| Squid Blog Day-to-Day with Squiddy |  |
| Squid Blog Day-to-Day with Squiddy | |
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "thunder". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
(yes, this is the second work entitled "Thunder" - and is in no way assoicated with the other one)
Thunder- Squiddy Geiger - September 27, 2012
Crack of sound released from the heavens after flash of light
Filling the world with terrific energy and sending
Children and pets scurry for shelter
As the world shakes and all
Around feel the power
Of the thunderous
Clash of Titans
Causes fear
until the
echoes
slowly
fade
and
all
is
1
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "sunrise". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Sunrise- Squiddy Geiger - September 25, 2012
Ulrich listened to the silence, savouring it. No traffic, no honking horns, no shouting or yelling of angry passersby. There was noise, but it was natural and muted, and he was content to just lie there, listening.
The fire was out, he'd have to start it again, but that wasn't a problem. For now, he just enjoyed the approaching dawn, a few distant birds serenading him. The lean-to he'd made last night had protected him when it had rained, but the crisp mountain air was cool but free of rain now. Through the opening in the lean-to, he watched the horizon lighten, as dawn approached. This had always been his favourite time, as a new day was born.
The birds in the nearby trees awoke and start to reply to the more distant serenade, and a thin strip of orange appeared above the horizon, and grew imperceptibly as the sun approached, the strip widening to a band, the birdsong growing louder. In the increased light, his breath was visible now, vapours quickly dissipating in the air. He stayed snuggled in his sleeping bag, the cold air contrasting with the comforting warmth inside the bag.
In the distance, on the lake, a loon called, a beautiful haunting cry that always gave him shivers, even in summer. The world around him was awake now, and it was nearly time to get up, but he resisted, until finally the sun peeked over the horizon, a beautiful blazing, blinding yellow-orange. He unzipped the bag and rolled out, quickly pulling on his clothes. He prepped the wood and kindling in the makeshift fire pit, and watched the sunrise become daylight as he started the fire.
Sometimes at night, he missed the city. Then, as the sun rose, he remembered why he had left, and all thought of return to civilization was banished for another day.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "reflect". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Reflect- Squiddy Geiger - September 20, 2012
Danny muttered wetly as he slogged through the rain. If it wasn't bad enough that he'd had a crappy day at work, the fucking heavens had decided to take a leak on him. Yes, the gods hated him, and today was no exception.
Three years with the company, and where was he? Three years of promises, three years of admonishments to wait, three years of bullshit. Where was he? right where he'd started, doing the same job, day after day. Sure, the names on the phone changed, but the work was always the same. "Tech support, Danny speaking. How may I help."
Rodney had been full of enthusiasm when he'd hired on. The company was growing, there was room for a keener like him. Hell, three years, and they still didn't have a benefit plan, and no sign of the stock options that had been dangled in front of him. Whenever he approached Rodney or Simone, it was always "We're working on it, but we still can't quite do it."
A fast moving car flew by close to the curb, hitting large puddle, showering him with muddy water. He just looked after it, unable to raise enough enthusiasm to shake a fist at it. His thoughts continued. "That's right. Even complete strangers dump on me. Why should they be any different?"
Six months ago, he'd talked to Rodney, and had been promised that things would change. Oh, they had, but only that his title was now "Support Analyst" instead of "Support Technician." Because "analyst being a much more impressive word than "technician", of course.
"Tomorrow," he thought. "Tomorrow I'll make a formal request for improvement." He kicked at a puddle, uncaring now, soaked to the bone. "Yes, and if they don't improve things, I'm gone. Six months to make changes. Not a day more." Another car splashed him, and he flipped the driver off. "Six months..."
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "random". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Random- Squiddy Geiger - September 17, 2012
The man had to be crazy. That was the only explanation Zain could think of as he listened to his rantings. ZilAnna was smiling as she listened, but Zain wasn't amused. He'd tried to leave, but she wouldn't budge, said she wanted to hear more.
"And if you think about it," the man continued, "Zlomy really was a great man, even if he did eat three breakfasts. Come on, it's the most important meal of the day, so why not eat it again, and even a third time?" Zain just shook his head, but his wife continued to smile as she listened.
"I ate breakfast, lunch and supper faithfully for years, but never seemed to get anywhere. Then I took up Zlomy's teachings, and that included at least two breakfasts a day, sometimes more. And now look at me, I'm a successful street preacher with a following of," he paused dramatically, looking around," several. You too can be successful if you follow Zlomy's example."
"But what if you live with someone who refuses to let you eat an extra breakfast?" ZilAnna asked.
The man laughed. "You eat a second lunch, instead. Zlomy teaches that lunches are a good substitute for missed breakfasts, and in a pinch, an extra supper works, but not too often, they tend to be too big - it's recommended that you eat an extra supper no more than twice a month."
