copyright www.UncleTeeBooks.com
Monday, June 15, 2009
Friday, June 12, 2009
[Fiction] Friday - June 12, 2009
Include this line in your story…”The piano accordion player slumped forward.”
The accordion bellowed sweet music as he pumped air through it and swayed in rhythm. His head tilted up towards the sun, as bursts of light danced across his sunglasses. Dressed in an odd combination of patterns along with mis-matched socks and an old newsboy hat, he played his accordion as if it was his only way of communicating.
People shuffled by all day long passing this old accordion player on a busy street downtown. Most hardly noticed him or took time to listen, while others stood and enjoyed his vision of freedom through the whistling pitches he created. The people who did stop to listen only stayed for a short time, often tossing a few coins into the cup he had sitting out in front of him.
They often gave money because they felt bad for him in his odd clothing riddled with stains and frayed edges. They figured he lived someplace on the street close by in an alley or under a bridge. Not giving it anymore thought than that they moved on with their busy day and stressful lives.
The accordion player was a mysterious man though. He was probably close to eighty-five or even ninety years old. He never talked to the people on the street and most times didn’t even know if anyone was listening. All he could hear was the sound of the music he bellowed through his instrument, at least until he stopped playing.
That’s when the sounds of life irritated his sensitive hearing. Shoes scuffing the ground, voices mumbling, the hum of the freeway just a block away, and car brakes screaming even few minutes. And of course there was the occasional sound of coins being tossed into his can, while whispers fluttered around about his appearance. He could only take a few moments of the sounds before he had to play to drown out the city sounds.
After each song, the piano accordion player slumped forward to give a seated bow to anyone who was still standing there, even if they were only there waiting for the pedestrian crossing light to change.
At the end of the day, with the sinking sun glowing on the old mans face, it’s time for him to go. He snaps the strap to close his accordion and puts it in its case. He collects his can and reaches behind him to retrieve his walking cane. He stands up, unfolds the red and white stick, adjusts his hat and sunglasses and walks away toward the sun.
Casting a shadow ten times his height behind him as he maneuvers down the quiet sidewalk, he wonders if he’ll be back tomorrow.
copyright www.UncleTeeBooks.com
The accordion bellowed sweet music as he pumped air through it and swayed in rhythm. His head tilted up towards the sun, as bursts of light danced across his sunglasses. Dressed in an odd combination of patterns along with mis-matched socks and an old newsboy hat, he played his accordion as if it was his only way of communicating.
People shuffled by all day long passing this old accordion player on a busy street downtown. Most hardly noticed him or took time to listen, while others stood and enjoyed his vision of freedom through the whistling pitches he created. The people who did stop to listen only stayed for a short time, often tossing a few coins into the cup he had sitting out in front of him.
They often gave money because they felt bad for him in his odd clothing riddled with stains and frayed edges. They figured he lived someplace on the street close by in an alley or under a bridge. Not giving it anymore thought than that they moved on with their busy day and stressful lives.
The accordion player was a mysterious man though. He was probably close to eighty-five or even ninety years old. He never talked to the people on the street and most times didn’t even know if anyone was listening. All he could hear was the sound of the music he bellowed through his instrument, at least until he stopped playing.
That’s when the sounds of life irritated his sensitive hearing. Shoes scuffing the ground, voices mumbling, the hum of the freeway just a block away, and car brakes screaming even few minutes. And of course there was the occasional sound of coins being tossed into his can, while whispers fluttered around about his appearance. He could only take a few moments of the sounds before he had to play to drown out the city sounds.
After each song, the piano accordion player slumped forward to give a seated bow to anyone who was still standing there, even if they were only there waiting for the pedestrian crossing light to change.
At the end of the day, with the sinking sun glowing on the old mans face, it’s time for him to go. He snaps the strap to close his accordion and puts it in its case. He collects his can and reaches behind him to retrieve his walking cane. He stands up, unfolds the red and white stick, adjusts his hat and sunglasses and walks away toward the sun.
Casting a shadow ten times his height behind him as he maneuvers down the quiet sidewalk, he wonders if he’ll be back tomorrow.
copyright www.UncleTeeBooks.com
Friday, June 5, 2009
[Fiction] Friday - June 5, 2009
This weeks challenge is to use:
“Don’t sit there,” she commanded. “That’s the cat’s chair.”
in a story.
_________________________________________________
The doorbell rang just as I was making my way down the stairs. I had my tuxedo on and I was ready to go. It’s going to be a night of rocking and partying.
My friends and I rented a limo and a small dance hall for the night. We’re throwing a big bash for one of our friends who is joining the Armed Forces. He’ll be leaving in two days.
“Hey, you ready?” Geo said after I opened the door.
