Creative Writing

Baby Blues (Creative Writing)

It's been a while since I've posted a creative writing piece. I hope you enjoy this one and it gives you a little laugh. The Writing Prompt was: After an extreme evening of fun you wake up feeling groggy and fall over. The ground greets you much quicker than usual. You waddle over to a low-lying mirror and see that you’re a baby, but remember everything. You parent’s voice is lilting up the stairs. What do you attempt to tell them? How did this happen?

My head starts to pound as I awake. I guess I did have a little too much to drink at Jeff’s going away party last night. The clock beside the bed reads 11am. What? I am late for work! Dammit!

I try to stand up, but my head feels like it’s being hit repeatedly with a sledge hammer. Bong, wham, bam! Ugh, today is going to be a bad day.

I decide to roll out of bed instead. As I do, I flop onto the ground with a soft thud. I attempt to stand. But something still doesn’t feel quite right. I am standing, but the world seems a lot “taller” than normal. It’s as if I was still lying on the ground from my pathetic bed roll, looking up at the ceiling. Shaking away the cobwebs from last night or at least trying to, I walk towards the bathroom.

As I do, I catch a quick glimpse of myself in mirror that hangs on my closet door. Wait…what the hell? I slowly back up and stand in front of the mirror. I look to my left and then to my right, someone is playing a trick on me, right? Reflecting back at me is a baby.  Not just any baby, one that looked exactly as I did when I was that young. Short brown hair, freckles on the face and big blue eyes staring back at me.  I blink my eyes and the baby blinks too. I lift my right arm; the baby lifts their arm too. I scrunch my nose; the baby scrunches their nose or at least tries to do so.  Because it’s a baby, it doesn’t quite get the nose scrunching thing yet. The nose scrunch ends up being more of an “I Dream of Jeanie” nose twinkle.  I take a step back and then forward. The baby is in perfect unison with me.  It’s like I am the baby.

Then I hear my parents’ voices. They have been visiting from out of town and staying in the guest room. I will just go say good morning and confirm with them that they see a grown man before them, not a baby. This has got to just be a really, really bad hangover.

I waddle towards the door, damn, I am waddling. The door is closed. I can’t reach the doorknob.

“Fred, are you ready? We have massages scheduled for 1pm. We have to leave soon,” I hear my mother say.

Noooo, they can’t leave yet.

I yell out to my mother.

“Mom, can you come here?” To my horror though, it sounded like this, “Mama, goobi, gabo goo!”

Whaaaaatt? No way. I try again.

“Mama, goobi, gabo, gooooo!”

I am now becoming frustrated. I feel tears falling down my face.

“Waaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhh” I let out ghastly sounding scream.

“Jack, is that you?” I hear her say.

“Mama”, I yell and fall, my butt hitting the floor hard.

Oh crap, here comes an all out tantrum and I can’t stop it. I start to wail, bang my fists on the ground and cry like a baby that’s gotten a lollipop taken away from him.

My mother opens the door. “Jack, what on earth is wrong?”

I settle down a little, sniffle and start to whimper a bit.

“There, there, Jack. You don’t look so good. Are you sick? Let’s get you back to bed.” She says.

She takes my hand, and I grab it. Her hand engulfs my tiny baby palm.  I never realized how soft and loving her hand felt before.

We walk towards the bed. As we get closer, I reach my hands up towards if to motion “Pick me up, mama.”

She looks at me a little strangely.

“Me, ba-ba”, I blurt out.

“Your ba-ba?” she asks.

Apparently baby Jack wants a drink. I reach my hands up towards her again. She looks at me incredulously.

“Jack, you don’t want me to pick you up and help you into bed, do you? You’re a grown man, for heaven’s sake. Give it a try yourself”

Woah, good, so I don’t look like a baby to her. That’s good news.

I grab hold of the comforter and attempt to climb up the bed. Realizing that to my mother, I look as normal as always. This must look really crazy to her right now.

“Fred!” she calls out to my father.

“Fred! I think there is something wrong with Jack. He’s….well, just come here.”

My father enters the room, just as I loosen my grip from the comforter and fall to the floor.

He looks towards me and then towards my mother. Then, back towards me again.

