The broken wire fence

So apparently, now that I have nothing better to do with my life, I have started to write rather more than is usual for me. Which is a good thing, because I haven't really done much of it for six months now, and I'm a little rusty with the pen.

Funny really - that phrase is starting to feel obsolete as I tap away at my shiny new keyboard.

However I still love picking up the pen (the actual pen - not the metaphorical pen of the keyboard) and taking out my note book and having a bit of a scribble. Doodle. Scrawl. Oh thats a word that I haven't used in a very long time...

Point being that the following piece is just an sample of the kind of thing that I write as spur of the moment kind of things - when I do pick up my shiny blue parker pen that is looking rather worse for wear after having been used for an entire year, which is amazing because normally I only ever have pens for about a term before I lose them - most of the time they are just descriptions of what I see around me at certain times, with an un-named and vague character popped in.

***

Taking stock, he gazed over the quiet school yard. It was midday on a Tuesday - the place should have been filled with the ramble of noise from hundreds of teens. In the distance a crow projected its mournful cry, as rain-filled clouds faded the summer sunshine. Vivid reflections of colourful graffiti shone in the numerous puddles that were pooled haphazrdly upon the aging bitumen of the basketball courts.

The stillness of the air relaxed him as he gazed at the broken wire fence of the raggard tennis courts. Sighing he settled against a scrawny tree.

Finally, this was the end.

***

I have lots of little things like that floating around. Sometimes just in thoughts - and I flesh them out when I feel like it. Many of them are scribbled on paper here and there. Every so often I take one and base a short story on it...or a blog...or whatever takes my fancy.

Most of the time, however, they sit there forgotten. Half-finished inspiration that will never reach its true potentional.

But is that really a problem?


"The worst part is when sidewalk cracks are out-of-sync with your natural stride."

-xkcd