Twittering Tales #162

Blue Bubble Guy: My arm is killing me. Why did I even agree to this activity? Oh yeah, I didn’t. They call this team building? I call it “I am getting annoyed!” 

Red Bubble Gal: I am so psyched to be here! I can’t wait until they call on me to share! This stuff is so fun and I am so happy to work with such nice people! Wait until they hear my response. I bet no one here has the same unique experiences I do. It will be fun to listen to the others. The guy next to me keeps moaning. Says his arm is getting tired. Lol! I could do this all day! 

Aqua Bubble Gal: Yeah, this is fun. I hope it doesn’t take too long. Chicky next to me is loving it! Wait until she has to change jobs a bunch of times and do this over and over! I wonder what time we get lunch? This guy next to me, he thinks this is great. Probably his first time getting paid to play a game! 

Orange Bubble Guy: Haha, they do this kind of stuff at work? During the work day? I like this! I have to tell my buddies that I get paid to play team games when I go to work! Haha, they will be so jealous! I don’t think the guy at the end is having fun. Looks like his arm is killing him. Oh well, bring it on! I could do this all day! 

Twittering Tales #159

He could not remember the last time he sat there. Where had the time gone? To start again now would be both a blessing and a curse. To sit beneath this light, pen in hand, the man could not make his mind move his hand. The man had glimpses of the last time; a title, a dedication, even the epilogue, but what was that story? Too much time has passed. Time to leave this space again.

He continued to sit, trying to convince himself it was useless. There were no ideas in his head, no words on the tip of his tongue, no writing at his fingertips. Still he sat, unable to put the pen back in the holder. This was his future, his dream, his lifeline. How could he let it get away like it did?

Finally he decides to put the tip of the pen to the top of the paper. He began feeling his hand move and he could see letters forming from the ink. He would continue like this untill his hand gave up.

The man didn’t know how much time had passed or even what he was doing back at his desk. He rubbed his eyes and looked down at the paper in front of him. Written in cursive, as neatly as his college professor had written, were the words….

(225 words)