Story No. 1

Ironically, usually the times when I am at my most utter and insanely mind numbing momemts of boredom is when I recieve my greatest insights of inspiration. Ok, I dont know if I would call them inspirations but whatever. It's like my mind is dried up like dry kindling and easily burst into flames of thought.

Sometimes during these utter and insanely mind numbing moments of boredom I begin to write the starts to different stories I create in my mind. The starts are always the easiest. I think I must be some sort of aspiring writer of sorts. It would be neat to suddenly come up with an amazing idea and another one and another one and be able to connect them with a storyline and throw in a bunch of descriptive, beautiful words that flow together like a seamless poem. It sounds so easy to do. Although I just want it to be one fantastic story, like one sudden flame of greatness that comes from some Travis Moulton -or maybe I will use another name like Gerry M.C. Donahue- and people will read this story and wonder how on Earth someone could have come up with such a great story. And it will be instant fame and riches. A bit like Lord of the Rings, a very great book by an author that was obviously gifted with great insight, except that it took him about 20 years to write it. Anyways this is my latest attempt at a story;


It was a promising start to an early summer morning known only to the singing birds and one solitary figure shuffling up the empty, deserted street silhouetted against the backdrop of a small ghost town. His long jet black hair sweeping around behind his head manically in the gusty wind. His name was Jonas. However, at the moment he was not as concerned about such things as singing birds and promising summer mornings. He had a errand to run. A most important errand that must be delivered in the most important of ways. He knew the peril he was putting himself in but Jonas was a big man and he had confidence in his abilities to outthink and overpower. He was well trained through trial and error and he slept peacefully at night knowing there was no match for him.
A sudden wind blew out of the North and a loud rumbling pickup truck blundered down the lane from behind. Jonas instinctively hunched his shoulders, pulled down his wide brimmed hat and wrapped his body length raincoat tighter around his chest, concealing his one possession that meant all the world to him. He had been walking for quite sometime now, even he could not remember how many days it had been. Which meant it had been a lot. Jonas didn’t mind though, he liked walking and preferably by himself. He liked to do anything by himself. Or maybe he was just used to it. It gave him time to think. Alone time is for thinking. He had grown up being alone his whole life. It helped him learn not to be dependant on anyone. It’s amazing how much a human body can endure on its own, without any dependence. Nearby, a slow train was passing by, its loud horn piercing the new dawn and frieghtning the few birds sitting along the track. Jonas’s dad was a drunk who did not give a care for anything, especially a son who must have been an accident to some whorish girl whom Jonas could never recall ever seeing. He grew up on the streets, living one day at a time and fighting to survive night after night. Moving from one city to another he was a regular nomadic, tough and calloused by years of harsh situations.

And thats all I have for now -The End-