Life?

A spur of the moment kind of poem.

What is a word that summerizes life?
Life is unique to each,
It surprises, but also repeats itself.
Like a knitted pattern on your sometimes favorite rug,
Sometimes you must face it.
Face the facts.
Face the music,
The constant ever changing flow.
Life is conspicuous.

Possible story

I didn’t want to be there.
I looked at Jane beside me. She had her reddish hair in a ponytail, sporting her favorite cap as usual.
“Are you sure we can stop here, Jan’? What if it isn’t safe?”
“Don’t worry, Kat, it’s perfectly fine. We’ll just sleep here for tonight,” said my friend at the steering wheel, as she pulled the gear to stop the van and unlocked her seatbelt. Jane paused, as she was about to open the door, then turned her head and said: “Why don’t we take a look around before we hit the hay?” I could not believe she said this while grinning!
I looked at her incredulously. “Are you serious? Nu’uh! I’m not getting out of this car, Jan’!”
She was already out of the car, flashlight in hand, the door still ajar.
“Oh c’mon! It’ll be fun! Didn’t we come out here for some adventure? This old abandoned manor is a great place to start.” Jane was silent for a moment. I hated it when she did that.
“What is it, Jan’?”
The woman laughed, the laugh only Jane could laugh. Loud and heartfelt...
“You hear those crickets, Kat?” Jane grinned in delight and looked up. She made a dramatic stance as she lifted up her arm to point up to the sky, her mouth open, and eyes wide. “And do you see those stars?! Man, it’s like space out here!” She giggled one last time, and then said:
“Look, if you really don’t want to come, then fine, but it it’d be so much fun.” She smiled at me hopefully.
I looked behind Jane. All I could see was grass, trees, and darkness. Then I looked at the window beside me. A tall, intimidating building of cold stone stared at me blankly as the pine trees swayed in the wind.
“No… no, I don’t want to go.” I stared at the glass as I said this. I didn’t want to see my friend’s disappointed face.
In the back of my mind, I could see Jane smile sadly.
“OK then. That’s fine with me… but make sure to lock, okay? And if anything happens, you can call me on my cell phone. I’ll be back soon.” I heard the click of the keys put into its place, and the door shut. Seconds later, I saw Jane waving at me as she headed towards the stone manor.
I counted the seconds on the clock. 7:30, 7:35, 7:39, 7:40. When the clock said 7:56 PM, I realized she really did go. Just like Jane would. I started to feel the empty space of the car seat beside me. I looked at the window one more time. My breath fogged up the glass… and I felt it. Loneliness. I wished I had gone with Jane.
I frowned. But there’s no way I’m going to go out there now. Even if I do have another flashlight... I leaned back in my seat and grabbed my newest book I bought that week, and turned to page 145. I will read until Jan’ gets back.

Little did I know, it would be quite a while till Jane came back...

This is an idea that came to me after listening to a song. I don't remember which song it was... But this is just a draft. As you can see, I am not into even describing the narrorator, Kat'. I guess you are free to imagine her as you like, but my image of her is a brunette, with brown eyes, shoulder length hair, and a baby face.

And I know. Two girls in the middle of nowhere is really stupid. But it's just the beginning. XD

Let it begin.

This new version of blogger is quite nifty, to say the least. I like it, and therefore want to make a new blog using it. So, I decided to use this as a place to record my writing and drawings. Thus, "Penny Paint," which no doubt is quite the silly name, but nonetheless, I like it. It's fun and simple. Not like my other blog, Never Ending Prologue.

I'd really like to start, or if not, end this post with something other than an introduction. So I searched my files on my computer and as much as I find it silly to post, this is what I made this blog for, so here is one draft. Not that I think it is even worthy enough to be even called a draft. More like a drabble.

“Her name is Adrianne,” said Mrs. Dellings earlier that day.
I was to fill out a detailed paper, answering all questions asked, about my current health status, my current residence, my past, my criminal record, and how long I would be willing to dedicate myself to the patient, or rather, Mrs Dellings daughter. Mrs Dellings wanted as much protection for her daughter as she could get.
When I finished answering the questions, I looked at Mrs Dellings with a serious expression.
“Your daughter will be in good hands, Mrs Dellings.” I handed her the papers, and she took them warmly. “I am very grateful, my boy. ” she said.
I turned my head to look across the hallway to see the various docters and nurses walking, the white walls blending with their uniforms, only to clash with the cold dark tiles that scattered the floor.
“So when should I begin?”

If you've seen my other bits of writing on my other blog, then you should recognize that I have a habit of keeping the reader hanging at the end, much to my convenience. It gives me an excuse to not be obliged to write more if I can't think. And that's speaking honestly!

You are free to say what you like. Just don't steal my writing if you can.