Post by vakarian on Sept 12, 2017 17:15:05 GMT -5
so for my creative composition class i have to submit a piece that will be read by the rest of the class. i was hoping to get a bit of feedback! good or bad, idc, i just hope you enjoy it to some degree c:
also, keep in mind i had to keep the story UNDER 4 pages, so i apologize if things seem a bit rushed. i'm currently working on fixing up the ending.
I get a lot of headaches. I think it’s kind of a seasonal thing. Being out in the sticky, humid, summer air for extended periods of time would do the trick. I woke up that afternoon and I could already feel it coming. With a heavy sigh, I sat up in my bed. Today was supposed to be a good day.
“Hun, do we have any Excedrin left?” My groggy voice broke the peaceful silence as I lumbered into the kitchen. There she was, leaning back on the countertop. The goddess of the percolator. Coffee was her lifeblood. That’s what it seemed like, anyway. There couldn’t be any other explanation as to how she could get herself dressed and tidied up before 5 pm at least. She glanced up at me as I approached, a faint smile appearing on her soft features.
“We just opened a new bottle the other day, you goof.” She giggled at my dumbfounded face as a shy “oh” escaped my lips.
“I’ll give you a smooch as payment when I get back,” I offered, doing a 180 and heading for the bathroom. (I was wearing socks and we’ve got a hardwood floor. Not to toot my own horn but that turn was smooth as hell.) So I took my almost-daily Excedrin and stopped back in the kitchen. I don’t go back on my promises. I landed a quick peck on my lover’s jawline as she was pouring her coffee. She offered me brunch, but I had some work to do before I left. I’ll definitely grab something to eat before then, I told her. She gave a small hum in understanding as she brought her mug to her lips. She winced. I stifled a chuckle as I left again; she may be “Piper the coffee goddess”, but her pain tolerance left a lot to be desired. I entered my work room, adjacent to our bedroom. I reached for my six string and plopped down on my old futon. I ran through familiar chord progressions and melodies in preparation for that night. Our band managed to land a gig at a local bar, which was pretty cool. (Our name is cheesy, please don’t ask.) This wasn’t the first, actually - the past couple weeks had been full of little shows. Some even took us out of town across the state - the farthest I’ve ever been in a couple years, it’s sad to admit. My girl told me it got lonely.
The hours passed by quickly, and soon enough it was 6:30 and I had to go. With guitar case in hand, my dearest sent me off with a kiss. Damn her, now everyone on the city streets was going to pass me by and think, “what a weirdo, why’s he got a big dumb grin on his big dumb face?” Then again, they didn’t need to know and that was the best part. Being so irrationally happy that you felt like you were in one of those 1930’s Disney cartoons. I arrived at the bar on time, to the surprise of my bandmates. Nevertheless, it was great to be together with them again. We used the remaining time to rehearse as a unit; nothing sounded better than all of our individual melodies amalgamated into one musical lovechild. And then, it was time to perform. My headache was gone.
It was that time of year again - the arrival of the summer months. A lot had happened as the year passed. Piper landed a pretty big corporate job in the city just a couple months ago. I remember when she got the call, and her rosy, puffy, cute face. She got tears and a little snot on my t-shirt; I recall us laughing and grasping each other’s hands tightly as we put it in our little washing machine. Then I got news from one of my bandmates that he’d landed us a gig for a tour. Don’t get me wrong - we’re not the main band touring, but we were going to be opening for some big names. I had to give it to the man, he had a way with persuasion. The tour was two legs, one part on the east coast, the other in the west, and a couple weeks in between. When I broke the news to Piper she gave a smile. It was a weird one, not her typical toothy, scrunched-up cheeks smile. She pulled me in for a hug but I was left with a confused look on my face. Then came the big question. “So, we going long distance?” Piper had been swamped with work ever since she got the job, so it was two slaps in the face.
“I… I guess. We can make it work though, I’m sure!” My voice was filled with hope and naïveté. She gave a dejected “yeah” as she fiddled with the hem of her sweater. She told me she had more work to do and that was that. And then the tour happened. It felt like no time had passed since I told her. A summary of the time between those two events would be sitting alone at home, plucking away at guitar strings while I waited for her to reply to my text. “Hey, u coming home soon? Lemme know if I have to cook for 2.” The same replies, the same passionless kisses, the same cold sheets when we went to sleep. A stupid argument that stemmed from Piper’s brutal honesty: “Well, at this point I expected you to have a job by now.” The comment swirled around in my mind for a while and carried into the tour. But I couldn’t let my friends be weighed down by my attitude. I flooded myself in the feeling of the crowds cheering and screaming. The feeling of the music numbing my mind and pushing away the overwhelming thoughts. I checked up with Piper every day regardless. Then she would call every week or so, after getting back from the office. Her voice was sweet to hear, but the thoughts came back. The calls were like when you’d get one from your relatives every couple months - the standard “hey, how are you, what’s happening” and not much else. Our ramblings and exchanges of sweet nothings turned to conversations about coworkers. Then those turned to discussions about her salary and a recent raise for all of her diligent work. I told her I was proud. She told me she was thinking about moving into a new place. And what was I to do? Well, I wasn’t really sure. I was too busy wondering what exactly I did wrong.
