Danny was a young adult, 19 years of age. He was of average height and had a somewhat out of shape physique about him. Above his amber-tinted green eyes there was a mat of untidy brown hair, almost as if every morning he combed it then shook his head about just so it'd be perfectly unkempt. Usually clad in a pair of jeans and a shirt that depicted whatever video game he was playing, he was quite convinced that somewhere out in this universe there really was a fantasy world that contained all the wonder and magic of a Final Fantasy game (The first through the sixth, naturally, after that they try to get far too high tech-y)
Not my best work, but the professor liked it and in the end that's all that matters I guess (shrug)
Next up was taking a line from a book and writing our own story on it, mine was "Opportunities, my father says after I bail him out of jail" Enjoy. (Warning, some slightly inflammatory language about Canadians ahead)
8/26/2010
"Opportunities," my father says after I bail him out of jail. He didn't know how many christmas elves lives he had ruined by attempting to pass himself off as Santa. Most people's inner image of Santa Claus is a jolly corpulent man wearing red and giving out toys to children worldwide. My father is a wire thin middle aged man who tried to shake down a few elves wearing what he thought was a good enough Santa costume, despite the fact that the hat was purple, the clothes were green and his pants were blue jeans. When you consider that he's completely color blind you can't really blame him for his color choices but what kind of person runs up to a Christmas Elf at Eden Prairie Mall and shakes him wildly saying "THE BOSS IS IN TROUBLE, I GOT THE RUSSIAN MAFIA ON MY BACK, YA GOTTA HELP ME!!!" Whatever scheme he's planning next is flowing off his tounge like the speech of a politician, I yank myself out of my own imagination long enough to listen and I hear something involving "That cocky bastard over at the Pet's Mart thinks he's better than me just because he's a Betta Fish!" and I go back into my own mind, thinking if Pop actually gets prosecuted this time then it'd be best if I claimed I wasn't involved. Since Mom left us for "Not being able to take the insanity anymore" and moving to Vancouver or "STINKIN' CANUCK LAND" as Pop put it, he's been having some trouble here and there dealing with the fact that she's actually gone. Every day I'm struggling through my homework, I turn and see Pop trying to catch a squirrel in the backyard and I work just a little harder.
"First sentences are doorways into another world" -some random thing that I wrote down off the board in class
This last one is from Tuesday, where we were sent out around the school to observe people, take down their basic features, then make up a backstory for them. I happened to run into a friend of mine out in the coffee area, so I just "observed" her and this random old lady who was arguing with a cashier about Perkins, an obvious choice for a backstory, as everyone loves a curmudgeonly elderly person. Enjoy!
8/31/2010
Random person sitting across from me, wearing glasses, looks a little stoned. Wearing a grey striped sweater and writing Japanese in a notebook. Judging from the way she’s sitting there, she’s probably getting ready for a busy day of classes and a job as a small time car dealer after class. Yessir, that Laura Smits could probably get you the best deal on a Volkswagen this side of the Mississip. But behind that happiness and cheerful disposition, there is only tears and loneliness. Nobody can truly comprehend the painful solitude of a car saleswoman’s life. She may be able to get you a great deal on that van in the back by her office, but it won’t fill her desk with pictures of family members and friends.
Random old lady yelling at workers about to going to Perkins and waiting for something she leaves after getting a sandwich, a stark representation of life in America. Wearing old clothes from a time when her husband bought her anything she pleased, she now was spending all of her time waiting by the mailbox for her social security check so she could go and pay for her textbooks and hopefully have enough left over to get the Tremendous Twelve after class. As she would say “The food is delicious but there’s so much I just eat a pancake and a bit of the eggs, and take the rest home. That’ll be my breakfast for the rest of the week! Now, I gotta scoot home, ‘The Price is Right’ is on!”
There you have it, my first two weeks of Fiction Writing. I'll try to post my new assignments every couple of weeks, but until then, have a good day/night/nearest celestial body cycle!
