The Coffee Shop

Here is the inspiring prompt Right Here, Yo

The aroma of fresh coffee permeated the room, blending with a brisk October air entering through the front door of the coffee shop. Customers came in and were greeted with a ringing bell that hung carelessly from the glass door. After removing their coat, they would take a seat near the fire place to wait for their waitress and to shake off the cold rain from the chill New York morning. I watched them come and go from my seat by the window. I peered at the glass and studied the drops of rain slowly racing down the window. I searched for inspiration in my surroundings but came up devoid of anything close to a muse.

            I turned my attention back to my cold coffee, which sat untouched, and the empty pages littered in front of me that provided little to no relief. A deep sign left my lips and I closed my tired eyes, listening to the rain pellet the glass; a sound that slowly calmed my fraught mind.

            The bell from the front door rang through my focus. Opening my eyes I was stunned by the familiar man walking to the counter. I observed him carefully, raking my memories in hopes of remembering the man. Once again my attempt was fruitless and my optimism for finding an old friend was replaced with misfortune. Rolling my eyes, I pushed the idea out of my mind and immersed my thoughts in desire for the paper in front of me to miraculously fill with a plot of love, adventure, and excitement, an idea that will sell and pay my bills.

            Feeling curious, I took a glance up at the stranger for one last time. He smiled at the coffee shop clerk and laughed. My breath was lost at his smile. I knew that smile and memories flooded back to me which filled my heart with a deep sadness. It mourned for the loss of a man who once was my childhood sweetheart.

             Suddenly, the coffee shop setting faded and the distinct smell of coffee was replaced with fresh cut grass. Once again I was sitting on top of the rock fence that over looked our town park. Looking out into the distance and gazing at the setting sun as it fell behind a tall hospital building. Looking over to my left I saw him, a young dark haired boy with deep brown eyes, he smiled at me. His eyes bright, smile white, and dimples apparent. My heart melted remembering the days of warm afternoons, our time spent sitting on the rock fence in the middle of our small sleepy town, watching the football team practice in the summer heat, and when we grew bored, we would walk to the gas station for soft served ice cream. Our first kiss was in sophomore year on the elementary school play ground. I can recall the way it felt, my knees getting weak, my heart pounding from excitement, and the warmth of fulfillment. Four years back, when I when I first left my home town, I would crave for the late night conversations on the phone and falling asleep to the sound of his voice. This would have been a comfort to put an end to the lonely nights as a college student.

            We were young and in a relationship beyond our age, and as most relationships do, our ended with heartbreak and without closure. We slowly grew apart. I went away to college and became a writer. I moved to New York when my first novel published and hit the top seller list. My dreams were too big for our small town. I was brave and had the ambition to reach them. He was not as successful, during his junior year he turned to drugs to cope with family issues, he learned not to trust from heart break and became a womanizer. This thought had burdened me and though he broke my heart, I still cared.

He still felt like my best friend, but through time this feeling was forgotten. Soon after high school my life became busy, and my focused shifted to my future. I moved on, but sometimes I would look back and wonder what it would be like to see him again and to talk about where our lives had taken us, or if he was proud of me. If I had a reason to be proud of him.

            I wanted to know if he ever reached his dreams, or traveled to the places we talked about, if he ever found happiness. I wanted to see if I knew him as well as I used to and if he still knew me. I wondered if he missed the summer nights, as I do, and long for a better time when life was as simple as watching the sun disappear behind the horizon, buying ice soft served ice cream for the joy of doing so, or kissing someone who made you feel whole.

            Once again the bell rang, the front door closed behind him, and my train of thought was killed. I stared out the window, passed the drops of racing water, and at the man I used to know and love. As he walked passed me, he fixed his gaze on mine, and gave me the same smile he used to. I smiled back knowing he knew who I was and with a nod of his head, disappeared among the mob of people.

