Weeping Pottery

She seemed to lighten up on remembering that name. I got off the train and headed for my hotel. Compared to the graveyard that was only lit by the moon and starry sky, the street lights that burned brightly served to blind me slightly, yet with all this light the streets still came off with this lonesome feeling. There were people walking around but they looked straight ahead as they were walking not caring about what was around them. Amber trailed behind me “I don’t know what led him to me, the first time he drove me to a small hotel he looked like a frightened rabbit. When we finally got into bed he just kind of stared at me not knowing what to do.  Well so long as he paid me I didn’t care, he didn’t last long as you can imagine when I asked him to pay he told me to wait. I was pissed but after arguing with him I figured he paid for the hour so might as well give it to him. For the time that was remaining we just…talked. It wasn’t about anything, in particular, I didn’t want ...

Writer: Can you give me suggestions on how to rewrite this bit? Editor:  *cuts call Writer: …. 2 hours later Editor: Sorry I was helping my dad with realty stuff Writer: Oh okay, can you help with – Editor: * cuts call Writer: … At 2 o’clock in the morning, Writer gets a text Editor: Sorry what were we talking about? Writer: Get to work…

The monotonous rhythm of the train in motion nearly put me to sleep. There were few people in the train all scattered about the place, well of course there’d be. Trains are pretty desolate at this hour, the only people on here are the homeless and people who work way too much overtime. She sat stood next to me “Even if you ask me to tell you everything where should I even begin?” Think carefully normally ghosts only remember memories or emotions that directly relate to what tethers them here, sometimes even things that you’d think you should remember are lost. “Now that I think about it I can’t remember my parents’ names.” Now that’s something, usually people retain that memory, but it being discarded means something overshadowed it. I let out a deep sigh, this isn’t a good sign. Start with the earliest thing you can remember . She looked behind her, through the windows on the sliding doors towards the dark midnight sky as if it held the answers she was looking for. ...

Taking a break from writing by playing league *chat pops up Editor: Invite me to next game Writer: if you’re here why don’t we do some work first…. Editor: Actually I’ll be gone by 11 Writer: that still gives us 3 hours to things done! And that all the more reason not to play. Editor: Sure, after this game! Writer: (Dying on the inside) After winning a close game Editor: Alright! One more! Writer: GET TO WORK!

[protaganistman] and [main heroine] walks to the supermarket [main heroine]:  Can you walk beside me? Having you trail behind me like that sends the wrong message… [protaganistman]: I don’t want to block people on the sidewalk [main heroine]: you get worried over the stupidest things… [protaganistman]: what do you mean stupid? Do you know how much those pricks in college pained me? Those guys with way too many loud piece of shit friends that keep blocking the streets and then move at the speed of plate tectonics’- [main heroine]: I get it! Maybe I should do the shopping alone next time… [protaganistman] slowly started walking beside her when she made that statements, when [main heroine] saw that she made a satisfied grin and locked arms with him.

Editor: I just got a text message from this girl asking me what animal I like, what should I say Writer: Can we get back to work? Editor: Come on man you scratch my back I scratch yours I’ll get on it after I answer her Writer:[Sighs internally] ….pangolins Editor: why? Writer: they’re exotic and cute so I figured a girl would like that response, plus since it’s a fairly obscure animal so it would show off how smart you are Editor: Oh man I see you put a lot of thought into that *types pangolins (since he uses hangouts on his phone to contact me I can hear every excruciatingly loud button press) Writer: Alright let’s get back to it *buzz Editor: She texted me back saying I’m the pangolin of her heart! Oh, my god how do I text her back? Writer: GET BACK TO WORK (what the fuck does that even mean?)

I arrived somewhere close to midnight at the cemetery. The graveyard was out of the way for the suburban town so the stars were out. My Dad’s grave was near the top of this hill so it was a bit of a walk to get too. When I had finally arrived the glossy stone slab was in pristine condition. Perhaps the grave keeper was a hardworking man or maybe my mother still visits him in her advanced age every now and again. I laid the flowers down in front of him, now that I’m here what should I say? It’s been a very long time since I last saw him, but even now it doesn’t exactly feel real. I felt that once I was in front of him some grand reverie would burst out of me but nothing came.  I didn’t know what to do. It didn’t sit well with me to leave saying nothing so I said what I promised I’d say when I left this place so many years ago. “Dad, I passed. Even though this isn’t the path you wanted to be on, it’s the one I chose to follow.” I don’t know if I should leave just saying this m...