“Dada…ba-ba,” I say.

He laughs. “Rough night, huh, buddy?”

He walks towards me. He reaches out, puts his big strong arms underneath my armpits and lifts me up off of the floor.

“Ok, you need to help me here.” He says, as my baby legs and feet dangle in the air.

I try to move and pivot towards the bed, but I end up just kicking my feet back and forth. I giggle.

“Ok, let’s try this.” He swings his body towards the bed, with me still clutched in his arms and he kind of flings me. I land on the bed, but bump my elbow on the bed frame.

“Owie. Boo-boo,” I say.

My parents glance at each other. I can tell they are both trying not to laugh.

“Jack, here, let’s get you under the covers. I will bring you some aspirin and water. You can then just sleep this off. Ok?,” my mother says.

I nod my head yes. She disappears out of the room.

“Jack, you really did a doosey on yourself, didn’t you? Rest up. All will be ok when you awake later.”

I wanted to say, “Thanks, Dad.” But afraid some sort of baby babble would come out of my mouth; I just nod to him as well.

He pats me on the shoulder and leaves. I roll over and decide it is best to get some rest. Perhaps my parents are right. Last night was too wild for me and I just need to sleep it off. I pull the comforter up over my shoulders, close my eyes, and welcome the sleep that will eventually come. As I drift off to sleep, I shove my thumb into my mouth and drift off into a peaceful slumber.

Dear Grandpa (Creative Writing)

This week's writing prompt was: Letter to a Lost Loved OneWrite a letter to someone in your life that has passed away. You can tell that person the things you wish you’d said, tell that person some of the highlights of your life, whatever you want.

----------------------------- Dear Grandpa,

It has been years since you passed away. I trust you are somewhere in the afterlife enjoying Grandma's cooking. I never had the chance to tell you how much you truly meant to me. As I've grown older, I've come to realize that you were the one true father figure in my life...the dad I never had. I was just a teenager, about to turn sixteen, when you died. This knowledge and understanding of what you truly meant to me, were not all that clear to me then.

You taught me so many things, just by being you.

You taught me how to garden, a passion that is near and dear to my heart now. Whenever I see marigolds, I think about the time you showed me how to grow them from seeds. I try to plant marigolds in my garden every year, it's my way of having a little piece of you nearby. I smile every time I see the warm orange or yellow glow of the petals. They represent love, they represent you.

You showed me that with hard work and determination you could run a business and be your own boss. I remember the instant I realized such dreams were possible. I was sitting in your office and spinning around and around on your chair; as eight-year-old's often do when in the presence of a swivel chair! I remember spinning and spinning, looking around at your office. In that moment, I had realized you were the boss. I was in awe and admired you. I wanted that some day.

I also learned that sometimes laughter is the best cure for a bad day or a bad mood. A joke about peaches still manages to bring a smile to my face and to the family's – over 20 years after it was originally told. Your jokes transcend your life on earth.  Whenever one is told, it reminds me of your unrelenting sense of humor.

The most important lesson I learned from you was the overwhelming love you had for family and the willingness to be there for them. Family is life and family is love. You loved your family, you were hardworking, you offered support (emotional and otherwise) when one of your children or grandchildren needed it. The clearest memory I have is when you and Grandma would leave bags of groceries and fresh bagels on our doorstep; back when my mom was a single mother raising three children. Every Wednesday, like clockwork, the bags would be on our door front when we got home from school. You never left a note or mentioned it to us, but mom knew. We knew.  I was only about 6 or so..for me I was just happy to get fresh bagels! Looking back, that was just one very clear example of helping family. I am grateful.

Years later we visited you in Florida. By this time, you had been diagnosed with cancer. We were visiting around your birthday and you ended up in the hospital. We gathered around you in the hospital and sang happy birthday to you. We had learned from you,that family doesn't just mean to be around in the good times, but the hard times too.

When you passed away, I cried. I was sad, but the loss really hits home more now that I older.  You were an amazing person, father and grandfather. Yes, as a human I am sure you had made mistakes in your life. But, as far as I am concerned the good most certainly outweighed the bad.

