He drove this stretch only after. The Blakely farm was where he needed to go so he could collect the courage to return from bliss. He smoked and stared, allowing the road lead him back to a life he hated. But he had to maintain appearances if he wanted to keep doing what made him truly happy. Hunting and killing people was frowned upon as a hobby. He didn't speed or drive erratically because he had his "toy box" in the back and he didn't want to get pulled over. No. He did what he had to for now; obey the law. He had been in the woods with his latest toy and now he had to go back. He needed those play things for the safety of those who shared his house. He had to demolish another family to protect his own and keep them alive. If not, he'd have buried them long ago. He drove back to kiss a wife he loathed and pretend to enjoy child he'd wished he'd never made. He cast the cigarette butt out the window, swallowing stale smoke and the pain of stepping back into society. His mind soothed him by thinking nothing.
The officer watched the cars. He rarely had to make them stop. He sat here tucked away in a small alcove on an old forgotten road that lead out to the Blakely farm; abandoned and alone. There were smaller access roads spindling off that lead to secret fishing spots and sacred hunting grounds. Off-trail hikers and locals heading to small neighboring towns were the folks who traveled this patch. Hell, he knew most of them and often recognized their cars. But right now, to be honest, his mind was not at work. He cared not for speeders or teenagers who played their music too loud. He had bigger things weighing on his mind and in his heart. The truck prattled by and the driver chucked a cigarette butt out the window.
"Litterbug" the officer sighed and reached up to put the car in gear. But he just didn't have the energy. He sank back and wiped his exhausted face. He checked with dispatch again. No news. He bit at his fingernails and stared vacantly out the window. Thirty-six hours since his daughter had gone missing. Time was running out and odds were quickly falling out of their favor.
His daughter had gone missing after school let out on Tuesday. She had been yanked off the street as she sauntered home in new Dora light up sneakers and a baby blue and white striped wind breaker, as she did every day; in broad daylight, through the middle of town. No one saw a damn thing. No one recalled hearing her scream, kick, or fight as he'd always taught her; made her pinky -swear she would always do if that kind of danger ever came to her. He blinked back the tears and fear. He tried to remain objective, reviewing the case facts; solve it like any other task he'd been given as an officer here. He was failing. The emptiness was choking and the exasperation to find her was cloying at him like the stink of an outhouse in summer. Where was she? Who took her? He prayed she was alive; no matter how battered and scared, that she was at least alive. Unable to stand it any longer he got out of his car and paced around the small hidden space. He scolded the sky and yelled at the ground. He thought about the facts until his brain ached. He walked for miles in that little tiny alcove, glaring at the sun, sadistically shining too brightly. There should be no sun; not until his daughter was returned safely ; happily home. He kicked at the ground, glowered at it, warning it not to be hiding his baby in there somewhere. He toed the cigarette butt cast aside by the driver. Again and again. The driver. He looked around and saw several butts. All the same brand. The same driver. Grasping at straws but unable to help himself, he fetched gloves from his car and puts several in a Ziploc. Lacey would process them; just in case. He was far from the middle of town and school and the place where is little girl was.. but just in case...
The driver pulled into town and headed down his street suppressing the anger and nausea that were already warming his stomach. The man emerged from his truck , smoothed his shirt and gave himself a once-over before he disappeared into his house. Disappeared into the world. The people inside should be safe for a while. They didn't know it, but he would be able to fake it for a bit; pretending to be a loving husband and father.
A little girl appeared, rubbing her eyes. In a small whimpered voice that grated inside his brain like a scratch on a bad sunburn, she told him that one of her classmates is missing. The woman who sleeps next to him wrings her worried hands in a dish towel holding a cup. They want comfort and reassurance from him. He looks at the floor and thinks. He wipes the tiny smile of satisfaction from his mouth. They think he is distraught.
" It's better than being you." he confesses and shakes his head, fighting the tingle of desire to choke the little girl and bash the woman in the mouth. He asks what's for dinner, standing tall and strong before them. A monster unseen. They are grateful for his authority and strength, scurrying about to make the day, the house and their life look normal again. He lets them. Just like every day until he needs a new toy.
The monster goes to work. He endures back slapping and bad jokes. He
tolerates requests from his boss and fellow workers. He goes home to
eat dinners made by the woman and stares blankly at pieces of paper
where the child has scribbled in crayon. He holds a tight smile and
says the right words. Inside his mouth waters for a new toy. His mind
changes channels to daydream of the delicious smell of fear, the sound
of begging and the sweet metallic smell as their lives drain into the
ground and their bodies grow limp. He sits at his desk and finds
comfort. but he will have to find a new toy soon. He will not be able
to make it so long as last time. Last time was a rushed job that he
didn't enjoy as much. Everyone was looking for her ~ he must have picked
the wrong toy. Must have belonged to an official or something. This
time he would try to be more careful and study it longer to be more sure
before claiming his prize. he didn't want anyone to spoil his fun
again. He might be able to revisit the playground to buy some time
before another toy was found.
The days goes by and the officer drifts slowly toward insanity. There is nothing. No clothing, no blood, no trail the dogs can find. He stands on his porch and crunches a pop can. He would rather drain a bottle of Jack, but because he wants it, he won't take it. He is trying to be strong enough for his wife and their other children. An older sister and a younger brother. He avoids their red, swollen eyes. He holds them when they come, open-armed and sad. He's sad too, but feels there is nowhere to go. No one to catch him as he falls from hope and the happy life interrupted. His cell shrieks and he snatches it, almost tossing it out into the yard. He juggles and struggles to catch it like a wiggly fish. His children cover their mouths to stifle the giggles because there is no room for laughter or happiness here. Not now. Not until their sister comes home.
The news almost steals his breath from his chest. He sinks to the rocking chair saved for sunsets and hand holding; bed time stories and playful swats as children are reminded to "git to bed" because it's a school day tomorrow. The DNA matches other evidence at different crime scenes in twelve other cases. Twelve? Twelve other families are suffering like he is? Twelve babies stolen and destroyed? He chokes the phone in his hand at the next sentence which is: There is no ID. They have no name. And in that instant, his heart soars because HE knows. He has seen ... the driver of the truck. That is the monster he seeks; that he will find and vanquish. He nods solemnly and clicks off. The family comes cautiously because the energy around him is electric. He is panting and sweaty. Staring out across the lawn, he barely feels the touch of his wife, the tiny hands on his knees nor does he hear the whisper
"What is it?"
"Nothing we can use. Just that he's done it before. There are others matching some evidence..." he stops himself from telling them more. He looks up to Heaven and asks for guidance.
It would be two weeks of incessant sitting in that God-forsaken alcove waiting for that fucking truck. He sat and watched his eyes burning and dry from lack of blinking but he couldn't stop looking, he couldn't risk not seeing. He had stared up at the sky and asked for answers and for guidance. He searched his soul and found a solution he could live with. The truck ambled up the road and the driver chucked a butt. He didn't see the sedan pulled back in the alcove. The officer's heart leaped into his throat, his hands clutching the wheel. He talked to himself and told himself to slowly pull out and not get too close. He saw the tag and muttered it over and over. He turned off one of the fingerling roads and then headed home to put it all together. When he at last saw the face of the monster he was certain had killed his little girl, he stared long and hard memorizing every curve, wrinkle and whisker. He drank heavily from another pop can as he chugged it like the jack he wished it were. Then he got up.
No one worried or questioned his appearance at the school. He had children who attended. People smiled and nodded. It was all he could do to mirror them. He hoped they did not notice his clenched fists and stiff walk. He scoured the yard in search of what he was looking for. When he found it, there was a warmth that tingled in each extremity. His body came alive and he felt a weakness in his knees as if he were going on a first date. The approach was swift. The conversation was little but satisfactory, resulting in a tiny hand in his. His smile for the first time in a long time was genuine. No one thought twice or saw them leave. The duo was invisible in the crowd of moms and dads and the end of a busy school day.
The cell phone shrieked and startled him. He answered to the panicked screams and wales of a woman who's been dealt an awful blow. He nodded, though why, he was unsure. He reassured, soothed and clicked off. He silently got into the vehicle and drove back to the house to take care of what he could.
He knew where to go afterward.
The two men looked at each other; a young girl in the middle. One man lit up a cigarette and smiled. Pleased with the situation;. It was a surprise but not an unwelcome one. The other stood stock still and glared at the man who'd stolen his baby. Now it was his turn to suffer and wonder. Would she survive? Who would lose what? He'd imagined many scenarios but the smile on the monster's face wasn't one. He'd wanted there to be tears and begging. He'd wanted to see fear and smell regret as this monster's own daughter stood before him with a future in the balance. But what he saw was glee and what he felt was a charge of excitement. He hadn't wanted it to be so cold. He had hoped for emotion but not this one. He blinked and became focused again. He pulled the little girl to him and bent down. He whispered into her ear. She nodded and sobbed. Her pants were wet from fear. For a moment, the officer felt bad for doing this to her. But then he looked up and it dissolved. He let go of her arm and she rushed to the monster she called "Daddy" and clutched his leg. She clawed and cried demanding attention. The monster looked at her with detached curiosity. She was in his playground and that made her a toy. His mind could not bend back to his "other life." His body cried out for satiation. It wanted a toy. It needed to play. He pulled her back to see her face. it was blank, featureless to him. This made it all right. It made it easy.
She thought he was going to pick her up and she wiped at her face. Her hands and arms opened, tiny fingers wiggling greedily to receive what she thought would be a hug from her father. She couldn't understand why he wasn't hugging her. She didn't understand why his hands were around her throat. She couldn't understand why her air was gone or why her body was fiery and hot. She couldn't utter the words to beg him to stop and hold her. She couldn't comprehend that he wasn't going to be nice and be her daddy. He was hurting her.
The bang was loud. There was a hot spray and a stink that threatened to get into her mouth if she didn't scowl and pinch her eyes shut. She and Daddy fell to the ground. Then the man who took her from the school was holding her like her daddy should have. He said the words she wanted to hear "It's all right Honey. I'm here." and she cried. She held him and she called him Daddy. He hugged her, stroking her hair unaware that her mother was already dead.
He didn't know he was going to get his little girl back....
I ask you, who is the monster? Heehee. I liked this one although I struggled for a long time with it~ it's not perfect, but I still get the chills when I read it and in the end...it's all about me. :)
Thank you for stoppin in. Next time, maybe we'll chat a bit longer.
Friday, November 27, 2015
Sunday, November 15, 2015
No Yolking Matter
I pride myself on being a culinary adventurer; both in creation and consumption. I will cook and sample almost everything, turning shyly away from things that Andrew Zimmern SWEARS are the bomb. But I do not consider myself weak for turning away from food that looks at me; in a literal sense or smell like something I would flush. We all have limits. And I ... I met mine. I looked at it, smelled it, watched it take shape and yes, I consumed it. All the while Cheech laughed until he lost air and cried. Let me now relate it to you since I have only recently stopped rinsing my mouth and hovering over the sink with my jaw triple extended and a burping, gurgling sound escaping from between my frightened, trembling lips.
This experiment, for me was and epic failure. My husband, greatest love and best friend is to blame and thinks I don't know that he is still snickering over it. It involves the one ingredient I detest and creates an instant short-out in my gag reflex at the mere mention of it; eggs. (warlp~ excuse me I cannot control it) I am exasperated by the insistence of those "culinary geniuses" that if you dump, heap, goop and slide one of those abominations on top of ANYTHING, it instantly becomes "Gourmet" .. (and I am twirling an imaginary handlebar mustache with my eyebrow raised and a thick fake "accent Francaise" for emphasis ~ I mean let's get into the mood here....) But I contest those actions by saying "No! You have just made it a dirty breakfast food and it ISN'T for this champion.
