Story ideas (Random Categories)

Just some descriptive writing

I sit up on my creaky bed. It's not the mattress that's creaky, it's the frame. I look to the sky. It's mostly clear other then cloud looming in the distance, although they are very white and not storm clouds. They surround the horizon like a dome. There are 9 stars from what I can see, all of them twinkling in the sky as if they were stained glass hanging from the heavens. The moon seemed to glare at me, as if I had done something wrong. Whatever I did, must of upset it. If only it could speak to help me through my troubles. Cause all these late nights and cigarettes aren't helping. No one can really help. It's really just me digging myself a hole the size of the mountains off to my left. But I can't help it I'm an over thinker. It almost my job to be thinking about what will, how, why anything and everything will happen. Why do you think I'm awake as late as the boogie man dares to stay awake. Maybe, I am a boogie man myself. That would explain a lot. Except the fact that I'm scared of the boogie man. The clouds move closer. The moon soon to be covered by a white blanket of rain and snow. A silhouette of a tree is much more noticeable now. I can only see 7 stars in the dark sky. And as light come on from the early birds who are off to work. I sit. On my creaky bed. Waiting for a dream, a wish or hope to come along.