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This is the last bit from the fifth prompt in my own list of self-guided writing prompts. I’m not sure if I’ll be participating during all of NaNoWriMo this year. If I do, it’ll be my first time taking part in this fun month of writing. I probably should be writing for #JHAD but something in me feels that it’s not the time to write his story yet. I might just do a bunch of short stories this month to start fleshing out work for my collection of short stories. Anyways, enjoy!

It’s now more than halfway through the film and he hasn’t done more than hug you close. You’ve forgotten the threat of him possibly sleeping with you tonight and instead, are deeply invested in the lives of the characters on screen. The little girl develops a strange relationship with the hitman; mistaking fatherly affection for romantic feelings. On the other hand, the man is unmoved by her affections, only beginning to realize within himself the capability to feel and to love. It’s so dark in the room and you can only make out the outlines of Joni’s legs outstretched beside you, half hidden under the covers. He’s been quiet this whole time. The silence is almost comforting to you and you slump lower down the wall and nuzzle his shoulder. In the distance, you hear sirens making their way through the restless city. Downstairs, a neighbor’s dog is barking at the multitude of cacophonous sounds outside the apartment building. Despite the hundreds of sounds flooding the room, the air falls silent between the two of you. There is a padding of mutual rest and company on the full bed where both of you lie. In this restless city, hundreds more people are watching a horror film with their partner of the night, waiting for their moment to strike and yet here you two are. Not a single tensed muscle occupies either of your bodies. You lay in the dark knowing that he’s just like you. Despite growing up and making his name here, he knows just as few people as you do. Despite the fact that you’ve been in this city for barely more than a few months, you know all of the people that you need to know already. It’s so lonely here and you realize that everyone gets busier and busier without having anything to show for it. The people here are too busy filling their time with things and places so that they won’t have to face the realization that no one is actually here. Heads and bodies float about this city, but their hearts are at home, elsewhere.

Right now, there is no home other than the last place that made you feel grateful to be alive. There is no home apart from the place that made you forget that life must move on. This isn’t home, but you’re doing the best you can. So is he. You fall asleep with homesickness in your chest and a fire in your belly, hoping that if you keep pushing through the density of this city, you’ll find a place to call home. You refuse to stay in a fabricated space. In the morning, you kiss him on the head and gather your belongings from last night. That will be the last night where you fall asleep alone. Tonight, you’re going home.

Another short excerpt from my #wip #ToFindCourageInADrink

He thinks he’s being cute. He is. 

You roll your eyes as theatrically as you can manage while hoisting yourself back up on the edge of the bed. His hair is disheveled and falls in ringlets over his right eye. You reach to push it back, but he breaks your concentration with a kiss. Kissing him back in the most convincing way possible, you resist the feeling that your heart is elsewhere. You shove thoughts of the possibility that you left your heart in that tiny college town back down your throat as his tongue grazes your teeth. If you have no heart, how could you feel the blood coursing through your veins in this very moment? Yes, you must have a heart still. You shut your eyes tighter, focusing on the pressure of lid against lid, hoping it’ll be enough to shut your dark thoughts within. Right now, the only thing that matters is that you’re not alone in this crowded city.   

This excerpt is from the middle portion of an untitled short story I’m working on for a collection of stories I hope to release next year. I hope you enjoy! Let me know if you’d like more!

I didn’t forget you joan-knee. Sent.

J: LOL. Maybe I should change my name. That’s way more exotic.

You should. It’d give you an edge in the industry.

J: You’re funny. Friends are coming over tonight for my roommate’s birthday.

Oh, tell him I say happy birthday.

J: I meant you should come, silly.

You should have said so. I’ll be there.

And so you were. You were there every night since meeting three nights ago. You even spent some of Friday during the day with him. He took you and your friends to brunch and as he entertained them with witty banter, you sat vacantly. After the others left, he looked at you intently and asked you to come over that night after going out. You agreed. He wasn’t particularly interesting, but his company was harmless. At this point, harmless company seemed to be exactly what the doctor ordered. As much as you liked your friend and her new friends, they were all so absorbed with themselves and with social media that it felt like you were in the presence of holograms more so than actual people. They were placeholders for real company. At least Joni was there, albeit in silence as neither of you had much in common to talk about. You also attributed the lack of common interests to the significant age gap. He had nearly ten years on you and even though his personality proved otherwise, when you really focused on his face, you could see that the years truly did show. You wonder how he could still be in the city at his age. It always felt like the city was a place for people to come and hustle. You felt that once people reached where they were headed, they’d move out of the city to let their success flourish and meanwhile, replenish all the parts of themself they’d lost in the process. But he was still here. He was still hustling. You respected it no doubt, but part of you doubted his skillset. Perhaps, if he were meant to be in the industry, he’d be out of the city by now. You hated admitting it because he seemed to be an alright guy, but he was a one hit wonder.

A one hit wonder that sat for hours, chewing the three verses he’d had in his head for weeks, grinding what few bits of inspiration he had left at his age in order to stay relevant. The lovely part of it was that by the time you came to him, he was sufficiently drained of any energy. It didn’t make him lazy or lifeless (pun fully intended), but rather, an incredible source of company. He’d listen to your hopes and dreams. You knew they didn’t matter, not compared to the overwhelming fears that battered you day and night, but with him you felt compelled to put on a front. In fact, everyone in this city made you feel like putting on a front. A sense of false optimism, but you knew deep down it was a hoax. It was like everyone was throwing empty bouts of positivity at one another hoping that at some point they themselves could absorb a fragment of it to use towards whatever goal had brought them here to begin with. But you’re frightened because in the back of your heart you have the feeling that no one ever absorbs the positivity. They’re all black holes here, but some of them have managed to keep the vacuum within themselves. Joni was one of them. Maybe not on purpose. Maybe he just hasn’t realized the blackness is even there yet.

You with your cynical wariness towards the gimmick of adulthood knew it wouldn’t be easy, but that didn’t mean you wanted to shut yourself down before you could even try. So for now, Joni and your friends were all sounding boards for aspirations that you hoped would be more than empty positivity. You were never the daydreaming type. You’d much rather go out and get something that you wanted.

As promised, I have a snippet of my debut full length novel “Jett & His Almost Deaths” for you all! I hope you enjoy!

I think I must have been fourteen when I saw my first death. Well, not a real death, as I discovered soon after, but more on that later. My school usually held phys-ed classes separately, but on that particular day, the girls’ teacher was out sick. They ended up combining the girls and boys P.E. class during 4th period. We were playing some variation of softball that day, probably since the girls were there so we couldn’t play full-on baseball. It was this girl, Anna’s, turn to bat and she walked up to home plate quite calmly even though it didn’t look like she knew how to swing a bat to save her life. She swung it loosely a couple times back and forth, I’m assuming, to get a feel for what she had to do when the ball came, but she just looked awkward and out of place. My friend Allen threw her a nice underhand toss. She should have hit it, easily. She struck out once, then twice, and on the last ball she turned red. She looked flustered, I mean truly upset and embarrassed or something.

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