Perhaps I’ll make posts like this every so often, not only as a (potentially) interesting source of reading for you, but as inspiration to me to keep writing–creatively, that is. Often things can become busy with school and work that I find I don’t have the time to sit down and just write about fictional people and places, nothing in particular, and outlandish or horribly mundane things. Particularly when I was still taking English classes, much of the writing I was doing was purely analytical and formal. And now of course, most of the writing I do in school consists of lines code. But I’ve always loved making up stories, and I somehow keep forgetting this simple fact.

Recently I went through word documents new and old of started but never finished stories, short writing prompt bursts, fragments of descriptions and quotes and assortments of various creative writing. It can be cringe-worthy, hilarious, and somewhat surprising to go back and read what you’ve written in the past, but it can also give you the itch to start up the old madness again. I can give you a pithy and dramatic example, one which I had almost forgotten I had written:

A sharp silence hung in the air as the woman on the speakerphone repeated her words, trembling ever so slightly and making a conscious effort to stay calm and comprehensible. For a few moments nobody moved or spoke as the words sunk into their core, to a deep place they had not been expecting to acknowledge today, or for awhile. Then, a sudden cry could be heard at the end of the room, and an upheaval of sound, pure grief and bewilderment descended upon them all, and those who remained quiet in their thoughts felt it a physical manifestation of their own feelings they could not yet express. Lou shook his head, refusing to accept these words. He pushed through the swelling crowd, a woman on his left with tears streaming down her face, and an elderly man to his right, his face pale and drained of life, it seemed. He reached the woman with the PA microphone still in her hand, who looked up at him blankly, her hand still trembling.

“I need to find my son. He was onboard. I need to find him right away. His name was Bobby Sheriden.” He stated simply.

“Sir I…I’m not in any position to find out about anybody at this moment. Authorities are on their way, I assure you, and we’ll find out soon–” she began, but not before Lou interrupted her.

“Listen to me, he was only twelve years old. Twelve! This was his first time riding a plane alone. Who could’ve helped him? What if nobody was around to help?” He found he was yelling by the flinch the woman made and the eyes that began to turn on him.

“Sir, I am sure the stewards did everything they could for him–” she broke off momentarily, and a sob caught in her throat, and she turned away from him.

Lou stepped back, bile rising in his throat. It simply couldn’t be. This was all so familiar, as if he had ample experience with it. He had seen it many times. Read about it. He could sympathize with the grief of others. But empathy was something he hoped never to share. He did not want to know what it felt like. He did not want to join the exclusive group. This was something to be mourned from afar, detached and uninvolved, not something to be mourned from the front pew. Flowers were meant to adorn his coffin, and his life to be remembered and celebrated by his closest friends and family. Not his son’s. He was never supposed to feel this pain, it wasn’t natural and it wasn’t right. He had earned protection from it when he watched his father being lowered into the cold, hollow ground that December morning, a few days away from his twenty-fifth birthday. It was a rite of passage, painful but necessary. The tradition was to be passed on to his own son. And his son’s sons. It did not seem real, at the moment that it was for him.

We have just been informed that flight 545 from Los Angeles, due to arrive at 2:15, has had an engine malfunction ten minutes ago and has crashed some 50 miles away. Authorities are on their way to assess the situation. We currently have no status on the passengers onboard. Please remain calm and keep them in your thoughts. All further departures are cancelled until further notice.