Art by Stephanie TaylorFor more of her art and creativity visit -
Art Blog - http://stephanietaylorart.blogspot.com/
Stories Blogs - http://movingnarratives.blogspot.com/
Current project - http://valleyhilibrary.blogspot.com/
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Suggest prompt...
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Use this art to inspire your writing today.
Imagine a scene at a crowded bar and spin that into a story.
4 comments:
It's the same old scene. Women giggling around the tables, men holding themselves aloof, looking serious. Here and there, a man approaches a woman, usually on her own, sometimes with other women. "Can I buy you a drink, sweetheart?" Usually she says no, and he's off to the next mark. Sometimes she accepts, and then they huddle together, leaning into each other. And once, she accepted, only to throw the drink in his face. It stung. I know, it was my face that took it.
I thought it was something I said, but as I groped my way to the restroom in the back, I looked back and a real big guy was sitting down at her table. I guess he was the boyfriend.
I don't even know why I bother, but I can't sit around home every night. I suppose I should go somewhere I actually have a chance of finding a real relationship, but I can't replace Janey. I just don't want to be by myself every night.
"Is this chair free?" I looked up at the soft voice. I saw a little tiny woman with a delicate face and masses of soft brown hair.
"Ah, yyyyess it's free," I said, stuttering like I was fourteen again.
"Oh good." She smiled and sat down, drink in hand. "I'm Annie."
"Nice to meet you, Annie. I'm Jim."
She started telling me about herself. Then I found myself telling her about Janey. I haven't said her name since she died a year ago. We sat and talked until last call, then exchanged phone numbers.
It's the next day, and I'm about to call her. I have butterflies in my stomach. Maybe there's hope for me after all.
She waltzed across the dance floor
A honky tonk three quarter rhyme.
I got lost in her smile,
At least a thousand times.
(maybe someday i will finish that old song)
Aren't eyes supposed to meet across a crowded room? Isn't that how it's supposed to be in all the best love stories?
I know it will never be that way for me. I don't know why I'm here. The buzz of a hundred conversations batters my ears, I can't even lipread to help me hear.
I pick up George's harness, and stand. A path clears before us, blind man walking.
@glnroz-- I love the short and sweet verse! Very awesome!
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