Quick Update!

Hey all,

I know I haven't posted much recently, but with school, redecorating, and being in love with Miss T__, I haven't had a lot of time to migrate over the things I have on paper. Rest assured though that new writings will be making their way here soon! I am off to my coffee pot and do some writing on this snowy day!

B

Writing: Moment in Time - What It Would Be Like

He wasn't sure what he was going to do when he saw her. It could be like a movie, sweeping her in his arms and holding her as if he was never to let her go. Kiss her upturned lips as the soundtrack begins to play in the background, followed by a fade to black, and sixty-second commercials. He would tell her how much he loved her in a long speech, broken up by dramatic plots, only to be finished in the next episode. He smiled as he thought about it on his ride. He could picture it all in his mind and wondered how she would take it if events played out like that.

It could be like a play, with him on his knee in front of her, professing his love in an epic monologue, complete with flowery speech and prose. She would swoon at his verbose speech and give him a single red rose to indicate her love for him. Something tragic would happen, such as her family protesting to our scandalous affair, claiming that loving one such as me would destroy their family. An extended sword fight full of parry and thrust ensues, only to find that he and her are the only two standing. He would take her in his arms and kiss her as the lights begin to fade to a roaring applause. He laughed at the thought as he walked from his car to the building. She was unique enough to appreciate that kind of imaginative event occurring.

It could be like a movie, set far into the reaches of the future, perhaps on a distant planet, perhaps on Terra Firma. After fighting his way back to her, after long years separated, he would rush to her side, scarred and battle-weary, sweep her into his arms as an explosion rocks a futuristic city in the backdrop. Millions of dollars spent in computer generated effects, and he holds her lips to his in an embrace that both of them knew wasn't in the script. Despite a director shouting cut, they continue to kiss, bodies pressed to each other. The headlines in the Hollywood star magazines would have their picture with the headline "Lovers?". He stopped a moment and thought about it, picturing them followed by security and paparazzi in equal measure. The thought occupied him until he saw her.

Each scenario played through his head as he walked towards her, still unsure on how he would approach her after being away from her for so long. She smiled, his heart sang. He realized that everything he imagined was playing out in one perfect moment. He took her in his arms and kissed her, feeling her soft lips against his, the soundtrack in his mind playing, the lights beginning to fade until it spotlighted only them, and the explosion in his heart. He would never be sure if she thought the same things in that moment, but her smile and his silence were the only things said after the kiss. No words were needed, both knew that they loved each other and finally their time could begin.

Writing: Moment in Time: The Waves

He stood at the edge, watching the waves flow towards him then pull away, almost as if they were frightened of him. He wasn't sure how he got here or why he couldn't feel anything on his body. The wind whipping around him never moved a single hair, he couldn't taste the salt from the sea on his tongue, he could only gaze out on that seemingly never ending sea. He looked behind himself and saw no footsteps in the sand, and finally felt a chill slide up his spine. He wondered if he was dreaming, or maybe he was a ghost, having died and his spirit left wandering the world. He sighed as he remembered the people he would never see again, but scratched that thought since he would be able to see them, but they would not be able to see him. He would live forever, caught between life and death, watching the people he loved move on. The waves rushed forward and pulled away again, almost as if they were beckoning him to follow. He looked out at the sun sliding lower in the sky, that molten ball which always seemed to get cooled by the icy waters of the oceans. He had some many things he wanted to say to her, the one whom he loved. He never wanted to leave her, not this soon. He could feel a tear course down his cheek, but dashed it away. She deserved better than him, he was flawed, broken, and now he was gone. The waves pulled forward and backward yet again, this time forcefully pulling him closer to the ocean. He was suddenly walking into the blue, closing his eyes as the water overtook him.

