Random writing prompt

I found a writing prompt the other day and decided to challenge myself. A prompt is when you are given a story setup and must complete an X number word count story. For example: Your a little girl, whose mother sent you on a journey to your grandmom's house. Along the way, you come face to face with a big, bad wolf...see? Anyway, I got a prompt and wrote this little quickie in about half hour. Let me premise though...I haven't mastered endings.

“I don’t know why it’s so hard to clean week-old spaghetti sauce from marble kitchen floors. But here I am, scraping away on my hands and knees. God Dylan! Can’t you learn to wipe your spills when they happen?” A 10-year old Dylan sat atop the counter island watching his mother utilize all her fancy yet impractical clean up gadgets, while licking the last of his Snickers ice cream bar.
“It makes absolutely no sense I tell you!” She said then removed her smock and gloves. She pushed her hair back, out of her face and straightened her dress before answering the doorbell.
“Good afternoon ma’am, are you Lila Wright?”
“No I’m not, sorry.” Although she noticed the stretch Maybach and at the end of the driveway, it didn’t peak her curiosity enough to let this tall, dark suited man continue his conversation. She shut the door. He rang the bell two more times.
“Yes?” She asked irritatingly.
“Does Lila Wright live here? I’m sure we are at the right address.”
“And I’m sure I know who I am. What is your business anyway?” She peeked behind him at the window of the Maybach slowing rolling down but it was too far away to make out the figure exactly.
“It’s confidential and Mr. Washington does not like to wait. If you know where we can find this woman, perhaps she is a neighbor or something?”
“Mr. Washington who?” Now curiosity was getting the best of her.
“Denzel Washington.”
“Wait. Did you say Lila? I’m sorry, but it’s pronounced Lee-la. The ‘i’ has an ‘e’ sound.”
“It does?”
“Yes, yes, I’m so sorry that you had to play such a hard game of name that girl.” She giggled. “It’s just that people always mess up my name and I never know who to trust. Why don’t you come in, or do you want me to come out?” She was clearly winging it but thoroughly enjoying it. Denzel Washington! Imagine that! If what was happening was seriously a reality and not the outcome of cleaning chemical fumes floating around in her brain, then Lila…Leela…Wright was who she was about to be.
“Since you and Mr. Washington are scheduled for a 12:30 lunch, if you’re ready then we can head out.”
“Oh. Oh, okay, yes. Let me grab my things and I’ll, oh my, lunch? Okay, give me a minute.” She left the door open and bee-lined for the stairs. Dylan had come around the corner, down the hallway and witnessed the whole thing before taking the last bite of his ice cream bar. The tall man returned to the car and informed that “Lila” would be out soon. Upstairs, she could be heard stomping, yelling and flinging things about. Three minutes later, Dylan met her at the bottom of the stairway with sticky hands and chocolate on his cheeks.
“Honey, oh my god! Do you know who is in that car out there? Do you know this is mommy’s dream come true? All that praying has finally paid off and that $200 I gave the church last week…woohoo!”
“But mom you’re not the girl they’re looking for.”
“This is a good time to teach you a very important lesson.” She bent down and grabbed his shoulders. “Sometimes, like that spaghetti sauce, you have to enjoy what’s in front of you and worry about cleaning up the messes later. Even if I don’t get any further than down the block, I will never regret this lie. Ha ha!” She kissed his forehead and rushed out the door.

**By the way here was my prompt:

The person of your dreams shows up on your doorstep, asking if you'd like to go out for coffee. You are suprised and confused, but you say yes. At the coffee shop as he/she is talking, you discover that he/she thinks you are someone else. Instead of coming clean, you go with it. - The Writers Digest

Everybody else is DOING IT - Fifty Shades of Grey

The topic on the lips of book lovers (and even those who aren't) is the book Fifty Shades of Grey written by E.L. James, and its current ban in some libraries. In my opinion, the ban raises the question of how uptight should we or should we not be in America. They are deeming this erotic fiction novel, as straight porn. That's a strong description. But of course, if it's in the genre of erotic fiction, it probably would be porn!