            I could have stopped him. I could have ran after him and asked every question that has crossed my mind in the six years we have been apart. We could be reuniting our separate lives right now, I would be meeting him all over again, or even meeting a new and hopefully sober man that I could love, but I didn’t. When I saw his smile, I remembered our happy summer days and in that moment I was reunited with the memory of a boy that held my heart. He knew that he had changed, as we all do, and that he was no longer that boy and I wasn’t the girl he used to love. Both of them had long passed through the growth of time and experience. That even if I had run out into the rain to stop him, I would not be reuniting with my love but with a man who has been through hell, fought his demons, and came back with only half of who he originally was. It was only through his never changing grin that I was reunited with the boy from my childhood, and in some twisted sense, we had met once again on the rock fence were we would spend our warm summer afternoons.   

  

The Machine

In this light I see only in black and white,
a road that promises the best from the worst.
There is but one true law in life;
to gain you must give equally or
beyond what you may receive.
The cost is not our choice,
but is decided upon an ever changing world.

The cost of time is life,
the cost of knowledge and wisdom
is the devotion to spending time.
But instead we spend our life
on meaningless conveniences that
consumes the worth of success
and individual progress.

Industry bribes with amenity
and fallacious merit,
while stifling self-sufficiency
and born in its place; Dependency.

Do not be a fool to their illusion,
convenience cost more then
one can assume.
Be heedful to every step
taken with a machine.
Though they reach their hands
out to assist you in your climb
to accomplishment--

One hand is always in yours,
the other in your pocket,
but their motive is for your mind.
So protect and nourish it,
because you will never receive
anything more significant
to fill its place.

Prompt of the Day 3

Write the scene where the hero breaks the code. And once the code is broken, it changes the hero forever.

This can be manifested through myriad sets of circumstances. It could be the breaking of a cipher, or a code of conduct, or of ethics, or an even deeper set of personal beliefs, or none of these things. Feel free to come up with your own.

She sat still holding her breath. Her quaking knees ached under pressure as she continued to squat behind the pure white pillar out of the guards view. Her hand moved to her hip to quitetly pull the gun from her waist band on the white lab pants. Preparing for confrontation, she cocked the gun back back. The loud clicked grabbed the guards attention, she let go and stood from her hiding spot to moved into his view. His eyes widened with fear and he swiftly reached for his weapon but she was quicker. Her finger squeezed the trigger as her vision turned red to fall into unconsciousness. She let her demon come out to take care of the man in her path to freedom as she falls back into her own mind, sheltering her last fragment of sanity. 

She came back to consciousness in a new hallway wiping the blood from her hands onto her white pant. Sirens screeched through the building and red lights flashed as a warning that experiment 342 was free. Her heart pounding against her chest as she thought about the nearest exit. Time was dwindling every second she stood staring at her blood stained pants contemplating a plan of action. 
"You need to let go of fear." The demon within her spoke. "Let go of all emotion."
She tried to ignore the voice in the back of her mind. She knew better then to listen to it but every day she relies on the mysterious being more and more, and it was the only one that spoke to her with kindness, though she was no fool, she knew its motivation all to well. It does not care for her safety, but its own safety in the fact that if she ceases to exist, it ceases as well. It was a parasite in the back of her mind struggling to manipulate her motivation but she kept the demon in it's place as they used each other for survival.

The blond nine-year-old girl shook off her thoughts and took off down the hall to find the exit. She turned a corner quickly and was met with a fist to the jaw. The punch knocked the little girl back a couple feet, losing composer as blood filled her small mouth. The opponent grabbed her throat to throw 342 up against the concrete wall. He held her down by the back of the neck to scan the bar code on her left shoulder blade. Blood dripped down her pale chin from the pressure of the wall against the wounded jaw. 

"Did you really think you could get away Number 342? We wouldn't want you to get out into the real world and get hurt, now would we?" 