He awoke suddenly, his bed covered in sweat, the smell of salt permeating his cold room. He looked at his alarm clock and saw it was only four in the morning, but he couldn't help what he was about to do. He grabbed his pants and shirt, hastily put on his shoes and jacket, and headed out the door. He arrived at her house twenty minutes later and went to her window so her parents wouldn't wake up, and saw her light on. He gently knocked and she opened the window and before he could speak a word, she took his head into an embrace. She told him she had an awful dream and it kept her awake. He told her he did as well, but it make him realize something. He took her face between his hands and looked into her eyes and told her how he felt. He opened his mouth and spoke those fateful words, "I love you."

Writing: Moment in Time - Brief Interlude

"Are you sure?"

Her hands smoothed back his hair and her soft kiss was her only answer. His hands shook slightly as they slid up her sides, feeling her warm skin slide beneath his coarse hands. He kissed her softly as he continued up her body, caressing her breasts as he felt her breath catch mid-embrace. His hands slide up her neck, across her shoulders and up her smooth arms, while his lips trailed down her chin to lightly graze on her soft neck. His fingers gripped around her wrists and he could feel her body tense. Her entire body was responding and he knew that his wasn't much different. He trailed kisses between the mounds of her chest as his hands pulled together, locking her arms above her head.

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes as he gripped both wrists with one large hand. His free hand touched cold metal to her warm skin as he latched the handcuffs into place. His senses were alive with every move, sound, change in breathing she had. He wanted her badly, but his mind was clear and giving his desires careful, painfully slow, directions. He firmly latched both of her wrists as he kissed slowly to her ear. His hot breath striking her neck, sending a ripple of pleasure through her. With a soft whisper, he instructs her not to move unless he moves her. Her breathing came quicker and a plead to continue slowly dribbled from her moist lips. He smiled and slid his hands down her arms, lightly scratching as he descended. His lips trailed down her jaw to her neck, where he let his teeth scrape along her alabaster skin gently. Moving both hands and head lower, he avoided certain areas as no to peak her too fast. A quick glance to her face showed that he made the right choice. He closes his eyes as he lays a gentle kiss on her stomach, his hands sliding across her hips. He feels her react, her hips rising to his touch, and her body shaking as his lips touch the cold metal button of her jeans. He presses her down gently as his hands slide along the fabric covering her legs, his fingertips digging into the warm flesh beneath.

He knew she wanted him to take her, to taste her, to move her arms down and force him, but he was in control this time. He moved his hands up and unbuttons her jeans, his lips moving up her body, his tongue no longer avoiding her sensitive parts. He reaches her lips and kissed her hard, both hands on her warm cheeks. He feels her melt against him and while staring into her beautiful eyes, he smiled, and slide one gentle hand down her body. . .

Poetry: Walls

Walls are built
to keep others out.
Though our walls are built
to keep the pain inside.

I'm here to help you
tear down your walls.
My ram is love for you
and I will breach sooner or later.

When I say I'll be there,
I will.
When I say I'll love you,
I will.
With every word and gesture I make,
your walls begin to crack.
With every kiss I give you,
your walls begin to fall.

When they fall and tears roll down your cheeks,
and the pain comes flooding out,
You can fall into my arms and cry,
because walls aren't made to last forever,
not in the face of my love for you.

Commentary: To Expand Or Not To Expand...

I have received a lot of feedback suggesting I expand a few of my Moments in Time to full fledged short stories. I appreciate the suggestion and the support, also the fact that enough people like reading my stories enough to want me to expand on them, I am a little reluctant to do so. This is a two-fold issue with losing the moniker of being part of my Moment in Time series and no longer having them open to "what happens next?! I bet..." questioning. Not that I wouldn't like to expand on a few of my writings, but certain ones I feel are complete as is. I will most likely expand on a few in time, but I want to flesh out the scenario before I start tackling expansions.

