Final Post 😭

by Echo Clairday 7:55 AM 0 comments

1.) One thing I wrote that I never put on the blog was a story about a greaser boy. I really liked it but I never felt comfortable enough to share it where people could read it. It's stupid. But at the same time I enjoy the concept. I bet you if I reread it, I will have so many changes I will want to make. Also I think it would be cool if I did actually turn some of my writings in to comics. BUT that's just me. One of my favorite things I have written was Sally. It was the first real thing I wrote for the class, and everyone loved it. I loved it. Another favorite was Fake. There are just certain things about these writings that resonate with me.

2.)  On a personal level of reading, I have actually went back and read some of my old Archie comics. Not for reading purposes though. I might sound like a total dork but, I like to read them to figure out all the technical points of a comic book in a more domesticated setting of the story. Reading this I sound like a
freak. But that's what I do and that's what I like to read. Panel placement, speech bubbles, fonts, and just other stupid things that has to do with comics.

3.) I loved keeping this blog. I love my lay out and (most) of my posts. I came up with the name because I am a cynical abomination. I have no idea what type of people would read my writing. I am not one to push my writing (or drawings) onto other people. I may or may not continue to use it. I know I will definitely keep everything here to look back on in the future. If I did choose to keep up the blog I would make short stories about the characters I have created in my head.

4.) I hate journaling physically. If I had to ever journal again I would rather do it digitally, but I just prefer everything digital. I have a lot of drawings in my journal because I learn better while I doodle, and it's hard for me to just focus on writing. The writings I do have in my journal though are mostly short/unfinished fiction stories that I would be to embarrassed to let anyone read. I should really get more confident. I will definitely continue journaling and when I do it will be even more short/unfinished fiction stories.

5.)  I ride my hog faster. Faster so the tears can't be seen. I don't cry. I am Wayne Mercedes. The Wayne Mercedes.

I can feel the bruise form on my cheek, letting the cool night air sooth the heat radiating off where that bastard hit me.

As I ride I begin to cry less, but the less I cry, the angrier I seem to get. That man. That horrible man. I have lived with him for 17 years. I could have left anytime, but somewhere in me, deep inside, I felt as though I owed him something. Imagine that. Me owing him  something. For all I care he can rot in shit.

My bike starts to sputter, reminding me to fill it up. I continue to drive, can't getting far enough away. I drive until I am sure she can't drive any more.

As I pull into the nearest Pops, Gas and Smokes. I take just a moment to regain my composure, slamming my angered fist on my bike. I sigh before I pull the bike into a gas pump, signaling over the service tenant.

A scrawny kid, not much younger than me slinks over, I read his name tag. Scrawled on the patch is 'Dick'.

"Don't get a dent on it." I growl, walking past the wide eyed child, he shrinks back, whimpering in fear.

I walk through the little store, I see a middle aged woman, her hair pinned out of her face, wearing a blue sundress in the dead of night. I glare, yet for some god forsaken reason, she takes this as an invitation to strike up a conversation.

"Ain't you a little young to be out at this hour?" she smiles sincerely, "I'm pretty sure your parents must be real worried."

I can't help but stiffen at her remark, ignoring the last comment. I pull out my bill clip, "Isn't he?" I gesture towards Dick, watching as he stumbles to clean my bike.

She actually thinks I am kidding. She just laughs off my question, "Just gas then?"

I huff and look at the shelf behind her, cigarettes.

"And a pack of Newports." I grunt, flipping through my money. I hand her 3 dollars and pay for the gas and cigarettes, stopping her as she starts to hand back change, "Keep it." I mutter.

Shoving the bill fold back in my pocket, I shove my way out the door. Dick sees me coming and he waddles away.

I get on my bike, looking up at the Pops, Gas and Smokes. and I drive away. Gaining speed as I go, going to fast I can feel myself begin to lose control, until everything goes black.  

6.) My little fake plant died
     Because I forgot to fake water it

7.)  In the future most of my creative writing will be for making comics and cartoons. When I write, I make my head a little quieter. I have so many ideas floating around my head that sometimes I just can't concentrate, let alone turn it off. But someday they won't be just ideas. Hopefully they will be million dollar ideas.

8.)  You did good kids, you did good.