Cured Yolks. There. It's out there like some tawdry, slutty secret. They were dried in a sugar/salt mixture until they acquired a consistency of wet, sweaty cheese. (warlp!~ sorry... it's just my reaction...) Then. THEN they are dried to create a firmness in an oven set at a balmy 150 degrees. But guess what? MY oven doesn't go that low so you know what you have to do? I'll tell you... let me just guzzle some more Listerine. We got to let them sit in there. In my oven FOR TWO DAYS. So for forty-eight grueling hours, those evil, semi-solid wads of yellow disgust and SUPER source of mental distress hid in my sacred oven. They giggled and taunted me; oh you'd better believe it. I walked by my once happy stove and I would rat tail it, glare and hiss awful things to it. I would crack the door and tell them I hated them. They were gross and I hoped they were happy in their attempt at my family's destruction. Upon completion of this nightmare emerged waxy yolks that were to be grated delicately onto a freshly made caesar salad instead of parm.. Hmmm let me get this straight:
Knock knock
Who's there
Parm
Parm who?
STOP THE LIE AND PUT PARM ON THE DAMN SALAD YOU EVIL, VILE KITCHEN MONKEY!!!!!
(warlp!)
And so wine was poured. I drank deeply. Poured again. Stared at the beautiful meal coming together before me and watched in horror as this abomination delicately laced my plate. I drank again and glared. I placed the tool of choice in my hand; an ordinary salad fork and prayed that my sceptor would slay this awful dragon. I drank again and scooped. My hand trembled, the villain shook with laughter and dared me to cast it aside and admit defeat; weakness. I huffed a huge "eff-you" swiped up my glass in my other hand and closed my eyes so as not to witness the carnage about to unfold upon my palate. My teeth came together and recognized instantly what had gone wrong with this "Gourmet salad". My stomach began to groan and protest. I swallowed but found my esophagus stubborn and defiant. (warlp!) I chased it. with water and wine. I gripped the table and winced as the fire burned and my body shrieked "Why? Why have you forsaken us? We love you. We take CARE of you! You evil vixen! May you suffer all night with trecherous gas pains and toots unspeakable."
I opened my eyes and quickly blinked back the tears (warlp!) I drank again, refusing to chew any more but deciding the only viable escape was to swallow this torture like a bitter pill.
"Not bad." I whispered and prayed that it was enough.
And hello to you too stranger! I am so sorry to have been away so long. I have been really struggling with one and I decided to take a break from it and share a quick family update. I hope you smiled and laughed a bit. We all need to do that once in a while. I hope to hammer through my current nemesis and see you again soon. Thank you for coming by for a bit. You're so much fun to have around.
This experiment, for me was and epic failure. My husband, greatest love and best friend is to blame and thinks I don't know that he is still snickering over it. It involves the one ingredient I detest and creates an instant short-out in my gag reflex at the mere mention of it; eggs. (warlp~ excuse me I cannot control it) I am exasperated by the insistence of those "culinary geniuses" that if you dump, heap, goop and slide one of those abominations on top of ANYTHING, it instantly becomes "Gourmet" .. (and I am twirling an imaginary handlebar mustache with my eyebrow raised and a thick fake "accent Francaise" for emphasis ~ I mean let's get into the mood here....) But I contest those actions by saying "No! You have just made it a dirty breakfast food and it ISN'T for this champion.
Cured Yolks. There. It's out there like some tawdry, slutty secret. They were dried in a sugar/salt mixture until they acquired a consistency of wet, sweaty cheese. (warlp!~ sorry... it's just my reaction...) Then. THEN they are dried to create a firmness in an oven set at a balmy 150 degrees. But guess what? MY oven doesn't go that low so you know what you have to do? I'll tell you... let me just guzzle some more Listerine. We got to let them sit in there. In my oven FOR TWO DAYS. So for forty-eight grueling hours, those evil, semi-solid wads of yellow disgust and SUPER source of mental distress hid in my sacred oven. They giggled and taunted me; oh you'd better believe it. I walked by my once happy stove and I would rat tail it, glare and hiss awful things to it. I would crack the door and tell them I hated them. They were gross and I hoped they were happy in their attempt at my family's destruction. Upon completion of this nightmare emerged waxy yolks that were to be grated delicately onto a freshly made caesar salad instead of parm.. Hmmm let me get this straight:
Knock knock
Who's there
Parm
Parm who?
STOP THE LIE AND PUT PARM ON THE DAMN SALAD YOU EVIL, VILE KITCHEN MONKEY!!!!!
(warlp!)
And so wine was poured. I drank deeply. Poured again. Stared at the beautiful meal coming together before me and watched in horror as this abomination delicately laced my plate. I drank again and glared. I placed the tool of choice in my hand; an ordinary salad fork and prayed that my sceptor would slay this awful dragon. I drank again and scooped. My hand trembled, the villain shook with laughter and dared me to cast it aside and admit defeat; weakness. I huffed a huge "eff-you" swiped up my glass in my other hand and closed my eyes so as not to witness the carnage about to unfold upon my palate. My teeth came together and recognized instantly what had gone wrong with this "Gourmet salad". My stomach began to groan and protest. I swallowed but found my esophagus stubborn and defiant. (warlp!) I chased it. with water and wine. I gripped the table and winced as the fire burned and my body shrieked "Why? Why have you forsaken us? We love you. We take CARE of you! You evil vixen! May you suffer all night with trecherous gas pains and toots unspeakable."
I opened my eyes and quickly blinked back the tears (warlp!) I drank again, refusing to chew any more but deciding the only viable escape was to swallow this torture like a bitter pill.
"Not bad." I whispered and prayed that it was enough.
And hello to you too stranger! I am so sorry to have been away so long. I have been really struggling with one and I decided to take a break from it and share a quick family update. I hope you smiled and laughed a bit. We all need to do that once in a while. I hope to hammer through my current nemesis and see you again soon. Thank you for coming by for a bit. You're so much fun to have around.
Friday, October 30, 2015
David's Mom the Clown
I love this day. I live for this day. And I'm going to be the coolest zombie ever. David isn't allowed to be scary, mean or violent things so he will be a scarecrow or a police man (Tell me where the fun in THAT is?) or a fireman. He can't even be a ghost with a sheet like Charlie Brown. What a rip off! But at least he can go trick or treating. Whew! I was sweating that one for days. I mean, who wants to go trick-or-treating with their baby sister in a wagon when you can go in style? David's mom said she would DRIVE us ~ awwwwesoooome! So we had our "party" at school today, but you can't have anything to eat like party food. You have to have carrot sticks and fig newtons. No nuts, no candy, no cookies no popcorn nononononoNO! Geez! Why do adults have to ruin everything? Well, they aren't going to ruin my night ~ no WAY Buster. I am home after school to hit the houses right close to me. Mr and Mrs Roth will always give me money or a NORMAL size candy bar because I am like, one of the only kids left in this neighborhood and they don't get to see their grand kids much. I don't know why they don't face time or oovu or something but they don't. So I win. Then I will go to Mrs Mitchell's. She tries to give me healthy stuff like toothbrushes from her cupboard or old stinky granola bars out of her pantry but I just give her my "look" and she says "Don't tell your mother" and gives me brownies or cookies or one time she gave me an ice cream bar!
I LOVE THIS DAY!
So I got all ready. It took me forever to get the blood the right color and my face and hair right. I can't just go out with a ripped shirt and some red marker streaks with my arms out groaning and stuff. That is what Kevin Anderson did and he is STILL being roasted over that. No way, not me. I'm going for gut globs on my shirt, blood that actually LOOKS like blood and some seriously funked up teeth Oh and I'm going to dig in the dirt so I have grimy, gross fingers. I'm going to be SO cool. Poor David. A policeman? I mean they are cool and I have an uncle who is one buuuut... Halloween? It's for scaring and gore and blood and YEAH I LOVE THIS DAY... oh sorry. Why couldn't he be a soldier? Then at least he'd get to wear camos. I'll tell him that for next year.
Now I just have to wait til David's mom gets here in the marshmallow mobile. It's not bad, I don't know why David calls it that. Maybe because she's so "fluffy" and happy all the time. I bet it smells like candy and sugar. We have to be driven around or have an adult up our butts at all times. I guess they heard a story that someone is out to kidnap little kids today or tonight or something. Two kids went missing from Huber and Piqua just this week on their beggar's night. That sucks. I don't buy it, I think its just like the story that goes around every year about razor blades in apples or stuff on stickers that you lick and then go crazy and jump off a roof or whatever. Whatever. Nobody is taking my day. Candy is MINE for breakfast and for lunch and for dinner and for snacks and forever. I love candy.
So David's mom finally got here. She's okay; kind of pretty and nice; just a littler too careful, you know? Whatever. She said she would take us to the really big neighborhoods. I can't wait. David is a cop but he has white face and really dark circles under his eyes. Says he's a zombie cop. Whatever. It's a little better. At least he's not like a bank teller or a lawyer or something stupid like that. Her car is white and it smells like coffee and dryer sheets. The seats are tan and smooth; easy for us to slip in and out.
And we were off. It took a little while to get to the places but then she had it all rockin and rollin and the sugar gods were generous. I got Reese's; I get extra of those because I'm like the only one left on earth who doesn't have an allergy to the stuff, Milky Ways, and then some bozo threw in an Almond Joy. Dork. I got a baggie of pennies... Really? You couldn't go to the store? The candy is right in front of the door and is cheap... Pennies? So I said thank you anyway and David and I at least waited till we got to the next house to laugh at them. We don't waste time either, we switch and ditch right away. If there are bowls with the hilarious "Please take ONE" sign? Dude, you know it's gone. And then when we've pillaged the small community, we go back to the mallow mobile and zoom to the next. David's mom is just sipping iced coffee and yapping on her phone. Pretty benign. We don't even talk or anything just jump in zoom away and jump out. Easy.
So we got to this one section and the houses were MAMMOTH so we knew we'd hit the mother load. We did our first round and made the pact that if it rocked, we would split up, rehit our favorites and be set for life. I found MY favorite in the red brick house with KING sized Snickers, and Hershey bars. Oh MAN I was in HEAVEN. But they wouldn't let us revisit if we had the same costume on. So I was smart and thanked my mom for making me bring a sweatshirt. I had like three trips to the same house but did the entire section just because I wanted to be fair. YES! David was gonna be SO jealous because zombie cop or not... he didn't have three outfits. So I spent a lot of time there and totally lost sight of David. I just figured he was doin the same thing as me. I never even thought about the other kids or that it might be getting late. Candy, man. It's all about the booty. So when the horn beeped and I looked up, I didn't think anything of the mallow mobile sitting in the cul-de-sac. I waved and got a couple more. Then there was another beep. I didn't want to get in trouble or have David's mom tell my mom I wasn't listening or something so I left the sanctuary of chocolate and headed back for the white car. It was really dark so I guess I couldn't be TOO upset. I whipped open the door and flounced on the seat. Hmmm no David. Well at least I knew I wouldn't be getting in trouble for not listening.
