Why did I get out of the game so quickly? I just stood there like a tree. I should have jumped to my right, but Adrian was looking right at me and I froze. He kicked the ball right at me, and I was an easy target. Callie is watching this game. Tommy said that she likes me. This time I am going to stay in the game for a long time. Someone get out now. I’m next. This time I won’t get out. Adrian can’t be the best in the game every time. I hope the bell doesn’t ring. Not yet. Not yet.
The school bells rings one final time
Summer plans include taking their time
Vacation dreams put a smile on every student’s face
But Bailey can think of only one place
Her grandfather’s vineyard is just a bicycle ride away
She and her brothers pedal up in the morning to stay
Where Bailey can dream and make up her songs
Joining her brothers on walks when they let her come along
But her sanctuary is among the vines with a blanket on the ground
That’s the spot where Bailey will usually be found
With a journal well worn and a pen in motion
Where her narratives and melodies flow like an ocean
Penning tales of good fortune and meeting magnificent folks
Sharing them with grandpa and even telling a few jokes
Writing songs of beauty and dancing with heavenly creatures
She meanders through the vineyard admiring every single feature
Until grandfather calls for the kids to come in
Each day plays out like a beautiful violin
Sometimes friends visit to sing with her and play
This is Bailey’s Summer. She’s content either way
Grandpa says that one day the vineyard will be hers
He says she can sell it if she prefers
Bailey will never let it go she says- No way!
Because when that day comes, Summer will be every day.
Notes: This image was shot and edited on an iPhone 5 and can also be experienced visually on Steller.
I wondered if my visual stories that I have been sharing lately actually fit in any genre of writing. I found out that it is called “flash fiction.” There you go. I write flash fiction.
After the school bell rang, the self-proclaimed wand-wielding wizard walked across the baked asphault ground to lure an audience together to hear about his recent adventures…
Read the rest of my story, “Playground Chronicles ep. 1” on Steller.com
Every year the day after Christmas, the man and his young son chose a video game to play that would last the entire night until the crack of dawn. They ate their favorite snacks and sodas to sustain them during the hours their bodies begged for sleep. This tradition carried on for a handful of years, but the father’s enthusiasm waned. The father grew too busy not only the day after Christmas but every day. Not many Christmases had gone by when the young son became a young man who had to convince his father every year to continue their video game.
Eventually, the young man became an older man who “forgot” about the game played just once a year. The father would stare at his son’s old video game controller, pick up the phone, and leave a message for his son as a reminder of their annual game.
Once a year and every year the day after Christmas, the father plays that same video game until the wee hours of the morning, heavily caffeinated to survive the night. He plays alone, all the while believing that his son will finally return home to play the game.
One of the things I get to do is work with kids. It’s a full-time gig plus. The job as a children’s programming director at a church requires long hours, weekends, and I am not likely going to become a millionaire from this line of work. However, it is a ton of fun. Sharing life and words of life to young people is fulfilling.
One of my favorite things to do is help create characters and create content to bring humor in our programs. In the picture above is our facilities project guru, Ruben. After brainstorming with him about a character to introduce at a special event, Ruben landed on being a luchador. He took time on his day off to dress up as El Gran Queso and talk to the kids.
I’m still working on developing his character and writing skits, so we can bring him back. The best part of the job is seeing the reaction from the children. Maybe I should write a story about The Big Cheese.
For the past few years, on every weekday morning, he sat by his apartment window to drink and think over his carefully prepared coffee. However, for many weeks he pondered life outside his urban maze. This day, in his quiet sanctuary on the 2nd floor he heard rural whispers as an image appeared on the surface inside his cup. He stared into his cup, picked up his phone, and called the office. He notified that he wouldn’t return for another week. “I’m not OK, but I will be,” is how he ended the conversation. Instead of heading to the office, he began to pack his backpack for his unplanned trip beyond the city’s boundaries to find the place he saw in a cup of coffee.
There he was.
The man known as “Walker”
not known as a talker
Just him and his thoughts
No one allowed
Room for just one
Two is a crowd
A monologue of dreams
of joys unrestrained?
His countenance says no
More frustration and pain
He’s won’t make friends
so it isn’t a shocker
He walks this life alone
The man known as “Walker.”
Notes: Image taken with Hipstamatic on iPhone 5 and edited with Mextures.
“It’s all in the conversation,” he pointed out. “Take this one guy. He wanted to be with this girl so badly, that he woke up at 5am just to join her morning session. He tried to convince her that he was as experienced as she was in the water, but she saw through his stories. She told him later that she just wanted to be friends.”
“Some guys chat from the moment they get their toes wet. They talk while they paddle out. They talk while sitting in the lineup. They talk while you’re trying to paddle into a a wave,” the godfather added. “If they’d talk less, they’d catch more.”
“There’s nothing you can do when high tide turns the break into a swamp,” the godfather continued, “I can’t tell you how many guys end up watching and talking before walking to the closest coffee house to talk some more.”
“All I can say is…” the godfather paused as if he had changed his last point in mid-breath, “make your words count and paddle more.” He ended his surf-sermon, hugged his listeners, knowing that he would get to preach again the next day.
Notes: All images were shot with an iPhone 4 or 5 with Instagram or VSCO in Seal Beach, California. I originally posted this story on Backspaces.