My random stuff

I'm so flattered by your reactions to my short stories. As you may have guessed by now, I am not a professional writer. Come to think of it, I almost failed english in high school. However, thanks to the feedback that I have received, it has gotten my creative juices flowing. I have a few fictional stories that I plan to write and I'm thinking of expanding on Jim's Jail. However, meanwhile, as the saying goes, fact is stranger than fiction.

On that note, I have a few experiences that I plan to share with you. Some of these stories include: my first date with a stranger on our trip to Paris, my trip home from Vegas during the Giants superbowl game, the encounter with a mom at my best friend's house during a sleepover (sounds boring but this one is good), the conversation I had with a homeless man from California, and..well, I'm sure I'll think of more as I continue to draw upon past experiences.

If anyone has a preference of what they would like to hear first, please let me know. As soon as I hear any requests, I promise to submit the story with juicy details and lots of funny anecdotes.

Thank you all for experiencing this journey with me. I have always been a storyteller but not in this way; you are helping me to open up and share my life with you in ways that are outside of my comfort zone. I think that's considered growth, isn't it?

Lucinda is eating an ice cream cone on the beach in Coney Island. As it is an especially scorching day, she is wearing nothing but a tiny red bikini as she meanders through the sand. She gracefully walks with ease as beads of sweat form on her beautifully tanned body. One would not know that the heat of the sun was almost unbearable that day for she glides as though there were a gentle breeze.
Families are unpacking their beach balls, blankets, radios and sunblock as they clumsily drop the items about, desperately trying to settle in. The mothers are overworked and the children are cranky, insisting the parents meet their demands for attention. All the while the fathers are unhelpful, irritated from their families insistent whining.
Lucinda passes them by, looking straight ahead as if she is unaware of anyone else on the beach. All of her attention is directed to which angle she will take the next lick of her cinnamon ice cream, as it drips and slides down her tiny, manicured hands. She swivels the tip of her ice cream with her tongue, enjoying this playful game with her cone. Her long locks fall down over her shoulders, reaching the little red bow she has neatly tied behind her slightly arched back. She is quite a vision, and although she knows it, she lets people stare at her while devouring her cone, with out any sense of self-consciousness.
Other women try to ignore her presence but this is almost an impossible task, as they scan her face and body, desperately searching for any flaws. But they will not find any, evoking feelings of envy and jealousy. The picture is almost ironic, that someone so petite can eat such a sinful dessert, as her flat stomach reveals the slight outline of her muscles. Each bite she takes from her cone bites on a piece of their hearts. She looks so carefree, without a stress in the world. They wonder if she has any commitments- does she have a husband or children of her own? At the height of their beauty, they were never like her. Had they ever even come close? Could they trade in what they have now for that kind of perfection?
Lucinda looks like she stepped out of the cover of a magazine. She is every mans' fantasy, and they certainly do not fail to gawk at this unforgettable sight. This vision stops them in their tracks, drawling at the sight of her licking the cone. Some thought beauty like this was almost impossible until today. These men have accepted the idea that those magazines are airbrushed, made up figments of their imaginations. Some are married and happy, or maybe married and sad, but the one thing they do have in common is that they would never for a moment believe that they would ever be with a woman like Lucinda. Her presence is almost mocking them, allowing these men just a taste of an exotic meal they will not eat. Most feel desire for her and have momentary visions of wild fantasies, as though she were alone with each one of them, as though their wives were not even on this planet….as though the bonds of families were now a mere distraction.
Lucinda is causing quite a stir on this beach as she brings up feelings of jealousy, sorrow, and lust. Each one of these families has been distracted, maybe for a moment or maybe for more. Some of the women turn to their children and forget the sight they have seen. Some others are wondering if that is a vision they need to be too, as they glance down at their stretch marks from childbirth and the pouches to match. Some of the men have rejoined with their families, as temptation goes by with a mere glance. Others are still in their heads, wondering if they will ever be with a woman like her. Where does one go from here? Can this moment decide the fate of one’s life....of a family’s life?
Will one man beckon to the spell that Lucinda alludes to the realm of the unknown? Will he follow the blanket of hair that for a moment he could have sworn transcended into a pair of hands waving him in to her abyss? He is hypnotized by her erotic glow, luring him into a destiny without a soul. Should he cave in to the unrealistic expectation of ideal beauty that is epitomized in the shell of a mortal, without any promises of love? If he does so, then Lucinda's job is done, for each person that Lucinda has passes by has been fated with the presence of the devil eating an ice cream cone on the beach in Coney Island.



(I was given the task of coming up with a story of the devil eating an ice cream cone in Coney Island. This is what I came up with.)