In other news, I had trouble writing today's Moment in Time. Not because of any images that it may or may not have portrayed, but because my mood has been decidedly less on the dark side of late. I can blame the lovely Miss T__, but she is not the cause of it. Well, she is to a point, but the blame rests squarely on me. When I am happy with a situation, especially romantically, it shows in my writing and make no doubts about it, Miss T__ makes me happier than I feel I ought to be. It took more planning for this one and a kick in the pants from her (I was literally bullied into not using her as my muse!) to get this one off the ground. I am proud of how it turned out and it is definitely on the block to be expanded, but not before its time... though with Miss T__ as a bully pushing me, it might happen sooner! Don't get me wrong when I talk about her bullying me, she knows that I mean it in jest. She is always pushing me to do more, which I thank her for.

It's been nearing a month since I last seen her due to scheduling conflicts, but I love her all the same. It's always difficult to be separated from the ones we care about for a long period of time, but when there is nothing you can do, you grin and bear it. Thankfully the internet alleviates some of the lonesomeness and lets me at least talk to her. I know, who wants a complete commentary of me saying how happy I am to be with Miss T__, right? Okay, okay.

I have a few projects in the wings, least of all is expanding on a few Moments. I have been thinking about expanding a few of my older works, but would love suggestions on ones that you feel I should expand on. I also do request work, provided that you provide a basic premise you would like followed. I will not, though, do homework for you. If you have to write some short creative writing for a class, pick up a pen and write it yourself. There is a joy that comes from writing something yourself that I refuse to deprive you of. As always, my awesome readers, have a great day and may your pen never run out of ink!

B

Writing: Moment in Time - Housewarming

The glass never felt like it left his hand. Hell, he never knew he had one in his hand until he saw the small shards of it scatter at his feet. He looked up, eyes unfocused, and realized that he was the only one here now. Staggering to the couch, he heavily sat down and drank straight from the bottle of bourbon he suddenly had. The events of the night blurred in his mind, but the wreckage around the house spoke volumes to what had happened. With his head in his hands, he desperately tried to claw his way through the fog in his mind, trying vainly to piece together the night, though it seemed about as probable as trying to piece together that broken glass.

He was making phone calls, trying to get directions to twenty people at once. This is his first house party he has ever thrown. It was his first house he had ever owned period. He had all the food, drinks, and music set up already, now he was just waiting for the people to get there. The first people arrived, two of his closest friends with two other people he didn't know. Taking coats and welcoming everyone in equal measure, he showed them around the house. He was so proud of the house, even though it sent him nearly into bankruptcy, but it was worth it. He had been with his wife for two years now and they finally reached the point where they were stable enough to commit to a house. Moving from a one bedroom apartment in the city to a house out in the rural areas outside was a big change for both of them, but they found the neighbors welcoming, which helped a great deal in those heady early days.

More guests arrived and the music was loud. His wife was mingling with his friends and everyone was enjoying themselves. He stepped out back, checked on the grill and took a beer from the cooler. Opening it with a hiss, he made sure everything was in order before he went back inside. People were deep in their cups as they played drinking games at the kitchen table, beer pong on the island, and danced to the music in the living room. He watched them with a smile and shook hands with the people who came up to compliment him on the house. An hour or so later, he took the food off the grill and brought it inside, announcing that the food was ready and to dig in. He glanced around, looking for his wife, but couldn't find her over the throng of people surrounding him and the stack of ribs he cooked up. He fought his way through the crowd and called for her, but didn't receive an answer. He climbed the stairs and headed to the bedroom, thinking that she may have went up there to get away from all the noise and chaos on the main floor. He heard voices from inside their bedroom and froze as he was about to turn the handle, listening closely to the not so subtle sounds coming from inside.

