Writing with my friend Tyler, he gave me the prompt "Pigeons". This is what i came up with

Celia had always know that it would be up to her to lead the family one day. With her father gone, someone had to look after those he had left behind. her father's life had been a tough one. By the end, he was left with just one wing and one eye. The effect was a sobering one even for the most youthful of birds. He used his disability as an advantage, turing it into a tool to be an excellent jude of character.
Many of the young birds strutted around the park like they invented the idea. Everyone respected her father, Clarence, as he was a war veteran and the oldest pigeon around. It was no secret that he had been around the fountain more than a few times. And bird who laughed at his one-legged hop or took a second too long to stare at his empty eye socket always flew away sorry. he was the patriarch of the clan and as such, he demanded respect and admiration.
Cynthia knew that she did not have as much life experience or as many battle scars as her father, but she knew that she had to act and lead the troops with confidence. Whether she felt it or not. Her brother had been lost in the great Bread Crumb Battle of '62 so her father's legacy was left to her.
When the monsters approached, so much smaller than the other giants but so much louder, Celia stepped up and instructed the soldiers to fly up and starts pooping. She also had the foresight to instruct the women and children to fall back and aim for the loud shiny things that the giant creatures always arrived and left in. Hearing the giants curse and their little monsters laugh, as they took in the once clear and now streaked surfaces of their transportation, she knew that she had made the right choice.
The monsters seemed to think that they alone owned the park, but the pigeons knew the truth. They would not be forced out of their home by hideous creatures that laughed maniacally as they launched themselves at the nobel birds. They may not be as graceful as the doves or as tiny and quick as the sparrows but they were a proud family. They were also patient. they knew that eventually the giants would kill each other eventually and the world would return to the way it was before their arrival, Belonging to the animals. The pigeons would be able to freely pick at the trash that they left behind. Celia felt deep in her downy gut that the birds would rule again one day. She may loose one wing or only see victory through one remaining eye, but she would still welcome it with a joyful heart. She would lead her troops to victory in the name of her father; Clarence the Brave.

Ten years later Celia still had both eyes and both wings but she was loosing her life. An old bird now, she told her story to the younger pigeons. She told them the story of her father and urged them to continue striving to create a new world. Soon, she would be gone but her pigeon dreams would fly on in the hearts of younger generations.
She was given a heroes burial next to her father. Their new balance shoe boxes sitting side by side forever. Every time the monsters launch an attack, the pigeons retaliate with their only runny self self defense. Always keeping one beady eye on the future. A future where birds roam the streets and parks freely. Strutting and squawking without fear.

A really short one that I wrote 4 years ago...

Alice was fat. Fat in a way that women, and even men, were really not allowed to be. She was unavoidably and almost humorously fat. It was the first thing you noticed about her, and for most people it was the only thing they could see. Alice was more than just rotund or zaftig. She wasn't just big boned. She was the real life version of the scene in Charlie and The Chocolate Factory when the girl turns into a blueberry. She even thought it was funny to wear all blue and guess how many people were thinking of calling the oompalompas to come roll her away and squeeze her out. Alice was morbidly obese. Huge even.
Except for when she sang.
Alice singing was a spectacle that people had to actually see to believe. Whenever Alice sang, her face would light up and her excess weight would seem to just melt away. As she continued to sing, you would realize that the pounds of flesh weren't just seeming to disappear, they were actually evaporating off of her body. Which brings to mind the question; if no one is there to hear or see the magical fat lady sing, does she still slim down faster than a desperate prom queen digesting nothing but laxatives for a week? Well whether it was for a large audience or just a private concert for herself and her stereotypically large number of cats, Alice always did go from a "before" to an "after" picture of a member of jenny Craig by the time her song was done.
Perhaps she would have achieved world wide fame if Alice had a beautiful voice to accompany her act. But proving once again that someone out there has a sense of humor, fate chose to play it out a different way. Though Alice had always loved to sing and always looked beautiful doing it (or by the end of it) she sounded even worse than what we imagine many of out pop stars would without the aide of voice enhancing technologies. The beautiful face that emerged from the several chins piled up in front of her neck was a stark contrast to the squawking and shaking that could barely be identified as musical notes and lyrics. But Alice chose to sing anyway, and many of her fans chose to bring ear plugs and only listen with their eyes. So while most fat ladies singing will signal the end, Alice's songs always looked like a beginning.

Ever had a nasty case of The Mondays?

*It was the kinds of that that begs to be pinched, to be tickled, to be slapped....anything to get it off your back and onto something more interesting. Anything to make it just loosen its grip or fade away completely. Go back to where it came from. Probably some dark room where other miserable days like itself could sit around a cramped table drinking black coffee, smoking unfiltered cigarets under a single, swaying light bulb. No doubt trying to top each others stories about the people whose entire weeks were ruined by a simple flick of the wrist, just one turn of events and a half a month is swept under the rug of misery. Its all in choosing the right person. The kind who enjoys a good wallow.
No matter how many bright lights were turned on in the house, the sleepy effect of those dark and dense clouds sitting above her head felt permanent. Just as disconcerting as someone precariously waving a dirty diaper above her head close enough to radiate heat. The velcro threatening to rip and make a bad day just that much crappier. No matter how loud the music was played, the steady beat of the falling rain was a musician with an amp that far out powered the speakers surrounding her ipod. Hot tea could sooth her temporarily, but it couldn't fight off the cold that had worked its way into her bones. Sleep seemed to just enhance the exhaustion that had seemed to set in before she had even woken up that morning. She had found a worthy opponent in that Monday. The word itself seemed to sound more like a threat that just the beginning of a new week. Even her mother heard the trepidation slightly shake her voice as they spoke in the morning.
It was impossible to ignore that had this day arrived a month earlier, it could have been sent away with its tail between its legs by a pair of arms and a flash of a smile. A very particular set of arms and a grin formed by a particular mouth. She would have sleepily opened one eye, looked out the window, and stated the very obvious "Its raining" and he would have let her wear his arms like a thick sweater dug out from the back of a closet. His grin could have replaced even the heaviest darkest load of crap with a sparkly clean shine and the slightest trace of lemon zest.
She had seen one too many Life Time movies and read one too many paper back books to allow this any longer. She could follow a sad movie montage with a peppy one of her loosing weight and running up some set of stairs representing a metaphorical larger set of stairs while a well known 80's hit plays in the back ground...Or she could cut the crap. And take out the trash. So she did the one thing He would never have allowed. She grabbed an actual favorite old sweater (one so ugly that she had never allowed herself to wear it in his presence) and left her shoes and cellphone and walked out into the rain. And when she got tired of walking, she ran. And the day had no choice but to make itself a cup of tea, pull on its stretch pants, and sulk in a corner trying to tune out the sound of its friends cackling laughter.


*First sentence provided by Michelle back in '05