Writing: The Burning Scribe

The more I learn about writing, the more I realize that the art of writing, and when I say writing I mean story telling, pouring out onto paper what is in your head.   I realize that all rules of grammar, spelling and structure is out.   There is a rule of thumb for writers, ‘If you want to be a writer, write’.  This does not mean you have to pay close attention to all of the punctuation, run on sentences, and flow while you are writing.  All of this can be corrected later.  The key is to pull that story out of your head and get it on paper in the best and quickest way possible, even if it seems scrambled, you can always go back later to redo it.

The fear of this, and worry of not having the right wording or sentence structure has kept many people from writing, and I know they have great imaginations.  They need to be encouraged to just write, no matter what it is.  All stories and books have to start somewhere.  No work of art ever starts out looking perfect, there is always chiseling, touchups, fixing and patching that is done before the finished product.

Writing is no different.  I encourage all of you out there who feel that they have the writing bug, just start writing, even if it does not make sense, you will be surprised to see through all of the scrambled spaghetti on the paper a wonderful tale forming, and once that happens, your mind will start to soar.

“…You can, You should, and if you are brave enough to start, you will.  ~ Stephen King

The winter snow falls and transforms the dead into the serene
As you walk across the pure and spotless ocean of white
Even the smallest speck of impurity can be quickly seen
Even as a fresh coat of natures majestic paint falls
Seemingly removing the dark and decaying speck
The physical eye cannot see the deep underlying flaws
The same truth applies to the heart of humankind
People walk by and see only the deceiving pure surface
But God who has just and infallible eyes sees the horrible grime
Through His infinite power and selfless love
The Creator Performs the ultimate act of supernatural magic
Through the red blood of His Son purifies the stain like that of a perfect white dove.

The wind blows around my head
Stirring the voices and awakening my other
I see through strange eyes not my own
As the world around me starts to shimmer
Like ripples in the water it becomes unclear

They whisper, question and doubt
They never understand the madness within
Always quick to judge and condemn never ready to understand
The safety and love I thought was there is nothing but a mist of lies and faceless torment

As I see through my new eyes I search for truth not there
I find support and understanding from a web twisted with virtual love
Longing to be a part of something more
I continue to search for that which cannot be seen by mortal eyes

Someday I will see the invisible truth
and escape the icy grip of the reaper
as he drags my soul into the abyss below.

Black Footprints

Faith was recently hired by Quality Services, a local cleaning company in the Pittsburgh Pennsylvania area, to meticulously clean a townhouse that was being used as a display model for Ryan’s Homes. These homes were completely furnished, and Faith was told that the job would be fairly easy since there was no one living in them, and the only dirt that would be found would be from the tours that were given.

Faith arrived at the Lehey Townhouse on Thursday at 8:00 P.M. exactly. She was planning on getting in and out in about 3 hours so that she could get home. When she pulled into the drive way, the front motion light came on exposing a full view of the house.

She had all of the cleaning supplies in the car with her including the vacuum. This meant she had to make two trips in order to get it all in the house.

Faith carried all of the supplies to the front door before she opened it. So with a supply bag hanging off of one shoulder and a bucket of chemicals in the other hand she unlocked the door and started to go in. As the door slowly swung open Faith just stood there with her mouth open in shock. The bucket with chemicals fell to the ground as she lost her grip on it. As she looked around the foyer all she could see was a black slimy substance

Hanging from everything. And on the floor were black footprints made up of the same slimy substance. The footprints led down the hall to an open door on the right……

If you want to know more and see how it ends click below.

Black Footprints