The demon in the back of her head growled and attempted to take over the little girls form to fight the insolent soldier. Number 342 pushed the red mist of the demon back to keep control of herself. The soldier chuckled to himself while dragging her back to the cage unaware of the boiling rage building from within the small figure of the nine-year-old.  

She was put back into a white room with the one way glass mirror. The guard left her to deal with her wounded jaw. She was familiar with the punishment that was soon to come so she left the wound to itself, not bothering to heal it if it will only open again.
"Why are you so kind towards them?" The demon asked her. She was unsure of the answer. Could it be possible that she is simply good natured? That she can't stand the sight of pain, whether it was her own or her opponents. Her kindness might come from her emotions and her ability to read her opponents. 

To a normal human they might be able to take someone's life when forced to without feeling much guilt, but to her, one look into their eyes and she knows their fear, their pain, and their weakness. She found this ability sickening; the way she could memorize every expression down to the individual muscle as she kills them unwillingly. She despised everything she was, for what she has to do and hopes every day that it would be her last but the demon keeps her alive for it's own safety despite her will to throw everything away for one taste of freedom.    

Freedom was almost hers. It was her addiction, her need. She craved for the outside world; wanting to see the sun and the sky. She had heard so many stories of the world outside her four walls, and the beauty it provided. She wanted that even if she had to die trying. She has never seen the world outside of the lab, not even as a child. She can never remember a time when she wasn't locked away in the lab. Her only memories were of these white walls, the doctor that tests her, her failed attempts of escaping, and the demon. 
"They don't care about you. They didn't even give you a real name. You are just their experiment." It called from the back of her mind.
She placed her head against the wall. "Then what does that make you?" She asked back to the voice. 
"Your friend. You're only companion and your only source for information. I know much more about what is going on here then you think and I am willing to share under one condition." 
"What is it?"
"We combined into one energy, one soul to embody one body."
"No."

"342 didn't make it outside, I see." The doctor mumbled into the test data. "It is no where near strong enough for war yet. I am not sure if this experiment is even worth the time. 342 is behind 10% on the average growth rate and I don't see any progress." He let the file of data flop onto the table. 
He met eye to eye with the division director. His coal black eyes studying the doctor for a second. "I think experiment 342 will be very useful. We can use it to improve later experiments by studying it's defects." 
The doctor nodded to the demoralizing director. The man stood and walked over to the window to study 342 through the one way mirror. Her small form curled into a corner with a mournful look painted her face. His brows knitted together in thought. "Is this experiment built in with a conscious?"
The doctor flipped through 342's profile to see what they had done during her mental development period when she was still in the test tube. "Yes, the tests do show it has a built in conscious. Why do you ask, sir?"
"It has developed a split personality to cope with its environment." He chucked as he watched the little girl change facial expressions as the argument continued in her head. 
"That would explain why it isn't developing properly, 342 isn't accepting the environment, but creating another personality to suit the environment so it doesn't have to cope." The doctor explained to the director. 
"Interesting." He paused. "I want the split gone, this is usually taken care when they are first going into the academy, but I suppose relapse is possible. 342 is going to have to accept it's place in society, or die because of it." 
"As you wish, sir."


