familiar faces. Smirking when she saw a pair of ragtag group holding embarrassing signs, she shook her head in disbelief. She ran up to them, baggage be damned, and quickly pulled them in a group hug. She hasn't seen them in like months, OK? College be hard like that. They were still the same group of people she loved to hate. Yesenia is the shortest of the bunch, but the girl is a firecracker. She once, get this, ran after a petty thief in order to get back an older lady’s purse. So she was practically hailed a local hero; kudos to her! Then there’s Guadalupe, or Lupita, or Lupe (you get the gist). She’s got a bit of a mother hen syndrome a.k.a “I will smother you with care and love” syndrome. Last but not least, the only guy (that was able to get vacation time), is Jayce or as we fondly like to call him, “Coco.” He’s one of those introverts that love to just stare at things. He’s also pretty short, but that’s all in the genetics yo.

So, we met up for a relaxing spring break. Thank you Yesenia for your genius plans that always manages to skew itself out like an outlier (I did learn something in AP Statistics thank you very much). We were on our way to Yosemite National Park when Jayce’s 10 year old car (dubbed The Dinocar) broke down in the middle of nowhere. It was a literal “middle of nowhere” scenario because, as smart as the group was, they often made not-so-smart choices like take a shortcut that lead them to where they were now: MIDDLE OF NOWHERE. The car gave off its last chortle which resulted in smoke to arise from the hood of the car. Like any sane group of teenagers stuck in their own little Syfy Horror movie, they panicked. A lot. After the river of tears were cried and the prayers called, the teenagers looked at one another. A silent communication between them occurred. One of them had to go outside in order to see what was wrong with the car (or sacrifice themselves to the monster that was obviously lurking out in the dark). Jayce volunteered, was shoved out, to go check. His eyes were wide with fear, beads of sweat dripped from his brows, and his mouth was curled in a grimace. He held a chicken drum on one hand (raised as if to throw on an incoming monster) and a flashlight on the other. Lupe sat stiff on the passenger seat, hands poised on the lock button, ready to press it if matters were to arise. Yesenia, on the other hand, sat poised on an attack. She was gung ho on running over to Jayce in case something did magically pop up in the middle of the road. Unlike the other two, Erica sat with her phone on video, trying to catch a possible internet blowout video.

Character Study (I)

She walked briskly from her dorm through Washington Square Park, her hair blowing wildly in the wind. Bundled up in layers, a frown etching her face, she looked like a local New Yorker (not a native born Californian). Studying biochemistry within the pre-med track, Erica was already swamped with “assignments,” thus her mission to Bobst Library or as she liked to call it, the 12-story monster. Walking with a purpose, she brushed past other students, family members, and that guy named Steve that always has his hot dog cart located (seriously, every day) right next to the “famous Washington Arc.” It was the bustle and hustle that pulled her there in the first place. The people, a melting pot of culture and diversity strewn together like mismatched patchwork of quilt. Everything I had ever dreamed about, right on to the putrid smell of month old Chinese food (the smell that kind of grows on you after a while). Here she was, 5 foot 1 inches of skin and bones (wide, wandering eyes), grown and raised in a small hickory town now living, and breathing, her dreams. It was so surreal, but it was also her reality. She stopped her musings as she reached the impending library building. Grasping the handles, Erica pulled the doors open and quickly got inside. It wasn't all sunshine and glitters for her to be there. She fought and clawed her way to the top, leaving behind her family and friends in the west coast to her journey east. But it was all worth it; she was here, standing on the 11th floor of Bobst Library, studying in her dream school to become a doctor like she had always wanted to become. Like that famous quote said (apparently from Mark Twain), “make your mark in New York and you are a made man.”