Stories – I Write

The “Itsy-bitsy ” Spider

I neither like insects nor hate them. I just accept that I have to live with them especially since I live in Texas currently.

Mind you, in its infancy, I’ve already made it angry or afraid for its life by batting at it which with a spider is not necessarily the best idea because then it hides….and grows!

What I won’t accept is that there is a tiny spider that currently resides in my car. It was so tiny a few days ago that I needed my readers to see that it was actually a spider. Today, I can clearly see it without using my glasses, ugh, so it’s developing, growing into what some day could be a larger one!

So, I’ve been thinking about what to do. Because I’m not a killer of life if there’s another way to deal with it, which I haven’t thought of, so unless someone has an idea, I’m taking my vehicle to the dealership where they will clean the interior and I hope it gets sucked into its next life!

If I don’t act now, I will have a bigger problem on my hands and I just can’t.

The mess has a purpose

Here on the right is a mess, but without knowing the story, you can’t know how it got to be there, why it’s the way it is and why certain pieces are part of this particular mess. That is because you do not know the planner or the purpose of the planner.

On the left is the outcome of such a mess. Inside the box are lessons that were planned from the mess. Inside the box, are lessons tailor made for the player of the box. It took a mess to get to the plan of the box. The things in the mess are not invaluable. The things left out of the box weren’t insignificant, they just weren’t needed. They didn’t belong in the plan, but they were part of the planning. They were sifted through, and put aside to be used at the right time.

As I look at both sides, the box with a plan and the mess, I ask myself, “Which do I prefer to work with?” I think and the answer is that I prefer the box with activities that I know will work for the player. I choose the box because the things in it have purpose for the growth of the player.

Think of these things. Chew on this analogy. What does it fit in your life?

Broken Glass

I had a dream. In the dream, I was carrying a glass filled with ice-water. I’m usually thirsty in real life if I’m dreaming this, but before waking up, I was bumped into by you know who. He was oblivious to the fact that I was standing right behind him with a glass in my hand. As he bumps into me, the glass falls, not quite shattered, but all the water spilled out of it.

I don’t remember being upset at him. It’s like I expected it. What is memorable is the image of me cleaning up the broken glass and holding up the glass and thinking. “You can’t drink out of a broken glass.” The glass is ruined.

I woke up sad, thirsty and unsatisfied. It was a fitting dream.

Peace, repeat.

I’m actively pursuing peace, because, that does make sense and it’s what I’ve read to do in the bible, but I didn’t know one actually needs to hammer it out of life…

This morning, I woke up early, but not early enough to have my morning shower. It didn’t matter, I would just put on comfy clothes and makeup and make it work. I was proud that I had at least put my contacts in and made a straight enough line with my eye-liner.

I proceeded to my morning, feeling justified in calling a Lyft. I was awake and ready, no use being late if I could help it. Plus, parking is a *&%.

I arrived, sat near an outlet, plugged in my half-charged phone and smiled listening to an old, experienced man talk about having been in business for 45 years so far. He was still in business! I think that alone was worth the drive. And then…

When the 2nd speaker walked in, I had a dejavu feeling, and then the material seemed especially familiar. “Had I taken this workshop before?” Cue the “wut” look on my face.

After the 3rd speaker walks in and starts speaking, it was undeniable. I knew I had heard all of this before. UGH.

I paid 85 dollars for the workshop. Again. Really?

Peace, Lyft, sit, peace, listen, repeat, peace, Lyft, home.

Take Me Away

I wrote this with those in mind whose lives have recently (and not so recently) been invaded by the terrible choices that other humans make. I can’t understand, nor have I lived this terror myself. But, I’m realizing that this could be my life. It could be anyone’s life, unfortunately. But today, I can only imagine the pain, the tears. But I do care and think about the unimaginable that has become another’s life.

With still heavy lids, I woke up to a strange and terrible rumble, the shattering of glass, the smell of death and screams.

It invaded my dream of sandy beaches and the noise of a children’s laughter.

The terror of today took my life.

Took the life I had known. The life I had grown to love,

My life filled with love, with peace, the smell, the taste, the sounds of home.

That was my life, that was our life, that was our home.

Many, many days before, so long ago, so long ago…so long.

So… long… ago.

And now, I run, I hide, I fear not knowing where to go or where to sleep.

Where do I go, oh where do I go, where do I go, where should we go?

And finally I stop, I only stop because my feet can’t go anymore. I fall exhausted to the

ground. I rest because I have to. I try to.

I sleep. But, my mind forgot how to rest, I recycle the images I can’t deal with during the day.

I awake trembling, searching, but groggy with sleep.

I succumb again…I sleep for a

moment.

Then, it begins again, the noise invades.

This is my life. A life with no home.

When I find I can’t run anymore, or sleep.

I find a corner and I weep.

I weep as a unconsolable child heaving and hugging myself into an ever smaller person.

I desire to disappear, to hide from my reality.

Because this is not life, this is not home, I have no peace, I have no hope.

Help, help, help me from this hell.

Take me away from here. Please take me away far from here. Take me, take me away, I pray take me away, take me away, take me away…from here.

My tears stop in my trembling hand, I hear a whisper, ” I’m here. I’m sorry.”

I look up I cry and I scream, “Why….,” I’m filled with anger…”Why?!…why?!.”

