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About Me Member Procrastinator soccioMale/United States

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Memoir No1The first punch was a surprise, stunning me long enough for the smaller of the two to knock my feet out from under me. Laying on the ground I just accepted the blows of the boys two years my senior until they grew tired and tears sprung to my eyes. I rolled to my side more in shock than in pain, the first punch swelling shut my eye being the only one that really hurt, and I saw hope in the form of a brick. Under their jokes and laughter I crawled the few feet to my salvation not righting myself until I had the paver in hand. On my feet once more I turned towards those that had previously towered over me the smile on my face killin Memoir No1
by ~soccio

The RainmakerThe drought was in its third year when the Rainmaker came. He was not the first to come with the promise of rain; the priest, shamans and snake oil salesmen had all come in their turn taking our silver and hope. Always failing to do what they said they could. And each year as the ground got dryer and echoes grew in the wells the prices got higher and the town got smaller until last week when we wired for the Rainmaker saying his price wasn’t too high. When he got off the train this morning he walked right past the welcoming party and into the dusty fields the browned scrub braking under his feet. One of the farmers finally as The Rainmaker
by ~soccio

BillyThe shot pulls the deputy out of a sound sleep. Without even thinking he grabs his rifle and heads out of the office leaving his hat and boots behind. By the time he reached the dirt road two of the three robbers were on their horses. The third was just leaving the bank, a bag in one hand and a smoking revolver in the other. The deputy’s and robber’s eyes meet. They both raise their weapons; only one has a chance to shoot. The deputy lies on the ground, bleeding into the dirt, dying for his town, dying for the law. This is a good death, a heroic death but this is not our hero. * This is, “William H Billy
by ~soccio

Danny Boy“Danny, Danny my boy. How did you ever get here?” Blood. His first memory was blood; the smell, the taste, the feel of it drying pulling his skintight. It is not a memory that induces warm and fuzzy feelings. It is rather a memory that would drive one therapy if you were most people. Daniel is not most people. It is not his first memory that bothers him; it’s his second. “I didn’t mean to.” “You didn’t mean to?” Jim pinned him to the big oak tree. “You didn’t mean to do that?” It takes all of Daniel&# Danny Boy
by ~soccio

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On Obligations

Tue Nov 17, 2009, 9:39 AM

I feel as if I’ve failed to meet my self-imposed online obligations. I have failed to update this blag on the schedule set. I have failed to post art, of any sort, at all. The handful of forums I take part in I haven’t. I haven’t even been keeping up on the online presences of people I know in the flesh.
The biggest problem with this failure is that it is hard for me psychologically to return to where I once was. The longer I go without fulfilling my obligations the more work I think it will take to get right. This fear of work holds me back, prevents me from returning even when the real work is truly minor, like here.
So I force myself to take the small step and return here. Return to writing this blag in the hopes of maintaining the schedule time around, of not failing my obligations this time around.

“On Obligations” 156 words

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