A Story by jen -- JG

Several people have asked where and how do I get my ideas this is how I got them back in 84.. The way of doing so is still valid today







I was relaxing and watch TV. A jeans commercial caught my eye. The jeans were so tight the creases showed between the bottom and tops of the thigh, following every line and crease of the crotch. They looked as though they hurt the wearer. My comment was " God, if they were any tighter, they could used as bones"


Possible story here – revenge of the bones where the body melts the tight fighting jeans etc turning them into a sort of skin to hold everything in, and the bones actually grow on the outside of the body. A human skeleton on the outside of a fully fleshed out body, not the way we usually are - Crazy thinking here!!!!






I was damn cold when I went into the kitchen.


The sun was blinding through the window over the sink. In the corner of the window, a spider web was partly hanging and partly stuck flat against the glass, from the force of the wind and rain. The tiny white lines in a myriad of circles and corners looked like crazed china. The sunlight gleaming on the whiteness of the web showed up stark against the grime on the window, reminding me I hadn’t cleaned them for ages. Still, I admired the beauty, strength and durability of those fine threads, as they stood proud and defiant against the weather, and man or woman, armed with a broom.


The web was dotted with jeweled drops of morning dew, and sunlight dancing among them, kissed life into the woven strands.


I felt glad I was a person and lived in a solid structure, yet I felt a certain envy for the spider. This small creature is capable of building something so flimsy yet so strong, that it provided all its needs. Home, shelter and by the very nature of its construction – food. When it is destroyed, the spider simply rebuilds,


I’ll clean the windows tomorrow.


I was intrigued by the idea of a human intelligence captured in the brain of a spider.

Decision - Maybe not a good idea, although it could be a possible story plot?







I did clean the windows today, then splashed water around the yard, watering all the long jagged splits of earth, cracks about a foot or so deep that looked like huge lightning bolts, thrown down and left to eat their way into the earth.


I watched small insects walk to the very edge of the chasm and some toppled over, others didn’t. Water flowed into one of the shallower cracks, which quickly filled.

A rather water logged cricket popped out, and scuttled towards the warmth of my bare toes.


I jumped away, then giggled, after all the poor little thing was half drowned, what harm could it do. Still, I reacted in fright, without thinking, much as the stone-age people would have done, I guess, although at that time it would probably have been the Sabre Tooth Tiger, not a wee harmless cricket that caused a panic.


Strange how something so small can sometimes affect people when other larger and more dangerous things don’t! I guess the cracks appear as impassable to the small insects as the Grand Canyon does to us.


It’s all a matter of size.


Wonder what the wee cricket was thinking when it reached the safety of dry land?

POV from a cricket story? Maybe!






Young birds flying and calling to each other. The air is filled with their songs. My eyes follow the flight of one bird in particular as it wheels and dives, madly flapping one moment and hanging almost motionless the next.


The whistles and chirps are pleasant to my ear and somehow I feel as though only the birds and I exist. All sounds are heightened as carefully now; I discover at least six different types of birds and many others I only hear, not see.


It is a beautiful, peaceful time, filled to overflowing with song and the flashing burst of colour as they flit from roof to TV antenna, to trees, and back again.


When the roar of road traffic breaks through and disrupts this perfection, I feel annoyed.


How can this peace be brought into a story - peace and annoyance. Meditation and murder, Hhmmm, well worth thinking about.







The rose bush in our garden is doing its own thing again. Dark green leaves speckled with brownish black spots.


I enjoy the fragrance from the perfect yellow blooms but wonder why the golden petals turn to a pinky cream shade, after the rose is past half way open. The petals open out, displaying the deep pollen filled center, but the petals don’t fall until they have become brown tinged and wilted.


Right up to the last possible moment, the fragrance of blooms last.


A perfect rose is a beautiful thing and awakens in me a longing for moonlit nights and a bower of fragrant blossoms. Romantic desires?


POV story from a rose, romance- rose prick poison – beauty is not what it seems






Driving along the Princes Highway, I was attracted by the sight of a paddock filled with knee high dry grass. At the rear a stretch of dark green trees bordered the fence line. A ragged wire fence hanging from split posts along one side gave the area a derelict look.


New grass, rich and green in the adjoining field gave a bright contrast to the scene.


My eyes were caught and held by an old windmill, standing alone in the dry field. Tall and strong, with no company but the errant breeze, lazily turning the sails, and the occasional bird clinging briefly for a free ride, before fluttering away.


Although in a dry field, it gave an impression of constancy and reliability.


I felt a touch of regret that a windmill turning, producing water for crops etc, could stand in such a dry field, when the other, with no windmill, was rich with fresh new crops of green.


Then I rejoiced in the knowledge that among what seems like desolation, the strong can and do survive to provide for the weak.


Maybe the have and have nots – story of survival against all odds. Intrigue and treachery, theft, death, looks can deceive.






Today I saw steel grey power pylons spreading like a disease across the land. Two headed monsters joined at the waist and clasping hands, they march incessantly, two by two, or in single file, over inhabited or deserted land.


"Invasion" by Electric Pylons could this be a book title and pen name?









Heart sick today. A friend called to say that her mother-in-law had been taken to hospital and was not expected to live very long. They have diagnosed Asbestos lung poisoning


My thoughts at this time are confused.


I feel the sun on my back, see the dancing glimmers as the rays burst through the clouds but know the same sun has no effect in at least two other homes.


For them, there is no sunshine today – I wish I could make it shine for them.


What about a book of positive or inspirational thoughts for days like this when we

know the sun is shining but can’t see or feel it.





I want to cancel this day. I am feeling bad today.


Then I catch sight of a red blob in the sky. The sun! It’s crimson! A great orb of congealed blood dripping at the edges. DRACULAR SUNLIGHT! As I watch, it slowly changes colour until the red disappears, leaving an orange circle, fluctuating and seemingly spinning inside itself, The orange fades and gold edges appear to spread in on it’s self, until the whole orb is now a brilliant blaze of gold.


Enthralled I watch, and a flash of silver overtakes the golden glow, to make the orb a shimmering ball of white-hot heat. The edges extend in softer circle of light and several rays now lance outwards in all directions.


The dark, murky sky now lives with the glow of mauve to lilac, shot with gold and silver beams.

A mist drifting across the face of the sun is turning to gold as it floats by. The sun has risen high enough now for me to feel the beginning of warmth across my head and shoulders.


It brings the promise of a good day.


Please cancel my cancellation.


Story line possibility - a bad beginning, trauma and struggles taking someone right to the edge, when something beautiful is observe. Sight, sound, deed, it doesn’t matter. Something beautiful changes the thinking process of someone and allows him or her to move on in safety.




copyright jen-JG  all rights reserved

© 2008 jen -- JG

Author's Note

jen -- JG
anything you wish to say honest is good.

My Review

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Interesting! You definitely have the mind of a writer...

Posted 12 Years Ago

wow - I wish I had the discipline and the time to do this every day. This is fantastic! Any time you get stuck - you can just run through your notes for inspiration. I loved your observations here on the everyday - this is great!

Posted 12 Years Ago

1 of 1 people found this review constructive.

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2 Reviews
Added on July 16, 2008


jen -- JG
jen -- JG

Melbourne, Australia

I enjoy reading, writing and watching movies. There are two adorable cats in our household who give us much pleasure. i enjoy writing poetry of most kinds, rhyme - open verse - and often anything a.. more..


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