The sounds of moaning and the push and thrust of intercourse filled his ears and inflamed his mind. He couldn't believe it, he just stood there in shock, his hand frozen on the handle as a chill ran down his entire body. He looked down and pulled his hand back in disgust, almost as if the handle was involved in the act going on inside his bedroom, on his bed, on their bed. He turned and went downstairs, pushing past people who patted him on the back and laughed at the great time they were having at his party. He moved like a man on a mission through them, pushing and shoving people out of his way until he reached the bar. He poured himself a double bourbon and swallowed it down, ignoring the burning as it slid down his throat. He took shot after shot, trying to erase what he heard from his mind. It must have been two other people, he thought. She wouldn't do this to me, he reasoned. He drank another shot down and turned around, half convinced he just made a mistake.

His mind burned, he couldn't recall anything else. He thought that he made a mistake, it wasn't her, and he just drank too much. She is upstairs asleep, alone, and the party ended hours ago. He was right that the party ended hours ago, and he was right that his wife was upstairs alone. He stumbled up the stairs, his hand gripping tightly to the banister to keep him from tumbling head over heel back to the living room, and successfully made it to the top. He stood swaying at his door, his mind, fogged and still trying to rationalize why she would do this to him. His hand fumbled for the handle and connected. He turned it and attempted to gently open the door as to not wake her, but ended up falling through the door and almost fell into the bed. His mind tried to piece together what he was seeing, not sure if he was even in the right house or not, when he froze and the fog cleared away as the chill ran through his body again. His wife was curled up in the corner of the room, her dress in tatters and bruises on her neck and wrists. He could clearly see the look of horror on her face and the tears streaming down her cheeks. He sank to his knees and crawled to her, hot tears falling from his chin as he realized what happened. He took her in his arms and cried, realizing he was the reason this happened.

Writing: Moment in Time - The Letter

At night is when it effects him the most. He sits in his chair and flips through the channels, the blue light from the television flooding the dark room. He sips from his tea, since it's too late at night for coffee. He isn't really watching what is on the screen. His thoughts are all about her. He wants to be with her tonight, but she is out of town, traveling, as usual. At best, since the day they got together, he averaged one or two times a week in seeing her. He takes another sip. That's fine, he thinks, she has a great life going for her out there on stage almost every night, and hey, she was with him, right? Right. He didn't want to pressure her about more time together, he didn't want to bother her with all those relationship questions because she had enough stress already. He didn't want to add to it.

He turns off the television and glances towards the clock. The bright green digital numbers shine back that it is after three in the morning. Sleep is seeming out of the question, he says. He turns on the light and sits at his piano, his fingers lightly brushing along the keys. He got this for her a year ago, she didn't like extravagant gifts, so he put it at his place for her to enjoy when she came over, which again, was rare. He struck up a simple tune, his eyes closing as his fingers danced along the keys. He sighs and stops playing, his hand pulling a small journal from his robe pocket. He takes a pen from on top of the piano and flips open to a clean page. He simply writes I miss you. He tears the page from the journal and walks over to his desk. He has letters, plenty of unsent letters to her that he knows he can never send. She was never much into the mushy romance stuff. He takes one of the envelopes, addresses it to her hotel in the city she is playing in next week, and slips his note inside. Simple and to the point, he thinks. He knows she gets tired of hearing it, but he knows that he has to be honest to her and these words are as honest as it gets.

Poetry: I'll Be There (His Words Spoken To The Wind)

When wild vines choke the road and thick leaves block the sky,
leaving you lost under a canopy of darkness - I'll be there.

When the paths before you look foreign and strange,
and the signs all point to nowhere - I'll be there.

The day you decide to use me and betray the feelings we once shared,
turning forked tongue toward my waiting ear - I'll be there.

When the end comes and forces us to part and you walk away,
leaving me alone on a rocky pier - I'll be there.

Soon enough you will realize what you have lost,
and in a vain attempt to reclaim my love.
You search for me where I was as if frozen in time,
but you find only a memory with words frozen on its lips.
"I'll be there."

