When a post arrives late on here that’s an indication it has been a day where I am struggling to fit in time to write, but here I am, after a busy day/evening, turning up to my laptop and getting some words down!

Today’s prompt is ‘Imagine a day living as someone else’ I’ve turned this into a bit of a creative exercise and imagined myself doing a job that appeals to me, and then written a little creative piece around it. The first one is a bit of a cheat in that I stole the lines from one of my flash fiction piece’s in progress. The rest is fresh out of my head this evening!

I play the drums

I am the boom that makes you want to dance, wave your arms and feel the magic that takes you outside of yourself then inside yourself until all of your nerve endings are electric vibrations circling the air that hover long after the applause dulls and long after the hall empties.

I photograph life

I am capturing the first of the light, and the last of the night, and strangers and buildings you rush past every day in the street. I am showing you beauty that you were too pre-occupied to notice on first glance. But now that you see it framed in a suspended moment I make you look, make you see, and now you catch your breath in wonder.

I am a successful artist in New York

As you wander around my warehouse apartment you comment on the brick effect walls and admire one of my paintings that is hanging beside the bookcase and you ask if it’s for sale and I tell you that you can’t afford me and you laugh, thinking I’m joking but I’m not. You pour me a prosecco and I take a sip, turning back to my easel to put the finishing touches to my latest piece and you ask if you can get a sneak preview and I wonder if you remember the first time I showed you my work and you told me it was charming, but not  to give up the day job, as to really make it here you have to have real talent.

Now this is my day job and every time you drop by and ask me how I’m doing I wonder if you are secretly waiting for me to unravel.

I am a top real estate agent

As I show you around the ten bedroom mansion you walk out onto the terrace and marvel at the view over the city. You tell me about a new film you’re about to work on and how you want somewhere beautiful to come home to and how you could picture yourself sitting out here in the morning eating breakfast, and late at night sipping a beer. There is no mention of moving here with someone, anyone, and I know you are currently going through your fifth divorce. You ask for one last wander around, and you linger again on the terrace, staring out at the city below and I think maybe you’re just as lonely and sad as the girl I passed on the way here, shaking her cup, asking for someone to fill it.