This is a short scene from a possible new story. At the moment it is a one shot, but I might turn it into somthing bigger if i get any ideas. Please enjoy. ; )

I close my eyes trying to picture a spacious balcony overlooking a rocky beach; its waves crashing into the many jagged rocks lining the shore. I hold the picture as clearly in my mind as possible allowing myself time to scribble down the description. Keeping my eyes closed, I listen to my pen’s constant scratches as I arrange the letters to form words. The pressed, white paper feels smooth underneath my skin, as my hand slides across the page. I finish encrypting my thought in ink, and open my eyes to review the work. As usual, many of the letters are half written and the words are falling off the lines. I go over the letters again, making the words more eligible, crossing out extra letters, and adding in missing material.

“Wouldn’t it just be easier to write with your eyes open?” asks a playful voice from behind me. I slightly jump in my seat by the noise interrupting my thoughts possess. Shifting my position in the slippery wooden chair, I come face to face with a smiling teen hovering over my work. His long blonde hair hangs down as he tilts his head to achieve eye level; I stare into his dark green eyes that seem to sparkle, despite the room’s inadequate lighting. His eye color is his most alluring feature; they are so dark that at times they appear pitch black. I should know, after all, I have been friends with him since grade school, ever since an awkward incident with a yearbook picture, which I would rather not go into, I am drawn to him.

“You know I focus better with my eyes closed, Erick” I say. He pulls up a chair, ignoring my comment, and positions himself on my left. He is wearing his traditional outfit, a pair of royal blue sneakers, blue jeans, and a random band shirt his brother brought home as a souvenir from one of his many gigs. Almost immediately, his eyes drift to my notebook, glancing over the unreadable words. Grabbing my left arm, he tries to raise it up as least awkwardly as possible.

“Looks like someone wasn’t paying attention” he states, waving my arm in the air. I pull my arm back, releasing his grip, and stare at the multiple markings on my arm. Criss-crossing dashes of all sizes layer my wrist to my elbow, most likely from my habit of twirling my pen when trying to come up with an idea.

“It’s not that noticeable.” I lie, setting my ink stained arm back on the table.

“HA, you’ve got to be kidding me!” he says obnoxiously. This is greeted by various ‘shh’es from around the room.

“It’s no big deal. It’s not like the ink is permanent.” I say, in a more hushed tone then Erick. Propping his feet up against the table he starts to lean back his chair.

“I’m just saying-!” he begins to say, before being cut off by even more pleas of silence. “I’m just saying” he repeats in a quieter tone, “that if you focused more on the writing possess; others would be able to read your handwriting.” He pushes his chair farther back, the chair’s front legs lifting completely off the floor.

“If you keep doing that you’ll fall,” I say calmly returning to my notebook. Erick smirks, accepting my challenge, his chair now teeter tottering on its back legs struggling to stay balanced. He pushes the table ever so slightly, offsetting the delicate balance. The chair crashes to the ground taking Erick along with it, and the noise echoes through the silent hall. A collective ‘shh’ surrounds us, defining the sound of the chair. Of course, Erick quickly recovers, standing up and returning the chair to its proper position with out making a sound.

“Let’s go, ‘cause apparently we can’t have a decent conversation without interruptions, here” Erick says, his hands now stuffed in to his pockets. I smile the best I can without laughing, and collect my things. We walk past the front desk and through the security gates without making a scene. Thank goodness. Erick quickens his pace in order to reach the glass doors first. He holds open the doors until I am clearly out of harms way, that is if the door meant me any harm, Erick slightly bowing the whole time. Despite his rebellious attitude, he always manages to squeeze in a few polite gestures here and there. A gust of warm air greets me as I exit the brick building. I press my notebook against my chest and stop a moment to let Erick catch up. The sun feels warm on my face, complemented by the warm breeze; giving me a taste of the rapidly approaching spring weather. I start walking again, this time with Erick by my side. I turn my head, taking one last look at the tall structure, whose wall at times acts as a prison and a gateway. We turn the corner ant the sight fades, thus leaving the safety of our town’s library and the comfort of my routine.

Thanks for reading, please review. And if anyone has any ideas on how to turn this into a full length story feekl free to share. bye for now!