"Where does it say that?" another man asked.
"It's in Musings 15:3, and mentioned again in Mayhem 21:9. But don't get too hung up on that, because the standard three meals isn't unhealthy, just unhelpful. if you can't slip in your extra breakfast today, make sure you do tomorrow.. That concludes the rant for today. Now I'd like to read a passage from Malingering 94:1-3:"
"May you be half an hour in Heaven
Before the Devil knows you're dead
If you like pina colada, stick to your mate
Find out who he or she is, remember, you wed
"The little old man from Nantucket
Reads a lot, gets angry and only
Talks to you when he needs something
Be kind and humour him anyway.
"Salad and enchiladas are a good
Dietary source of food of some kind
Eat them, and you will be full
Don't eat, and you will suffer.
The man closed his book and looked around expectantly, holding his hat out. ZilAnna dropped some money in, as did three others. He looked expectantly at Zain, who just shook his head, and grabbed his wife's arm. "Can we go, please?" he hissed. She nodded and they walked slowly away, arm in arm.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "carnival". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Carnival- Squiddy Geiger - September 15, 2012
Carnival time! Brendon could hardly wait. It was the single most exciting day of the year, and it was today! Now! He wanted to get to the opening festivities, but there was so much left to do. Chiyo did it on purpose, he was sure of it. He didn't like Brendon, but this was going too far.
The work was piled up, but he slogged through it, and whittled it down, until finally he moved the last box, carefully shoving it into place. He checked the time - yes he could still make it if he hurried. He locked up quickly, ran home, splashed water under his arms and on his face in homage to showering, then hurried to the Carnival.
He arrived to see that others were still going in, and sighed with relief - it hadn't started yet. As he stood in line to enter, he waved to a few friends also in line. The excitement was palpable as he sat at a table in the back - far from the good seats but still better than the one last year - he'd bought his ticket earlier this year. After a few minutes, Monsieur Beauchamp, the editor of the local paper, came out to start the festivities. He held out his arms to signal for quiet. At last he had it and he started to speak.
"I know you're all very excited and want to get this rolling, so i won't keep you waiting too long. We have a new butcher this year. Mister Donovan, as you know, retired last year and I am happy to announce that Darcy Redman has consented to take his duties, so please, " he he waved for a young man in the front row to stand. "Please welcome Darcy aboard."
After a pause to let the applause die down, he continued. "Very well, we have a fantastic menu, lots of entertainment for this year's Carnival, so let's get to it!" There was thunderous applause as the carts with the meats were rolled in, the dishes uncovered, displaying the delicacies upon them. Brendon watched them being delivered to other tables, and waited for this table's feast to be delivered. When it was, he smiled, recognizing the dish. It was that nice young girl who had been hitchhiking and had foolishly accepted a ride from Mister Olsen. This would be a lovely meal. His mouth watered as the dish was carved.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "transform". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Transform- Squiddy Geiger - September 11, 2012
If
The page
Is blank
You must
Transform
Your thoughts
To words
And then you will learn
Just how much is in
Your brain
It will
Amaze
Delight
Anger
Amuse
Reward
you
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "unwind". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Unwind- Squiddy Geiger - September 10, 2012
Slowly as he watches here
The bubbles rising in his beer
His heart is broken and aching
Through actions of his own making
He made a mistake, so foolish, he
It angered her, caused her to flee
She'd heard him out, two days later
Thought his betrayal all the greater
He'd gone berserk - well, for him at least
Quaffing the yield of hops and yeast
For others this might seem quite mild
For him five beers was really quite wild
Now that he was sober and caffeine filled
He considered just how much he'd swilled
His aching head was not his friend
The noise in the house? would it end?
But even as he blamed the beer
An idea formed, it caught his ear
His anger ebbed, he could unwind
And realize he'd been truly unkind
Too late now, she'd taken her leave
Naught to do now, but sit and grieve
The loss of a love beyond compare
Take him back? she would not dare
Now he sat and drowned his pain
In kinder ways, with more to gain
He would not get her back, it's true
But someday soon, he'd begin anew
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "imaginary". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Imaginary- Squiddy Geiger - September 08, 2012
The image was dark, but he could almost make it out. Maybe. he wasn't sure. He peered at it, but just couldn't tell with any certainty. Another failure in his Project. But dammit, he was going to prove the little bastards were real, one way or another.
The Project was several years old now and had cost him a fortune in specialized equipment, but so far, nothing. He'd seen the Pixies, he'd chased them, he was once even bitten by one, but none of his special equipment could photograph or record them. And they mocked him for it, taunting him incessantly. But he'd show them.