"What are you so afraid of? What do you have to lose? Here we are, sitting in this same empty white room, same as yesterday. You are bleeding and in pain, same as yesterday. You are crying because you hate this god damn place and you want to leave, in yet, here I am offering you power and an escape but you won't take it! How do you expect to change your life if you aren't willing to change yourself? You can't, it is impossible. I am offering you the change you need to be free." The demon argued back aggressively. 
"That power and freedom come at a price, you know that and I know that! I am not stupid." 
"I think you have paid enough already... don't you?" 
She paused to think about the offer, believing its argument is true, then this organization owes her. She deserves the freedom and the knowledge of her past. She deserves the life they never gave her but she has to work to get it. 
"What is the price that you would put on freedom?" The demon calmed spoke to the little girl. "Was the first 3 years of your life living in a cage enough for your freedom? How about the next 2 years they spent putting your through torturous training for battle enough? What about when you were 7, right before your graduation? When you were forced to kill three of your other classmates to save your own life in order to pass the final exam? Is that enough for your freedom?" The girl could not answer, she did not know. 
The demon continued, "If that isn't enough for your freedom then you will spend the rest of your life in this hell, they will use you till you are not of any use to them anymore. Then they will throw you aside like a used rag doll. I won't do that to you, I am your friend." 
The conversation was interrupted by one of the doctors coming into the girl's white room. He did not speak a word to her, but grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out the door and into the hall. She struggled to keep up with the doctors long stride while sobbing out of fear. She knew where he was taking her, the lab, where they would punish her by testing new equipment on her, or reactions to new chemical compounds. 
The two finally reached the door, but they passed it, walking forward to the white door at the very end of the hallway. Her heart dropped and her eyes widened at the new door. Digging her feet into the ground she tried to get free from the doctors grasp, she closed her eyes scared from what she might see. He dragged her with ease through the white door and into a darker light room. She was shackled down to the floor as she curled into a ball. 
"Look at me." She was commanded. She ignored him. "LOOK AT ME!" He screamed while taking a chunk of hair into his fist, forcing her to look at him. " You will do as you are told." 
He let go of her hair and stood up to discuss what they should do with the other people in the room. He turned his attention back to the little girl, "Who is the other thing inside of you?" 
She looked up to him from her position. "You...mean.. the demon?" 
"I suppose so, it needs to go." 
"Tell him to kiss our ass." The demon spoke to the girl. She shook her head at the demon.
The doctor looked at the girl with a disgusted expression. "Why are you shaking your head at me? Do you not want it to go?" 
She choked out a sob and answered, "No! I want it to leave. I don't want it!" 
"Then fuse with me! I will no longer exist because I will be you, and you will be me!" The demon yelled at the girl. 
"Then get rid of it!" The doctor ordered the little girl. 
"But sir, you don't know what you are asking for! Please, please don't make me..." She begged the doctor. He raised his hand to backhand her for disobeying. 
"Do it. Now." He spoke through clinched to teeth. 
"You heard the dead man!" 


Her vision started to blur. The red mist climbed into her mind from the depths of her subconscious. She felt an unimaginable rage pulse through her as she grinds her teeth to cope with the pain, unable to suppress the demon any longer, she belted out a scream that woke everyone in the organization. Her vision turned red from the demon taking over her, it chuckled at her as she struggled to gain back control. 
"Don't worry my little conscious." It murmured to the fading 9-year-old. "You will still exist as that little voice in the back of my head." 
"You promised me power and freedom!" She screamed back at him, enraged at his lie. 
"But darling, you do have power now, because I am now you. Freedom is soon to come." 
"I am not you! I refuse to be any part of you. You are a part of me, a small, weak part of me with a big voice. Your power comes from me and I am taking it back." 
The demon chuckled at her attempt to come back strong. He shut her out and pushed her deeper into the back of his mind but she continued her struggle against him.


The doctor watched the little girl fall to the ground landing on her side. Her blank eyes staring at the wall behind him. He bent down to feel for a pulse on her neck. She still had one, but her eyes registered no movement or sign of brain activity. Taking a small flash light out of his lab pocket he moved the light over her eyes, nothing. 
He grew concerned for his job, if she died surely the director would put blame on him. Rechecking the pulse, he noticed movement from her eyes, she blinked. Relief filled his mind but was quickly taken away as the little girl took hold on his neck. Looking back into her eyes he no longer saw the fear he once inflicted on the small child, but rage, pure rage that stuck terror deep into his suffocating form. It was the last thing he saw as the room around him faded into darkness. 