"Thank you Mrs. Savitch. It was really nice of you to do all the driving and stuff. We made a KILLING out there!" I happily chatted as I sorted through my pillow case crammed with sweets. I laughed thinking about how all the dentist offices would be having their drop-off day where they have people (usually parents) drop off their extra candy and then they give it to those in need. I am one in need. In need of CANDY. I laughed at myself and waited for David. I unwrapped another candy and licked melted sugar from my hand.
"Where IS David anyway? Is he lost or something? " There was no reply for a long time. I just figured she was engrossed in some tweet or something. Then the car began to move. I looked up and realized the car smelled like old Mexican food and dirty feet. The seats were blue fake velvet and were stained copper brown; ripped and torn. Then I looked to the mirror, where David's mom would have been; if it had been her car. The candy in my mouth went to salty sawdust. I couldn't swallow. Looking back at me was a painted clown face: bright green cross marks at the eyes and a huge red and blue slashed smile too wide for a normal mouth which was crammed full of tan, crooked teeth. The hair was purple and wiry; sticking up and out all over the place. I barely heard the click but knew in an instant that the child locks were set. I reached for the handle but the clown caught my eye and shook its head. Then it put its white gloved finger to its mouth and made the "shhhh" sign.
The tears came in a rush and I spit out the nasty candy.
I hate this day.
Happy Halloween! may you read this in the dark and may it make you shiver... just a bit. Thank you for stopping in. Want some candy?
I LOVE THIS DAY!
So I got all ready. It took me forever to get the blood the right color and my face and hair right. I can't just go out with a ripped shirt and some red marker streaks with my arms out groaning and stuff. That is what Kevin Anderson did and he is STILL being roasted over that. No way, not me. I'm going for gut globs on my shirt, blood that actually LOOKS like blood and some seriously funked up teeth Oh and I'm going to dig in the dirt so I have grimy, gross fingers. I'm going to be SO cool. Poor David. A policeman? I mean they are cool and I have an uncle who is one buuuut... Halloween? It's for scaring and gore and blood and YEAH I LOVE THIS DAY... oh sorry. Why couldn't he be a soldier? Then at least he'd get to wear camos. I'll tell him that for next year.
Now I just have to wait til David's mom gets here in the marshmallow mobile. It's not bad, I don't know why David calls it that. Maybe because she's so "fluffy" and happy all the time. I bet it smells like candy and sugar. We have to be driven around or have an adult up our butts at all times. I guess they heard a story that someone is out to kidnap little kids today or tonight or something. Two kids went missing from Huber and Piqua just this week on their beggar's night. That sucks. I don't buy it, I think its just like the story that goes around every year about razor blades in apples or stuff on stickers that you lick and then go crazy and jump off a roof or whatever. Whatever. Nobody is taking my day. Candy is MINE for breakfast and for lunch and for dinner and for snacks and forever. I love candy.
So David's mom finally got here. She's okay; kind of pretty and nice; just a littler too careful, you know? Whatever. She said she would take us to the really big neighborhoods. I can't wait. David is a cop but he has white face and really dark circles under his eyes. Says he's a zombie cop. Whatever. It's a little better. At least he's not like a bank teller or a lawyer or something stupid like that. Her car is white and it smells like coffee and dryer sheets. The seats are tan and smooth; easy for us to slip in and out.
And we were off. It took a little while to get to the places but then she had it all rockin and rollin and the sugar gods were generous. I got Reese's; I get extra of those because I'm like the only one left on earth who doesn't have an allergy to the stuff, Milky Ways, and then some bozo threw in an Almond Joy. Dork. I got a baggie of pennies... Really? You couldn't go to the store? The candy is right in front of the door and is cheap... Pennies? So I said thank you anyway and David and I at least waited till we got to the next house to laugh at them. We don't waste time either, we switch and ditch right away. If there are bowls with the hilarious "Please take ONE" sign? Dude, you know it's gone. And then when we've pillaged the small community, we go back to the mallow mobile and zoom to the next. David's mom is just sipping iced coffee and yapping on her phone. Pretty benign. We don't even talk or anything just jump in zoom away and jump out. Easy.
So we got to this one section and the houses were MAMMOTH so we knew we'd hit the mother load. We did our first round and made the pact that if it rocked, we would split up, rehit our favorites and be set for life. I found MY favorite in the red brick house with KING sized Snickers, and Hershey bars. Oh MAN I was in HEAVEN. But they wouldn't let us revisit if we had the same costume on. So I was smart and thanked my mom for making me bring a sweatshirt. I had like three trips to the same house but did the entire section just because I wanted to be fair. YES! David was gonna be SO jealous because zombie cop or not... he didn't have three outfits. So I spent a lot of time there and totally lost sight of David. I just figured he was doin the same thing as me. I never even thought about the other kids or that it might be getting late. Candy, man. It's all about the booty. So when the horn beeped and I looked up, I didn't think anything of the mallow mobile sitting in the cul-de-sac. I waved and got a couple more. Then there was another beep. I didn't want to get in trouble or have David's mom tell my mom I wasn't listening or something so I left the sanctuary of chocolate and headed back for the white car. It was really dark so I guess I couldn't be TOO upset. I whipped open the door and flounced on the seat. Hmmm no David. Well at least I knew I wouldn't be getting in trouble for not listening.
"Thank you Mrs. Savitch. It was really nice of you to do all the driving and stuff. We made a KILLING out there!" I happily chatted as I sorted through my pillow case crammed with sweets. I laughed thinking about how all the dentist offices would be having their drop-off day where they have people (usually parents) drop off their extra candy and then they give it to those in need. I am one in need. In need of CANDY. I laughed at myself and waited for David. I unwrapped another candy and licked melted sugar from my hand.
"Where IS David anyway? Is he lost or something? " There was no reply for a long time. I just figured she was engrossed in some tweet or something. Then the car began to move. I looked up and realized the car smelled like old Mexican food and dirty feet. The seats were blue fake velvet and were stained copper brown; ripped and torn. Then I looked to the mirror, where David's mom would have been; if it had been her car. The candy in my mouth went to salty sawdust. I couldn't swallow. Looking back at me was a painted clown face: bright green cross marks at the eyes and a huge red and blue slashed smile too wide for a normal mouth which was crammed full of tan, crooked teeth. The hair was purple and wiry; sticking up and out all over the place. I barely heard the click but knew in an instant that the child locks were set. I reached for the handle but the clown caught my eye and shook its head. Then it put its white gloved finger to its mouth and made the "shhhh" sign.
The tears came in a rush and I spit out the nasty candy.
I hate this day.
Happy Halloween! may you read this in the dark and may it make you shiver... just a bit. Thank you for stopping in. Want some candy?
Sunday, October 25, 2015
The lie
Time heals all wounds. There it is. Black and white; one of the most bold faced lies ever told, and we have all said it, used it, to console either ourselves or someone else. We want to believe it's true and maybe in the back of our minds, if we say it enough ... it will be.
But not for me and not yet.
My mother died long ago. I was young. "Too young" people often say with a sympathetic cluck and a sad head shake. But I didn't understand that. I didn't know. My reality overnight became one without a mother. I was sixteen. (All right, who did it? I heard that...) And I still had to get up and go to school. I had homework and there were dances that I was asked to. I learned to drive anyway. Boys still called and asked me out on Friday nights and we still fogged up some windows down by the dam. (Sorry Dad...we were NOT singing campfire songs...) I lived life angrily; fighting to feel something, anything. I made stupid choices and got into an abusive relationship. Somewhere between his "I love you"s and "You embarrass me"s I felt something, but not what I bargained for. He became the target of my anger one night... our anniversary... when he knocked me to the ground, straddled me and began choking me because I had said something he deemed inappropriate. I beat the Holy snot out of that boy and began to stand a little straighter. I accepted the anger and began to move forward. I had a purpose; no one would ever hurt me again. I shut off and shut out most people. I laughed and enjoyed and had fun; but no one was allowed in. Why? Because no matter how you beg or what you do... they will leave you. I had to be and feel protected...all alone and all the time because your world can end... overnight.
I survived and thrived as some would see it. I graduated high school; though not in the Honor Society~ my grades were no longer good enough with the stress of my "unfortunate situation" and I was turned out~ failure. I went to college where I promptly learned to study all over again to avoid being turned out ~ failure. I made it, graduated, and passed my Board exams, meeting a wonderful man who somehow accepted all my flaws, hangups, reservedness and loved me anyway; believed in me and told me he would love me tomorrow. I loved him back, feeling for the first time in a long time the warmth of hope. Maybe he would stay... We married and have a lovely family and every day... they stay a little longer. I do to. Happily ever after but oh-so-cautiously.
Yet ~ on THIS day, each year I revisit the lie. I am angry; so angry all I can do is cry. On THIS day, my mother died. (did you do it again? you better stop...)
Now most would say, "Look how you've grown. Look what you've done. She would be proud of you." And I hope all of that is true. One day, perhaps I will get the chance to ask her, because at sixteen when she had to leave, I didn't know. But for now? Now with my soon-to-be eighteen year old daughter graduating high school, visiting colleges, preparing for her Senior Prom and a vacation she and I will take to celebrate her life and our budding friendship... Now I'm more angry.
The lie, I realize now was too big to grasp. I never knew or understood all those things and moments I missed. I never realized how cheated I was in my youth to be denied the transition of friendship from parenthood coming from the woman who fed me, changed me, helped me when sick, colored pictures of Snow White with me, wrecked her kitchen so we could play store, taught me to cook, taught me that there will be very few true friends in your life.... I am angry she wasn't one of them. I am jealous of my daughter because she gets to do these things. I am envious that she doesn't hurt now and will not be shocked by the ripping open of these old wounds and the indescribable pain later in her life...with her daughter. Because I am here. I love her and I am proud of her and I have written letters to her since she was born so she will always know how I felt (good and bad) about each step of her journey. I tell her often. I sing songs to her about how "Amazing" she is to me. But when I turn around MY mother is gone. There are no inside jokes, no long walks, no epiphanies of life and love that Madi and I have shared. There never were. And that hole is still there; huge and empty and ... angry. It has not shrunk with time. I have not outgrown my childish wishing she were here to hug me and brush my tears. I have not become an adult in any way when it comes to her. I want my mom. Today and on her birthday, I just want MY mom.
I never asked to learn the lesson that life is short. I was not given the choice. I had to accept it as an ugly and cruel truth and keep on living and at times, I didn't even want to do that. But I am here. I am blessed with family and friends and we laugh with each other, console, and even get mad once in a while. And we forgive. We tell each other our feelings so we know; are certain... because if you don't ... if you're not sure... if you remain angry and don't forgive... that makes a wound.
And time won't heal it.
I love you Mom. I miss you as much today as I did that morning.
But not for me and not yet.
My mother died long ago. I was young. "Too young" people often say with a sympathetic cluck and a sad head shake. But I didn't understand that. I didn't know. My reality overnight became one without a mother. I was sixteen. (All right, who did it? I heard that...) And I still had to get up and go to school. I had homework and there were dances that I was asked to. I learned to drive anyway. Boys still called and asked me out on Friday nights and we still fogged up some windows down by the dam. (Sorry Dad...we were NOT singing campfire songs...) I lived life angrily; fighting to feel something, anything. I made stupid choices and got into an abusive relationship. Somewhere between his "I love you"s and "You embarrass me"s I felt something, but not what I bargained for. He became the target of my anger one night... our anniversary... when he knocked me to the ground, straddled me and began choking me because I had said something he deemed inappropriate. I beat the Holy snot out of that boy and began to stand a little straighter. I accepted the anger and began to move forward. I had a purpose; no one would ever hurt me again. I shut off and shut out most people. I laughed and enjoyed and had fun; but no one was allowed in. Why? Because no matter how you beg or what you do... they will leave you. I had to be and feel protected...all alone and all the time because your world can end... overnight.