“Just about man, I just have to grab some stuff from the kitchen, c’mon.” I replied.
Geo was all decked out in his classic James Bond tuxedo. His girlfriend was waiting out in the limo and we had to hurry so we could pick up everyone else including the U S Army’s newest recruit, Freddy.
“Dude, what are you doing? We gotta go.” Geo said impatiently.
“I know I know, just don’t distract me and I can go faster.” I told him as I gathered up a few things.
Just then our white cat came sashaying through the kitchen like she owned the place.
“Watch out…if she brushes up against your tux, your legs will be all white.” I told him as she was circling around the kitchen looking for attention. “C’mon Angel, get out of here…shooo!”
“Hey, git...get any from me.” Geo said as he tried to keep away from Angel.
“Angel…c’mere leave them alone.” My mother called to Angel as she walked in the kitchen. “Well look at you two…are you leaving now?”
“In a minute…” I answered.
“We are as soon as he’s ready…” Geo sarcastically answered my mother as he stepped back to sit down.
“Don’t sit there,” she commanded. “That’s the cat’s chair.”
“What…why…aw man!” Geo exclaimed as he turned to look at the back of his pants.
They were covered in white cat hair.
“That’s where Angel sleeps and cleans herself…” I told him as he was trying to brush off the cat hair. Then I handed him a wad of tape. “Here…try this…brushing it ain’t goin’ work.”
“Man, this is why we don’t have a cat.” Geo said while trying to remove the hair from his tux.
copyright Uncle Tee Books
“Don’t sit there,” she commanded. “That’s the cat’s chair.”
in a story.
_________________________________________________
The doorbell rang just as I was making my way down the stairs. I had my tuxedo on and I was ready to go. It’s going to be a night of rocking and partying.
My friends and I rented a limo and a small dance hall for the night. We’re throwing a big bash for one of our friends who is joining the Armed Forces. He’ll be leaving in two days.
“Hey, you ready?” Geo said after I opened the door.
“Just about man, I just have to grab some stuff from the kitchen, c’mon.” I replied.
Geo was all decked out in his classic James Bond tuxedo. His girlfriend was waiting out in the limo and we had to hurry so we could pick up everyone else including the U S Army’s newest recruit, Freddy.
“Dude, what are you doing? We gotta go.” Geo said impatiently.
“I know I know, just don’t distract me and I can go faster.” I told him as I gathered up a few things.
Just then our white cat came sashaying through the kitchen like she owned the place.
“Watch out…if she brushes up against your tux, your legs will be all white.” I told him as she was circling around the kitchen looking for attention. “C’mon Angel, get out of here…shooo!”
“Hey, git...get any from me.” Geo said as he tried to keep away from Angel.
“Angel…c’mere leave them alone.” My mother called to Angel as she walked in the kitchen. “Well look at you two…are you leaving now?”
“In a minute…” I answered.
“We are as soon as he’s ready…” Geo sarcastically answered my mother as he stepped back to sit down.
“Don’t sit there,” she commanded. “That’s the cat’s chair.”
“What…why…aw man!” Geo exclaimed as he turned to look at the back of his pants.
They were covered in white cat hair.
“That’s where Angel sleeps and cleans herself…” I told him as he was trying to brush off the cat hair. Then I handed him a wad of tape. “Here…try this…brushing it ain’t goin’ work.”
“Man, this is why we don’t have a cat.” Geo said while trying to remove the hair from his tux.
copyright Uncle Tee Books
Friday, May 29, 2009
Thursday, May 28, 2009
[Fiction] Friday - May 29, 2009
This post is for [Fiction] Friday for May 29, 2009.
The challenge was to write a poem about "A Fallen Star"
A Fallen Star
The challenge was to write a poem about "A Fallen Star"
A Fallen Star
There it lies, in the pit of my mind.
The fallen star, and the trailing line.
It came from the black, of outer space.
It came from being, in just one place.
It shot across the sky, on a slight angle.
With no sounds, no jingle or jangle.
What made it move, and why so fast?
How long was it there? How long did it last?
This fallen star, helpless and cold.
I wonder your age, how young or how old.
Why have you fallen? Why are you here?
So many questions, I have for you dear.
But you can't answer, my fallen star.
I'll never know why you came, or who you are.
The fallen star, and the trailing line.
It came from the black, of outer space.
It came from being, in just one place.
It shot across the sky, on a slight angle.
With no sounds, no jingle or jangle.
What made it move, and why so fast?
How long was it there? How long did it last?
This fallen star, helpless and cold.
I wonder your age, how young or how old.
Why have you fallen? Why are you here?
So many questions, I have for you dear.
But you can't answer, my fallen star.
I'll never know why you came, or who you are.
copyright Uncle Tee Books
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