So for some time now I have been contemplating the idea of writing short stories based on nothing but a word and it's underlying definition. I have had dictionary.com daily emails for years now, where they send you a word a day with it's definition and examples of it's use and often there are some amusing ones. I thought the exercise would not only get me writing (if I'd actually do it) but it would also help solidifying new words into my vocabulary.

So I've finally committed to at least one attempt.


gangster bytwizzyizzy


feign
1. To represent fictitiously; put on an appearance of.
2. To invent fictitiously or deceptively, as a story or an excuse.
3. To make believe; pretend.


Will sulked through the back alley sticking to the shadows. He hunched his shoulders and kept his hooded head drooped down. He kept visually and auditorally quiet but he failed to keep out of detection.
"Trying to hide Will?" Like a shock wave through his spinal cord Will's posture straightened from root to tip. His head flicked up and turned to look behind him.
"Hide? Never!" Will said this with a tint of mockery and flashed a sardonic smile.
"Don't act so confident Will" his rival stepped closer, "Jer's not here to protect your sorry ass this time and we've got you ournumbered five to one."
"My ass is my sorry indeed" Will craned his head and pretended to look at his backside, "it's my mother's genetics, no asses to speak of on her side"
"You think you can talk your way out of this? You think you're so smart. We're going to beat you senseless, but if you give it to me we might leave you breathing."
"Give you what now?"
"Oh you'd like to play stupid wouldn't you. Shawn here saw you take it. So cough it up smartass" He took a step closer and the others began to fan out around Will.
"Ok, ok. Whoa, take it easy." Will threw his hands up infront up him and stepped backwards. "So I took it, but I got to tell you I don't have it."
"Oh you'd better be lyin' Will. You had better have it on you."
"I'm serious I don't have it" Will continued to hold the throng back with a gesture of his hands. "It's kind of a funny story, but I think I can get it back." Will could see the rage rising in the face that stood in front of him."Hear me out, I promise it'll worth your while."
"How is you explaining that you lost something you stole from me gonna be worth my while you little terd?"
"I'm serious, just listen. So I stole it, that's true. And I'll be honest I was taking it downtown to sell it. It was gonna be my ticket out of here. Was gonna go someplace better, warmer, with lots of pretty ladies. Maybe Californa, buy a little place close to the beach. Maybe get a dog"
"I don't give a damn what you were going to do with it, tell me what happened" Fingers curled into a fist.
"Sorry, sorry. Just can't help it, I got big dreams. Ok so, I'm heading downtown- I was almost there too, ­­­­­three blocks away from the place, you know the one that's downtown. On my way there this huge brawl broke out, right outside of King's Tavern I got stuck right in the middle of it there was no way out. It was serious too, couple of guys knocked out right in the middle of the street. One guy lost a tooth. Me I got punched in the gut, landed me on my ass. So of course someone calls the cops and I'm trying to get out the situation as quick as-"
"You're telling me you got picked up by the pigs and they just let you slide, now I know you're full of-"
"Whoa, whoa, just let me tell you like it is. Yes they picked me up I was trying to sneak on through the crowd but this one copper, he just came from nowhere I swear.  But this is thing, the cop was dirty" Will threw out his hands even wider  "I'm not lying here, the guy was dirty as they come. He and his partner they grabbed the goods and threw me in the back. Only I didn't know they were dirty then. They get in the front and they start talking about what's gonna happen to punks like me. But then it switched, they just start laughing at me, and then tell me that they're gonnna take it, and let me off in the middle of nowhere. They tell me they're gonna do it cause they can, cause no one would believe a little shit like me." Will shrugged "And they're right, no one does. But this is the good part, I swear, they tell me they've got more and they told me right where is was. They did it cause they don't think I can do anything about it, like they were just throwing it in my face. But we can go get it, we could all make a ton of money."
"You think were gonna go against coppers Will? You think we're gonna walk into some kinda stupid trap?"
"No it's easy I swear, let me tell you"
"You've told me enough Will. You want to know what? I think you're a liar, I think you're just trying to buy yourself time with this bull-shit story hoping someone comes to your rescue." He reached out and grabbed Will by the front of his shirt and slammed him against a dumpster.
"Shawn, check him. I don't want to mess up my merchandise."
Shawn lanked forward and patted Will's pockets carelessly with the back of his hand feeling for the package. Nothing. Shawn blinked, and went in again this time with full palms patting Will up and down. He looked up blankly and shrugged, "It ain't there".
"Ok Will, I'm gonna beat you til you can't feel anymore, but before I leave you in this dumpster bleeding you're gonna tell me what you really did with it."
Just then someone came running down the alley, yelling.
"I just saw it, Jer and VInce just walked it across the Concord park"
The fury hit the top, Will's opponent pulled his arm back to get a good swing.
"Right across my own turf you little..." he went aimed for the right side of Will's head.
Will grinned, ducked under the oncoming arm with speed, then  kicked Shawn in the back of the knee and in the confusion ran out into the street.

rhythm of the heart by tms696

I sometimes find myself overwhelmed with the busyness of life.

There are some people who thrive on it. One of my professors crammed every moment of his life with teaching, speaking engagements, meetings, leading extracurricular groups. He always had time for students knocking at his door, made time for family, relaxation and friends. And it between it all he wrote books, guides for others in his field.  Unlike that overdone message we see in movies of people who are successful at their career always sacrifice everything personal this man managed it all. I once looked at this through my own limited understanding thinking someday that man is going to drop dead of stress until I realized to him it was stress at all. I would have crashed and burned after a week of his schedule, but everyone has their own momentum.

I think I'm still trying to find mine. Instead of finding that rhythm to which my life lives and breathes to I feel as though my beat jumps all over place speeding up and, more rarely, dragging through. Unlike my professor a normal amount activity (such as a 'regular' full time job) seems to be more than I handle. Although I am habitually hard too critical of myself. Even though it has been years since a friend first made this personal defect clear to me  I have barely improved on allowing myself not to be perfect. What I mean by saying this here is that a regular full time job in the past 4 years has meant incredibly demanding and stressful work while outside of my job I have gotten married, moved 3 times, lived through a lengthy renovation in a small condo, had a baby, and all the while battling exhaustion from a physical condition. And yet deep in my heart I berate myself for not accomplishing more.
Honestly I fear that if I free myself from my own personal condemnation I'll never rise above merely wishing and dreaming. It is a tragedy that this condemnation is actually what keeps me from finding my rhythm.
I often crave a disciplined life. I envy those who can regulate themselves to wake up early and dedicate themselves to accomplishing what they want to, like my father. He got up early every morning during his working life, he always took time to sit down and eat breakfast. On weekdays he went in early, earlier than most other teachers, on weekends he'd take time to read the newspaper or (in the summertime) hit all the garage sales. When I was a child I remember father often woke me early and invited me to go with him, we'd have hit all the garage sales in Strathroy and gone for breakfast at McDonalds before others had woken up. Sadly I eventually got older and decided I'd rather sleep in than look for treasures amongst strangers junk.
And despite my cravings there is a part of me that just goes with the flow. The easily distracted part of me that  flits where my fancy goes however trivial or useless it may be.  To a degree I like this part of me, but I also appreciate structure. We all experience this, we all say it to ourselves it's just about finding the balance. It's about finding what works for us and then we find our momentum.
Some never find a momentum. Some never try. Some of us live life as a chaotic existence. So I guess I should consider myself at least one step ahead since I'm willing to pursue a life that has meaning.