LightHouse
I’m trying to write for fun. I love humor and thought this would be a great outlet for my creativity.
LightHouse
I’m trying to write for fun. I love humor and thought this would be a great outlet for my creativity.
I’m trying to write for fun. I love humor and thought this would be a great outlet for my creativity.
I’m trying to write for fun. I love humor and thought this would be a great outlet for my creativity.
I got a call to inspect my next sell. I drove up to the property and saw potential. I felt motivated as a real estate agent looking to sell this property. The property is beautiful. I walked through the door and could see the hospital looked band new. It’s going to sell fast. As I walked through the door I noticed how busy it was by the amount of moths smacking me as I walked inside. I’m not sure who the maids are but they are doing an outstanding job. This is the cleanest hospital Iv ever seen. I noticed a nice doll. It's head did a three sixty. I thought to myself some kid would really enjoy this antique doll as a gift. I felt tired and wanted to take a seat after I noticed beds. These beds had to be softer than clouds. This place must have been used for art classes also by the amount of dust. So much dust you could make finger art with. I smeared dust me with my fingers. As I coughed I noticed how my allergies kept acting up because it couldn’t be the nice purified air inside. I have come to an Idea that this place would make so much money after I demolish it and the beauty it carries inside.
I was walking from work back home in a dark ally. I lived in a neighborhood that had high crime. I never felt safe. The neighborhood looked haunted at night and almost like a ghost town. There was never any light or window light on that showed people home. It creeped me out. In the day, the neighborhood was nice with white fences and beautiful architecture but looked like a hunted ghost town at night. I turn the corner and come up behind a man in a Santa Claus costume. It was very surprising to me. I wondered where Satas reindeer sled was. I figured Santa works fast and delivers to everyone but walks on foot in dark ally sometimes. He looked back at me, and I got a good look at him that terrified me. He looked possessed. He also had the body frame of a bouncer at a club or could be the leader of a biker gang. I always pictured Santa giving a gift, smiling, and not smelling like Tequila, as I could smell him as I followed. He looked like the Santa that robbed you and dipped the cookies in a glass of Jack Daniels. He was dragging a bag. I felt intimated as he looked at me, and I wanted to give him a candy cane to make his angry brows happy. He stopped and turned around. I had a heart attack, threw all my money toward him, and ran. He yelled, Don’t be afraid, I love Christmas. I am just homeless. He yelled, Merry Christmas! I stopped and turned around. I realized I should never judge a book by its cover because he was just a homeless man in the holiday spirit.
I’m sitting here with my friend Bob at the beach. We are looking up at a house in shock. I wonder how it got there. It was a beautiful house. The color was nice, and there were outside windows, but who was going to clean up the mess after it fell and crumbled to a million pieces? Bob said the house resmbled the Manapoly game peace. I believed he was right. We had both smoked weed and felt the effects. We had thought of many scenarios for how it ended up there. It could be a glitch in the matrix. Bob said I was an NPC, and that house is a marage. I could tell the weed had gone to his head. Or that could be the house from the show on Jersey Shore. There had to be so much partying in that house that people had picked up the house and moved it. We had tried to reason with the truth. How could this house end up in the most unlivable, unbalanced places? It’s a beautiful home with a great view, just don’t look down. We had just thought it was a house that had wheels and rolled itself away from the parking lots above the beach. We decided to walk past the house and realized it was cardboard market sign for real estate. I decided to lay off the drugs. My mind can jump to so many conclusions.
I was walking down the street to my local coffee shop. When I looked up and, notice a man climbing a sky scraper, I first thought the building is a little dusty today. Then realized he has no equipment. That is a very unprofessional window cleaner. As I kept my eyes on him I noticed him climbing the building like Spiderman. One hand after another, like he had gule on his fingers. Moving so gracefully up the building with the expression of it is beautiful today. Was the elevator broken? Had he lost the diamond ring on the ledge and taken matters into his own hands? It could be the drugs all the kids are on today. Whatever it is made me realize I am as uncoordinated as an infant beginning to walk. The last time I walked up a building was on a flight of stairs and stumbled on the first step. My ankle had been swollen for a decade. Forget the helicopters when someone decides to jump to there death. He would be amazed by the sheer's determination of someone putting his own life on the line to stop them from jumping. His hand stuck to the building every grasp, and he moved like a spider crawling up the building. The only thing he is missing is a safety net when he falls to his death. His face focused with confidence and the muscles in his forearms showed his strength. I just didn't understand why he was dressed like a student late for class. I was pretty sure he was missing a lecture from his college professor. He climbed the building fast. He was almost very robotic. Just afraid of the eagle attacking him, the closer he got to the nest as he scaled the building. It seems dangerous. Why would anyone climb a building? Then I looked down and saw his friend recording him and cheering him on. It dawned on me that he was going to earn so much respect and acknowledgment from beautiful women when he reached the top. Until twenty cop cars showed up ready to arrest him.
I’m sitting here and all of a sudden have writer's block. It seems that writing is not my strongest skill, but one I am interested in continuing and my biggest critic is sitting at my desk staring at me with what looks like an expression that could have so many meanings. His name is Mitttens. It's all I could think of, because when my hands were cold in the winter, all I had was a pair of mittens, and it reminded me of a cat's paw. Mittens is a great cat, besides the occasional paw door bangs I get while I am sleeping. I was hoping the coffee would kick me into gear, but it seems like mittens is the only thing that is giving me my creativity and attention at the moment. His expression tells me I should give up. He’s so angry looking and focused like he is reading me like a book. It could be that he is trying to signal me to give him his snack early like I’m his own personal butler. It’s okay. I don’t mind putting my needs behind me to make my cat happy. I could be having one of the loneliest days of my life and one look or meow from him makes me feel like I have something to live for. I'll keep pushing my suicide agenda to another date and time. His eyes seemed like there was so much wisdom locked up inside. As I can tell, he really just wants to sit and be the center of attention. As he sits there, I realize I might stuff my little buddy and place him on my desk when he's gone. He's just not moving and is completely still and silent. You would think that his fur is worth a fortune by how soft it is. I believe that's why he always comes around with this look of I am better than you face. He is truly royalty and his face says it all.