Hi everyone! I've just released my first novella. If anyone is interested, you can purchase it on Amazon. It's titled A Walk Through the Years by Eric Johnson

Again, I want to thank everyone on this website who've posted challenges, gave me feedback on my work, and followed me. Because of you, I've been able to push myself over the last couple of years.

I'm really proud of this book and I'd love to know your thoughts, if you decide to read it.

Thanks!

There are 2 kinds of uber drivers

Talkative ones

Quiet ones

Lately I've been encountering alot of "talkative" ubers.

Don't get me wrong, I love talking to

people.

Everybody got a story that deserves

to be heard.

Even as a writer you need to listen

more to people, see more to use that

in your craft.

But alot of times I prefer if they're

quiet, So I can drown myself In my

daydreams listening to music and be

out of the place I am .

Daydreaming about being somewhere

else, with someone else, being a better

version of myself.

Thats the magic of music.

But lately I dont get that chance when

I'm In the uber. Suddenly out of

nowhere they start talking, sharing

their stories and experiences, their

regrets, and ...

At first I'd get slightly annoyed, In my

head I'd be like "please, 5 more

minutes until I get to home, I wanna

listen to some music man..."

But now everythings changed.

First of all, I'm honored that people

see me as a guy who would listen and

care for what their saying. Thats an

honor I will keep forever.

What if their stories, their experiences

are a message coming from the

universe to guide me?

What if these are gods guidences that

are coming my way?

It's funny...

One time I was very upset with a

situation at my work and I was burnt

out. Then I got an uber, and he

started talking about life

And how we have to enjoy the

moments.

I talked with him all the way home

and smiled. Not only because he was a

kind and hardworking man

But because he told me something

that I needed to hear.

From thay day forward, I listen more.

Why daydream when you can

experience life through others words?

_______________ A knock on my brain._____________________

_______________There once was___________________________

_________________a closed door.__________________________

__________________Now its open._________________________

____________________There is a box._______________________

_______________________A ribbon comes off,________________

_________________________once tied neatly in a bow,__________

__________________________________ and the lid is off._______

_______________________________There's bubble wrap,_______

_____________________________there's secrets.______________

__________________________The questions come.____________

_______________________I think and think._________________

_____________________I think of excuses. They ask,___________

________________________"was it really a joke?"______________

__________________________Of course not, I think, and,_______

____________________________"do they know?" More excuses,__

____________________________________"my mental health?"__

_______________________________and now the bubble wrap___

_____________________________it's unraveled,______________

________________________________and everything's...________

__________________________________falling apart.__________

Then,__________________________________________________

I realize,________________________________________________

I just need to be led to His path,_____________________________

I look back and see, and wow, it's already there, behind the secrets and worlds influence on me...___________________________________

A generation of sensory overload. The standard existence of todays youth.

We can't deal with anything so we try and take on everything while actually doing nothing.

We have perfected this concept, recreated it an then perfected it once more.

So please, credit where its due, thanks.

It's obvious that there are some exceptions to the rule.

Some managed to jump on the other life boat, the one that went the correct route back to shore.

These people avoid the rest of us.

They hide in libraries and go hiking on their weekends.

While we are trying to chemically alter the reality we live and reach a new level of misanthropic being, they are exploring the wonders of history, nature and space.

I've tried this once.

It required too much drive and in return gave very little in the field of immediate reward.

That's they key.

The song from Charlie And The Chocolate Factory once again rears its head;

"I want the world, I want the whole world".

Silver platter and all!

BUT i don't particularly want to lift a finger.

So if you don't mind just passing it over to me kthankyou, then I wont cause a ruckus when my time comes to walk through those fiery gates.

Oi! Larry! God! Mohammed or who ever the hell you are! Give me some kind of break here champ! I'm clutching at straws but each one keeps shrinking!

I'm not sure this is what i signed up for.

What's the number for the ombudsman of life? I've got 10 bucks that says it's not a toll-free 1800 number, which means my credit-less phone is once again rendered useless against this horridly cruel situation.

I guess every one has their search.

Their inner quest for knowledge or chocolate or oil or whatever they please.

Without these lifetime long journeys we would not be human.

The people who disregard this pure fact of life are nothing but confused and fearful souls.

It’s not about where you land but the way you flew, fell and glided there.

