Writers Group: A Broken Clock and Introspection.

Today marks my second writers group meeting. I confess, I wasn't all that interested in writing today. It has been a battle to stay in the game today. Therefore I found myself in a very introspective mood. All the same though, I put pen to paper during the writing prompt and here is what flowed from the nib.

Prompt: 3:00 AM
Writing Time: 10 min

I roll over in my nice warm bed, somewhere between waking and sleeping. My mind fights against the ambient sounds from the street below my open window and the hum of the fan in my room in a desperate attempt to stay rooted in my dreams. Sadly that fight is lost, my ears begin to come more alive and the sounds that were so harmoniously existing in my room while I slept now seem to be getting louder as if competing for my attention.

As the remnants of fanciful dreams slip away, my eyes reluctantly part to catch a fleeting glimpse of the time before violently snapping shut. With blurred vision the numbers glow a taunting and hateful red, burning into my mind a time that I am convinced should never be seen by man. 3:00 AM. I swear at this moment my clock is reveling in displaying such evil numbers to me. If it hadn't actually been 3:00 AM and I hadn't have still been in my bed, I would have thrown the clock out of that window. Then, at least, I could smile at the new sounds coming from the street below as the casing of the clock shattered, destroying the display. Never again would such an awful time have to be seen.

Writers Group: My First Day

Two days ago I ventured into a new world. I attended my first writers group. I have always loved to write, but never have I put focus on it as a skill worth developing. That is till now. Each week I plan on posting the stories, poems, lyrics, or thoughts I wrote about during that weeks group. I will format all my writings as follows. Writing done during the group will be in italics. Writing done after the meeting will be standard. I hope you enjoy.

Prompt: By The Pool
Writing Time: 15 min

I know that she wasn't a big fan of pools. Her favorite locations for swimming, and she loved to swim, were lakes, oceans, rivers, any natural bodies of water really. That was who she was, a very natural girl. Yet here we were, by the pool. She was here for me and I in turn was there for her.

It is somewhat ironic in hindsight. I am not a big fan of swimming. Sure, I will go out every now and again, but if I can help it I would rather avoid the drudgery of being surrounded by filthy tepid water. I much prefer dryer, more refreshing forms of recreation. All the same, if it must be swimming then a pool was my choice option.

So as I said, here we were, by the pool. She was mesmerizing as she walked along the edge of the concrete walk that skirted the clear water. Every so often she tested the waters with a sweep and dip of her foot allowing her toes to skim the surprisingly cool surface. I couldn't keep my eyes off her. The grace in how she walked stirred my soul. The way her swimsuit clung to her curves lit passion in my eyes. And the calm warmth in her eyes eased the lustful passion in mine and gave me a desire to simply love her. Without her realizing it she caused a war in me every time I simply looked at her.

She smiled and giggled. She had caught me watching her again. I must have turned a little red because she giggled more and then turned red herself. She walked up to me and gave me a hug. As she held me close and tight she whispered in my ear "you're cute." Then she pushed me in. There I was, soaking wet, in the middle of the water, and there she was, laughing, by the pool.