I’ve long been seeking a way to engage with all my new readers - nearly a thousand of you. I asked myself what we all have in common and, of course, the answer is reading.
With that in mind, and given I’m here to entertain you with something to read, if you could pluck a story out of your imagination and have it written for you, what would it be?
This is your chance to write with me - though please keep it brief so there’s still some work for me to do! Use the comments section below or reply to this email to send in your ideas.
If you wanna do some reading, click here and here for free e-books!
The door flew open, squeaking its old bones to work and move as fast as pushed it. My dog runs and scurries over to greet me. He is hoping over bundles of clothes and obstacles, reaching to the top of the couch like a mountain climber reaching the peak of Mt. Everest. His tail wagging exaggeratedly and his slob staining the leather couch. I rub and gently caress his head and the back of his ears and continue to walk to my room
Dead feet and neck hanging and dragging across the hardwood floor. Pushing dollies, carrying heavy plywood boards that are hard to maneuver. Lifting dressers and taking a lot of shit to its appropriate spot with just me, myself, and I for 6-8 hours straight. It all came to an end...for now.
I flop on my body onto the bed. The springs inside the mattress load up and push my weight up in the air for a couple of slow seconds before falling back down. Although the ceiling doesn't speak, it still asks me questions. Talking and spitting, as the dust and particles trickle down underneath my eye—touching my eyelash.
"How did you end up here, It’s like we moved backwards instead of forward!? All you had to do was get good grades and pass, it’s not that hard to do! Did you even want to go to college?! If you die right now, this is how you would be remembered…a college dropout with no fame, no money, no destined goal achieved, that lived with his mother. That’s how you want to go out?! You need to think about what you want to do next-"
Vibrations from my phone cut the constant ranting short. The bright screen lit up showing me in my summer whites. Smiling, something I don’t do genuinely anymore. The crooked combination cover was the man of the hour in the photo.
"Gosh I need to delete that picture." I unlock the phone, open Instagram, slide over to my direct messages. A new message. Who could have cleared the cobwebs of my empty DM's to reach me?
The door flew open, squeaking its old bones to work and move as fast as pushed it. My dog runs and scurries over to greet me. He is hoping over bundles of clothes and obstacles, reaching to the top of the couch like a mountain climber reaching the peak of Mt. Everest. His tail wagging exaggeratedly and his slob staining the leather couch. I rub and gently caress his head and the back of his ears and continue to walk to my room
Dead feet and neck hanging and dragging across the hardwood floor. Pushing dollies, carrying heavy plywood boards that are hard to maneuver. Lifting dressers and taking a lot of shit to its appropriate spot with just me, myself, and I for 6-8 hours straight. It all came to an end...for now.
I flop on my body onto the bed. The springs inside the mattress load up and push my weight up in the air for a couple of slow seconds before falling back down. Although the ceiling doesn't speak, it still asks me questions. Talking and spitting, as the dust and particles trickle down underneath my eye—touching my eyelash.
"How did you end up here, It’s like we moved backwards instead of forward!? All you had to do was get good grades and pass, it’s not that hard to do! Did you even want to go to college?! If you die right now, this is how you would be remembered…a college dropout with no fame, no money, no destined goal achieved, that lived with his mother. That’s how you want to go out?! You need to think about what you want to do next-"
Vibrations from my phone cut the constant ranting short. The bright screen lit up showing me in my summer whites. Smiling, something I don’t do genuinely anymore. The crooked combination cover was the man of the hour in the photo.
"Gosh I need to delete that picture." I unlock the phone, open Instagram, slide over to my direct messages. A new message. Who could have cleared the cobwebs of my empty DM's to reach me?
"Do u want yo old life back?" The text read....