Commentary: New Year

2010 is finally upon us and today I thought I would glance back to '09, and briefly look froward into this new year. Quite the roller coaster ride 2009 was. Starting the year in Purchase, NY, ending in Elma, NY, I never thought I would see that. Switching majors from Psychology to English was another big jump in my life. Writing had always been a hobby until the point where I suddenly woke up and decided that I wanted to devote my life completely to the written word.

My relationship with Sarah ended towards the end of the year. I wish her no ill will and hope for the best in her life. It's strange how you can go from seeing a future ahead to suddenly realizing that this isn't what you truly wanted. Jump to 2010 with me. I am an English major at Buffalo State College in Buffalo, NY, I have a 2003 Chevy Malibu, a great group of friends, and the love of my life T__. I will use this description of her mostly because she is not one to adore the limelight like I do (I will take any and all praise or criticism you will give!), plus many great writers have taken to naming people as such. She knows who she is, that's what is important. She is the reason behind many of the relationship/love-centric writing I have put up lately. What's important, she makes me happy and in 2010, I pray I am able to make her feel even a fraction as happy as what she makes me.

In 2010, I hope to land an internship at a publishing house here in Buffalo, hopefully get published myself, get my new website designed where a group of the very talented people I know can showcase their works, love deeply, and live completely. I hope to provide some literary enjoyment for all of you readers and I am deeply honored you take the time to read my works. I hope you all have a fantastic 2010 and beyond...

Brian Hinckley
Aka- Sonic Boom

Writing: Moment in Time - Wondering and Dreaming

I watch the snow fall out my window in giant white flakes. They glisten in the sunlight, shining like glass falling from the sky. My thoughts move beyond them, stretching miles away until they find you. You sit with others, you sit alone, you sit in the dark, you sit surrounded by a halo of light. I smile when I see your face, your neck, your hair, your shoulders, and so on. Suddenly the image is pulled away, your voice telling me not yet. A cloak of darkness envelops me, hiding me, keeping me in storage for another day. I draw back to my window, looking out at the snow falling lazily to the ground. I wonder if you are watching the same snow fall outside your window. I wonder if you're thinking about me. I sip my coffee and stand up. Enough dreaming done for today.

Writing: Moment in Time - One Month

He hadn't seen her in almost a month, he wasn't sure how she was going to react when she saw him. It had been a long, long month and so many things had changed in their lives. He scratched at his arm nervously, mind reeling, unable to form a complete thought, each only showing in fragments and anxiety. He paced back and forth, his hand tapping his jeans where his cigarettes use to be. He had given them up, keeping his promise to her during the time they were away from each other. He tried to keep all his promises to her. He told her he loved her at least once a day, he tried his best to be there for her whenever she needed him. That was the hard one to keep. He remembered all those days and nights wishing he could just hold her, let her cry, rest her head against him and make her feel loved, secure, safe.

His mind ran through all types of complications as well, creating possibilities he didn't want to think about. Does she still want to be with him? Does she still care for him the same way he cares about her? Will she take a look at him and think that it was all a mistake? He runs his hands through his hair, trying to calm himself down, but to no avail. He glanced at his phone to check the time and felt a dryness come to his throat. He heard the chime of his alarm clock go off. He heard the sounds of Florida. He saw the hills of Tennessee. He felt the girl dancing to Sublime against him. He tasted the liquor slide down his throat. He saw her. In her look, the miles vanished and the events of the past became meaningless. He could do nothing but stand there as she walked towards him slowly, almost as if the world had come to a standstill. Finally, after a month of forced separation, she looked up at him with those beautiful eyes and said . . .

Poetry: Seasonal

White turned to brown,
brown turned to green,
green will return to brown,
until white swallows it whole.

Poetry: Passing

It can be passing strange
when friends become strangers passing.
Shadows of a former life;
reflections of someone else.
You give a shot to regain
what you lost in time.
Giving up and giving in,
the river can never stop flowing.
Old friends became new strangers,
now strangers are my only friends.
Where do I turn in my hour of need?
I turn my eyes north and follow the stars home.