Then, just like that, the phone stopped ringing.
also, keep in mind i had to keep the story UNDER 4 pages, so i apologize if things seem a bit rushed. i'm currently working on fixing up the ending.
The Ghost
I get a lot of headaches. I think it’s kind of a seasonal thing. Being out in the sticky, humid, summer air for extended periods of time would do the trick. I woke up that afternoon and I could already feel it coming. With a heavy sigh, I sat up in my bed. Today was supposed to be a good day.
“Hun, do we have any Excedrin left?” My groggy voice broke the peaceful silence as I lumbered into the kitchen. There she was, leaning back on the countertop. The goddess of the percolator. Coffee was her lifeblood. That’s what it seemed like, anyway. There couldn’t be any other explanation as to how she could get herself dressed and tidied up before 5 pm at least. She glanced up at me as I approached, a faint smile appearing on her soft features.
“We just opened a new bottle the other day, you goof.” She giggled at my dumbfounded face as a shy “oh” escaped my lips.
“I’ll give you a smooch as payment when I get back,” I offered, doing a 180 and heading for the bathroom. (I was wearing socks and we’ve got a hardwood floor. Not to toot my own horn but that turn was smooth as hell.) So I took my almost-daily Excedrin and stopped back in the kitchen. I don’t go back on my promises. I landed a quick peck on my lover’s jawline as she was pouring her coffee. She offered me brunch, but I had some work to do before I left. I’ll definitely grab something to eat before then, I told her. She gave a small hum in understanding as she brought her mug to her lips. She winced. I stifled a chuckle as I left again; she may be “Piper the coffee goddess”, but her pain tolerance left a lot to be desired. I entered my work room, adjacent to our bedroom. I reached for my six string and plopped down on my old futon. I ran through familiar chord progressions and melodies in preparation for that night. Our band managed to land a gig at a local bar, which was pretty cool. (Our name is cheesy, please don’t ask.) This wasn’t the first, actually - the past couple weeks had been full of little shows. Some even took us out of town across the state - the farthest I’ve ever been in a couple years, it’s sad to admit. My girl told me it got lonely.
The hours passed by quickly, and soon enough it was 6:30 and I had to go. With guitar case in hand, my dearest sent me off with a kiss. Damn her, now everyone on the city streets was going to pass me by and think, “what a weirdo, why’s he got a big dumb grin on his big dumb face?” Then again, they didn’t need to know and that was the best part. Being so irrationally happy that you felt like you were in one of those 1930’s Disney cartoons. I arrived at the bar on time, to the surprise of my bandmates. Nevertheless, it was great to be together with them again. We used the remaining time to rehearse as a unit; nothing sounded better than all of our individual melodies amalgamated into one musical lovechild. And then, it was time to perform. My headache was gone.
It was that time of year again - the arrival of the summer months. A lot had happened as the year passed. Piper landed a pretty big corporate job in the city just a couple months ago. I remember when she got the call, and her rosy, puffy, cute face. She got tears and a little snot on my t-shirt; I recall us laughing and grasping each other’s hands tightly as we put it in our little washing machine. Then I got news from one of my bandmates that he’d landed us a gig for a tour. Don’t get me wrong - we’re not the main band touring, but we were going to be opening for some big names. I had to give it to the man, he had a way with persuasion. The tour was two legs, one part on the east coast, the other in the west, and a couple weeks in between. When I broke the news to Piper she gave a smile. It was a weird one, not her typical toothy, scrunched-up cheeks smile. She pulled me in for a hug but I was left with a confused look on my face. Then came the big question. “So, we going long distance?” Piper had been swamped with work ever since she got the job, so it was two slaps in the face.
“I… I guess. We can make it work though, I’m sure!” My voice was filled with hope and naïveté. She gave a dejected “yeah” as she fiddled with the hem of her sweater. She told me she had more work to do and that was that. And then the tour happened. It felt like no time had passed since I told her. A summary of the time between those two events would be sitting alone at home, plucking away at guitar strings while I waited for her to reply to my text. “Hey, u coming home soon? Lemme know if I have to cook for 2.” The same replies, the same passionless kisses, the same cold sheets when we went to sleep. A stupid argument that stemmed from Piper’s brutal honesty: “Well, at this point I expected you to have a job by now.” The comment swirled around in my mind for a while and carried into the tour. But I couldn’t let my friends be weighed down by my attitude. I flooded myself in the feeling of the crowds cheering and screaming. The feeling of the music numbing my mind and pushing away the overwhelming thoughts. I checked up with Piper every day regardless. Then she would call every week or so, after getting back from the office. Her voice was sweet to hear, but the thoughts came back. The calls were like when you’d get one from your relatives every couple months - the standard “hey, how are you, what’s happening” and not much else. Our ramblings and exchanges of sweet nothings turned to conversations about coworkers. Then those turned to discussions about her salary and a recent raise for all of her diligent work. I told her I was proud. She told me she was thinking about moving into a new place. And what was I to do? Well, I wasn’t really sure. I was too busy wondering what exactly I did wrong.
Then, just like that, the phone stopped ringing.
