Opening Lines

What’s the first line of the last song you listened to (on the radio, on your music player, or anywhere else)? Use it as the first sentence of your post.

(“Changing of the Seasons” — Two Door Cinema Club)

So it’s over? I didn’t realize.

There was a catchy beat playing in his room, but I could feel my heart fluttering in odd and uncomfortable rhythms. I didn’t actually know where he was; as I sat in one of the chairs I twiddled with a twisted corner of my shirt and fixed my stare on the wrinkled fabric, wanting nothing less than to not be in that chair at that moment. Was that a headache building up or was I just tightening my forehead too much again?

Twiddling. Forehead. These were only a few things that had always bothered him.  Continue reading

Sudden Shifts

You’re at the beach with some friends and/or family, enjoying the sun, nibbling on some watermelon. All of a sudden, within seconds, the weather shifts and hale starts descending form the sky. Write a post about what happens next.

The next post will be on time, I promise. Hey, I’ve been on vacation in the land of no internet; cut me some slack.

I never liked the beach. Being a busybody, the idea of driving more than twenty miles to sit and do nothing does not appeal to me at all. Swimming isn’t exactly an option either; I may have swum varsity for five years in middle school and high school, but you will not see me willingly swimming in the ocean. Once, I was at the beach on a family vacation, sitting on a towel people-watching, when all of a sudden, two things happen at once: I see a tiny Asian woman standing up to her knees in the water, grabbing jellyfish by the heads, decapitating them with a practiced shake, and dumping the heads in a bucket, while at the same time, a large, burly man, covered in tattoos and muscles starts taking off toward his motorcycle screaming like a ten-year-old girl, shrieking that he had just been stung by one of the jellyfish. True story.

Not so true story: 

The day at the beach was glorious in all ways but one. The sun was shining, the waves rolled in in a soothing rhythm, and there were laughing children running absolutely everywhere. Even the watermelon tasted better than usual. All this, and I still don’t like beaches. The boys were splashing in the water, my little brother shouting when he thought he saw a jellyfish. My mother and I lay in the sun, burning to a crisp under our beach novels. I had my murder mystery, and she had her romance. Typical.  Continue reading

From the Top

Ok, so I’m an hour late. Sue me.

We are lost. I say Dad, Dad, Dad over and over again to get his attention, but my father is too busy shielding his pride and the steering wheel. Did we make a wrong turn or did we just have bad directions? I tend to trust instructions coming from satellite images and ever-improving route calculators, but you never know. I started saying Dad again, but only my mother paid attention enough to swat my words away with an annoyed wave.

“Stop chewing your lip. It’s such a bad habit,” my mother said, so I stopped chewing my lip for five seconds. The car screeched into a turn, then another. Around and around we went in the same loop, going many miles yet going nowhere at all.

“Dad. We are lost,” I shouted matter-of-factly.

Continue reading