Unfair Calls

I walked into the gym. Everyone was huddled around the list. All of our names were under the names of two teams: Green and Blue, mine was under Blue. Coach walked in with the two volleyballs, we didn't have any proper handballs, so we used these. I walked to the goal, I was one of two goalies on the team and the other one wanted to score some points. I watched helplessly as Coach counted fouls against my team, but not the other (I'm not sure that we had an impartial judge).

“Holy Crap! What about their fouls?” I thought vocally, “It's not fair!”

“I Know!” The other goalie replied, all the fouls were his. The other team took a free shot, they scored.

Soon enough we found ourselves losing. Despite my best efforts, too many goals had gotten through.

The other goalie and I swapped out, and I attempted to put some points on the board, though I failed, I got some good passes. Still, the unfair calls kept on coming. Once Coach even took away from our score. Despite my anger, I kept my cool and resigned to a 6-4 loss. Still, it's hard to win when the other side has a 6-foot giant on their team.

What Keeps Me Writing

Writing. The unrecognized art. The beauty of the ink leaving the pen, the wonderful clicking sound of the keyboard. The words that rush through my head seconds before they leave my hands.The enthralling stories that spring from my head, like Athena from Zeus's. The sense of purpose.The different, more exciting life that lives in my head and communicates through the page. The power. The amazing stories I write, not knowing where they come from, not knowing where they're going.

I write because I can, because I must. I write because I have an obssesive cumpulsive behavior that makes me write. I write because the pen is not mightier than the sword. It is a sword, used to etch stories on the souls of those who read them.

I write because of the smell of a new book, the slight crispness of the pages, the worlds that spring from their grasp, haunting me untill I pick them up again.

I write because there are places unexplored, people without names who wait for their stories to be told. I love joining the great ones, the authors, writers, and poets who pluck these stories from beyond, like picking fresh rasberries from the bush, giving them their own twist, telling the world the stories of the heroes, the lovers, the villans. They tell the stories of The princes, the knights in shining armor, the soldiers, the militia men, the freedom fighters.

The reason I write: I can.