Valentyne Café

Hi! This post is just an explanation of this journal, okay? Initially, I created it because everyone else was doing it and it looked neat. But more often than not, I've just neglected it. However, that is about to change. Why? Well, one of my best friends, and coincidentally my first creative writing teacher, gave me what she calls a "Jar of Gems". She painstakingly wrote me 365 short writing prompts so I could continue to flex my creative brain. I have decided that that's what I want this journal to be for: an archive of these prompts and what my brain vomits out after. I can't promise an update everyday like I'd hoped I could, because I am a very busy and active college student, but I will write here at least once a week. Hopefully, that resolve won't change! It looks to be a fun ride, and I hope everyone enjoys reading what gets inspired from these prompts! Maybe you can get your own jar of gems together too!

I'm really disappointed that I haven't kept up with this journal better. My paper journal is unflagging, but this one wanes. Maybe because this one feels more vulnerable, even if I am secreted in anonymity? Who knows. Either way, I hope to start doing better with this one. My writing brain really does need the exercise, lol

 Hmm... this is difficult for me. I think, if I hadn't already, I'd say "I forgive you" to the man who attempted to rape me, so as to die without regrets. My family and friends- I have already said everything I've ever needed to say to them.

( Meme Time! )

Prompt 4: Meditate on the color pink, and write about it.

The color of love,

Pulsing between the pages

Of stories written and unwritten:

Mellifluous

Calming

Warm

My mother’s face

Sandwiched between

Crisp cheeks,

Thinning hair,

And wrinkles

The color of home

And embarrassment,

Flubbing lines on stage,

A sea of people,

And the words fly away

Like anxious fireflies

Released at last

From glass jars

Prompt 174: Write a poem including these two rhyming words: alarm and harm

 

It was with recompense,

That she did strike hence

His name from the list

Of those who wouldn’t be missed

For in his parting’s wake,

She realized her own mistake,

And with quite a bit of alarm,

Realized she had done harm

For her not-so-little list

Of all that wouldn’t be missed

Made with unresolved hate,

Was definitely a mistake

For when he wasn’t there,

She realized how much she cared,

And so with resolve in her heart,

She tore her list apart.

Prompt 58: Describe an Aging Couple in Detail

            Times has impressed a delta of rivers on their faces. Laugh lines, once just thin streams worn upon a weary alabaster surface, had turned into tight, serpentine creases that flooded in on themselves and ran together at random and steady intervals. When she smiles, the gaps widen and become canyons or multiply into a plethora of miniscule streams that slip along the hidden places few were familiar with- the still-soft corners of her eyes where crows perched and the tender sides of her mouth that he had often kissed. He smiled tenderly at her, and ran trembling, gnarled fingertips over those soft spots and remembered when the skin there had been smooth and free from the rivers that stream across it. He thought she looked just as beautiful.

His hands, pruned with the burden of time and yellowed at the tips from a habit he had long ago quit, trailed off, brushing upwards to smooth the indentions from the crows perched at her sparkling blue eyes- the same, unchanging color they had been since the moment he had first laid eyes on her. Upwards the long, twisted appendages shivered, until they reached the crown of her head and the long, wispy strands of cloud’s breath entrapped there. Full of starlight and peppered with highlights of sanguine, iridescent moonlight and just as soft as he had remembered, even if it was thinning. A memory- like the spark of a dying star and just as fleeting- he could distinctly remember running his hands through her hair countless times before, just like this.

Letting gravity take control, he bent closer and inhaled: honey and clovers, with just a hint of sunshine and stardust- as it had always been, the scent that even time couldn’t steal away from the woman whom he had given his heart. She smiled up at him, creased lips pulling up into a tight, happy smile that revealed gleaming white teeth and a perfect smile- a miracle of modern dentistry after the car crash had knocked them out of her head and her confidence temporarily out of her heart. Another memory, bright and sharp like her sun soaked personality- it had taken him forever to convince her to get back in a car. It’s a fond memory, riddled with visions of a fleeting youth.

He finds that his own riverbed lips are thinning and stretching across his gaunt face. She brings a rosiness to his pale pallor and stretches the sagging skin tight again. He wonders if he has held up as well as she has against the profound credence of time. He speculates about what she sees, and can’t help but hope she still finds him handsome, now that age has robbed him of his strength, of his vitality, of his youth.

She does.

( To the Meme! )

 

( To the Quiz! )

Take Which Chess Piece are You Test? at HelloQuizzy

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I had the day off from work today, and so I took the entire day to relax. It was rather nice, my mother and I had a nice chat and it was a good day as far as 'good days' go. Nothing bad happened, for once, knock on wood, so that was a plus. The only detriment is that I am still coughing up my lungs and the various fluid in my lungs. It's both nasty AND painful. But the day still was good, so, yeah....