I survived and thrived as some would see it. I graduated high school; though not in the Honor Society~ my grades were no longer good enough with the stress of my "unfortunate situation" and I was turned out~ failure. I went to college where I promptly learned to study all over again to avoid being turned out ~ failure. I made it, graduated, and passed my Board exams, meeting a wonderful man who somehow accepted all my flaws, hangups, reservedness and loved me anyway; believed in me and told me he would love me tomorrow. I loved him back, feeling for the first time in a long time the warmth of hope. Maybe he would stay... We married and have a lovely family and every day... they stay a little longer. I do to. Happily ever after but oh-so-cautiously.
Yet ~ on THIS day, each year I revisit the lie. I am angry; so angry all I can do is cry. On THIS day, my mother died. (did you do it again? you better stop...)
Now most would say, "Look how you've grown. Look what you've done. She would be proud of you." And I hope all of that is true. One day, perhaps I will get the chance to ask her, because at sixteen when she had to leave, I didn't know. But for now? Now with my soon-to-be eighteen year old daughter graduating high school, visiting colleges, preparing for her Senior Prom and a vacation she and I will take to celebrate her life and our budding friendship... Now I'm more angry.
The lie, I realize now was too big to grasp. I never knew or understood all those things and moments I missed. I never realized how cheated I was in my youth to be denied the transition of friendship from parenthood coming from the woman who fed me, changed me, helped me when sick, colored pictures of Snow White with me, wrecked her kitchen so we could play store, taught me to cook, taught me that there will be very few true friends in your life.... I am angry she wasn't one of them. I am jealous of my daughter because she gets to do these things. I am envious that she doesn't hurt now and will not be shocked by the ripping open of these old wounds and the indescribable pain later in her life...with her daughter. Because I am here. I love her and I am proud of her and I have written letters to her since she was born so she will always know how I felt (good and bad) about each step of her journey. I tell her often. I sing songs to her about how "Amazing" she is to me. But when I turn around MY mother is gone. There are no inside jokes, no long walks, no epiphanies of life and love that Madi and I have shared. There never were. And that hole is still there; huge and empty and ... angry. It has not shrunk with time. I have not outgrown my childish wishing she were here to hug me and brush my tears. I have not become an adult in any way when it comes to her. I want my mom. Today and on her birthday, I just want MY mom.
I never asked to learn the lesson that life is short. I was not given the choice. I had to accept it as an ugly and cruel truth and keep on living and at times, I didn't even want to do that. But I am here. I am blessed with family and friends and we laugh with each other, console, and even get mad once in a while. And we forgive. We tell each other our feelings so we know; are certain... because if you don't ... if you're not sure... if you remain angry and don't forgive... that makes a wound.
And time won't heal it.
I love you Mom. I miss you as much today as I did that morning.
Monday, October 19, 2015
Set it Right
" Your problem is you just cain't shut up Missy. You cain't or you won't and I don't reckon I know which is WORST!"
Josh smashed his fist on the table making his bowl of Cheerios shudder. No one was very Cheerio this morning. His mouth twisted in an angry sneer and he glared at the hunched woman lacing and unlacing her fingers around a cup of coffee. Her hair hung sleepily across her rich brown eyes that batted back tears. She pulled in a breath and sighed. It seemed to deflate her a little more. She was tired and simply wanted to go back to bed but she needed to see him off to work. That was the new rule.
"Got nothin to add, Little Girl? THAT'S a first." he gulped at his coffee, snickered and waited. "I asked you a question. I expect an answer." his voice dropped and smoothed out. Missy knew this was a warning. She vehemently shook her head; causing a smirk to smear across his face. He stretched out like a cat under the table; yawning widely.
"Gotta say, it's nice not to hear you whinin and complainin. You just come down and sit with me while I eat my breakfast. You see me off to work and then you do things in your day. Do you DO things during the day Missy? When I'm not here?" He pulled himself back in from his stretch almost like spring loading himself for another attack if she made the wrong move.
She raised her head and made sure there was eye contact. If he caught a glimpse of the seething hatred bubbling under the surface things could heat up again. She didn't want that. Josh had a "bit of a temper" she thought and contained her own smirk. She nodded solemnly and motioned toward the tower of dishes in the sink, then pointed behind him where the laundry machines sat and mountains of dirty clothes peered cautiously around the corner. She'd come such a long way from winning talent shows and beauty contests. This was not the life she had envisioned for herself.
"Ah. Well now, that will keep ya busy for a spell won't it?" and he looked around bobbing his head in approval. "Now, I will be passin the store on my way home, is there stuff you need for supper?" Josh cocked his head and waited. His hands rubbing the surface of the table. His fingers caught a rough spot and he picked absently at it with his fingernail.
Missy folded her hands and sat for a moment then, getting up, went without a word to the freezer and pulled some things, laying them out for inspection. He glanced at them, frowned and looked at her. "I'll be glad to get some chicken and corn on my way. I pass John's farm and I know he just brought in a bunch. Tomato salad. That kind with the cheese on top. oh and cake. I want a cake for dessert; one of them chocolate and vanilla ones. Marble?" He slouched and rubbed his belly in anticipation. "Yeah.. marble cake..." he smiled and yawned again.
She shrugged, taking her place back at the table. She glanced at the clock praying it was nearly time for him to go.
He reached across the table and took her hand. It was meant to be a gentle gesture, but she juked.
"Oh now Missy, don't be like that. You know I wouldn't hurt you." He reached again. She left her hand limp inside his and stared through him.
"Missy. Be realistic. When we met, it was fun. Right? Sneakin out, goin to all those parties? You were sure a looker. I loved havin you by my side. I said I always wanted you there, remember? Remember?"
She nodded. This was sickening. She was so tired of hearing this she wanted to scream and claw his eyes out. She wanted to ...
"But you changed Missy." he interrupted her fantasy. "Nothing was good enough. Not my job. Not the house I bought for you. Not the car we drove. Not the clothes we wore..." he hung his head and drew a small heart on the table using a coffee spill. "You began to hate everything; even me. Do you hate me Missy?" He looked up and searched her eyes.
She had to be careful. She pushed a tiny smile across her lips and let just a couple of tears fall. They weren't for him though. They were for herself; for this life; for not getting away sooner. He seemed to accept this tiny act as tenderness and caressed her hand. She fought the bile marching up in her throat. She blinked slowly and willed herself to hang on. He scooted around the table to be directly in front of her.
"I'm glad you don't hate me. I kin accept mad. I know you're mad at me. I got a little out of hand th'other night, I guess. Maybe I went too far. You just wouldn't stop Missy. I'm NOT stupid. I'm not rich, but I won't be poor forever. I got plans for us Missy. I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn't listen. You never do. You jes keep talkin , squawkin, pissin and moanin. You always got somethin mean and smart to shout over top of me. You always put me down... You...pushed me...but we'll set it right. " he paused and caught his breath. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. " I warned you. I was all but beggin you to shut up... you just wouldn't. What else was I supposed to do? " His eyes pleaded for understanding; tearing slightly. He kissed her hand again and she felt his drops of regret against her skin. Her mouth pursed and she looked away feeling disgust and rage. He reached for her cheek to stroke it but she reared back. This broke the moment. His eyes hardened and he caught her jaw between his thumb and other fingers in a quick sharp clamp.
"but we understand each other now Missy. Don't we? Hmmm?" he shook her jaw a little and this caused her to mewl in pain. Oh God the pain. There was a fire in her mouth that sparked and raced through her body. She scrambled away, falling from her chair to the floor. He towered over her and glowered down. She braced herself and stared at the floor tasting the fresh copper liquid filling her mouth and stared at the droplets plopping onto the floor in crimson splashes.
"Guess you'll be moppin today too Missy." he snorted. He stepped passed her toward the sink to reach for paper toweling. Missy scurried and pushed herself as tiny as she could into the corner. He wet the towel and leaned over her; wiping gently at her mouth. He frowned.
"Here. HERE. Don't move. It's gonna tear. MISSY!" He grabbed her arm and dabbed at her face. She wiggled like a piglet; squallin and thrashing in his arms. At last, he let her go and threw the towel at her.
"Then YOU do it." he spat and stood. "And git this all fixed. I'll be home at four." He stalked out, the door sighing heavily allowing the house to breathe at last. The woman stood to begin her day which started with a hammer and a small bag of little glass spheres.
Missy dabbed her mouth and the stitches that held her lips together. "Yes, Josh, you got a little out of hand that night. You knocked me out and sewed my mouth shut. You think I'm a bit miffed ..." she thought bitterly, finding herself acting where she could not speak; her gestures and body language exaggerated and sharp. She rummaged through the drawers for the scissors. She would need them later when she cut the strings. Then she set to work on the his favorite cake; marble. That would set it all right.
Well hello there. So sorry it's been such a long time. My life has been more than full; good and bad but full. I guess we are all rowing that boat, aren't we? I've missed you and am glad that you stopped by here for a moment or two. This one is a little more dark. My son announced that he thinks I am broken somewhere inside to be able to think of these things. He also told me not to be mad when he sleeps with the light on. hmmm I guess I won't show him the one I have ready for Beggar's Night. Regardless, thank you for thinking of me. I'll see you next week.
Josh smashed his fist on the table making his bowl of Cheerios shudder. No one was very Cheerio this morning. His mouth twisted in an angry sneer and he glared at the hunched woman lacing and unlacing her fingers around a cup of coffee. Her hair hung sleepily across her rich brown eyes that batted back tears. She pulled in a breath and sighed. It seemed to deflate her a little more. She was tired and simply wanted to go back to bed but she needed to see him off to work. That was the new rule.
"Got nothin to add, Little Girl? THAT'S a first." he gulped at his coffee, snickered and waited. "I asked you a question. I expect an answer." his voice dropped and smoothed out. Missy knew this was a warning. She vehemently shook her head; causing a smirk to smear across his face. He stretched out like a cat under the table; yawning widely.
"Gotta say, it's nice not to hear you whinin and complainin. You just come down and sit with me while I eat my breakfast. You see me off to work and then you do things in your day. Do you DO things during the day Missy? When I'm not here?" He pulled himself back in from his stretch almost like spring loading himself for another attack if she made the wrong move.
She raised her head and made sure there was eye contact. If he caught a glimpse of the seething hatred bubbling under the surface things could heat up again. She didn't want that. Josh had a "bit of a temper" she thought and contained her own smirk. She nodded solemnly and motioned toward the tower of dishes in the sink, then pointed behind him where the laundry machines sat and mountains of dirty clothes peered cautiously around the corner. She'd come such a long way from winning talent shows and beauty contests. This was not the life she had envisioned for herself.
"Ah. Well now, that will keep ya busy for a spell won't it?" and he looked around bobbing his head in approval. "Now, I will be passin the store on my way home, is there stuff you need for supper?" Josh cocked his head and waited. His hands rubbing the surface of the table. His fingers caught a rough spot and he picked absently at it with his fingernail.