"Miss, is that all you will needin' today?" The shop owner asked a small girl. She smiled at him while handing him money. 
"No, I think I am fine for the next couple miles." She placed her supplies into her leather bag. He looked her over concerned. 
"You travelin' with family?" 
"No, it is just me." She continued to organize her pack.
"How is a little girl like you survivin' out there all by herself?" 
She closed her leather bag and looked up at the store owner beaming. "No need to worry about me sir, I am a demon slayer." 
He shot her a puzzled look. "What do you mean? Like an exorcist or something?"
"Something like that, you have to live through it to understand it."
"What could you have lived through already? You are what, eight?" 
She knew he wouldn't completely understand the organization she had escaped or how their power effects the war raging in the west.
"Lets just say I have destroyed my own demon." 
"Hm. Well, have a good travel. Stay away from the west, I heard the war is getting bad out there." 
She walked towards the door and took one last look at the man and smiles, "No promises."
     

Prompt of the Day 2

I had written this a while ago for an assignment in my creative writing class. I love this piece mostly because I wrote it in an all girls catholic high school and my teacher-- a dedicated catholic-- was disgusted by the outcome of her prompt (That was my goal from the beginning, I hated that teacher and she hated me). I was the only girl in the class to take a realistic approach to the issue, everyone else talked about farming, building shelter, and rebuilding society. Needless to say, I am satisfied with my ending effect and I hope you all enjoy it as well.

The soft October moon crosses the blackened sky, freckled with trillions of stars. Each star taunts us with every twinkle and wink, as if to flaunt the ample supply of teeming energy stirring in its core by dimly shining through light years of darkness, racing cross the expanding universe, and finding its way to our deteriorating world. The sparse amount of light they supply is our only source to illuminate the night as we sit atop a hollow city building, huddled together for warmth and protection. Without the resources needed to create power we quietly suffer till dawn. There is nothing left of this world that we can burn, our mines are empty and oil wells are dry. Any other possibilities of energy have failed to sustain our existence and as I sit still under the soft October moon, huddled into a small corner, I question reality and the worth of the world. I recall a life when the minor comforts of energy were more then a dream, and I can remember clearly our slow and painful downfall that led me to this very corner.

The collapse of our society was gradual in the beginning. It started with no electricity, a small inconvenience during the first week. Families made the best of the summer days, playing outside to keep cool, and camping out at night. This went on till the government called for a ration of all gasoline. The peaceful population turned into an ocean of enraged citizens, they rioted through the streets, protesting against the government's demand for any and all gasoline. Soldiers marched through the city, suppressing the angry mob enough to retrieve the last of the liquid gold, killing thousands of rioters and soldiers in the process. War broke out between the population and government. The people attacked city buildings, attempted to assassinate political figures, and destroyed any thing they could get their hands on. Mother's and children hid away in abandoned buildings that were unearthed of anything valuable, they quietly sat with only a thin wall between them and the cruel war.

They attempted to ignoring the gun shots and cries that occurred outside the build till they heard silence in the street but they still did not leave, fearing the sight of the remains of war; bodies, blood, and bullet shells. This sight made the circumstances that once were believed to be impossible into reality. Crime thrived and neighbors became the enemy, no one could trust another. Everyone became the competition in the race of survival. Depression rose through our isolation from trust and love, and people started killing no only themselves, but their loved ones. Mother's killed their children believing that this quality of life is no life at all, and hope was loss among the debris scattered through hollow hallways in empty city buildings. 

At this time, our societies collapse was a steep, slippery slope, and our numbers decreased significantly. What was salvaged from the war was not enough to support life and death was as common as a cold. The authorities that were entrusted with our lives fled long ago to an old jail in Europe to lock themselves away from the chaos that surged outside their concrete walls. Leaving the population to eat away at itself and to suffer. 

The war was not the only source of our suffering. Vegetation could not grow. Land is ruined by radiation. Our loss of energy caused power plants to shut down. Our ability to keep the uranium core cool with water from near by rivers was defaulted, which provided enough heat to melt through its container and leak into our water supply, leaving us with little to drink and any animal that drank from the water died from radiation poising.

