Pretty Purple Flowers

This is intended for males of all ages, but can be targeted specifically at middle-aged men. Its purpose is to show that being romantic isn't something to be ashamed of.




Thursday February 26th, 2009

Listening idly to his friend's constant chatter, Fitzroy Beckett casually walked into Home Depot for a quick look around. His friend, Mitch Barrow followed him, his babbling never wavering even when Fitzroy would take a sharp turn. The two of them often joked about Fitzroy's mother being evil for naming her son something as ridiculous as "Fitzroy". They eventually started calling the Beckett "Fitz" or "Roy" instead of "Fitzroy". When asked about it, Mitch would usually answer it was because Fitzroy was such a stupid name, but in actuality it was because the two of them got tired of Fitz's long name.

Fitz sighed a little, rolling his shoulders as he walked all the way to the other side of the hardware store, casually dressed in black slacks and a red t-shirt under his gray winter coat. As the two of them neared the cashiers in front of the entrance to the rest of the mall, Fitz's eyes wandered over to a mother and her two children at a flower stand. The mother was sifting through the topmost flowers, which were a rich purple colour. Fitz paused in his long stride, remembering that his wife of ten years loved flowers.

Mitch slowed to a stop, standing directly behind Fitz as he continued to prattle on about insignificant things. Fitz tried to think of any sort of excuse to give his babbling friend about why he was buying a flower for his wife, but his brain came up empty. Of all of Mitch's and Fitz's friends, Fitz was the most masculine, the most stereotypical male of the entire group. Would buying a flower for his wife, for no reason whatsoever, degrade his manly visage? Mitch was his best friend, and the nerdiest of the bunch, so would he care?

Fitz only had a few more seconds to decide, given Mitch was still ranting on, but the other man would notice they weren't moving and question Fitz. The Beckett frowned a little, thinking back on his wife to help his decision. She was probably one of the greatest things that has ever happened in his life (except maybe sports and Mitch), never mind her rather irate temper and killer right punch. In fact, Fitz might actually be feeling it later tonight if he pushed enough buttons, given she called him a couple of hours ago complaining about a bad day. But when he imagined her reaction to getting that violet flower, Fitz felt a little tug at the corner of his lips.

Sucking in his gut and leaving Mitch standing in his dust, Fitzroy Beckett confidently made his way over to the pretty purple flowers at the top shelf of the display.

The Missing Piece

This is intended for all ages, but can be narrowed down to children, teenagers, and young adults. Its purpose is to show that people who are complete opposites can still be friends.




Wednesday February 25th, 2009

She sat at the back of the bus, a simple HB pencil entwined in her fingers as she drew strokes of graphite on the blank page resting on her lap. The crinkles of concentration marring her forehead couldn't be seen past her dangling dark brown locks, tickling the tops of her knuckles as they swayed to and fro. Dressed in a pair of dark blue jeans and a black hoodie, it wasn't hard to tell that Nilda Garcia was a girl of solitude. Many of the passengers entering the bus would avoid taking seats near her, opting to stand a fair distance from her frightening figure.

Nilda didn't seem to notice, so caught up in her latest masterpiece as she rotated from smudging to drawing gentle strokes along the paper. Socializing wasn't really her strongest forte, having been shunned for much of her childhood. Even when she had friends they weren't really friends because they were just playing with her, putting her down to make themselves feel better. She was weird, they would all think, what other excuse were you looking for?

Nilda hummed softly under her breath in thought as she gazed long and hard at the black and white drawing. Something was missing... only she couldn't put her finger on it. With a little shrug, Nilda fished into her pocket to bring out an inking pen, slowly replacing the sketchy pencil marks with a clear, solid black. It didn't take as long as actually drawing the picture, but even as Nilda pulled back to observe her drawing, she still couldn't escape the nagging feeling of something missing.

The bus slowly came to another stop, letting on a few more people before it continued on its predetermined route. One of the girls boarding the bus (probably of asian descent and dressed in light colours), gasped as she caught sight of the solitary girl with the drawing pad. With an excited, "Nilly?" escaping her mouth, the happy girl drew closer, her smile widening and her eyes sparkling as she confirmed the identity of the darkly dressed Nilda.