Missy folded her hands and sat for a moment then, getting up, went without a word to the freezer and pulled some things, laying them out for inspection. He glanced at them, frowned and looked at her. "I'll be glad to get some chicken and corn on my way. I pass John's farm and I know he just brought in a bunch. Tomato salad. That kind with the cheese on top. oh and cake. I want a cake for dessert; one of them chocolate and vanilla ones. Marble?" He slouched and rubbed his belly in anticipation. "Yeah.. marble cake..." he smiled and yawned again.
She shrugged, taking her place back at the table. She glanced at the clock praying it was nearly time for him to go.
He reached across the table and took her hand. It was meant to be a gentle gesture, but she juked.
"Oh now Missy, don't be like that. You know I wouldn't hurt you." He reached again. She left her hand limp inside his and stared through him.
"Missy. Be realistic. When we met, it was fun. Right? Sneakin out, goin to all those parties? You were sure a looker. I loved havin you by my side. I said I always wanted you there, remember? Remember?"
She nodded. This was sickening. She was so tired of hearing this she wanted to scream and claw his eyes out. She wanted to ...
"But you changed Missy." he interrupted her fantasy. "Nothing was good enough. Not my job. Not the house I bought for you. Not the car we drove. Not the clothes we wore..." he hung his head and drew a small heart on the table using a coffee spill. "You began to hate everything; even me. Do you hate me Missy?" He looked up and searched her eyes.
She had to be careful. She pushed a tiny smile across her lips and let just a couple of tears fall. They weren't for him though. They were for herself; for this life; for not getting away sooner. He seemed to accept this tiny act as tenderness and caressed her hand. She fought the bile marching up in her throat. She blinked slowly and willed herself to hang on. He scooted around the table to be directly in front of her.
"I'm glad you don't hate me. I kin accept mad. I know you're mad at me. I got a little out of hand th'other night, I guess. Maybe I went too far. You just wouldn't stop Missy. I'm NOT stupid. I'm not rich, but I won't be poor forever. I got plans for us Missy. I tried to tell you that, but you wouldn't listen. You never do. You jes keep talkin , squawkin, pissin and moanin. You always got somethin mean and smart to shout over top of me. You always put me down... You...pushed me...but we'll set it right. " he paused and caught his breath. He brought her hand to his mouth and kissed it. " I warned you. I was all but beggin you to shut up... you just wouldn't. What else was I supposed to do? " His eyes pleaded for understanding; tearing slightly. He kissed her hand again and she felt his drops of regret against her skin. Her mouth pursed and she looked away feeling disgust and rage. He reached for her cheek to stroke it but she reared back. This broke the moment. His eyes hardened and he caught her jaw between his thumb and other fingers in a quick sharp clamp.
"but we understand each other now Missy. Don't we? Hmmm?" he shook her jaw a little and this caused her to mewl in pain. Oh God the pain. There was a fire in her mouth that sparked and raced through her body. She scrambled away, falling from her chair to the floor. He towered over her and glowered down. She braced herself and stared at the floor tasting the fresh copper liquid filling her mouth and stared at the droplets plopping onto the floor in crimson splashes.
"Guess you'll be moppin today too Missy." he snorted. He stepped passed her toward the sink to reach for paper toweling. Missy scurried and pushed herself as tiny as she could into the corner. He wet the towel and leaned over her; wiping gently at her mouth. He frowned.
"Here. HERE. Don't move. It's gonna tear. MISSY!" He grabbed her arm and dabbed at her face. She wiggled like a piglet; squallin and thrashing in his arms. At last, he let her go and threw the towel at her.
"Then YOU do it." he spat and stood. "And git this all fixed. I'll be home at four." He stalked out, the door sighing heavily allowing the house to breathe at last. The woman stood to begin her day which started with a hammer and a small bag of little glass spheres.
Missy dabbed her mouth and the stitches that held her lips together. "Yes, Josh, you got a little out of hand that night. You knocked me out and sewed my mouth shut. You think I'm a bit miffed ..." she thought bitterly, finding herself acting where she could not speak; her gestures and body language exaggerated and sharp. She rummaged through the drawers for the scissors. She would need them later when she cut the strings. Then she set to work on the his favorite cake; marble. That would set it all right.
Well hello there. So sorry it's been such a long time. My life has been more than full; good and bad but full. I guess we are all rowing that boat, aren't we? I've missed you and am glad that you stopped by here for a moment or two. This one is a little more dark. My son announced that he thinks I am broken somewhere inside to be able to think of these things. He also told me not to be mad when he sleeps with the light on. hmmm I guess I won't show him the one I have ready for Beggar's Night. Regardless, thank you for thinking of me. I'll see you next week.
Monday, September 14, 2015
As Always
Theirs was a great love story. He never hesitated to tell anyone who would listen about her initial rejection of him. He loved to play wounded heart. She always reminded him of her fear of the ferocity with which she absolutely adored him.
"Even now" she would whisper and kiss him.
They would laugh and hug.
So after they met and fell madly in love, they waited until they were all grown up before they shared and built a life; becoming one. They weren't clingy or needy but enjoyed each others' company the most. They also reveled in adventures and hobbies; his gardening, cooking; her writing, hiking... When they were apart for times; and that happened, they would sit and share; treasuring the absence as much as the reuniting; him in his chair and her in her squeaky wooden rocker.
And of course they loved. Boy did they! They happily made babies (after much thrilling practice and continued learning) loving them, loving the few, true friends they made and treasured; never forgetting each other, not taking their love for granted but striving to live out those vows as honestly as they could; with respect and laughter, accepting what was not; seeing and understanding they were themselves; perfectly flawed and in turn, their love was perfectly tailored to them.
Through it all; sickness, bad jobs, worse breaks and tough times, they simply grew stronger; leaning and relying; believing the other was invincible, unstoppable and courageous. Each night before the day declared itself the victor and they would collapse into bed comforted by blankets and the soothing touch of skin, he would tell her he loved her and that he would do the same tomorrow. She would always say "I'll be right here." And sleep would come before they were given the gift of a new day. Their life moved forward and they held hands, running with it where ever it took them. They dreamed and loved.
But life was careless. He began to forget; little things at first. Then more and they were scared. He helplessly watched himself fade until there was a stranger in the mirror, home and life and until it no longer mattered. He had a friend though. A nice lady who watched over him, made meals and picked up his stinky socks. It was kind of her to help him so much. She never came too close; him being a married man and all. He missed his wife and so he would tell her stories of their life together. She sat in a rocking chair in the corner; listening patiently and it touched him how moved she'd be. She would laugh and cry with him. It made him smile softly sometimes; this kindness of a stranger. Maybe she had loved like that once. He couldn't explain his feelings but she brought him calm and comfort. Safety? Maybe. she was a very good woman, even when he was in a bad mood, she would stay and wait out the storm.
And then the nice lady got sick. She couldn't eat and she got real skinny. It made him scared so he called her kids. He had asked her to put their numbers in the phone in case he needed them for something. Some times his memory wasn't what it used to be. Well they came and then they all cried because she just kept getting smaller and leaving them in tiny bits. They whispered around him and smiled gently at him. He hated that. He wished they were his kids. He wished he had family to hold. He was scared to be without her; of being alone. He would go to her at night and sit next to her bed after asking her children if it was all right. They always said yes. And the lady would turn to him and look at the chair next to her bed. He would sit and she would say "Tell me something you remember best..." and he would tell her of places he had visited with his beautiful wife. She seemed so comforted by that and it made him feel good make her happy; for just a moment.
Then one morning, she sighed and was gone. His world was filled with fear and strangers. He became agitated and grouchy; more forgetful. Some people came and took some of his stuff. Thieves. Then they kidnapped him and put him in a hotel where there was stuff just like the stuff they took. He was going to call the police but there were so many others who were held captive, that it had to be the police that did it. They fed him though and cleaned his cell. Tuesdays they had ice cream cake and Saturdays was macaroni and cheese. The other prisoners seemed okay and in good health. They let them watch movies and play billiards. Doctors visited and so he was sure they kept them alive for ransom. He wondered if he should write a book for someone to find when his end came. He'd dedicate it to a really nice woman he'd met. He loved her. Too bad she never knew. Each night he would sit in a squeaky rocking chair and look at the stars, thinking of his wife and the nice lady who helped him.
"I'll love you tomorrow." he promised the night.
At last, after many lonely days, too many to count or remember, a breeze whispered a reply he recalled hearing.
"I'll be right here."
He wasn't afraid anymore as memories flooded back to him and he reunited with the kindest stranger he had loved all along. He said her name and recognized her face when she finally came to collect him.
And their love continued. As always.
For you, my love, the best friend I've ever known; my life. I'll be right here; as always.
Thank you for coming to visit. I enjoyed our little cry today. Was I the only one?
Until next time.
"Even now" she would whisper and kiss him.
They would laugh and hug.
So after they met and fell madly in love, they waited until they were all grown up before they shared and built a life; becoming one. They weren't clingy or needy but enjoyed each others' company the most. They also reveled in adventures and hobbies; his gardening, cooking; her writing, hiking... When they were apart for times; and that happened, they would sit and share; treasuring the absence as much as the reuniting; him in his chair and her in her squeaky wooden rocker.
And of course they loved. Boy did they! They happily made babies (after much thrilling practice and continued learning) loving them, loving the few, true friends they made and treasured; never forgetting each other, not taking their love for granted but striving to live out those vows as honestly as they could; with respect and laughter, accepting what was not; seeing and understanding they were themselves; perfectly flawed and in turn, their love was perfectly tailored to them.
Through it all; sickness, bad jobs, worse breaks and tough times, they simply grew stronger; leaning and relying; believing the other was invincible, unstoppable and courageous. Each night before the day declared itself the victor and they would collapse into bed comforted by blankets and the soothing touch of skin, he would tell her he loved her and that he would do the same tomorrow. She would always say "I'll be right here." And sleep would come before they were given the gift of a new day. Their life moved forward and they held hands, running with it where ever it took them. They dreamed and loved.
But life was careless. He began to forget; little things at first. Then more and they were scared. He helplessly watched himself fade until there was a stranger in the mirror, home and life and until it no longer mattered. He had a friend though. A nice lady who watched over him, made meals and picked up his stinky socks. It was kind of her to help him so much. She never came too close; him being a married man and all. He missed his wife and so he would tell her stories of their life together. She sat in a rocking chair in the corner; listening patiently and it touched him how moved she'd be. She would laugh and cry with him. It made him smile softly sometimes; this kindness of a stranger. Maybe she had loved like that once. He couldn't explain his feelings but she brought him calm and comfort. Safety? Maybe. she was a very good woman, even when he was in a bad mood, she would stay and wait out the storm.
And then the nice lady got sick. She couldn't eat and she got real skinny. It made him scared so he called her kids. He had asked her to put their numbers in the phone in case he needed them for something. Some times his memory wasn't what it used to be. Well they came and then they all cried because she just kept getting smaller and leaving them in tiny bits. They whispered around him and smiled gently at him. He hated that. He wished they were his kids. He wished he had family to hold. He was scared to be without her; of being alone. He would go to her at night and sit next to her bed after asking her children if it was all right. They always said yes. And the lady would turn to him and look at the chair next to her bed. He would sit and she would say "Tell me something you remember best..." and he would tell her of places he had visited with his beautiful wife. She seemed so comforted by that and it made him feel good make her happy; for just a moment.