I hear nothing, but silence. It’s strange at first, I look around…wait, but nothing,

For the moment. And then…

The wind moves the trees, and the raindrops begin, quietly…steady..and then a deluge.

The thunder crashes and the earth vibrates with the thunder. It repeats again and again.

I have no fear. The storm reverberates.

And I know, he sees, he feels, he hears, he knows.

I see my trembling hand taken, I feel my hair caressed, I sense my face being touched and I hear…

“I’ll take you away, from here, from here, I’ll take you away from here, I’ll take you. I’ll take you, I’ll take you away, away, away, take you away…take you from here, far away from here. Away from here.

I’ll take you away. I’ll take you away….away from here.

The thunder rumbles, the wind calms, the rain steadies. The storm is over. For the moment. A moment. Just a moment.

For just a moment…

He took me away, away from here. From the hell down here. From all the pain down here, In my life… right here. He took me, he took me, he took me and shook me awake, he took me away.

From here.

Friday’s “reviews”

I’ve read quite a few books now and learning so much. The main thing I’ve learned from good pieces of literature is not just having a story to tell, but how the story was told. For example, in All The Light We Cannot See, multiple character’s stories are told in the forward and backward traveling through time kind of fashion. It was a challenge to follow, as a reader, but in my opinion, gave the story some mystery as well as anticipation.

I can’t imagine the challenge for the writer, but then again, this is Pulitzer Award winning level. Yeah. I also have enjoyed the learning in reading good books. I enjoy smelling and looking at flowers, but I’ve never studied them. In The Language of Flowers, I was able to enjoy an inspiring story while also learning about flowers. Even if the story was about the character overcoming a difficult past, the reader is encouraged to open their eyes to the gifts people possess no matter their background.

In the The Martian, even though I’m not a technical geek ( I wish I was!) I could still enjoy how the author used humor to lighten the undeniably terrifying aspect of being left alone on the Planet of Mars. Had it not been for the comedic relief, I might not have been able to read this book. So, humor, sarcasm and well placed cuss words granted realness to a gifted main character.

Now, after reading quite a few books, I might be falling forever into the rabbit hole of literature, never to be found again. Thank you writers for keeping your dreams of telling us great stories. You’re appreciated!

So, yeah, our story

So, what I should mention about our story, Extraordinary Girl, which I began promoting (finally) is that you can read it for free for a about a week or so. And more importantly, if anyone reads it, we’d really appreciate some constructive criticism. It is a first novel, so we’re prepared for this, so no worries if you have some hard things to say. We can take it! (I think?)

Anyway, in the meantime, I’m reading (attempting to) All the Light We Can Not See by Anthony Dooer and thinking, okay, well now and being humbled as I read. I’m probably going to have to read it again for pleasure because right now, I’m kinda reading it as a writer and as far as style, tone and such, I like what I’m reading and I’m learning.

As a teacher, I say, there’s no better way to learn than to dig in to the meat of what you’re trying to learn. Speaking of, my “day job” of tutoring is calling my name and I need to work on that.

~Peace readers!

The story

Hello fellow writers and readers…

I felt it was about time that I unveiled to you the first story that I’ve ever published on Kindle.

The book was conceived with from a piece of writing that my friend did and put away in her nightstand. One day, she read it to me and a story was born. We strived to put our words and voices together and our desires for the main characters. This was a challenge, but after a few years of working on it, we felt it time to put it out there in the hands of readers.

We are very open to feed back and criticism as long as you’re kind. We realize that as first timer’s, things won’t be perfect, but give it a read and share your thoughts.

Please let me know if the link works:

Extraordinary Girl

Monday

Here it is Monday again and I noticed that my last post was a poem. Today, I’m just tapping the keyboard and seeing what comes out.

I do want to report that I finished my story and put it on kindle, but I haven’t yet promoted it.

I will promote it after a few select people read it first, but it’s up and complete, and now I can move forward to the next idea. I’m excited to work on it. At the moment I’m brainstorming with my creative family and playing around with ideas.

I must admit, it’s nice to have fresh thoughts.

A new day

Yesterday, I kinda went on a preaching tangent, but that’s what wine and such can do. Today is a new day filled with possibilities, I’m sure.

As I sit in my backyard, I’m thinking back on my vacation and decided to remember it this way. Did I say “vaca” yesterday? Ugh.

1. Her faraway thoughts came to the surface and came forth, not quite as tears, but as an extra liquid layer to her green eyes.

2. His movements were robotic, as he walked into the bar. The drink in his hand had failed to erase the tension in his jerky movements.

3. Her forced smile belied the depression which stormed her mind.

4. To herself, she danced in a free spirited fashion, but to others, she appeared awkward and almost “monkey-like” in her attempts.

5. They moved as one on the dance floor as she stared and imagined the movements horizontally.

6. Her teacher tried to rub the tiredness from her eyes unsuccessfully and left more lines in the wake.

7. She forced herself to look at the clock on the wall, as her father shuffled in slowly from the kitchen. As he passed, she gave him a smile hoping that her love would give him more time.

8. The irritation bubbled over and spilled out in correction to her mother and later formed a pit that lodged itself in her stomach.

9. She lay head spinning on the soft sheets contemplating whether or not to sleep in the toilet or not.

10. As she lay in her childhood bed, the memories tackled her into fitful sleep.