I like to think that you are somewhere in the sky looking after us and we are making you proud. You helped mold me into the woman I am today. I am so very proud to have had a chance to know you and call you my grandfather.

I miss you and I love you.

The Worst Day (Creative Writing)

Writing Prompt for this short story was: Note on your Car - There’s a note on the windshield of your car. The note says, “I’ve taken your most prized possession. If you want to see it again, intact, meet me tonight at baseball field around the corner of the local high school. And bring your glove.” What makes this note so curious is that you’ve never played baseball, though you take no chances because your most prized possession is extremely valuable to you. Write this scene. ------------------------------------------------

Today was shaping up to be the worst day of my life. I had woken up late and stumbled into the bathroom, only to realize there wasn't any hot water. I had forgotten to call the plumber for hot water heater service the day prior…crap. I had to endure the worst shower of my life; it was like standing naked in front of a fan pelting ice cubes at my body.

Because I was running late, I had to skip getting my morning coffee. If you think that’s bad, what happened once I got to work – well, it was just icing on top of the fan-freaking-tastic day I was already having. I had just set my laptop bag on the top of my desk when my boss, Joe, asked me to come into his office. I obliged, of course, and followed him into this office.

“Have a seat, Laura.” He said.

I sat down on the chair facing his desk. It was very small and made of white resin. Almost like a child's chair. It did not have any cushion either, so I kept shifting my butt from side to side in order to get comfortable. No luck.

“Laura, there isn't really any way to break this to you easily, but we have to let you go. It has nothing to do with you and is strictly a business decision. I am sorry… you don’t have to finish out the day. You can go home now.”

I sat there for a moment, shocked. Hell, I had thought he had called me into the office about the advertising project we were working on. I still hadn’t moved when Joe cleared his throat… and nodded sullenly to me. Basically code for – “You can go, now. This is awkward enough.”

I had slowly gotten up from the chair and left his office. I grabbed my laptop bag from what used to be my desk and high-tailed it out of the office. I bumped into a few people as I made my way to the stairs, mumbling, “Sorry,” as I passed. I finally made it to the stairs and took them two-at-a-time down to the first floor. I flung the door open and stepped out into the cool air of the corridor and turned towards the exit.

The air outside was hot and clammy. The bad morning slowly fading behind me, I began walking towards my car, trying to think about what I was going to do next. As I approached my car, I noticed something white on the windshield. As I got closer, I saw that it was a piece of paper. Freaking great, a parking ticket, I thought. It wasn’t a parking ticket though, it was far worse.

It was a note that read:

I’ve taken your most prized possession. If you want to see it again, intact, meet me at the baseball field around the corner. And, bring your glove.”

I looked into my car and immediately noticed what was missing.  “Dammit,” I said out loud.

Unfortunately, I did not own a baseball glove. The best I could find was a pair of mittens stuffed inside of my glove compartment. They would have to do. I hopped into the driver’s seat; mittens stuffed inside of my pockets and started up the engine. At first the car didn't start. I began to panic, thinking that my car battery was dead. Fortunately, the engine roared to life on my second try. I slowly pulled out of the parking lot and made my way to the baseball field around the corner.

This morning I had woken up late, was forced to take a cold shower, showed up at work without my morning coffee and was fired; I was not  going to let some jerk-face get off with taking my most-prized possession. No way in hell that was going to happen!

I made it to the field and pulled into the first parking space I could find. I jumped out of the car and slammed the door, hard. The sound echoed throughout the park. I looked around; the park was almost empty except for someone far off in the distance, standing in the outfield, just behind second base.

“Is that the creep?” I thought.  And, then another thought came to me… I didn't tell anybody what happened or where I was going. What if this person truly was a creep, intent on attacking me or worse?

“Hey!” the person yelled and nodded towards me.

“Did you bring your glove?”

It was, indeed, the creep. I couldn't see him because the sun was too bright. He was taller than I was and wore a hat. I couldn't make out his face. It was like a shadowed man standing in the outfield, somewhat sinister looking, at least to me.

I stepped onto first base. “I don’t have a glove, but I have some catching……mitts?” I mumbled.

“I am prepared”, I said more loudly and with confidence.

