Barder

Assuming the dog in your story is named Barder, and that the orange turban gives him the power of flight…
Your assignment is to respond to the above visual prompt. Write something you’ll be proud to share and display.
Find more of Jan Von Holleben's photography at http://www.janvonholleben.com/?page_id=4

“Have you ever loved someone so much you just wish they would have a harsh reality check? I mean I have, sometimes I feel bad that I want something bad to happen to Barder but I mean hes horrible. So if you haven’t figured it out yet Barder is my dog. I bought ‘em for only 10 dollars ( now I know why he was only 10 dollars). Anyway, hes a pain in my ass, the guy who sold him too me said he was a magical dog, and that only a worthy owner could tame him. Hes been with me for 10 years and I ain't tamed him yet, maybe I'm not worthy. So back to the subject Barder needs a reality check. He was born with the ability to talk, uugh DOGS SHOULDN'T TALK because they never shut up. He also came with this orange turban… his nickname is Taliban. But this turban trips me out, when he wears it he can fly. Yes I said it fly! I know what your thinking a talking,flying dog??? I QUIT LAST YEAR drugs are bad yes I know. Moving on, Barder feels as if the world owes him something because he’s different. He’s lazy, he wont even fly to the corner store. More importantly his attitude towards saving people is so shitty, I mean come on you’re a TALKING, FLYING, dog. I don’t know what his issue is but last week I got fed up. Now here comes the serious part. I need help I need help on trying to teach him the value of helping others. Does anyone on this entire Internet no how to help me.”

Doug ended his blogpost and went to go check up on barder. Everything he had said was true, he tried to be funny with his post to hide how frustrated he was. He didn’t want to let anyone know that he really couldn’t handle a 15 year old talking, sometimes flying pooch, but he couldn't. “BAARRRDDEER,” he called. No answer. He repeated his yell this time proceeded a threat. No answer. Doug decided to get barder he knew that he had to be around here somewhere. A little pissed because Barder hadn’t answered he headed out the door. As he stepped off the porch a glimpse of a lifeless dog caught his eye. It was Barder. He ran over an knelt by his side, from what he observed he wasn’t breathing. Doug then noticed a few feet away from him a was a little girl with the turban on, she too wasn’t breathing. He pulled out his phone and dialed 911. He nev er found out what happened and he didn’t care. All Doug knew was the someone he cared for was dead and the last words to leave his mouth about him weren't pleasant.

Writing In Reverse

The following short story was written as a creative writing exercise. By observing photographs of people on the subway we were able to create stories surrounding their subway ride.

Jimmy Dean, he was the baddest on the block, b**** fainted at the sight of him. Dusty was never and option he always-looked fresh from his head to his toes, Gucci. His swagger was out of this world. He knew, his momma knew, his siblings knew, he was the s***.

He called his business, simply business but to everybody else he was in the hoeing business. He had the best women in daygo. Short, fat, tall, skin, you name it he’s selling it. His hoes were always faithful; they knew the motto your next slip up could be your last slip up. “Never let a b**** f*** with yo’ paper” He used to always tell me that. Since I was younger he always wanted me to follow in his footsteps from elementary I learned nice guys finish last, so I always made it my duty to pay attention to what he had to say.

It was late night and Papa Dean (that’s what his hoes called him), was awakened by the car alarm. He knew it was his because there were only two cars on his block, his and the twins. He could hear giggling and the sound of a roaring engine, then, silence. F*** Imma F*** Shay up, playing with my money. Damn I hate that hoe. Childish. Before getting up he had knew, it was the usual busted windows or keyed side panel. He didn’t bother to move. He just rolled over kiss Toya on the cheek gently moving the hair from her face. Taya had seen the ordeal. “You like her better papa” Taya had proposed. The truth was he didn’t like either of them but P**** P****. “Did I give you permission to talk turn the fuck over and go to sleep” He contemplated calling Shay to cuss her out but decided it could wait until the morning. He and Shay both knew he wasn’t going to do anything about it but he had a reputation to maintain so had better follow up.

Shay was the baddest B*** in daygo, she was 5’7 thickem’s is what the boys called her. No matter what she wore, it would caress he curves it made girls double look. Her skin was a deep mahogany color; she possessed D cup titties sat perfectly on top of her 24-inch waist. She was beautiful well that’s how my friends would describe her but that is my mom so we won’t go there. She was smart, sexy, business like, and classy but above all she was Dean’s main b*** which made her The B***.

“ This is Shay if you aint talking about money you must have the wrong number,” that’s how she answered all blocked calls.

“Don’t think I didn’t know that was you last night. That’s coming out of your pocket not mines”. It was Papa

“Nigga please you think I got time to be f***ing with you hah I’m a bad b*** we just get money” A guilty smile rose across her face she tried not to let it affect the inflection in her voice.

“My windows gonna get fixed and I’m not paying for it.”

“Ha-ha bye papa” the line went dead.

Shit he thought. Here he was the best in daygo and he couldn’t even stand up to her. He despised Shay because he loved her. Jimmy aka Papa Dean was in love with his hoe. That was the first rule of pimpin’; never fall in love with your hoes. The blazing sound of the trolley had awakened him from his thoughts. She had taken all his money, all his pride, all his dignity and left him with nothing. Nothing but a crack habit and a bus pass. There he was Papa Dean on the trolley. He was old, broke, and busted. He hurried quickly though the station. He had a trolley to catch and his high was wearing off.