Canadian Pen Pal 1-3

So apparently I have picked up a Canadian pen pal. Don't ask. I don't have a good story and I'm not sure myself. She wants to send stories back and forth but not electronically. She wants my terrible handwriting apparently. I've decided to fill up one of those memo books with thoughts and writings and send the entire thing to her. I'll post some of the pieces here.

First three pages:

Writing. Writing. You ask me to write but you give me a blank piece of paper. The pencil hovers over the virgin paper and all thoughts scatter out of my brain. No words push down my arm, no letters dribble out of my fingers to stain the naked page. What to write, what to write... I stare at the blank sheet and hope my fickle muse whispers something in my ear. But she is a flighty bitch, only giving me ideas when I am in the shower, driving, or other inopportune times. It's a true love-hate relationship but every once in a while she blesses me and magic happens. The words flow out on paper, the story builds, the characters are fleshed out and then bled out for my purposes, and a tale is spun out from my thoughts, my dreams, my imaginary world that I've built in my head. But right now, I'm just staring at the blank page.



She glances over her shoulder at you. Her smile is bright and cheerful. Her golden curls swirl out over her back in beautiful mimic of her wide skirts with layers of fabric that remind you of the petals of a multicolored flower. The metal bangles on her wrists and ankles chime together in harmony with her breathless laugh as you chase her. Her bare feet are nimble across the dusty ground where you clod along with heavy boots still caked with mud from weeks of travel. But you don't feel that weariness right now; it sloughed off as soon as you caught sight of your daughter and you felt renewed energy when she threw her small limbs around your neck in a welcome home embrace that brought tears to your eyes. You're home now.

Pink clouds slide against your tongue as blue fuzz brush against your eyelids. Green elephants tickle your toes making you laugh like tinkling silver bells. I laugh at your laugh with noon chimes from the tall, tall church tower. You smile like daisies with two lips like tulips. My smile is the moon in the sky when it is just a sliver of soap with two too sharp ends. You like the danger that comes with cuddling with yellow spike balls even as red rivers flow into deer white fields of plastic. Neon electricity crackles over your brain causing your dreams to explode and your hopes to come true. Purple candy bubbles in your ears and makes you pliant in my arms as I hold your pale sighs and watch them grow brighter than the stars above. I can feel you burn so sweetly with your heat residing in my heart as love.