Writing Prompt. Dialog: 1.

Writing prompt. Dialog: 1.

-"How do you make beer?" Asked Ryan.

-"As far as I know, It's like making bread , but you add water." Said Muck

-"It can't be, my cousing works in a bakery, they use water to make the dough." Ryan took a sip of orange juice.

-"Well, if you know so much, why are you bothering me?" Muk protested.

-"I've never claimed to be an expert, I just know water is used in both processes, I was asking out of curiosity."

-"Ok, but why is beer a subject matter now? It's not even noon!"

-"I've heard some cats are collecting postcards as a hobby, well I want to make beer as a passtime."

-"You mean, penpals?" Asked Muk with a grin.

-"No, no! I mean the square thing on the postcard!" Ryan, as short tempered as he was, slammed the table, spilling some juice and almost tipping off Muk's cup of coffee.

-"whoah! Slow down pal! You were talking about beers, why this craving all the sudden?"

- "I don't want to drink them, I want to make them, as a change of pace."

-"So, are you quitting the job anytime soon?" Asked Muk before taking a big gulp of black coffee.

-"No, It'll be a passtime. Look at Tom, the poor guy never took a day off, no passions, not even a single nap. And now he's shaded, a walking corpse!"

-"I see what you mean, it would be a shame to lose you, including your charming personality." Muk smirked.

Ryan was about to protest, but he keep it to himself.

The waiter brought the check, Ryan invited the breakfast.

-"It's called a stamp." Said Muk, while giving his friend the knife.

And they crossed the door thresshold at the same time.

Typical old book cover : blank

Well... what about the first page? Also blank

Ok, ok let's see the book spine: Name of the author who I don't know (sometimes it's Russian)

That doesn't tell me anything, I shall see the back cover: blank

I'm loosing it! Maybe the last page has an index: nope.

Ok, last try second page of the book: title

But... but what's the book about? I'm in a hurry!!

A quick one before supper

I took a heavy drag.

My lungs relax.

Heavy silver smoke

The tremors are gone.

'It's so bad for you!' said the yellow teeth hag.

She took my fag from my dry mouth.

In a second, my roll was pulverized on the ground.

I almost broke her nose. I was so mad.

Nowhere to go, not a single light.

The game has been changed.

Everyone has a fake mask.

And nobody can lend a hand.

Away from all.

Under the bridge, I lit a new one.

Far from the empty laughs,

I inhale the noxious gas.

Everything is fine now...

Seriosly, how on earth people write a lot lot like novels and encyclopedias?

Orange crescent moon

My dear friend is near.

But it is so far away.

I saw her last night.

By the side of the road.

How many years have passed?

How many tears had I wept?

No matter what choice I make,

I forgot to pray.

How much does the guilt weigh?

How much time passed? Or I ate.

Now she's a shadow of herself.

While a hole grows larger in my chest.

I want to sleep by her side.

Hiding from undefined mistakes,

For once, to feel rested and well.

Again, I say, so fair, lady.

Eyes as blue as the sky,

With a charming, big smile,

Her red lips against a skin so pale.

I should forgive everyone.

Even those who broke my entrails

Because God is looking up there.

While the moon is my only friend.

Those heavy moments shall end soon

Feeling the green under my feet

Letting the cold air caress my cheek

Eyes closed, eating my own dreams

Recalling those night drinks

I'm balancing over the knife edge.

So long, I'll miss you, old friend.

Fresh toast, fried eggs

That morning was a living hell.

I woke up from such a sad slumber.

I poured me some cold water.

Someday, the nightmares will be over.

Now, they are inside my brown jotter.