Then one morning, she sighed and was gone. His world was filled with fear and strangers. He became agitated and grouchy; more forgetful. Some people came and took some of his stuff. Thieves. Then they kidnapped him and put him in a hotel where there was stuff just like the stuff they took. He was going to call the police but there were so many others who were held captive, that it had to be the police that did it. They fed him though and cleaned his cell. Tuesdays they had ice cream cake and Saturdays was macaroni and cheese. The other prisoners seemed okay and in good health. They let them watch movies and play billiards. Doctors visited and so he was sure they kept them alive for ransom. He wondered if he should write a book for someone to find when his end came. He'd dedicate it to a really nice woman he'd met. He loved her. Too bad she never knew. Each night he would sit in a squeaky rocking chair and look at the stars, thinking of his wife and the nice lady who helped him.
"I'll love you tomorrow." he promised the night.
At last, after many lonely days, too many to count or remember, a breeze whispered a reply he recalled hearing.
"I'll be right here."
He wasn't afraid anymore as memories flooded back to him and he reunited with the kindest stranger he had loved all along. He said her name and recognized her face when she finally came to collect him.
And their love continued. As always.
For you, my love, the best friend I've ever known; my life. I'll be right here; as always.
Thank you for coming to visit. I enjoyed our little cry today. Was I the only one?
Until next time.
Tuesday, September 1, 2015
Angel
She wasn't too afraid at first; thinking she would get home, like any other time. The storm erupted suddenly and had been awful. The night was cruel, unusually dark and the rain seemed to jab at her sideways. The car was going to0 fast, skidding off off the road before she could understand what was happening. She bumped and clanged as it clattered down an embankment. There was the sudden searing pain of impact, stench of burning rubber and the yelp of breaking glass followed by a warm gush and the smell of her own blood and then, the night closed in to have a closer look at her. Time was lost.
It was the hurt that brought her around; in her legs, along her back and the side of her head. Yep, all there but wow. She was certain it was all broken. Rain was still laughing at her along the roof of the car. She slowly moved and managed to wiggle out through the broken window, accumlating only a few more gouges and scrapes. Panic burned gently in her pulsing head. She needed to get away from here. She stood up on wobbly legs and tried to breathe deeply. Her lungs burned as she coughed, spitting out some blood mixed with the first twinges of fear. Looking around, she saw nothing but the night and twinkling raindrops. Slowly, she staggered, having no idea what else to do. Mud caked and clung to her as she wandered along the road hoping someone would stop to help, but the few cars that passed were in too great a hurry so they splashed her instead. A couple even honked as if she had intruded or startled them but it still wasn't enough for anyone to pull over. The lights hurt her head so she did what she thought was logical and left the road to go into the woods hoping for a driveway or a house. She was lost.
She walked and ached for hours becoming disoriented from hunger (she hadn't eaten since the previous morning she sadly remembered.) She wasn't sure of the time or even the day. Had she been unconscious long? She just felt wet all the way to her soul. She missed her family; time sitting together, laughing and playing. The hunger pangs gnawed in time with the throbbing of her body. She knew she needed help and she was trying to find it. So where was God's merciful aid? Isn't that what people said? God helps those who help themselves? Well, she was doing her best soooo "Throw me a bone Big Guy..." she thought bitterly through the stings and pains. At last, she sat under a pine tree and pulling at the needles, found a bit of rye grass. Her stomach grabbed at the meager offerings and she closed her eyes... just for a few....
Hours?
When she came around again, the sky was still weeping but the clouds were turning violet. She had to think.. and then her heart sank, she'd been out for the entire day; at least one. She was in the middle of another night. She sat up and tried to move but her muscles had stiffened so the pain screamed at her to stop. Fear again pinched her, reminding her just how much she wanted to get out of here. She wanted to be safe and warm and dry and fed and ... anywhere but here. Alone. She was too hurt and tired to even cry so she slumped back and whimpered a bit. She looked around at her dismal surroundings; using her desire to get out to force herself up. She groaned against the grinding in her bones, trying to shake off the wet. It only seemed to make matters worse: more rain, more storm, more pain. But she limped and staggered on. Her mind was foggy and confused. She thought of family. Had there been one? Long ago perhaps. Or was it a dream? In the distance, she heard gravel crunching; movement and fought her way back to the road. Maybe they would know. Someone. Anyone. On her way back up she pulled absently at some berries wincing at the prickling pain and chuffed. She was forgetting what it was NOT to hurt. Hunger pulled again and she heaved. Her head swam as the trees, the road, the world seemed to tilt.
She stood at the street, looking both ways into the dark emptiness. Despair pushed her down and hopelessness snuggle under her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It talked her into lying down so she would hurt less. The aches and pain she had been fighting began to melt into the wet, puddled ground. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, steadily encouraging her to give up, give in, stay down, sleep long...She understood and accepted it. She would die out here alone with only the pinging, incessant rain to weep for her. She felt her breathing slow as the forever sleep warmly wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. " It won't be so bad" Death promised in the distance ~ a dream was it? She dreamt of lights and noises; of life and in this last dream she felt a hand on her head; a voice drenched in concern:
"Heyyyyy"
Her eyes fluttered open and startled, she flinched, pulling away from the mass above her.
"Easy. You're all right. Safe" the voice continued. An angel. She shouldn't be afraid of an angel.
She felt herself being carried and wondered why her ascent into Heaven was so bumpy. She at last felt warmth and she relaxed and rested. The stirrings of hunger confused her. Did she eat in Heaven? She raised her head to see a man smiling down at her; her angel. He softly brushed her face.
"Nice to see you. You had me scared for a bit, but you'll be all right"
And he stroked her fur once more. The dog wagged her tail and gave a happy half-pant. Yes. She would be all right here with her angel.
Sooooo how long before you figured it out? I loved this one just because of the ending. I know there were a couple of gaps but since this is flash fiction, I didn't feel they were serious infractions. I know, Tex, you will correct me if I'm wrong. (... VEHEMENTLY! LOL Luv you Old Man) Well, I thought we could all use a little break from the nightmares. I have a couple of others coming down the pipe. (insert spooky music and sinister giggling) Well, I appreciate that you stopped by and stayed a bit. You make such good company. I would hate to sit here all alone and tell only myself these stories, so thank you.
Until next time...
It was the hurt that brought her around; in her legs, along her back and the side of her head. Yep, all there but wow. She was certain it was all broken. Rain was still laughing at her along the roof of the car. She slowly moved and managed to wiggle out through the broken window, accumlating only a few more gouges and scrapes. Panic burned gently in her pulsing head. She needed to get away from here. She stood up on wobbly legs and tried to breathe deeply. Her lungs burned as she coughed, spitting out some blood mixed with the first twinges of fear. Looking around, she saw nothing but the night and twinkling raindrops. Slowly, she staggered, having no idea what else to do. Mud caked and clung to her as she wandered along the road hoping someone would stop to help, but the few cars that passed were in too great a hurry so they splashed her instead. A couple even honked as if she had intruded or startled them but it still wasn't enough for anyone to pull over. The lights hurt her head so she did what she thought was logical and left the road to go into the woods hoping for a driveway or a house. She was lost.
She walked and ached for hours becoming disoriented from hunger (she hadn't eaten since the previous morning she sadly remembered.) She wasn't sure of the time or even the day. Had she been unconscious long? She just felt wet all the way to her soul. She missed her family; time sitting together, laughing and playing. The hunger pangs gnawed in time with the throbbing of her body. She knew she needed help and she was trying to find it. So where was God's merciful aid? Isn't that what people said? God helps those who help themselves? Well, she was doing her best soooo "Throw me a bone Big Guy..." she thought bitterly through the stings and pains. At last, she sat under a pine tree and pulling at the needles, found a bit of rye grass. Her stomach grabbed at the meager offerings and she closed her eyes... just for a few....
Hours?
When she came around again, the sky was still weeping but the clouds were turning violet. She had to think.. and then her heart sank, she'd been out for the entire day; at least one. She was in the middle of another night. She sat up and tried to move but her muscles had stiffened so the pain screamed at her to stop. Fear again pinched her, reminding her just how much she wanted to get out of here. She wanted to be safe and warm and dry and fed and ... anywhere but here. Alone. She was too hurt and tired to even cry so she slumped back and whimpered a bit. She looked around at her dismal surroundings; using her desire to get out to force herself up. She groaned against the grinding in her bones, trying to shake off the wet. It only seemed to make matters worse: more rain, more storm, more pain. But she limped and staggered on. Her mind was foggy and confused. She thought of family. Had there been one? Long ago perhaps. Or was it a dream? In the distance, she heard gravel crunching; movement and fought her way back to the road. Maybe they would know. Someone. Anyone. On her way back up she pulled absently at some berries wincing at the prickling pain and chuffed. She was forgetting what it was NOT to hurt. Hunger pulled again and she heaved. Her head swam as the trees, the road, the world seemed to tilt.
She stood at the street, looking both ways into the dark emptiness. Despair pushed her down and hopelessness snuggle under her skin in an attempt to soothe her. It talked her into lying down so she would hurt less. The aches and pain she had been fighting began to melt into the wet, puddled ground. Her pulse thrummed in her ears, steadily encouraging her to give up, give in, stay down, sleep long...She understood and accepted it. She would die out here alone with only the pinging, incessant rain to weep for her. She felt her breathing slow as the forever sleep warmly wrapped around her like a comforting blanket. " It won't be so bad" Death promised in the distance ~ a dream was it? She dreamt of lights and noises; of life and in this last dream she felt a hand on her head; a voice drenched in concern:
"Heyyyyy"
Her eyes fluttered open and startled, she flinched, pulling away from the mass above her.
"Easy. You're all right. Safe" the voice continued. An angel. She shouldn't be afraid of an angel.
She felt herself being carried and wondered why her ascent into Heaven was so bumpy. She at last felt warmth and she relaxed and rested. The stirrings of hunger confused her. Did she eat in Heaven? She raised her head to see a man smiling down at her; her angel. He softly brushed her face.
"Nice to see you. You had me scared for a bit, but you'll be all right"
And he stroked her fur once more. The dog wagged her tail and gave a happy half-pant. Yes. She would be all right here with her angel.
Sooooo how long before you figured it out? I loved this one just because of the ending. I know there were a couple of gaps but since this is flash fiction, I didn't feel they were serious infractions. I know, Tex, you will correct me if I'm wrong. (... VEHEMENTLY! LOL Luv you Old Man) Well, I thought we could all use a little break from the nightmares. I have a couple of others coming down the pipe. (insert spooky music and sinister giggling) Well, I appreciate that you stopped by and stayed a bit. You make such good company. I would hate to sit here all alone and tell only myself these stories, so thank you.
Until next time...
Wednesday, August 19, 2015
All you have to do is....
He was a prick. I don't know what else to say. I hated him; loathed him. He made me sick. What the Hell was I thinking when I married him? Was I high or something? What would make me say these things? Well YOU try sitting across from a man who is convinced he knows all, has the best solution to every problem while feeling SO put upon to have to convey these "common sense" strategies to those of us who are... less. My God, I never knew anyone could be so full of themselves. His criticism over every thing and everyone scratched and dug at my brain day and night. Daniel was beyond critical and judgmental. And it always started with the phrase...
"All you have to do is..."
Sure it sounds harmless enough, but in Pavlovian-style, I "learned" that when I heard that phrase, I was about to be corrected, belittled and denounced. Unfortunately, it wasn't just me, I mean when our neighbor, Steve, he's an exterminator, sweet guys really, well, he needed some help getting his daughter Kayla to the same soccer game as our Natalie because he had to take his boy Jon to the doctor's office. Steve's wife, Marla, recently left to be with someone else and he was pretty shaken and shocked. Instead of just taking their daughter, smiling and saying "sure, no problem" ... and you should sit down for this, DANIEL's response was:
Sure, but all you had to do was be a better husband and you wouldn't be lagging behind as a dad right now.
