The sun rose on a mystically lit dusk above the Arctic Circle. I turned around, and saw my tracks extend into the distance only to eventually vanish into a singularity. “Why am I here? Why does my story begin here?” I kept thinking to myself as I plunged further into the cold. The stars were coming out now, but the sun had not set.

The light crept into the bar where a few early regulars were happily sucking down their slow gin fizzes. The piano man, also known as the man who played the piano, sat down to play the piano. He sat there smoking his cigarette and proceeded to pound the keys, forcing out noise like a cowboy is sometimes forced to surf.

“ Ah hate playing this piana! Evry day Ah gotsta make this racket cuz it’s a missing the super awesome magical key!”

He then turned to me.

“It’s a somwheres up in the North Pole. You gotsta find it for me.”

“By the will of your humble behest, I will probably maybe sorta find it for you.” I screamed.

Now I know why I’m here, and where I have to go, and the story has the ability to continue. Well, almost. Now it can continue.

I kept heading North from the Arctic Circle, up past the Bering Straight until I hit Arctic Sea. I slung my pack over my shoulder, and jumped onto the polar ice cap.

I climbed over a high mountain pass and gazed upon the valley below. I spotted some dainty cottages and headed towards the largest one. I knocked on the door. The house shook as heavy bootsteps grew towards me.

“Ho Ho Ho , and who might you be?”

It was obviously Santa Clause, and I knew he was the man to ask about the super awesome magical key.

“Ha! That clearly doesn’t exist.” Mr. Clause said. “Don’t stop believing” he exclaimed “now that you’ve seen me and all.”

Perplexed, I just muttered to myself “Why am I here? Why does my story end here?”

From afar I saw her, for she was sitting at some distance from me. Had she been closer I presume I would have seen her from up close, but alas, this is not as it was, so it shall not be how it is written. At first glance, I was unimpressed, her calves were hardly anything to write your senator about, but the way she held herself was fascinating. Standing amongst a gaggle of window washers, who I presume had attended for the sole purpose of consuming all my garlic bread, she managed to convey a sort of sadness, a sadness not ordinarily found when an individual is surrounded by so many of the window washing variety.
As I approached her I felt the weight of the world sitting comfortably somewhere between my pinky toe and it’s less popular neighbor.
“Hello,” I spoke.
“Is it?” she replied.
Confused I muttered “How about that?”

As we made love on my futon, which I had purchased earlier that week from a man with two fingers, I thought about my son. Where was he? Last I had heard he was somewhere around Vienna, or Istanbul. Today is his birthday.
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s ok it happens to a lot of guys.”
“I know, but sometimes I lose faith...”
“In yourself?”
“In humanity.”
“Don’t stop believing.”
With that, she left my life for good.
The next morning I woke up wearing only a baseball cap for a team I’d never heard of. I walked to the bathroom to find something to look at myself in and came accross what I can only describe as a mirror. As I starred into the reflective surface I saw a man I hadn’t seen in some time, a man with hope, a man with potential, a man that looked a lot like...the piano man.

First Stories

1. 
   

1. Rules:
2. -Word count: 200-400
3. -Necessary characters: Piano man
4. -Quote: “Don’t stop believing”

Another Beginning of Something That Hasn't Begun Yet

The only reason I joined this blog was to accurately convey my biting sense of sarcasm. Seeerioussssssssssly, I hope to make it flourish. Oh, and stories are suweeeet, so more of them will make the world even suweeeeeter.

Over and out, good buddy.

The Beginning: An Introduction

My Friend,
Today begins the beginning of something that has begun. This "journey," as one may choose to call it, is one which fills my body with the greatest of excitement and hope. Today, I become a man! Today I become more than a man.
What is a story?
A collection of words? A plot? Characters?
Or more simply, a window into the world of fictional reality.
My dearest acquaintance and myself will, here, at this location, where you are currently being, write the greatest stories that you have never heard.
Starting....