Everyone is a Moon

Everyone is a Moon

Dean woke with a start, and looked around the dingy motel. It took a moment to register that it was real. The lumpy bed, Sam asleep on the other bed, the glowing digital clock. He was alive, again. He took several deep breaths before laying back into the flattened pillows. It was heaven by comparison, though that still would not let him sleep better. There were things he could never share with anyone, but that did not mean his mind would ever let him forget.
Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.

Everyone is a moon, and has a dark side which he never shows to anybody.- Following the Equator (Mark Twain)

Prompt from Chimera Book Group, 'Quote'
Note: This is a fanfic piece from Supernatural, season 4. Don't own them, just love them. Nothing gained but that warm fuzzy feeling.

The First Time

He appeared at the door with a rose in his hand, those dimples carved deep in his cheeks. She smiled, a little flush to her cheeks. She had never even had to try to flirt, they were drawn like magnets. She pulled him inside, found some water for the flower. It had been two months, and he always seemed to surprise her with his kindness. He seemed so serious at first, but she always managed to loosen him up. Tonight she was going to take him to bed and loosen him up until the exhaustion pulled them both into sleep.

Patty

Patty jumped out of the way when an empty soda bottle came flying down the hall. "Idiot!" someone shouted. She couldn’t help but agree. Patty continued down the hall to her locker, keeping her eyes open for any more flying objects. She opened the small drawer in her locker she kept makeup in, and opened it, retouched her pink lipstick and grabbed the eyeliner she’d borrowed from Stacie. Now Patty was ready to try to scrape together a group of friends willing to help out with the foam tank at the school fund-raiser. Anything to help the public school system.

Passion

It was a cool dark Saturday night. She lit one last candle before he walked in to see her dressed like the little vixen she was. When he arrived, tired from a long day at work, he wondered if she was just a figment of his imagination. "My Beta Kappa sisters gave me the idea." She smiled as he walked toward her, his body now buzzing with excitement. Her heart pounded like a drum as she ripped his shirt from the Princeton Charter Club off. She kissed him with such an intensity, he felt it rock him, body and soul.

Creativity

A long time to have words lost. Missing the free flow. Desiring to express, yet nothing seems to emerge. Seeking an outlet, a trigger, something to make all those words come back again. So many ideas, so many interesting starts. The trouble is making an end, completing, thinking it all the way through. Getting up the motivation to do, not just get excited, but to create. Is it possible to make something of nothing, to make something worth making. Strange how creativity stalls, sputters, and then sometimes can flow like water. How can the creativity be made to flow again?

It's Okay

She stands up and looks out at the faces staring back. For a moment terrified, everyone watching her every move. Then she notices the expressions, calm, anticipating, and kind. She was always so afraid of being judged. Two girls then lean in and whisper to each other. She wonders if they are talking about her, then thinks, ‘who cares’. She then smiles, realizing everyone is judged to a point in this situation, and she can only be as good as she can. She fights to please herself now and no one else. She begins to speak and breathes, it’s okay.

Faded Road

So long gone down the road, hard to look back and see anything that resembles anything recognizable. Started out with the best of intentions, and the strongest of determination. How quickly it all falls to the ground. Intentions fade into habits that get lost when all will to continue ceases. Where once the thoughts and ideas flowed freely, now is nothing but the vague notion of where all those ideas went. Trailing along a path that is no longer clear, the footsteps stagger about, hoping for some alternate road. Questionable there is passion enough left to follow any other path.