This whole fiasco reminds me of when The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo first came out. The bondage and BDSM sexual plots were a pretty little surprise for the average fiction reader. Actually, see my post on that...here. And the outrage with the 1958 publishing of "Lolita" by Vladimir Nabokov is along the same shaky line. There are many novels that were considered "provocative" when they came out, yet are mild, child's play now. Does that mean society keeps coming to a point where it's more tolerant with sexual exposure and sex fetishes? I'm sure a decade from now, Fifty Shades of Grey will be just a puff of smoke in the debate on rapturous literature.

So...if you want to see what all the fuss is about, don't go to your neighborhood library. You better head to the closest Barnes & Noble since librarians apparantly have their buns pulled too tight and their shirts buttoned all the way up!

From Wikipedia:

The plot traces the relationship between recent college graduate Anastasia Steele and manipulative billionaire Christian Grey. Steele is required by Grey to sign a contract allowing him complete control over her life. As she gets to know him she learns that his sexual tastes involve bondage, domination and sadism, and that childhood abuse left him a deeply damaged individual. In order to be his partner she agrees to experiment with BDSM, but struggles to reconcile who she is (a virgin who has never previously had a boyfriend) with whom Christian wants her to be: his submissive, to-do-with-as-he-pleases partner in his "Red Room of Pain."

Video Inspiration #3 - Kelis + Paul Hunter

So, I broke the promise I just made below. Whatever.

Anyway, this is my all time favorite video by Kelis and any other Kelis fan out there (it's only a few of us) would totally agree. This video was at the time when Kelis's signature hairstyle was her wild locks. So, to see it long and straight, was breathtaking.

The video was directed by Paul Hunter and he is known for directing other minor, little videos such as:

Aaliyah - One in a Million
Notorious BIG - Hypnotize
Puffy - All about the Benjamins
Lenny Kravitz - Again
Jennifer Lopez - Love Don't cost a Thing
Jay-Z ft. Pharrell - Frontin
Jeremih - Birthday Sex
Justin Timberlake - My Love

And the list goes on and on and on and on...

Please watch this awesome video, then read my awesome short story. (And this one is really short. I was inspired by a short, general idea. Maybe one day I'll flush it out more.) Thanks much.



"If he hits you one more time, you have to kill him." She said aloud to her mirrored reflection. The index and middle finger on her right hand gently stroked the bubble of puffiness around her eye and swiped the blood that trickled from the open split. She washed her hands off in the sink, then dipped her son's Batman washcloth into the soapy water to clean the rest of the cuts and bruises that lined up on her face, shoulders and arms.
"Baby...you okay in there?"
"Leave me alone."
"I know you're upset with me but I'm really sorry. I didn't mean it.” The door rocked a little when his back slumped against it. “You just can’t do shit like that. You know it makes me get black-headed.” Black-headed. That’s what he always referred to as blacking out and punching her repeatedly in the face, ribs and chest.
“You’re a broken record Tom.” She managed to say before bursting into tears.
“Come on don’t cry. Let me in. We can talk about it, but not with the door between us. Come on. Come on.” His words got louder. “You know you need me. Shit, talking about a broken record, you always come back though don’t you? Open this damn door!”
“I said leave me alone.” She whispered. She took the bottom of her dress and lightly wiped the tears that had already stained. It was one of her favorite dresses: Burgundy with yellow polka dots at the top and yellow stripes at the bottom. Such a unique design. Burgundy was her favorite color. Now the dress matched her eyes and arms. She tucked a side of her long, blonde hair behind her ear, then took a seat on the edge of the tub.
“I was just trying to make you happy. I don’t know what’s so wrong with that.”
“I am happy.” He said, in a low muffled voice. “What are you doing in there? Why can’t I come in? Look, I’ll buy you whatever you want to make up for it okay?” She kept quiet, but stared at the door.
“I’ll get you a better car okay? A newer one. And some new dresses. Don’t you like dresses?”
“I don’t need a new car.”
“Then a trip? How about we fly back down to Mexico?”
“I don’t need a trip.”
“What the hell do you want then? I’ll tell you what I want, for you to stop acting childish and come out of this bathroom.” Suddenly his fist pounded on the door. The reverberation shook her to standing upright. She wrapped her arms around her body as tight as she could, as he continued to pound on the door. It wasn’t big, but it was definitely something noticeable. A wooden splint in the door that faced her side was poking out just so. Out of fear, her heart skipped a beat. She leaned in to peer closer.
“Open up!” He shouted, rocking the door again. She jerked back.
“Tom, stop it! You know what I want? You know what you can do for me?” The pounding stopped. She gave in. “Don’t do it again okay? Just…don’t.”
“I love you.” He said. She turned the doorknob and opened it. He stood in front of her, flush faced and sweating.
“I don’t need anything from you. Can’t you see that?” She caressed his face. “Let me be here for you. Let me love you. I don’t matter. Nothing else matters. I just wanna get along with you.”
“I know.” They embraced.

