| Sunday, May 11, 2008 |
| Prologue |
Hey, I wrote a prologue to a book that I'm sure won't ever get written but I felt inspired yesterday. So here goes it:
(No Title)
Prologue
I sat on the riverbank, impatiently, for the first time in 9 years. When overwhelmed by my adolescence, I reached for a pebble, tossed it in the air several times and, with the slightest bit of force, skipped it across the once meandering bend of the river.
As the pebble finally ended its brisk jog and sunk to the bottom of the river, I caught a glimpse of pale yellow to the left. An enormous grin spread across my face. I leapt to my feet and sprinted towards the driveway.
“Dad!” I screamed until my voice gave out.
Coming to a stop, I embraced him tightly and took two sharp drags of his unique citrus scent.
“I’ve missed you kid.”
I could feel him smile when he whispered in my ear. I pulled away and gave him a playful jab to the shoulder.
“Where have you been?”
“Just out, I thought I’d get groceries before you got here.”
“Well I’ve been waiting for you too long.”
“You couldn’t have gotten here more than twenty minutes ago.” He raised one eyebrow, something I had always envied him being able to do.
“It was still too long…”
With his arm around my shoulder we walked towards our crooked door. Once inside, he poured two glasses of grapefruit juice.
I giggled, “You never change do you?”
“Hey, I got a new haircut two weeks ago.” He smiled.
“You’re perfect the way you are anyway.”
I walked into the living room, knowing it would be exactly the same, but eager to check. Books were everywhere, his typewriter was sitting in the far corner, and the picture of him and my mom shoving my cake in my face from my birthday the year I’d turned seven was still hanging in the center of the back wall. I sat down on the couch whipping my feet out of shoes and right up beside me.
“So, tell me more about her.”
Dad smirked as he turned towards me and handed me my glass. “What haven’t I told you?” He sat across from me.
“Well I don’t know, I just want to make sure she’s worthy”
“What do you say we get some sleep, and talk about this over breakfast. I’m sure you are tired from the plane.”
“’Kay Dad.”
He boosted himself off his favorite chair and I could tell he was getting fragile, even though he was still a few years from fifty.
“But, hey…I want you to know I’m proud of you.”
He shot a smile back at me, and continued up the stairs. I was sure my room exactly the same as I had left it at 19. Even so, I didn’t feel much like walking upstairs and I had missed my living room, so I let myself drift to sleep.
(End)
By the way, I don't want to like steal your hobby, and I probably won't even end up going anywhere with it, so don't worry. I know it annoys me when people do the same thing as me. |
Slid down the rainbow at 6:41 AM  |
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| 1 Comments: |
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That's brilliant!
Hey, I don't think of it as "stealing my hobby", I think of it as you writing, and you're good at it, so please don't abandon it cause of me.
I liked that a lot. I was pretty impressed by the beginning, I loved this bit: "When overwhelmed by my adolescence, I reached for a pebble, tossed it in the air several times and, with the slightest bit of force, skipped it across the once meandering bend of the river."
Don't give it up.
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That's brilliant!
Hey, I don't think of it as "stealing my hobby", I think of it as you writing, and you're good at it, so please don't abandon it cause of me.
I liked that a lot. I was pretty impressed by the beginning, I loved this bit: "When overwhelmed by my adolescence, I reached for a pebble, tossed it in the air several times and, with the slightest bit of force, skipped it across the once meandering bend of the river."
Don't give it up.