I pulled the mittens out of my coat pockets and made a show of putting them on. For effect, I punched my right hand into my left palm when I was done, like you see boxers do right before stepping into a boxing ring. “Let’s do this.” I said.

What the hell was wrong with me? Why on earth was I encouraging this idiot?

“Good! I got your most prized possession right here. All you have to do is catch it. Ready?”

And with that, the creep threw my Rambo Bobblehead towards me.

“Nooooooooooooooo”, I shouted. As Rambo Bobblehead  catapulted towards me, his head shook back and forth as if trying to decide his fate, “Yessss, she is going to catch me!” and then, “Noooo, I am doomed!”

“Rambo, I will not let you down.” I whispered. As he made his way towards me from across the field, I rooted my feet to the ground and got into a squat for some leverage. I reached my hands out towards him. As he landed into my  hands, I felt his head stop shaking.  I caught him! It was an absolute miracle.  He was safe!

“You jackass!” I screamed towards the creep behind second base, but he was gone. What the hell?

I cupped Bobblehead Rambo, as I so adoringly referred to him, in my hands and looked into his eyes. I began to cry.

My brother Todd had given me the bobblehead just before being sent overseas to Iraq. His last words to me were, “You are one tough woman, Laura. Don’t forget it. When in doubt look at Bobblehead Rambo, remember who you are. Then, kick ass and take names. See you soon sis.”

With that, he had given me a hug and left. A few months ago, we received word that the aircraft he was in during a mission crashed and they don't believe there were any survivors. However, because they could not locate the aircraft, my brother is currently listed as missing in action. While today hadn’t been a good day, the day we got that news was the worst day of my life. I miss my brother so very much. He was my best friend. Bobblehead Rambo is how I connect with him, in my own silly way. If I had lost bobblehead, oh god, I just can’t fathom the thought.

I look around one last time, the field is deserted. I make my way back to my car. There is a note on the windshield.

It reads, “Laura…I felt like you needed to be reminded of how strong you truly can be when the chips are down. You have it in you to fight for what you believe. Kick ass and take names.”


Recently, my friend wrote a post on her blog. It was a short story she came up with from a writing prompt and I really enjoyed reading it! It got me thinking though. Where had my creativity gone? It's been a while since I wrote anything creative, in fact. So I decided to take her prompt as a prompt to me to get my creative juices flowing.  I ended up spending about 2 hours last evening, hunkered down in front of my laptop writing the piece that follows. It's far  from perfect, but for the sake of keeping up with my blog, I wanted to get it out and posted.

Writing Prompt:  As a child, you and your best friend made a pact to go on an real fantasy adventure. After growing up, starting your separate lives and families, and losing touch, one day he/she bursts into your office, throwing you a sword and insists you accompany them.


The door bursts open; staring at me is Jonathan, my childhood friend. His hair is a mess and he looks at me with wild eyes.

I haven't seen him in years, but he looks exactly like the last time I saw him. In fact, he looks to be wearing the same black and red flannel shirt, blue jeans and beanie hat he had on at his going away party, over 10 years ago. I remember it clearly, because he was getting ready to go off to Princeton. We joked that he looked like he should be going to university in some hipster town like Portland or Seattle, instead. Funny how some things never change.

Then I realize although his outfit is the same, he is carrying a sword in one hand and strapped to his waist is some sort of utility belt. On the belt I see a small blade and a stone attached to a string. How puzzling.

He throws the sword towards me and says, "Rob, take this. We have to go, quickly! There is no time to waste."

My sword catching skills are lacking, so rather than reach my hand out to grasp it, I jump away. It falls to the floor with a loud clatter.

Without hesitation, Jonathan picks it up and mutters, "This is not going to be as easy as I had imagined."

He steps towards me, takes my hand and says, "Here, take this." He places the sword into my palm. It feels cold and heavy. It is much heavier than one would imagine a sword to be.  I almost drop it, but don't.

"Is that all you have to wear?" he asks.

Looking at my reflection in my large corner office window, I take note of my attire. I have on a blue Calvin Klein suit, shiny gray tie and black winged-tip shoes. After college, I worked my way up the corporate ladder and am now a CEO of a Fortune 500 company. I take my job seriously and that includes dressing the part.

