Grrr...

I haven't written in a while I know but it's not coming out how I wanted it so I stopped and I try to write everyday but I can't it just turns out bad. This happens every time I write a story. Oh well no one was really reading it except Pinky and sometimes Crazy Daisy whatever. sorry guys maybe I'll start a new one.

Blank Page (working title) Part II

* * * *

It had been four whole days since the mysterious package arrived and still she couldn’t figure out who it belonged to. She’d called almost all her friends and family and none of them knew a thing about it, though her very annoying second cousin, Rita suddenly had an intense interest in coming over to “hang out” which meant she was trying to find a way to get her hands on it, the greedy bastard. It wasn’t just the idea of something so expensive sitting in her tiny dirt bag apartment that made Leena apprehensive to accept the vase. It was the thought that it could be someone else’s. What if someone broke in and stole it, how would she give it back? Or what if it was a stolen item that was sent to her as a trap? She wasn’t sure why but it was making her rather paranoid.

“Thanks Uncle Tom, it was nice talking to you too. Say hi to Aunt Peg for me, okay, alright bye.” She hung up and threw the phone on the couch throwing her head back. She had to snap out of it, she needed to get working on her story. She took a slow deep breathe and closed her eyes.

“I can do this just stop thinking about that stupid package,” she said to herself.

She sat up straight on her lumpy brown couch and pulled the beat up Mac book onto her lap. She took one last deep breathe, placed her bony fingers gently on the keys and waited for a flash of inspiration.

Two hours later, she had written over 2,000 words but none had stuck and she started with a clean slate.

“At this rate I’ll never get anywhere,” Leena said as she sat on her red silk duvet cover. Her sister, Sasha, called to catch up. However, Sasha lives in Paris which is seven hours ahead of Chicago so although it was 8am in Paris it was only 1am in Chicago. Leena was in no mood to talk.

“Oh Leena, come on you can do it. You’re very creative. You just have to focus.”

“You know what I hate, when people say things like that because if I can do it I will and if I can’t I won’t because I can’t.”

“Leena I’m sorry but that makes no sense.”

“Whatever it doesn’t matter, look I’m really tired so I’ll talk to you later. Okay?”

“Okay fine. Love you. Bye.”

“Love you too, bye”

She hung up, threw the phone on her white shag rug and fell back on her pillows.

“Ugh,” she groaned to herself, “I’m so tired.”

She rolled over and stared at the ceiling waiting for sleep to overcome her.

* * * *

Leena stepped out the door of her apartment building and immediately cold air filled her lungs. The best part about Chicago was the weather. The rain and snow always let her clear her head and get inspiration, and right now that was all she needed. The vase situation gave her the weirdest feeling, she couldn’t tell what it was she just knew something wasn’t right. Not to mention her failed attempts to write anything. She shook her head to erase those thoughts and started across the wide busy street. Once across, she stepped through the antique archway that marked the entrance of Grant Park. The smell of wet asphalt and fresh pine trees flooded her nostrils. She walked along the narrow pathway jumping over puddles and looking up at the canopy of trees overhead. Leena absolutely adored Grant Park, it was, in her mind, beyond beautiful. It was also one of the oldest parks in Chicago. It was over a hundred years old and was surrounded by old brick buildings from the 1800’s. She continued walking just thinking about anything that came to mind. Finally she came across a warn wooden bench that was miraculously dry despite the recent rainfall. Another great thing about the park was the people she loved to people watch and make up stories about what the people where doing. Of course there wasn’t really anyone there because it was eleven o’ clock on a Thursday night. Suddenly she saw something move out of the corner of her eye. She whipped her out around and saw a shadow dart into the trees.

“Oh my god,” she whispered. Grant Park wasn’t really known to be dangerous but you never know.

Slowly she stood up started for the exit. She thought she heard footsteps behind her and she picked up her pace.

“No one’s there you’re just being paranoid stop just breath everything things okay.” She said under her breath.

Just then she heard something fall and clatter to the ground. She froze in her tracks she couldn’t move not even to turn around. An icy chill ran up her spine and she felt herself fall to the ground and then… nothing.

Im away

I'm gonna be on vacation so i wouldn't be posting anything not sure if anyone cares but yeah, okay bye!

Blank Page (working title)

A blank page sitting before her… stark white and taunting. The hum of the washer, the steady thumping of a base from the speakers at party a few doors over. She sat staring at the computer screen in her dark room, dressed in only an oversized t-shirt. Her tousled hair fell into her face as she played with a spoon in her yogurt cup and a pair of black angular glasses perched on her small thin nose. She had an interesting appearance, not quite beautiful but by no means ugly. She tilted her head to one side then the other. The door bell rings and she gets up to answer.

There standing on her porch is a tall handsome young man about her own age, twenty-two, wearing a familiar brown suit holding a package and a clipboard. “Are you Leena Johnson?” he asked with a noticeable, what seemed to be, Australian accent.

“Uh yeah, that’s me.”

“Here you are. If I could just have you sign right there.” He said handing her the package and pointing to the dotted line.

“Oh sure, yeah let me just…” she struggled to balance both items and then ended up setting the package on the floor while quickly scribbling her already sloppy signature. She handed it back with a sheepish laugh and a pathetic smile.

“Thank you, have a great day.”

“You too,” she said slowly closing the door.

She always did that, acted lame in front of people, and not just guys either. It wasn’t like she was clumsy or anything she just had this nasty habit of making a fool of herself. She sighed and took the box into her small tiled kitchen.

After wrestling with the tape for a few moments she finally yanked open the top of the box with a loud pop. She dug her hands in through the packing material and her finger tips grazed something smooth and cold. Slowly she lifted out a beautiful, intricately designed colored crystal vase. Her breath caught, it was amazing, so fancy and so rich. It looked as if it had been taken from the queen’s castle in England. Suddenly realizing that this was not what usually came in random packages, she carefully set it down and started searching for a note or card. She found nothing, not one thing, no note no card there wasn’t even a return address. She looked at it a bit longer and decided she didn’t have time for such mysteries right now she had a story to write. She went back to her room and flopped down on the chair.

“Still a blank page,” she muttered to herself and sighed.

news

Ok I have decided that I am going put a lot of parts of stories on here whenever I write one and then you guys can tell me HONESTLY what you think of them.

Hi

Hello Everyone! I would like to write a story on this blog but I can't decide if I am going to because I am not a very good writer but I still like doing it...