...to keeping my head in the clouds

A place for me to express myself through muses and images.

Bar scene

I have been having an issue with writer's block. I have been writing wildly in my head but the moment I get near a computer or pad & pen I draw a blank. Last night, while driving of course, I did it again. I came up with this sultry scene that at present I have no home for, it doesn't fit into any stories I'm working on. So I'm posting it here:

She walked into the bar, for no other reason than curiosity demanded it. Sat down at the only table available, tucked in the shadows for young lovers. A snare rattled, someone bumped into a symbol or top hat, a chair scrapped across the stage behind her. Smoky jazz wafted about the bar, silencing the chatter. Turning her attention towards the source of the sound, she froze.

He sat on the edge of in a plain wooden chair, back straight, one leg extended toward the crowd. Wildly cut blond hair framed an oval face. She couldn’t help but to let her fantasy roam wildly.

Imagining her fingernail travel the length of his nose. Kissing the dimple on his chin, how the short bristly hairs that covered his cheeks would scratch the delicate shin of her lips.

She wished he would open his eyes, through three sets he never did, driving her insane with wonder of what lie behind that thin fleshy curtain. To what place did he travel in his self-imposed solitude. She longed to reach into the dark depths beyond the pupils, which contain the soul of a man.

So as the final note resounded off the walls, and his eyes languidly opened, she feared: would she remain a faceless, nameless spectator, left with only her memory of a moment, never to share it with her sultry musician?

The Siren's Song: Agent Pitch Contest

The Siren's Song: Agent Pitch Contest