"Gwen?" Nilda asked, before surprisingly her mouth broke out into a beautiful smile. The other girl, Gwen, laughed slightly and made her way to the back of the bus, sitting beside her friend and hugging her briefly. They exchanged simple pleasantries, much like the ones often asked in small talks, only it didn't sound awkward at all. The small talk was quickly extinguished once Gwen noticed the drawing pad lying on Nilda's lap. A slow smile spread over Gwen's face as she pointed to the drawing.

"Can I see?" Gwen asked, to which Nilda replied with a shake of her head. Her face fell, obviously displaying disappointment. Nilda laughed a little.

"Maybe later, because I'm not done. It's missing something." The artist told her friend. Gwen asked if she could help in finding out what the missing thing was, only for Nilda to laugh again and smile secretly. "No, that's okay." she told her friend, looking at her with a twinkling eye. "I already figured out what it was."

The Peaceful Pot

This is directed to teenagers, but more specifically to ones having a bad day. It's purpose is to show them that no matter how bad things seem now, they'll always get better if you work hard enough.




Tuesday February 24th, 2009

The mall was crowded, as per usual with teenagers taking a break from the grueling six hours of school (seven, if you included lunch). Squeezed between a group of glamorous teenagers and her own scruffy clothed parents at a jewellery store was Signe Kim. Korean-born (on her father's side) and Chinese-born (on her mother's side), Signe was your average fifteen year old trying to get by high school and find herself all at the same time. Some might say she was too average, dressed in her faded blue jeans, converse, and black winter coat. Her ebony hair, soft to the touch, cascaded over half of her face, shielding the nonexistent flaws she believed to be there.

"What about this one?" Signe heard her mother say, tapping the glass counter she leaned on to point to a shining crystal necklace. They were out shopping for her older sister's birthday present, the sister that was so incredibly successful and the daughter that her parents were so fantastically proud of. Signe glanced quickly at it, her eyes immediately darting to the tiny price tag tied to the end of the necklace. A little growl rumbled through her throat, and she could only roll her eyes and look away.

"Yeah, sure whatever." She replied, eyeing the group of girls beside her. They were giggling and gossiping and just being... girls. Signe growled quietly again and looked down to the necklace in the glass case. It was being taken out by the saleslady behind the counter and transported to the cashier on the other side of the store. Her parents were already paying for the expensive piece of jewellery with the nonexistent money in their savings account and giving it to the daughter who could probably buy it herself.

Feeling her blood boil beneath the surface of her skin, Signe pushed past the group of glitzy girls to exit the store, silently steaming at the fountain outside. The water was rippling gently against the stones, small coins resting at the bottom of the water. With an angry huff Signe threw a penny through the reflection of her face, making the waves temporarily rough and unsteady.

As the moody teenager walked away from the stone fountain, joining her parents at the entrance of the jewellery store, she never saw the rough waters slowly calm again into gentle, soothing waves, much like she would never realize the bubbling anger of her teenage life would slowly melt away into a pot of peaceful adulthood.

Reality and Dreams

This is intended for young men or women in their twenties, or even thirties. Its purpose is to show them that not pursuing their dreams could lead to a life they aren't completely satisfied with.




Monday, February 23rd

Standing at the receptionist desk of his optometrist, George Chin was your average Chinese man. He just came out of his appointment with his optometrist and was ready to pay his bills. Adorned in a checkered dress shirt and black pants, he talked politely and quietly to the secretary about his next appointment. With a shy smile and an embarrassed laugh, it wasn't hard to tell that George Chin was humbly modest.

Dressed the way he was, it also wasn't hard to tell that he worked in a company; a very professional company. He had just started his job a few years ago and was slowly making his way up the company ladder, hoping for a position of high status. He wanted to make his parents proud, and usually the only way he could do that was to be successful in whatever he was doing.

But there was a little part of him that longed for something more. Sure, he had a good job with a nice salary and a respectable home, but his life was a bit... dull. He was always been bending over backwards to please everyone he's ever met, trying to show the world he was a hardworking citizen, and at first he was okay with that. Who would want to sacrifice a stable lifestyle for anything worse? But George wasn't so sure anymore. His passion laid in theatre; it had always been his dream to produce a play that was stun anyone who came to see it, but he knew the risks that came with his dream. And so George cast aside his fantasies to slave in a cubicle at his company and make his parents proud.

After receiving his credit card from the secretary, George checked his silver watch and cursed quietly under his breath. Grabbing the briefcase standing on the floor beside his leg, he thanked the secretary quickly and left the small optometrist office.

Dreams were just dreams, and reality was just... well, reality.