the

The trees shaking
The wind whistling
The night of Halloween

By this time, Barry was seriously starting to become scared, and a little bit angry. Was the whole thing an act? Had she given him a fake address, because she was only pretending to like him? Was she one of those power freaks, intent on making him squirm whenever she felt like it?

He quickly reached for the box of cigarettes in his pocket. Empty. Reached into his jacket pocket for the small bottle of Jack Daniel’s he kept there. Also empty. He snapped, rummaging through his pockets for his last resort: a worry stone. But, as luck would have it, the worry stone had been left in his house. His hand touched something else, though: his cell phone.

Barry closed his eyes and took some deep breaths, thinking

breathe in and out in and out

breathe in and out in and out

Barry walked into the T station on Broadway Street. It was the “Red Line” system there, which he would take until he could connect to the Orange Line station at Downtown Crossing. From there he planned to ride the T all the way down to Forest Hills, where Eileen had said she lived.

He flashed his subway pass to the woman sitting in the small, box-like tollbooth. She barely looked up from her book as he passed her, and descended into the lower levels of the station. Walking over to a nearby bench, he sat down to stretch his legs and wait for the train.

It was then that he noticed something odd. Usually there were posters, maps of the entire T system, and advertisements hung up on the walls of the terminal. However, as he looked around, he could notice none. He got up and walked a little ways down to the other end of the boarding area, looking at the walls as he went. Nothing to see but bleak, dark grey concrete.

I began this recently as a short story, inspired by a Stephen King short story I read a day or two ago. I'm thinking now that it'll be longer than a short story because I have so many ideas, but ideas are always expendable, plus I could always make some of the less-connected-in-my-mind ideas into another story, or possibly a sequel to this one. This chapter is a bit shorter than I'd like it to be, hopefully sequential installments will be longer. So, anyways, I hope you enjoy it.

It began like any other day for Barry Patterson.

To the tune of Rudolf the red nosed reigndeer....

You know Mango,
And squeejay,
And usagi,
Gg,
Imagine,
PT,
And greenie.
But do you recall,
The most fruity writer of all???

It’s apples the appely writer,
Writing all day long,
And if you’ve never seen it,
You never could call me wrong.
All of the other writers
Try to be fruity as he,
But apples the appley writer

There once was a baker
And he liked to make cakers
But he was a faker
Who was actually a Quaker

Lilly and the Moon

Once there was a small girl named Lilly.
Every night before going to sleep, Lilly liked to open the shutters of her window, climb out onto her roof and talk with the moon.
The soft evening air would brush against her cheeks as she whispered secrets to her dear friend.
One evening, she noticed that the moon seemed sad. She asked him what was wrong.