Need me to say it again? Close your mouth. The disdain is already leaking out. Oh, let me reassure you that I was beYOND embarrassed. Mortified? Doesn't even come close! I scooped up Kayla, and told Steve not to worry about a thing. I took her to practice, brought her home and fed her dinner and then made sure her lessons were done. But Daniel? He never lifted a finger. For all his talk, he was lame when it came to the "walkin" part.
Then there was the time Steve treated himself to his first new car. It was a sexy little ride and my husband had to be part of it; told him right off the bat what it was lacking in torque (what the hell is that anyway?!), power, safety... Really made our friend feel like a boob. But he still wanted to take it for a spin. Steve was a sweetheart and tossed him the keys. I guess it just rolled off his back, the way Daniel spoke to him. Wish I could be that strong. Well, when the car was returned there was a nip in it where my husband had clinked a cart corral while running an errand. Steve asked him about it and the reply?
All you have to do is touch it up. In a month you'll have done more damage than this, I mean look at your house, your yard... This? This is NOTHING compared to what someone like YOU will do.
And he stalked off without even offering to pay for it.
I made sure Steve gave me the bill and that I paid him for it to be fixed. I know you can't believe it but it's true.
Oh and then there was Todd at work. Oh good God! He had JUST lost his partner to a battle with cancer and he was struggling to make payments and get things in order. Imagine just trying to adjust to being alone after so many years...almost twenty I think. Well my know-better husband had him in for a performance interview and had the audacity to not give a raise and in fact gave Todd a warning about his progress.
"All you have to do is focus. You have all this free time now so you can better use it by improving yourself, your work ethic and performance. There might be hope for you yet."
Then, to add insult to injury, when Todd's mother needed help, he was a loving son and took her in to take care of her, his work hours at the factory were cut because he was deemed unreliable and lacking in dedication. A man who didn't really know how to roll up his sleeves and work hard.
With our kids? If the grade was a "B", why not an "A"? All you have to do.... If it was an "A", why not higher? All you have to do is...
So that was how our lives went. It wasn't too long after Todd left the company that I noticed Daniel was slower getting out of bed. He began to cough and there were a couple of seizures. I asked him to go to the doctor to be checked out.
"All I have to do is..." and I quit listening or suggesting. He knew he could do better than those quacks with their co-pays and unnecessary tests. I knew I should have just kept my mouth shut. What's the use with a man like that? But he got worse. He lost weight, becoming so very pail and fatigued. I tried again; even had Steve say something but he blew us off and picked up the herbal supplements. When the blood showed up in his urine he said it was a kidney stone and stopped eating or drinking calcium. When he coughed pink in the sink, he said it was lingering congestion, took some more Musinex and stayed in the shower longer. His breathing became labored. He became a shadow of the man he was.
Finally, he succumbed to the poison. Steve told me it would take a little while. Fipronil takes time. But he kissed me sweetly and told me to be patient. The time would come. When it did, the kids put the pillow over his face that night. I was going to do it but they each wanted a crack at him. Todd? Well, he didn't want any part of it but just sent me a real nice "Thank you" note.
All I had to do was wait.
Please feel free to come to his services. There will be a whale of a party afterward.
"All you have to do is..."
Sure it sounds harmless enough, but in Pavlovian-style, I "learned" that when I heard that phrase, I was about to be corrected, belittled and denounced. Unfortunately, it wasn't just me, I mean when our neighbor, Steve, he's an exterminator, sweet guys really, well, he needed some help getting his daughter Kayla to the same soccer game as our Natalie because he had to take his boy Jon to the doctor's office. Steve's wife, Marla, recently left to be with someone else and he was pretty shaken and shocked. Instead of just taking their daughter, smiling and saying "sure, no problem" ... and you should sit down for this, DANIEL's response was:
Sure, but all you had to do was be a better husband and you wouldn't be lagging behind as a dad right now.
Need me to say it again? Close your mouth. The disdain is already leaking out. Oh, let me reassure you that I was beYOND embarrassed. Mortified? Doesn't even come close! I scooped up Kayla, and told Steve not to worry about a thing. I took her to practice, brought her home and fed her dinner and then made sure her lessons were done. But Daniel? He never lifted a finger. For all his talk, he was lame when it came to the "walkin" part.
Then there was the time Steve treated himself to his first new car. It was a sexy little ride and my husband had to be part of it; told him right off the bat what it was lacking in torque (what the hell is that anyway?!), power, safety... Really made our friend feel like a boob. But he still wanted to take it for a spin. Steve was a sweetheart and tossed him the keys. I guess it just rolled off his back, the way Daniel spoke to him. Wish I could be that strong. Well, when the car was returned there was a nip in it where my husband had clinked a cart corral while running an errand. Steve asked him about it and the reply?
All you have to do is touch it up. In a month you'll have done more damage than this, I mean look at your house, your yard... This? This is NOTHING compared to what someone like YOU will do.
And he stalked off without even offering to pay for it.
I made sure Steve gave me the bill and that I paid him for it to be fixed. I know you can't believe it but it's true.
Oh and then there was Todd at work. Oh good God! He had JUST lost his partner to a battle with cancer and he was struggling to make payments and get things in order. Imagine just trying to adjust to being alone after so many years...almost twenty I think. Well my know-better husband had him in for a performance interview and had the audacity to not give a raise and in fact gave Todd a warning about his progress.
"All you have to do is focus. You have all this free time now so you can better use it by improving yourself, your work ethic and performance. There might be hope for you yet."
Then, to add insult to injury, when Todd's mother needed help, he was a loving son and took her in to take care of her, his work hours at the factory were cut because he was deemed unreliable and lacking in dedication. A man who didn't really know how to roll up his sleeves and work hard.
With our kids? If the grade was a "B", why not an "A"? All you have to do.... If it was an "A", why not higher? All you have to do is...
So that was how our lives went. It wasn't too long after Todd left the company that I noticed Daniel was slower getting out of bed. He began to cough and there were a couple of seizures. I asked him to go to the doctor to be checked out.
"All I have to do is..." and I quit listening or suggesting. He knew he could do better than those quacks with their co-pays and unnecessary tests. I knew I should have just kept my mouth shut. What's the use with a man like that? But he got worse. He lost weight, becoming so very pail and fatigued. I tried again; even had Steve say something but he blew us off and picked up the herbal supplements. When the blood showed up in his urine he said it was a kidney stone and stopped eating or drinking calcium. When he coughed pink in the sink, he said it was lingering congestion, took some more Musinex and stayed in the shower longer. His breathing became labored. He became a shadow of the man he was.
Finally, he succumbed to the poison. Steve told me it would take a little while. Fipronil takes time. But he kissed me sweetly and told me to be patient. The time would come. When it did, the kids put the pillow over his face that night. I was going to do it but they each wanted a crack at him. Todd? Well, he didn't want any part of it but just sent me a real nice "Thank you" note.
All I had to do was wait.
Please feel free to come to his services. There will be a whale of a party afterward.
Monday, August 3, 2015
Goodnight Kiss
There they were scampering down the aisle, smiling so wide and brightly, the sun had a tough time getting noticed except for people to be glad it shone for their special day.
"Forever" he'd said.
"I love you" she'd sighed.
The photographer took millions of pictures to remind them always, of this moment, this love and who was witness to it all.
That night was better than they had ever known. Her skin never tasted sweeter. His body never felt better and they got tangled up time after time as they eagerly touched, kissed and whispered and then collapsed in a passionate exhaustion. He caressed her glistening body, gently put his mouth to hers in a long, tender goodnight kiss. It brought tears to her eyes and she smiled right into his soul.
Five years zoomed by and they struggled having kids but at last were blessed with a precious girl and a set of twin boys; all of whom had unique issues. It was stressful to say the least. He worked his fingers to the bone and she stayed home and did the exact same with doctors and school and then she had a little side business to bring in a little extra. Eight years had zipped by before he noticed her body had changed. She looked tired and some days didn't even wear lipstick. It was harder to find her hot spots when they finally collapsed into bed; exhausted, he could still rev her engine and she loved it though she often playfully swatted him away. Then there was that little giggle that told him he was about to be made a very happy man. It was quick because that was all they had time for and they sighed in each others arms, drifted off to sleep after he gave her a goodnight kiss.
He guessed it was when the kids were older, maybe in middle school? Eh. What did it matter? She'd gotten lazy. She'd quit her job and sat around a lot. It showed in her body and when he tried to chase her to bed she swatted him and it hurt. The giggles were few and far between and almost always directed AT him for something stupid he'd done. But night after night, he would drag himself to bed and mumble g'night and kiss her cheek. She would smile dryly and pucker at the air.
He didn't mean to find someone new but it happened and he wasn't all THAT sorry. She called him and said things so sexy he thought he'd explode right there on the phone. She sent pictures of her lingerie and told him constantly how much she wanted him, needed him. Once she even showed up at the restaurant where he and his family were dining. She walked passed his table and stopped. "Ooops you dropped your napkin, Sir" and then went on her way. When he looked in his lap it was a pair of her panties. He almost lost control. The affair was just what he needed to feel like a man again; loved, desired, sexy ... he was her first consideration and last desire each day. He covered it up with work and trips and the usual things. His wife just kept moving through their life; never changing, not trying and letting it all go. Yet even after spending the night exploring another woman's most intimate parts and reaching ecstasy beyond description, he crawled into bed next to his wife and muttered "goodnight" tossing a dry kissy sound into the room, not even bothering to look and see if she had been crying, or noticing that the weight was coming off, or hearing that she had a new job and the kids were improving.
No, he hungered for this new life, new love. He didn't want to be burdened with the old stuff. The kids were always gone with friends or out for classes and his wife? Well, she was a ghost anyway.
So it made sense that he decided to kill her.
He took her old bottle of sleeping pills that he hadn't noticed she'd stopped using more than a year ago and he put all of them in her favorite wine... anything in a bottle...and for the first time in years sat down to dinner; watching and listening. But of course, not for anything other than slurring words and heavy eyelids. As the meds took over, he slipped his hand around her waist and guided her up the stairs of their not so fairy tale castle. He unbuttoned her shirt and tugged it over her shoulders, helped her step out of her skirt that he'd not seen before and laid her down on their soft bed. He stood above her and brushed her hair from her damp brow and kissed her softly on the mouth for the last time.
She was buried after "an accidental overdose" was seen the cause and stamped on a piece of paper that he pretended to despise. He cried when he was supposed to and hugged those he should. Then he accepted the condolences and in the months that followed, slowly began to introduce people to his new life. It worked perfectly.
It was his girlfriend's last night in her apartment; she was celebrating with her friends. He accepted this and thought it was cute. He ordered himself some dinner and opened a bottle of wine. He drank heavily and toasted himself regularly throughout the meal enjoying the dirty little texts she sent him. Drunk and horny, he stumbled to bed where he passed out.