"No, I do not. Jonathan, what is this all about? I am very busy, I haven't seen you in years and quite frankly, do not appreciate being bombarded at work like this."

"If the situation were not dire, Rob, I would not have come. Believe me. What will it take for you to come with me?"

"I am not going anywhere until you tell me what this is all about."

He sighs. "Fine, I’ll try to give you the abridged story…for the sake of time.” He looks at me for approval to continue.

"Go on..." I say.

"This is going to sound completely crazy, but please hear me out. It all started 10 years ago, the night of my going away party. After everyone had left our house, my parents went to bed. I was still wide awake from drinking one too many Red Bulls that night, so I decided to play Minecraft. I had just started to create a new world when all of a sudden I heard this loud bang from downstairs. I ignored it at first, thinking it was just Jax. You remember, Jax, our Jack Russell Terrier?" He continues on, not waiting for a response.

"Well, then I heard it again. A loud, BANG! So I put down my Xbox controller and decided to investigate. I turned on the lights in the upstairs hallway and approached the staircase slowly, listening for any noise from the floor below. It was eerily quiet. I took a very step slowly onto the top the staircase. I stood there for a moment, determining whether or not I should descend.  My stomach growled. Deciding I could use a snack, I figured I may as well get something to eat and check out the noise."

"I started going down the stairs, this time hopping them two at a time. Just as I reached the last stair, the banging started again. Only this time it felt like the entire house shook. And, then it happened again."


"It was someone or something banging on the front door. BANG! The bang was so loud; a vase on the entryway table fell and crashed to the ground. I tried calling for my parents. But all that came out of by mouth were a few gasps. I was freaked the hell out, man."

"Then it happened, once final...BANG! The front door flew open and what I saw... I still can't believe it. It was like something out of Jumanji, man. Instead of looking across the street at Mr. and Mrs. Peterson's old white Victorian house, I saw a jungle. Not just saw a jungle, I felt it, smelled it and heard it."

"There were sounds of baboons screeching, birds singing and the soft rustle of rain dripping from the tree tops. The smell…It was a mixture of early morning dew and sweetness, like Starburst candy. Yes, man like freaking rain and candy.  And it was hot, but not NJ humid hot. Warm, but inviting. That's when I realized I had to be dreaming. I must have fallen asleep while playing Minecraft. And then, I heard her voice..."

"Jonathan...please help me." It was like a whisper floating to me from the clouds. "Please, I need your help." The voice beckoned me to follow. Well, I figured I was dreaming, so why the hell not? After all, maybe it was a hot chick. I stepped across the doorway into the deep, dark, sweet smelling, and sauna-like jungle. BANG! The door front door closed behind me. And as it did, vines, moss and weeds quickly swallowed the front door to my childhood home."

I look at my watch and cough. Jonathan stops talking.  I think Jonathan's gone mad. Either he has gone off the deep end or he is hooked on drugs. Either way, my childhood friend has been through some pretty heavy stuff over the years.

"Jonathan, it's been great seeing you. Really. Your story..well, uh it's unbelievable."

He cuts me off, "But, I am not done. There's more."

"I don't need to hear another word. Jonathan, I am really a very busy man. I hope you don't mind me being blunt. I can recommend a good therapist or even an addiction program. You’re an old friend, whatever I can do to help in that way, I am happy to do so."

"Rob, I am NOT crazy. I am not a druggie. Hell, sometimes I wish either one of those were the case. But no, for the last 10 years I've been stuck in an alternate jungle universe where a beautiful princess needed my help. That voice that beckoned me forth, it wasn't a hot chick. It was an evil troll. It tricked me to leave my home and venture into the deep dark jungle.”

God damn, he is certifiably insane, I realize.

He continues on…

“He captured me and held me prisoner in a cage made of vines, for months. Months! He rarely acknowledged my existence. He talked to himself a lot and laughed. I was freaking a prisoner to a troll! Then one day a man with a sword showed up. He told the troll he would trade a beautiful princess in exchange for me. And man, was she beautiful. She had long black hair, skin as white as pearls, soft pink lips and damn her body was banging. The troll couldn't believe his luck and he agreed to make the trade. The man took his sword and slashed through my cage made of vines. I fell to the ground. He gave the princess over to the troll, turned to me and said, "Let's get out of" He ran towards the jungle and I followed after him."

