dottie

Small, scantily clad workers looked up from their chores, as the gentleman sauntered past the field. The workers recognized the tune since several were children of the "Bringers."

A speck of life takes shape in the shadow's wake. Paused as the moon strolls upon the darkening stage, the sun dips into a painted horizon.

Mom is busy scribbling away on a paper with a pen from her MomPack waiting in the pick up line at the elementary school, after an 8 hour shift. She was so into writing that she did not notice the paper swan flay into the car. The announcement bell blared, so mom puts the pen down to listen to the school news of the day. As she looked up she saw the swan had settled on the dash beneath the windshield. "Hmm. How did that get there, oh wait that's not...what is that?" She picks up the swan and unfolds it reads the note and smiles and says aloud, "Thanks, and I hope to be writing more soon too." The other moms look about at each other, and at her shake their head, and go back to texting or whatever they were doing. "I shall show them all, just wait." she thinks to herself. She smiles a wry little smile and returns to her scribbling.

The elven city of Spleilten is home to beautiful statues made from a pure white and malleable substance called plloyi. Many humans often mistake it for white clay. Plloyi has similar properties of clay. It is easily formed into a variety of complex shapes and forms, however it does not dry or harden in the sun. Instead it remains pliable until the use of a special glaze containing a rare powder made from scrapings of a unicorn's horn.

Thank you both for your advice and encouragement. It is definitely still in the rough stages. Harmony- I haven't completely thought the whole thing through, though I do actually know someone who did this. There is a lot more to each persons story than what is obvious on the surface. I understood your advice the first time. Just so you know, I have absolutely NO desire to go cut myself on purpose. I am accident prone, so I get enough injuries that way. Also the addiction does not necessarily have to be hers, does it now?

A puff of dust blew out the door of the office as the busy mom walked in. She saw a chair covered in a few stray papers. Mom starts a basic inventory of surroundings. Some dust, lots of papers and a picture of a dragon on the wall along with a few others. Various name plates were strewn across the office rather inadvertently, making it very unclear who is actually in “charge” of the place. Mom decides that the person(s) in charge of the office must lead a very busy life much like her own. Since the kids are back in school, the busy writing mom decides to dig in her pack of mom stuff and get out the travel Swiffer duster. After carefully dusting the pictures and nameplates, mom debates on whether to attempt to organize papers. “Nah, I don’t think so,” she thought to herself. “After all, everyone has their own organization system, whatever this may be.” Mom opts for the next best thing and carefully moves the few papers off the chair to sit down after arranging them so she knew exactly which papers she moved to put back on the chair when she left. With another dig through the Mom pack she pulls out a pen and paper and begins to write something for the person(s) in charge. Busy lives we all seem to lead, Rushing about at breakneck speed Some of us have kids and spouses, Jobs to pay for cars and houses, Demanding boss, crazy hours No time to smell the flowers Attending concerts and games Washing laundry with awful stains Dinner and dirty dishes Fulfilling copious wishes In many circles we must run Attempting to get it all done When plans do suddenly alter We try to withstand the falter In other words I know you’re busy, don’t worry about getting back to me in a hurry. Sincerely , Busy writing mom (Aka: Delilah, in some circles) Mom finds some string and a hook and hangs the note from the ceiling so that the next person that comes in will find the note easily. She puts the papers that were removed from the chair exactly as they were and heads out the door, with the intention of stopping by again later.

This is a piece a wrote as a challenge for myself. I am new at writing stories. This is a possible beginning of a possible story. Though it is not my comfort zone for writing I want feedback at a -4- whatever ya got. I would also like to know what is good, if anything. Other things I'd like to know would it grab your attention if I did continue with it. Addiction. Or is it? The young man sat at his desk, staring at the blinking cursor on the screen. He ran his hands over his face and rubbed his bloodshot eyes as he thought about the previous evening. It had been a rough one. Johnny’s girlfriend Jade had one of her episodes. He helped to calm her down as usual. When she fainted from the loss of blood, he took her to the ER and sat waiting for her to regain consciousness. When she did, he kissed her cheek and left for work. Late, again… He was growing tired of her addiction. Her addiction manifests in the variety of self inflicted pain. The most prevalent form is cutting. Jade had not intentionally hidden her addiction, but found it a difficult topic to bring up. Johnny caught her the first time in the bathroom when they were getting ready to visit her father. Visiting Jade’s parents had a powerful impact on her losing control of her situation. Johnny was lost in thought as his assistant brought him a coffee. Lisa plopped the black mug beside the overwhelming stack of files and smirked as she asked, “Missed your beauty sleep again, huh?”