Welcome! I love to write, and I love sharing what I write with my readers. I vary my style as much as I can-posting events, creative non-fiction, prose and poetry and the occasional video. Enjoy!



Tuesday, August 7, 2012

A Short Story-Its Good To Dream

It’s Good to Dream:
By: Christine McFarlane

I’m bored. I’m sitting at my desk, staring at the word document I have opened before me. I’ve been here for an hour and the words are not forming like I would like them to. Except for the occasional hum from my refrigerator, or the creaking sound that comes from the chair I am sitting in, all is quiet.

To break the silence, I decide its time for some music. Leaning over, and my eyes squinting, my fingers tap the music icon on my laptop screen. My library opens and my eyes swiftly go down the list I have compiled over the years. I wonder what type of music I should listen to. My music tastes are eclectic-sappy love songs, like Air Supply’s “All Out of Love,” or Patty Smyth’s “Sometimes Love is Not Enough,” to songs like “I Am I” by Queensryche, to “The Unforgiven” by Metallica, and then back to ABBA songs like “I Have A Dream,” “Supertrouper,” and “Dancing Queen.”

The music I play depends on the mood I am in; today I don’t know what I feel like. My finger hits the play button. I forget that the last time I was checking out songs on my computer, that I had cranked up the volume. I’m almost blown out of my chair when the song by Queen blasts out of the cheap speakers attached to my laptop.

“We are the champions, no time for losers because we are the champions”

I pretend that I have a microphone in hand and kick back my chair and jump up to sing to the crowd. I get right into the beat of the music, swinging my arms, shaking my head, as I lip sync

“We are the champions, no time for losers because we are the champions”

My reverie is broken by the shrill ring of my phone


“Hello?” I yell into my cell phone.

Mumbled words come through my phone.

“Pardon me?” I yell

It’s my landlord. Oh crap! Forgetting that his store is right above me, I hear him say

“Please turn down your music! Your neighbors are complaining!”

“Yes sir” I yell back.

My dream of being a rock singer is shattered, as I am brought back to the reality that I’m just a writer diverting from the task at hand. Writing an article that is due in two hours.

Ah, its good to dream though.

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