I Just Don't Write Enough

Even writing on here once, or maybe twice, a week leaves me with the sense that I'm not writing enough. I used to write stories. Now, I'm lucky to get one started, to get an idea. Even more rare is getting it to take off somewhere. I've decided I'm going to try exercising my chops a little bit. I find pictures that interest me and write a little something to go along with them. Here are my first three:

"Do not fear, child," the smaller of the two beasts coaxed. "We wish you no harm."

"But your teeth are big and you have horns sticking up from your heads," the small child whispered.

"Ay," the larger beast said, "'tis true. But to us, you are the strange one. With your soft hair only clinging to your head and your body no larger than a finger of mine, you are an alien to us just as we are to you. Do you see us frightened by your strangeties?"

She considered. "No."

"Then why don't we first be friends and leave the worries for another day?"

............................................

The siren looked on at the men around her. She laughed inside.

Most of them are married. She could see it in their eyes. She knew, but she didn't care. She would never coerce a married man here, but once through the doors on his own accord, he was hers.

As she sat before the show started, still as could be, she mentally checked herself. Her blood red stockings were pulled up high. Her meticulously curly hair was still in its place. She felt good. She felt sexy.

............................................

New York City was a truly exceptional city. Being that she had lived here since she was fourteen, now thirty-two, she knew she knew her way around it. She was silently triumphant. She came here with thirty dollars and one filled suitcase to her name. She now had a lush Manhattan apartment filled with clothes and shoes and art. She had made it.

Looking around her on this drizzly night reminded her of home. The colors were vibrant and everywhere, never a dull spot. It was 3 AM on a Tuesday and while traffic was lighter, not much was different than its PM counterpart. She was heading to get a bit of tea from her favorite coffee shop. She often did this when she couldn't sleep, which happened to be almost every night.

You see, while she had made it in the sense that she was one of the most noted artists around and was set monetarily for life, she had seemingly failed in the social department. Both her parents had died which is what had spurred her to move here in the first place. She would not let men close enough to her to fall in love. And she could have friends. She had offers to go places all the time. She simply declined them preferring, instead, to spend her evenings with her cat, Vincent.

She finished the night with her tea, and a sense of longing.

Here are the websites I got the images from in order in which they appear:

Monsters

Siren

NYC

Oh and by the way, I'd love it if you would tell me which one was your favorite. Thanks! =)