Our once clean streets are lined with corpses, lying open wounded on sidewalks, dangling from streetlights, as a reminder of our fate. Their stench filling the hot air as the summer heat decomposes what is left. Avoiding them is almost impossible but necessary do to deadly diseases and the parasites they carry. The revolting aftermath of our dying population is a repugnant layer of contradiction against the early morning sunrise-- a symbol that once promised a chance for a better day then yesterday.  

Communication with each others is non-existant. There is nothing to talk about. No reason to talk. Everything is pointless; we are simply a small speck in the universe. Our movement is as insignificant as the particles on our torn shoes. We have no purpose for surviving. We are only floating among ruins of a once favored life. Empty halls, and dispirited building that held vitality now symbolize our bodies.

You could say that we died long before now. Individuals that once woke up and felt they had changed something for the better and went to sleep at night excited for the next day, now sit among us, wishing for morning to never arrive so they do not wake to another day of suffering. Silently, we calculate where we had gone wrong and in time we realize how our progression had dug us deeper into a hole that we would never be able to get out of.

It saddens me to think that it is only now that we wish to live when there is no life. That is it now that dreams mean the most to us. Where our only regret is not waking up smiling and enjoying the comfort of another human heart. Now as I take a leap of faith off this ledge, I can only hope that heaven has electricity.

Source

My Biggest Fear

Lovely green grass dances before me as wind sweeps lightly across the field. Purple and pink skies stare down at my dormant form. Stuck in time; in a world immune to my movement. No spoken word is heard for there are no ears. No mind to comprehend thought. Alone in one's dreams to forever have ideas to oneself. Never will I be able to give to the world the gift that I have been given.

Prompt of the Day 1

"Today, write a scene about drowning in any other sense than the traditional - ie, don't mention water. What else can one drown in?

Alternatively, you can take those words a different way... if you want to write about someone drowning in water, go for it. Just don't say the word 'water'.

Have fun!" I found this post on the subreddit promptoftheday and I hope you enjoy my little scene.

I was suffocating. My mind was racing. My heart beating faster as my fear deepened at the thought of going near him. His blindness to his own desires heated every cell in my body and I slowly came to loath him. He was ignorant to his own wishes, but I could see clearly. He needed me and he wanted me to need him, but I wanted neither. I wouldn't let him eat away at any independence I had left. He was drowning me in his need, killing me slowly, and taking every ounce of energy I had to support himself. He was slowly forcing me into dependence, and having to choose between my best friend and my freedom tore away at my heart.
I soon grew tired, and the fight to hold myself back from hurting him was depleting quickly. In one last chance to save myself, I snapped. There was no holding back and I no longer had empathy for the man. A war had started. He was hurt but not discouraged, and he continued to fight against me.
In the final battle for air I burned the bridge between us, and watched as the sky fell upon us. Bruised, bloody, and beaten, I walked away from the shore taking a deep breath of relief. I looked at the land I had forgot and rejoiced in the ability to rediscover everything I had left behind.

Messy Me

This is a poem I had written about letting go of an unstable but great relationship. It was wonderful at the time but the emotions were too confusing and we were soon on completely different pages. It is hard confusing mess, but I suppose the best art comes from the pain and joy of life. Enjoy.

I cannot let go of everything we had.

Sitting, waiting, hating, everything we loved,

and everything we shared.

I will not bend over in grief from the loss.

I will stand in this rain, and lift my chin.

I will not cry.

I will laugh in the face of anguish,

and will raise my middle finger to odium.

Smile on my face, and fire in my eyes.

I am alive, in love, and in pain.

Watch my heart burn in passion

to the thought of your eyes.

My speech slur as I get drunk off

our memories.

The future is dark

and you are the fuel

that lights my way.

I will close my eyes and die every night,

and awake in the morning

without you.

I will dream of the world

whether or not you are here.

I am alive, in love, and in pain,

but I am not afraid.