"Wait, stop!" the stranger said to me, "Look."

"We kneeled behind jungle brush and watched the troll with his new captive."

"Uggghhh...  aren'ta you a beautiful huuman." the troll said.

"The princess just stood and stared at him without saying a word. I remember thinking how odd, she didn't even seem scared or all that concerned. The troll started laughing, hard. I guess he couldn't believe his luck. Then, it happened. A dark green mist started rolling into the troll's den and surrounded the beautiful princess. It completely engulfed her, her black hair, translucent skin, pink lips and awesome body disappeared. Then just as quickly as the mist rolled it, it rolled out.

However, when it did...the princess was gone too. In her place was a large boulder dressed up to look like a had twigs for hair and a face drawn on it -- it looked like something a five year old would have drawn.

I then heard laughter beside me...but it wasn't from a man. No, it was laughter from a woman. Not just any woman, it was the princess."

"What the hell?" I whispered.

She laughed some more and said, "Come on, let's go before the troll comes after us."


"Come on..."she giggled.

I cut Jonathan off. "This is taking much too long..."

"Ok, ok. I'll speed things up. Turns out this chick was some sort of magical princess. Her father, the king of Junglonia, had been captured and a curse was put on him. It turned him into a stone. The only way to reverse the curse was to kill the evil wizard. The thing is, the evil wizard wasn’t that easy to kill. The only way to kill the evil him was for two men from an alternate universe to pierce his heart with two sterling silver, magical swords. Moira, the princess, and I have been searching for months to finds the swords. We finally did. You are holding one of them.  I then needed to find a way back here to get you."

"Me? What are you talking about?"

"You know, two men from an alternate universe? That's you and me, man. Like from our childhood adventure pact, remember? Somehow, some way, the adventure is real, dude.  I need your help. Moira needs your help. Her father, the king, needs our help!"

"Whoa. That is enough!" I yell.

"I don't know what has happened to you in 10 years. But, I have a life now. I have a very important job, a family, children and many people depend on me. We had a great childhood together, but whatever you are mixed up in, I want nothing to do with it. I can't have it. Please, leave."

"Rob, please, we need your help. I love her.. Moira. I fell in love with her. That's why I never tried to leave. But, time is running out. If we don't kill the evil wizard in two days time, her father will remain a stone forever. Just take my hand, I'll show you." He steps towards me.

"No! Leave!" I walk towards my office door and thrust it open without looking.

All of a sudden I feel warm air, smell something sweet and hear water trickling. I turn towards the door and cannot believe my eyes.

There before me is a jungle. Just like in Jonathan's story. How can this be? Did he somehow slip me LSD or something?

"What the hell?" I whisper.

"Rob, please we need your help..." a female voice whispers.  "Please..." It gets louder, until standing before me, with the jungle behind her is a beautiful woman. So beautiful she takes my breath away.

She is wearing a green dress, looks to have been made of leaves and twigs; her hair is long, dark and lustrous. But it's her eyes, there is something in them; a mixture of grief, hope and love.

"Please come with us. You’re our only hope."

I look from her to Rob, who is still standing in my office. The difference between my office and the world beyond my office door does not befool me. Do I defy all logic and step over into the jungle and go on this wild trip (drug trip, for all I know) with Jonathan or stay in my expensively decorated corner office, crunching numbers for the 1st quarter budget?

Maybe I am dreaming, I think. Yes, that has got to be it! I really didn’t sleep all that well last night.  If so, stepping over to the jungle side can't hurt...right? And, I'd be accompanied by a hot chick and my childhood friend. Why not?

"Jonathan, I bet I am dreaming."

He smiles at me, knowingly.

I step through my office doorway into the jungle, in my Calvin Klein suit and wing-tipped shoes, magical sword in hand..."Let's have that adventure."

"I never thought you'd say that. Come on, this way!" Rob yells.

As I start to follow, my office door bangs shut behind me. It is quickly swallowed up by vines and jungle brush... to be seen no more.