It's about those small exchanges of simple words with a stranger on the street.

It's the glow that fills your body when you make a new friend.

These silent pleasures are what shape us and make us all unique and strange.

I know it's going to be okay.

I know I'll find the oil-lamp destine to light my path.

I know this because I still enjoy these small, special pleasures of life.

With my jail cell bedroom, straight jacket blanket and dill sergeant TV screen, it's a battle to just get out of the house.

"Sleep is my drug, My bed is my dealer and the alarm clock is the police".

I'll keep marching on, left foot right foot, till I cease to exist.

I mean hey, isn't that the story of life?

I remember ... no, actually I don't. At least not all of it. It's strange how you recall the start of something agonizing and then, just the aftermath.

The two-wheeler machine, the Enfield Bullet, looked mean, and growled meaner. At seventeen, that sight, and sound, rattles every molecule in a young man's anatomy, except perhaps, the brain which, it completely mushes.

"Want a ride?" Ravi asked the small group of friends shooting the breeze at a local cafe.

"Sure!" I jumped up before anyone else could. After all, there was seat for one pillion only.

No sooner than I sat astride the bike than it shot forward like, well, a bullet. The law of inertia is a bitch. My torso snapped back and the head hit the tarmac hard. "Fade to Black" would've looked cool on a screenplay. For me, it was like losing my mind, literally.

For unknown hours, I was in a world of unknowns. I could not recognize any of my friends. I couldn't recognize the neighbourhood, the cafe. All unknown.

I woke up with the head being pounded by a hammer. My best friend, Sunny, looked worried. "Hey buddy, how are you feeling?"

"I... where am I?"

The frown on his face said "Fuck!"

"You are, right now, in my house." He said verbally, "That must've hurt!"

"Yes, but I don't recall anything, and frankly, I don't really recognize you!"

"My name is Sunny," He tried, "We were lazing at that cafe down the road, Uncle's Cafe, when Ravi offered you a ride on his new Bullet."

"Oh. Y'know? I don't think I can go home because I don't know the way anymore-"

"Don't worry about that," Sunny was reassuring, "I'll take you home."

"Thanks."

For the next hour or so, Sunny proceeded to bring me up-to-speed on everything from my home, family, and the last girl I had crush on.

With some effort, I walked to the window of his apartment, three or four floors high, and peered out. "What time is it? More important, what day is it?"

"It's the same day. Just that you were knocked out for several hours."

"No, no, I mean, what's the date today?" I insisted.

"It's the 12th of September... why?"

"Man," I lamented, "I have a Science test tomorrow and I'm sure I've forgotten everything I had crammed!"

Sunny cracked up with relief. "Bugger, at least you remember that!"

Mirror Mirror, on the wall

Can you wait while I answer the call?

Will my MC take the bait

Or will he play it safe and wait?

Have I paid all the pending bills

How quantum particles jump over hills?

What's for lunch? And for dinner?

Powerball's due. Will I be a winner?

Mirror mirror, you reflect and I do too

Just let me see this project through

Then a promo may be on the cards

A game of sticks and juicy rewards.

Once done, I may relax and sigh

Taking time to ask how and why

Should my MC work around the hitch

And stop the villain, the troll, and the witch!

Someday I will reveal it to the world

The clever tale I spun; all unfurled

Then I can go back to my real life

To bills, to jobs, and chores; the usual strife.

There are nights that don't end with a dawn

It's the night I'm now trying to pass.

The heavy slab of sorrow, plunges my heart to drown

Into the depths of the ocean; a deep crevasse.

Tell me, the eternal stars who look down on me:

What's my fate? Where's my destiny?

My constant burning did not illuminate

A pathway for anyone or help ignite

Passion that would invigorate;

I lost the battle without a fight.

I chase the dreams and the demons

But end up running from them

With not enough excuses or reasons

And the feeling that I'm not at helm.

So tell me, the eternal stars with all you can see:

What's my fate? Where's my destiny?

Do not be afraid

Of any review made

To Sound like it's bad

Even malicious a tad

Not everyone is clear

Of prejudice, of fear

And envy for what you write;

They review out of spite

Maybe the weather was crap

Or they had had a bad rap

And wanted just to vent

As their day was spent.

For me, such reviews are fine

That one star? it's all mine.

It warms me too, all said and done

Like the one star, our glorious Sun.