Why I love Music...

Music is life. If you ever doubt that, watch this.



via Vashtie's blog

National Poetry Month

April is National Poetry Month - And I know that you are super excited, but please contain yourself for a moment.

It should go without saying, that Nikki Giovanni is the best poet ever in life...

Okay fine, I'll put my personal opinion aside and just write the post already.


If you know anything about me, one of the main things you know is my obsession with Edgar Allan Poe's short stories: The Fall of the House of Usher, The Tale-Tell Heart, Hop Frog, The Purloined Letter, and it goes on and on and on. Although most people don't associate him with poems and since this is the perfect month to showcase one...here we go:

A Dream Within A Dream (1850)

Take this kiss upon the brow!
And, in parting from you now,
Thus much let me avow --
You are not wrong, who deem
That my days have been a dream;
Yet if hope has flown away
In a night, or in a day,
In a vision, or in none,
Is it therefore the less gone?
All that we see or seem
Is but a dream within a dream.

I stand amid the roar
Of a surf-tormented shore,
And I hold within my hand
Grains of the golden sand --
How few! yet how they creep
Through my fingers to the deep,
While I weep -- while I weep!
O God! can I not grasp
Them with a tighter clasp?
O God! can I not save
One from the pitiless wave?
Is all that we see or seem
But a dream within a dream?


And how can you talk about National Poetry Month without mentioning Maya Angelou? You can't. But, since her poems tend to run very long, I'll give the following so that you can go explore on your own:

Biography
Official Website
List of Poems

For The Greater Good - Literary Goodies

You can celebrate the joy of reading in any way you wish; I choose to wear it on my back and put it to my ear...

"The Color Purple" T-shirt
"Edgar Allan Poe" Pop Art iPhone case

Video Inspiration #2 - Kanye + Spike Jonze

I listen to music...alot. I watch music videos...even more. Sometimes I watch a video that sparks a story in my mind. It happened once before...HERE. And it happened again recently.

I know this song is rather old but that should make no difference. Good music is good music. Good video directing is good video directing.

I...LOVE...THIS...SONG!! Between this one and Addiction, I'm the biggest Kanye fan ever. But, since Vashtie Kola did a cover video for Addiction, I thought it would be overkill to do a story to it too.

There were 3 seperate videos made for the Flashing Lights song, but the one below is the third and final version. Spike Jonze and Kanye did the directing for this one. I have always been inspired by the simplicity of these visuals yet the depth of the song and so I wrote a short story about it...like to hear it? Hear ya go:



Penelope was my real name, but no one ever called me that, especially not him. His names for me were something we shared in secret and they almost always were adjectives. Gorgeous, Sexy, Adorable, Delectable. I really liked the last one. He was creative in that way. Every Thursday, he came cruising by in one of those expensive, hard to pronounce cars of his to pick me up. The first time I met him, he told me we were in the backseat of a Landaulet. The second time, a Pagani is what drove us to the hotel downtown. By the 5th Thursday, I was a pro at identifying Andrei Gikhlov, Russian billionaire, from 100 yards away.
“Turn around and face me.”
“Like this?”
“Yes, now take the rest of your clothes off.” He commanded. I did what he wanted then looked out our villa window and examined the blue waves, rocking and splashing against one another. It looked electric and surreal. We had taken his private plane to Florida for the weekend and although it was my first time on a plane, I tried my best to hide the nervousness. Andrei said this was a special occasion and it would also be worth my time so I stepped out of my comfort zone.
“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asked.
“Of course. What I don’t understand is how your wife doesn’t appreciate something like this?” The sky was getting dark but the beach dwellers didn’t budge. I removed my black, lace brassiere but he wasn’t paying attention.
“There’s no tangible value in this, that’s why.” He said to himself, staring at the wedding band on his left finger. “If she can’t take that black sand, that clear water, that orange sunset home and brag about how much it cost, she has no need for it.”
“Sounds like a spoiled bitch to me. Not someone who can do the things that I can do for you.” I crawled across the bed sheets and planted myself between his legs.
“Remember I said we needed to talk about us?” His tone became serious.
“I remember. That’s the whole point of this trip isn’t it?” I giggled in response. He got up and put his shirt and pants back on.
“I’ll be right back.” He said and quickly left the room. I dived to the other side of the bed, reaching for the phone.
“Hey. Are you sleep?” I asked Shayla after dialing her number.
“Sort of. What do you want?”
“I’m at his villa.”
“And?”
“And, he just left the room. I think he’s going to propose when he gets back. I told you my time was coming. You gotta pay your dues, that’s what I always say.” I couldn’t stop smiling. Who knew this was the way my life would turn out. I was born to a drug addicted mother and when I was fourteen, she and my eleven year old brother both died from an overdose. I became a runaway instead of a ward of the state. A week after I turned fifteen, I saved this woman from a brutal beating by a “customer” and that same day she took me in and treated me like a little sister, eventually showing me how to make my own money.
“Honey, I told you I don’t think he’s going to do that.”
“Why else do you think he would bring me all the way out here?”
“To kill you maybe. Not to propose. You’re not the wifey type.”
“I deserve this. It’s gonna happen. I can’t keep living with you for the rest of my life. So, your jealousy needs to just take a back seat.” I told her.
“What was it he said exactly, Miss I Got it All Figured Out?” Shayla asked.
“I told you. Last night, he said it was wonderful spending time with me and he wished the night would never end.”
“And you translate that to ‘I want to marry you’? Was it before or after your…um…lovemaking?” At first she burst into laughing until realizing that I only remained silent on the other end.
“Listen to me. I put a knife in your purse before you left. The one that cute little man gave me with his initials on it.”
“The one you stole from that cute little man.” I corrected.
“Watch yourself honey.” Just as she hung up, Andrei returned to the room with a bottle of water. My hand was in my bag, checking to see if Shayla was telling the truth.
“I have a business meeting in the morning, then a flight back to Russia, back to my wife. Damn, why can’t life always be this easy. I hope you liked it here. I wanted our last night to be fun.”
“Last night? Fun?” I smiled weakly and darted my eyes all around the room. I looked for a ring box, some flowers, something that indicated this moment would display the significance it was supposed to. But he just stood at the door, bottled water in hand, black suit pants unbuttoned and white collared shirt open.
“You still want to marry me right? We still love each other and you’re not leaving without me?” I asked.
“What are you talking about? You thought I loved you?”
“You said that, didn’t you mean it?”
“Pretty girl, I never said I loved you. You’re a prostitute.” He said in an almost gentle tone. I fell down on the edge of the bed, then slid to the floor. It took several seconds before the tears flowed visibly.
“I’m supposed to just continue living like this? Cold as stone?” He didn’t speak. He didn’t even look at me. He was too busy pulling money from his wallet and putting his shoes back on. He placed 8 - $100 dollar bills next to my ear, on the bed, kissed my forehead and headed toward the door.
“Oh by the way beautiful, there’s a plane ticket for you at the front desk under the name ‘Lovely’. I think it leaves in an hour. I’m going down to the bar. It was fun…really.” I took a deep breath and wiped my face. I rose and walked to him with confidence. I kissed his lips softly, then shoved the monogrammed carving knife into his side and dragged it across his stomach. Behind me I heard the sound of the calming ocean violently thrashing its waves onto the shore.