Alyssa Pennini's Blog, page 8

Flight: A Short Story

By: Alyssa Pennini

Damien sped through the buildings, narrowly dodging passerby as he fled. He had stepped outside, pocketing his latest acquisition when they had come from nowhere, appearing in a split second, giving no notice. The tingle over his skin, like tickling feathers, was the only inkling, the single tip off that danger approached. He had only had enough time to glance over his shoulder before he bolted up the sidewalk.

The men wore street clothes in a single shade of black, allowing them free range of motion while in pursuit. Outnumbered, Damien’s only saving grace was his knowledge and experience evading capture.

“There’s no way they should have found me,” he muttered as he ran. Being a skilled thief, he was unlikely to leave any evidence or trail to follow. And he’d been laying low as of late. “They shouldn’t have found me.”

Ducking behind a group of pedestrians, he made a quick right down an alley and risked a quick look back. When he saw the way was momentarily clear, he let out a small sigh. But it only lasted a quick second before the prickling erupted once more, alerting him to his chasers’ return. Speeding up, he exited the alleyway and straight into the street narrowly avoiding a collision with multiple cars.

Heart pounding, he made it across the street and turned left, wanting to keep his actions unpredictable. Damien wound his way up the street, staying close to the walls. With every corner turned, a feeling of safety would set in briefly but only for a minute before the tingling started up again.

“Why the hell did I turn left? Uphill instead of down. Never go up. Never, ever go up. Such an idiot,” he murmured.

A trickle more fear set in as the air cleared, becoming fresher as he moved further out of town. The space was becoming more open, less places to hide and a sinking feeling firmly took hold in his stomach. But he never slowed; there was no other option. Though he stole expensive items on a regular basis, he knew without a doubt that the only truly important thing is his life was his freedom. That was the only priceless thing in this world.

He let his mind grow blank, senses dulling to a light buzz in the background as he relied on instinct to escape. Making choices was predictable and that was the last thing he needed, so he let his body be his guide and told his mind to take a backseat.

It didn’t take long before the faint sound of the ocean reached his ears, but he paid it no mind. The buildings grew sparse, the ground evened out, and before he knew it, Damien was faced with open land that led to a cliff overlooking the ocean. His feet slowed as his mind caught up, the fear returning tenfold.

Glancing around, he found no reasonable options. He had come to the end of the line, but he still moved in the direction of the edge. He would not get caught, no matter what. He knew the moment they arrived without turning, the hair on the back of his neck standing at attention, the tingle spreading over his skin like wildfire.

They made no noise and finally Damien moved, slowly pivoting to face them. There were more than he thought, all advancing on him evenly in a semicircle, making sure there was no way he could slip by. Without thought, his feet moved, leading him backwards towards the cliff edge. If he was going out, it would be by his terms, no one else’s.

The group in black matched him step by step, until there was no more space for Damien to move. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed a steep drop to the ocean waves below crashing against the rocks. There was no way he could survive the fall; it was impossible.

Well I’ve had a good run, he thought to himself. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath before facing the group one last time. They were still moving, closing the distance step by step. A smirk graced Damien’s face, giving them pause, before he raised his arms and fell backwards, disappearing over the edge.

His followers wasted no time making the remaining way to the edge, but what they found surprised them all. The man they were chasing was nowhere to be found, instead a single bird flapped its wings, flying to the horizon beyond, free at last.

Blossoms

By: Alyssa Pennini

Branches bloom beneath blue skies

Blossoms bud and birdies fly

Spring comes, the air grows warm

Gardens fill with bees that swarm

Days go by and time tick on

Passing with each new dawn

Winds blow and petals fall

Raining down a colorful wall

Brilliant Blue

By: Alyssa Pennini

Brilliant blue both low and high

Unmarred by clouds or ships beneath

A marriage of both sea and sky

Spring

The world awakens as warmth spreads

Birds chirp up high above our heads

A new day dawns and spring comes soon

A welcome change as colors bloom

The Wave

By: Alyssa Pennini

My heart beats, my pulse pounds

In my ears, a harmony of sounds

A wave of emotion comes around

And it takes all I am to not drown

Walk With Me

By: Alyssa Pennini

There’s a hole in my life where you used to be

Something missing that no one else can see

You were a constant, my ever loyal friend

Deep in my heart I know we’ll meet again

But until that day comes, whether the moon is high

I hope you’ll join me under the dark night sky

And stay by my side beneath the sun’s rays

As you walk with me for the rest of my days

Let Your Creativity Flow: A Short Retrospective

When I was in college, I secretly wanted to pursue a creative degree. Graphic design, interior design, photography; it changed a lot, literally like every week. But I never thought it was a real possibility. My practical and realistic mind always beat out my imaginative and artistic heart.

In all honesty, I didn’t think I had what it took. I’ve always been a curious and imaginative person with some artistic talent. But I was afraid I wasn’t creative enough, that my well of unique ideas would run dry and then where would I be?

Fast forward a few years and, through much artistic self-expression, the major thing I’ve learned is that creativity isn’t finite. I think that each person has an innate creativity level, but what’s more important is cultivating that initial creativity. The more you use, the more you gain. With an active imagination, I often had many ideas, but they were fleeting at best. Nothing I could grab hold of and run with.

But through directed journaling, I found myself drawn to words. And the more I wrote, the more I had to write, if that makes any sense. That desire spurred the beginnings of a semi-forgotten memoir. I kept writing, kept thinking, kept brainstorming metaphors and analogies and descriptive words to illustrate my life and what I’d been through. It was through this search (and playing Temple Run on my phone) that an idea popped into my head for a story about a girl going on a quest for some sort of mythical object.

With that, the floodgates opened. The more I tinkered with the story, the more ideas started to flow. The world seemed lit up with curiosity and inspiration, the ideas tumbling out into the words of poems and stories. I’ve written more in the past year than I ever thought possible, with a few short stories, about fifty poems and a novel to show for it.

I never knew I had that kind of potential and, after all that, my well of creativity is as full as it ever was. Maybe even more. I learned to try creative things, whether I’m good at it or not. To put ideas on paper, paint on canvas, notes in a melody. To work at it until it gets better, letting my imagination run wild until I come up with something worthy. Right now it’s only words on paper. Only time will tell where my creativity will take me.

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Man’s Best Friend

By: Alyssa Pennini

You are my furry companion

Crazy, funny and sweet

You’re my buddy to play with

Or walk with down the street

You’re happy when you greet me

Do you miss me when I’m gone?

You’re there on all those lazy days

And when I need someone

You’re a great friend to talk to

And one who will always listen

You know when to comfort me

With your powers of intuition

We’ve had great times in the past

You’ve been loyal since you came

You’re a member of our family

And I love you just the same

Snowflakes

By: Alyssa Pennini

White swirling flakes glide

Flitting, fluttering, falling

A snowglobe outside