It’s what I do in the middle of the night

By lytspeed Posted in Prompts, Writing Leave a reply

This prompt is not doing a lot for me right now. I’m trying to think of some way to make the prompt the end of the story, and there are probably dozens of ways — hundreds, probably — to write a short piece that would end with that line, but no ideas are coming to me.

Analyzing it from a left-brain standpoint, it makes sense that if the story ended like that, a situation might arise in which two characters were discussing something that one of them does. One character just found out about it, and is confused and bewildered by it, the other character (the one doing the actions in the middle of the night) acts as if the action is perfectly natural.

I’m seeing a father and son in this story; the father has just discovered something that has been happening, is intrigued by it, and just found out that his son is behind it. His son, on the other hand, has done whatever this action is for as long as he can remember, and it’s second nature to him. The father approaches the son about the events occurring in the middle of the night in wonder and disbelief.

But what does the child do? Does he create the stars? Does he not sleep? Does he unknowingly knit the Universe together in the night? Is he some kind of dream filter, who receives all the dreams that people are having, jumbles them together, and doles them back out again, randomly?

That last idea is pretty interesting … I wonder if I will be able to come up with a story format for it.

Once, when no one was looking …

By lytspeed Posted in Prompts, Writing Leave a reply

Once, when no one was looking, Walter was nice.

While riding his bike around the block, he saw a praying mantis on the bumpy sidewalk. His first instinct, of course, was to aim directly for the bug. As luck would have it, he turned too quickly and his front wheel slid up against the three inch lip where the roots of Mrs. Aiden’s oak tree had pushed up the sidewalk. Down went the bike, down went Walter, and he found himself lying belly down on the cold concrete with his legs tangled in the frame of the bike. The offending front wheel spun slowly a few inches above the ground.

The praying mantis hadn’t moved. It stood on its four rear legs, front limbs up, a miniature green centaur. Walter scowled and his face grew red. He kicked at the bicycle, trying to dislodge his legs.

“Stupid bug! You’re gonna get it!” Walter spat. He reached to the edge of the sidewalk and pulled up on the corner, where the tree root had cracked it. Walter knew about that corner; he had dug out underneath it so that he had a place to hide things. Soon, though, it would be a grave for a smashed green bug.

Walter raised the chunk of concrete over his head, a jagged corner protruding from his hand like a primitive dagger. He narrowed his eyes and tensed his arm, ready to slam the concrete down on the mantis, but then a strange thing happened.

The mantis turned and looked at Walter. It cocked its head, just like E.T. from the movies. Little circles of light reflected off the bug’s eyes, as if they were polished. It stared at him.

Walter froze. He could almost hear it asking him not to smash the chunk of concrete down. Intelligence shone from the bug’s eyes; it looked smarter than Walter’s kid sister, which, of course, wasn’t saying much. But it was unexpected. Walter lowered the concrete chunk down slowly and put it back in its place on the edge of the sidewalk.

The praying mantis inclined its head forward slightly when Walter finished placing the broken corner. Walter nodded back, imperceptibly. He stood up, picked up his bike, and started wheeling it home, to the other side of the block.

That night, at dinner, Walter’s parents noticed a scrape on his arm.

“What happened to you, Walter?” his mother asked. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, mom. I just wiped out on my bike today.”

“Oh no! Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Don’t worry, mom. It happens all the time, especially in front of Mrs. Aiden’s house. There’s a chunk of sidewalk that sticks up there, and I hit it wrong with my bike.”

“Well, you had better slow down, young man! You’re going to wind up really hurting yourself.”

Or someone else, Walter thought.

Spiky Wheel

By lytspeed Posted in Geek, General Leave a reply

In case you haven’t heard, it’s snowed quite a bit in Denver lately. It snowed again today, and for my main job as a field technician for a major TLA (Three Letter Acronym), I had to drive to Golden on sloppy, slushy freeways. I’m not complaining; I actually kind of enjoyed it. It’s been a long time since we had a really good winter out here. Plus, it allowed me to get this great picture with my camera phone.

Spiky Wheel
It’s pretty cool; since the roads were slushy, rather than snowy, the dirty slush accumulated on the center cap of the wheel. Centrifugal force from the rotating wheel pushed the slush outward, and it froze, creating this set of slushy stalactites radiating out from the center.

(Yes, they would all be stalactites, even though some of them are pointing upward. Stalactites are formed by liquid moving from the base to the tip of the formation. Stalagmites, on the other hand, are formed by liquid dropping onto the tip and running down to the base. Centrifugal force would make the droplets of slush radiate outward from the hub, which forms the base, therefore these are all little stalactites. Or dirty icicles. Whichever you prefer.)

Write about a day moon

By lytspeed Posted in Prompts, Writing Leave a reply

Father told us that three or fewer moons meant bad luck was coming that day.

There was only one moon the day of the accident.

Mother and Father had taken the truck to the space port to pick up Grandmother. I remember the dust swirling out from beneath the truck, curling up and around the rising crescent of Cambra, obscuring her with a brown film. The other four moons had already set before sunrise, so Cambra would be the only moon in the sky today.

I was never much of a believer in superstitions; most of us kids weren’t.

—- —- —- NOTE: This isn’t working very well, and I’m about to fall asleep. I like the idea here, but I can’t stick with it enough to turn it into a workable story right now. Time for bed. Maybe I will return to this when I’m feeling more focused. —- —- —-

Liking the New Blog

By lytspeed Posted in Prompts, Writing Leave a reply

So far, I’m really liking the new blog format. I’ve been able to customize it some to get rid of the stuff I didn’t really want, I’ve been able to add other things, and I’m considering playing around with the default skin to incorporate the blog into my regular site design. First, though, I should probably see if I can import all my old blog entries into this one. There’s not much future in continuing the exercise if I can’t do that.

I’ve also been working on websites for a couple of other people, and I’m pleased to say that I’m really happy with the way they are turning out.

I did just notice that my timestamp is an hour off. I must have specified the wrong time zone somewhere …

We’re supposed to get another half a foot or so of snow tomorrow. We just dug out of the one-two punch of what has become known as the “Holiday Storms of ’06.” I don’t mind the snow, personally. It’s nice to have it again, frankly. I grew up with lots of snow in Durango, and it brings a smile to my face to see piles of snow taller than I am in my front yard. This is Denver, though, and snow never hangs around here for long. By this time next week, I suspect that all of the snow from tomorrow’s storm will be gone, and much of the snow still on the ground from the Holiday Storms will be gone, as well.

As one of my resolutions from a few days ago, I pledged to write every day. Although I haven’t been writing in this blog every day, I have been keeping true to my self-assigned task. Just before New Year’s, I purchased a book at West Side’s Book Annex in Denver. The book is A Writer’s Book of Days, by Judy Reeves (1999, New World Library, Novato, CA.) It consists of many essays about writing and the lifestyle changes that come with a commitment to heed the muse, as well as writing prompts for each day of the year. I’ve been dutifully using the prompts for the first four days of the year, and I’m surprised to see what has come out. So far, I have an essay, a self-reflective journal entry, a prose poem, and a piece of humor written in the style of the old Zork text adventures. Where the hell did that come from?

At this point, none of the above are suitable for publication, and I probably won’t even develop most of what I write in these exercises. But it is nice to feel the juices flowing again; it’s been a while.

Well, I’m off to do my homework.