Selling a Childhood Home (Write The Story, Piccadilly #4)

Selling a Childhood Home

Words: dreamscape, convince, pioneer, genesis, cumulous, jump, mash, condition, erase, gold

The house was silent. Dust filtering through the beams of light as the young man pushed back the curtains. The condition of the house was in disrepair but it still held its charm. The mahogany fireplace with its gold trim, the worn out wool rug on the floor, and the badly recreated dreamscape painting made by a young boy many years ago. The man stared fondly at the painting. After all these years, it was still here. He had tried to convince his father to take it down as he got older, but he wouldn’t hear of it. His father was proud of it, and he loved how to cumulous clouds in the painting looked like penguins.

The stairs creaked as he ascended them, the wallpaper peeling at the corners. He remembered how they had to replace it when he was young because he was pretending to be a pioneer in the wild west, and the wall was just perfect for drawing wanted posters on. He thought it was great, his mother did not when nothing she tried worked to erase the damage.

Each room held so many memories and stories. But as each item was packed away in a box and mashed into the truck out front, he couldn’t help but feel a deep sadness build in his chest. This was his first home, the first place he ever felt safe, it was the first and the last of so many things. And now it was time to say goodbye to it. He always thought that this house would be here, his fallback for if everything went wrong. He jumped out of his musings at the sound of the truck horn alerting him it was time to leave. He gave the empty house one more look before locking the door one last time. Leaving this house behind marked a new genesis for him, a new adventure.

 

A Conversation Between Artists (Write The Story, Piccadilly #3)

A Conversation Between Artists

Words: skull, galaxy, expression, trash can, deployment, visitor, brushstroke, decade, forgot, ponder.

She sighed, staring at the blank canvas before her. She began to wonder if it was worth running downstairs and digging her last attempt out of the trash can. She was stuck. Stuck and tired. There was a chuckle, causing her to glance to the side where her visitor leaned against the doorframe with an amused expression on her face.

“If you stare at it any longer you may burn holes into it.”

The artist groaned as she sat down her brush, ” I don’t know what to do, Ella. I feel like I’ve hit a wall.”

Ella smiled at her friend, “My dear, we all come to a wall in life, what you do with the wall is up to you. Some break it, some climb it, some try to go around it.” She sighed, “And then there are some like me, who sit in front of the wall because all the other options failed them.” When Ella first started, she was quite a famous artist, and for almost a decade, it was bliss. Then she went away on deployment, and nothing was ever the same again. That was ages ago, and most people forgot about her, but not Laura. She would always remember how great her friend was, is. There was so much beauty trapped in that skull of hers, trapped behind the wall.

Laura thought about her friend’s predicament and wondered how she was lucky enough to have a friend like her in this cast cold galaxy they live in. And so, Laura picked up two brushes and handed one to Ella,

“If we can’t conquer the wall, let’s paint it.”

Ella’s eyes lit up as she took the brush, and that was how the wall fell, with a single brushstroke.

 

 

 

Because who doesn’t love a little Bob Ross?

 

 

Something Believed to Be Myth is Very Real (Write The Story, Piccadilly #2)

Something Believed to Be Myth is Very Real

Words: necromancer, elm, roadmap, GPS, outside, twine, water lily, plastic, chopper, powerless.

I couldn’t believe it, sitting in the car with me was a real life Nymph. Not only that but my best friend of eleven years had been lying to me this whole time.

“I can’t believe it, you’re really a necromancer?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you never say anything!?”

“Would you have believed me?” I glared out the window,

“No.” I cast a glance at the Nymph in the back seat, who was currently gnawing on a plastic fork it had found. “So… what are we going to do about… that.” He sighed,

“I don’t know, but we can’t just throw it outside. It’s powerless after its elm tree was destroyed. We need to find it something new to bond to, and no, no random tree will do.”

“Well,” I reached behind me and snatched the fork and the roadmap it had found, causing it to yelp in annoyance, “the GPS won’t be on any help. So, what, we find an old forest or something? Maybe a lake?” My train of thought was interrupted by the sound of a chopper above us. “There’s an old lake that way, we could check it out.” As I started the car, my friend gave the troublesome Nymph a piece of twine to play with.

Two hours later and we found ourselves standing in front of a gorgeous lake. After my Necromancer friend opened my eyes I began to see far more life around me than before. I watched in awe as the little Nymph ran about, embracing its friends before stopping in front of a water lily on the water. It was mesmerized and carefully embraced the flower, surrounding both in bright light. It was home.

The Love of Each Other’s Lives (Write The Story, Piccadilly #1)

So a couple of years ago I got this book called Write The Story by a company called Piccadilly, and it’s just like it sounds. Each page has a theme/title and a series of words that you are to include in the story. What you do with the theme/title and how you include the words are entirely up to you. I thought it would be fun to include this in my blog, so here’s my first entry.

The Love of Each Other’s Lives

Words: piano, fish, store, ceiling fan, behave, breathe, describe, irritating, enthusiastically, righteous.

It was a slow, lazy day. The sound of the city rushing by, coupled with the whir of the ceiling fan and the drip of the kitchen faucet created the idle noise to which Luna worked. Tapping away at her keyboard, trying to get the last of her photos done, Luna ignored the world around her. Max, on the other hand, could be found lounging in the sun in front of the window, watching the world go by. Max was feeling a little put out, Luna had promised that she wouldn’t spend all day working, but here she was several hours later, still working. He knew her work was important but so was he! Something had to be done, Max got up from his spot by the window and made his way to the piano, maybe he could distract her with some music. He had only hit a few keys and she was shouting at him to knock it off and calling him irritating. He let out a breath of annoyance. Well, he’d show her, if she wanted to behave like a dog then so could he. With as much strength as he could muster, he jumped as high as he could, and when he landed he began to enthusiastically knock as many things off the table as he could. He was on a mission, one could describe it as a righteous calling, he was going to save the one person he loved from the most dangerous villain of all. Work. Finally, she slammed the laptop shut,

“Max will you cut it out! You’re not-” Max cut her off, hopping into her lap and burying his face in her neck. She laughed, checking the time, “Okay, okay, I guess I did take longer than planned. What do ya say I cook us up tat fish I got from the store this morning?” Max meowed happily, purring in contentment as Luna scratched his ears.

For there is no greater love that can be found than between a cat and its human.

Well, I hope you guys got some enjoyment out of this. I think I’m going to make this a regular thing. If you there’s something else you’d like me to take a crack at then let me know. Hope you all have a lovely day and go hug a cat! ❤︎