As he looked at the last picture from the night before, he blinked. Was that..? It was, oh my fucking god, it was! He stared at it. A Pixie, Mistylight, maybe, he wasn't sure. Yes, it was Mistylight, there was no doubt. He sat back, and laughed. He had them now, proof of Pixies.
He'd be famous and they'd be exposed. And he'd have his revenge on them for all that they'd done ot him over the years. So much damage, so much cost, so many failed dreams. He didn't know why they hated him, but they did, they taunted him, tormented him. Well that would end now.
He returned to the computer, ready to hunt for more proof - one little pic that was hard to see, that wouldn't do, but now he knew he was on the right track. He had the right technology, perfect for the job. As he prepared his equipment, he felt a tapping on his shoulder. He jumped and turned to see Mistylight floating at eye level. he reached for her but missed, not surprisingly.
As he chased her, he became aware of more Pixies. Hundreds of them appeared, filling his den. They moved in slowly, until there was nothing to be seen of him under the layer of Pixies. He screamed and fell silent. Several of the Pixies flew to the mouse and moved it, one of them jumping on the delete key, another jumping on Enter to accept the deletion. The other Pixies removed all evidence of the body.
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "smoke". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Smoke- Squiddy Geiger - September 06, 2012
At first it's just a hint
A suggestion of a something
A trick of the senses, perhaps
But then it comes again
An odour, then it hides away
As the air moves past
Dismissed as a figment
Of imagination and fear
It comes again an third time
Stronger now, then a wisp
Of smoke that tickles you
Setting off primal alarms
The wisp becomes a whiff
The the whiff grows until
It cannot be waved off
Smoke must be investigated
Drawn to the source
Fear fighting the fascination
The source is discovered
A plume of smoke pours in
The mind bellows for escape
The way is blocked - what now
Terror seeks the exit
Cool air fills the lungs
Shock overwhelms relief
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "claw". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Claw- Squiddy Geiger - September 05, 2012
Soundly asleep, there is a touch, a nudge
You bat it away, refusing to budge
The touch becomes a niggle
Something has made you wiggle
You ignore the intrusion, will it away
The dream is too lovely, no, not today
The intrusion becomes an annoyance
Something has tainted the dreamy dance
You force your eyes to stay shut
The annoyance has landed on your gut
You resist too long, the patting paw
Which is now a very sharp claw
You open your eyes, sitting upright
Adrenaline rush as you regain sight
Your aging feline demanding food
Valuing your skin, you feed the old dude
Your cat, finally obeyed, is thinking thus
"I don't understand the morning fuss
I give him a chance to save his skin
Feed me faster, you'll never win."
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "mission". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Mission - Squiddy Geiger - September 04, 2012
Nothing to say
Must
Say
Something
Words won't come
Must
Break
Spell
Lack of inspiration
Find
Your
Muse
Empty, blank screen
Beg
the
Gods
Plunge the depths
Of
Your
Mind
Your Mission, Jim
Should
You
Accept
Find the key
Words
Will
Follow
Fill the screen
Tell
Your
Story
Expel the story
Bare
Your
Soul
Write
[note: this was written during a writing exercise: we had 20 minutes to write something inspired by the word "calm". This is the result, unedited, exactly as it appeared when time ran out. You can read all of them in the waves category]]
Calm - Squiddy Geiger - September 03, 2012
The accident happened in slow motion. Jerry stood at the corner, watching in horror as the blue pickup went through the stop sign. The old beat up old Chevy was already in the intersection but moving slowly, compared to the truck. The old man barely started to turn his head when the truck hit his door, blocking Jerry's view of him as the door and the front fender caved in under the momentum of the larger vehicle.
The front of the truck started to buckle and collapse, as it was designed to do, to try to absorb the energy of the collision. Glass shattered, and the driver of the pickup was thrown forward - Jerry saw his head hit the windshield. Glass flew everywhere, and the awful sound of the impact hit Jerry as the Chevy was pushed sideways, bits exploding off of it and the front end of the truck. The two came to rest in a mangled tangle on the corner opposite Jerry. As he watched, bits settled around the two vehicles, and there was silence.
In that moment of shocked silence, a calm fell, before the adrenaline hit him and he rushed over to the vehicles. He surveyed the situation slowly., checking the car first. It was obvious the old man was beyond help. He checked the pickup and sighed - no, there was no help for this one, either. He'd never seen anything like it and hoped he never would again.
He reached into his pocket and pulled out his mobile phone and dialed 911. After reporting the collision, he sat on the curb and waited, the appearance of calm falling over the scene again. That night he would have nightmares, the first of many, but for now, if he didn't look at the vehicles, he was able to maintain a semblance of calm. It wouldn't last.