The moon rudely woke him to tell him he had to pee. He grumbled and staggered to the bathroom. He heard footsteps down in the house and perked up; hoping his little love bunny had decided to sneak in and fulfill a couple of her promises from earlier in the evening. When he called to her, nothing. So he wandered around and listened to the night and the darkness in the house. Disappointed he was alone he frumped and belched and headed back to bed. He slid into the blankets and closed his eyes drifting back into a drunken sleep. He sniffed and winced at a stale smell that tickled his nose. Must have been the dog taking a whiz on the rug again. He frowned and stretched. He recoiled at the touch of something freezing cold and gooey at the foot of his bed. He gasped and got tangled up in the blankets. There was movement, swift and powerful right next to him as his rotting dead wife rolled over and pinned him to the mattress. Her eyes were dark holes filled with mud and rot. Her mouth split open as she giggled and in a watery voice filled with contempt said sweetly:
"I missed my goodnight kiss"
It brought tears to his eyes as she swallowed his soul....
Well hello there! I just thought I'd dally in what's called flash fiction. Hope you enjoyed it. Nothing like a quickie to get the goosebumps to scurry across your arms... Thanks for coming over. I enjoyed your visit.
"Forever" he'd said.
"I love you" she'd sighed.
The photographer took millions of pictures to remind them always, of this moment, this love and who was witness to it all.
That night was better than they had ever known. Her skin never tasted sweeter. His body never felt better and they got tangled up time after time as they eagerly touched, kissed and whispered and then collapsed in a passionate exhaustion. He caressed her glistening body, gently put his mouth to hers in a long, tender goodnight kiss. It brought tears to her eyes and she smiled right into his soul.
Five years zoomed by and they struggled having kids but at last were blessed with a precious girl and a set of twin boys; all of whom had unique issues. It was stressful to say the least. He worked his fingers to the bone and she stayed home and did the exact same with doctors and school and then she had a little side business to bring in a little extra. Eight years had zipped by before he noticed her body had changed. She looked tired and some days didn't even wear lipstick. It was harder to find her hot spots when they finally collapsed into bed; exhausted, he could still rev her engine and she loved it though she often playfully swatted him away. Then there was that little giggle that told him he was about to be made a very happy man. It was quick because that was all they had time for and they sighed in each others arms, drifted off to sleep after he gave her a goodnight kiss.
He guessed it was when the kids were older, maybe in middle school? Eh. What did it matter? She'd gotten lazy. She'd quit her job and sat around a lot. It showed in her body and when he tried to chase her to bed she swatted him and it hurt. The giggles were few and far between and almost always directed AT him for something stupid he'd done. But night after night, he would drag himself to bed and mumble g'night and kiss her cheek. She would smile dryly and pucker at the air.
He didn't mean to find someone new but it happened and he wasn't all THAT sorry. She called him and said things so sexy he thought he'd explode right there on the phone. She sent pictures of her lingerie and told him constantly how much she wanted him, needed him. Once she even showed up at the restaurant where he and his family were dining. She walked passed his table and stopped. "Ooops you dropped your napkin, Sir" and then went on her way. When he looked in his lap it was a pair of her panties. He almost lost control. The affair was just what he needed to feel like a man again; loved, desired, sexy ... he was her first consideration and last desire each day. He covered it up with work and trips and the usual things. His wife just kept moving through their life; never changing, not trying and letting it all go. Yet even after spending the night exploring another woman's most intimate parts and reaching ecstasy beyond description, he crawled into bed next to his wife and muttered "goodnight" tossing a dry kissy sound into the room, not even bothering to look and see if she had been crying, or noticing that the weight was coming off, or hearing that she had a new job and the kids were improving.
No, he hungered for this new life, new love. He didn't want to be burdened with the old stuff. The kids were always gone with friends or out for classes and his wife? Well, she was a ghost anyway.
So it made sense that he decided to kill her.
He took her old bottle of sleeping pills that he hadn't noticed she'd stopped using more than a year ago and he put all of them in her favorite wine... anything in a bottle...and for the first time in years sat down to dinner; watching and listening. But of course, not for anything other than slurring words and heavy eyelids. As the meds took over, he slipped his hand around her waist and guided her up the stairs of their not so fairy tale castle. He unbuttoned her shirt and tugged it over her shoulders, helped her step out of her skirt that he'd not seen before and laid her down on their soft bed. He stood above her and brushed her hair from her damp brow and kissed her softly on the mouth for the last time.
She was buried after "an accidental overdose" was seen the cause and stamped on a piece of paper that he pretended to despise. He cried when he was supposed to and hugged those he should. Then he accepted the condolences and in the months that followed, slowly began to introduce people to his new life. It worked perfectly.
It was his girlfriend's last night in her apartment; she was celebrating with her friends. He accepted this and thought it was cute. He ordered himself some dinner and opened a bottle of wine. He drank heavily and toasted himself regularly throughout the meal enjoying the dirty little texts she sent him. Drunk and horny, he stumbled to bed where he passed out.
The moon rudely woke him to tell him he had to pee. He grumbled and staggered to the bathroom. He heard footsteps down in the house and perked up; hoping his little love bunny had decided to sneak in and fulfill a couple of her promises from earlier in the evening. When he called to her, nothing. So he wandered around and listened to the night and the darkness in the house. Disappointed he was alone he frumped and belched and headed back to bed. He slid into the blankets and closed his eyes drifting back into a drunken sleep. He sniffed and winced at a stale smell that tickled his nose. Must have been the dog taking a whiz on the rug again. He frowned and stretched. He recoiled at the touch of something freezing cold and gooey at the foot of his bed. He gasped and got tangled up in the blankets. There was movement, swift and powerful right next to him as his rotting dead wife rolled over and pinned him to the mattress. Her eyes were dark holes filled with mud and rot. Her mouth split open as she giggled and in a watery voice filled with contempt said sweetly:
"I missed my goodnight kiss"
It brought tears to his eyes as she swallowed his soul....
Well hello there! I just thought I'd dally in what's called flash fiction. Hope you enjoyed it. Nothing like a quickie to get the goosebumps to scurry across your arms... Thanks for coming over. I enjoyed your visit.
Tuesday, July 21, 2015
Embrace
Spring was cold and lazy in His year of 1863. The creeks and rivers were swollen with bitter rain that rushed through trying to find the warmth of the coming summer and leave behind the ravages of the war. Baby William, an unnecessary prefix the five year old grimaced, had been sent outside so that there could be more reasonable talk.
"They are only gonna tell her what to do." said Karastina, his much wiser eight year old sister.
"Why? Momma is all grown up and knows what to do." He shook his head and banged a stick against a tree as they wandered around in his uncle and aunt's wood. He was tired of all the reasonable talk. He knew they wanted her to come and stay with them and begin again. He didn't WANT a new home or a new life. He didn't WANT to hide from Daddy. There was too much hush-hush and whispering. It made his head hurt; all the questions about his papa, the looks, long and pitying, hugging and mussing of his hair. His sister was left alone for the most part. She tended to pull away and struggle; giving off the feeling of "Don't even THINK of touching me" Most people did that. Karastina kept to herself. She did not talk about Papa or the problems. Karastina didn't do much talking at all. It wasn't that she wasn't nice but it was all on her terms; as if anger bubbled and cooked under her skin like venom inside a snake; ready and willing to strike. William smiled to himself, made a "V" with his fingers and curved them into fangs, striking in the air twice; a third time at his sister complete with dangerous hiss but she ran back to "tell", shrieking as if she had actually been struck. He shrugged and kept moving. He had roamed these woods countless times and was grateful for the chance to practice his snake and pirate skills. Around him was lush green overgrowth allowing him invisibility. He sneaked up on squirrel, chipmunk, and rabbit believing that soon his papa would teach him to shoot. Then William would be able to do so much more as a man. It wasn't that he minded being here; he liked playing but missed home and the gruff voice and rougher hands of the patriarch. William knew Papa would be mad at their being gone; missing them too. William yearned for his bed and the smell of fresh meat cooking or vegetables from Momma's garden. He wasn't sure how long they would stay.
"Till the talkin stops" Karastina had announced in her bossy fashion accompanied by a pinch in the arm earlier that day. William wondered how long that would be. It had been three days already.
But his five year old mind switched quickly to the game of hide and seek the sun was playing with him between the branches. As William battled against the evil sassafras and spindly oaks and wimpy scrub pines that held their cones poised to bombard him as he forged ahead to the raging river and the hidden treasure he was sure he'd find making him the BEST five year old in all the world.
Upon arrival at the bank there was a victory dance which roused applause from the maple and birch trees in a sweet, gentle breeze as well as a speech for all to savor: he, "William the Brave" had conquered and been victorious in the most adverse conditions, proving himself worthy even at this his tender age of five. He would gladly be king of all he surveyed and his papa would be proud upon his return. He crossed the river part way on some unsteady stones and plopped down on a large rock taking time to ponder his kingdom and young life as he dangled his tiny feet and was soothed by the pushing water. He watched the eddies and sat so still a deer came to drink. He drifted in the afternoon sun
"William the Brave" failed to hear the twigs breaking. A startled king perked up at the approaching footsteps; his heart almost felt like it was going to burst from his little shirt and run away without him, but when the face came into the clearing his smile was wide. He was not afraid. He was was very happy and skipped back across the water for a hug - an embrace. It was the last time anyone would ever see him.
A grieving mother and silent sister returned to a man unable to handle the death of his heir; his little man. The house filled with anger, rum and resentment. Theirs remained lives empty and sad; unknowing.
Time washed them and the memories away.
Record, tragic weather was going on all around the area in the Spring of 1936. Many were leaving the flooded heartlands for California to escape the rains and find the work. Alice quietly moved in to the little home with the leaking roof, hint of mildew and sparse furniture much of it broken like many of the dishes but for what she had, she knew to be grateful. That night, Alice heard the overgrown woods thumping and watching its new tenant. She was uneasy and cold but there were no other options.
During those first new days, she saw the shadows drifting around her as she returned from the outhouse. She hoped they were animals; quickly scurrying. As time went on the giggles could be daintily heard and then small trinkets from outdoors; little river rocks, acorns even a couple of bouquets left on the doorstep. It made Alice sad and she missed the comforts of her old home. She longed for Robert to hurry and join her so they could have their new start and life back. He'd sent her ahead after making all the arrangements. She was scared but knew she'd be all right until he could join her. She made her weekly trips to town and mailed letters to her husband begging him to come and professing her love and anticipation. His returns were short and vague on both his arrival and his sentiments. Alice began to sink farther into depression. It swarmed her like a million bees, causing such a lonely sting in her heart. At night it crept in and chilled her bones, leaving her feeling as empty as her cupboards. It was no wonder that after four months, talk in town turned from "that little married girl out near the river" to "The crazy woman in the woods". She had taken a liking to her little admirer and always said thank you for the "gifts". She began to talk to it; uncertain at first if anything was even there; but as the time dragged, she cared less and felt comfort in the conversation; one -sided or not.
It was raining again when she heard the scream. She jumped from her bed and rushed to the door. Flinging it wide, she saw the little boy. He stood pale and tattered just beyond the water path. His eyes were dark and large and he was soaked to the bone. She motioned for him. Called to him but he stood firm then turned and walked into the lush wood. Alice did not follow. Certain that he was a neighbor boy or a Gypsy. She barred the door and paced between leaks. The night fell silent except for the rain which plagued her for four more days. Each night, she heard the scream and each night she saw the boy at the edge of the path. On the forth night, she followed him. He seemed to be content in the soggy weather, playing with branches and pretending to be a viper or snake of some sort; charging and hissing some times and others battling weak skinny trees like a French swordsman. She found herself giggling and smiling for the first time in eons. She followed him each night to the bank of the river which was steadily swelling and getting angrier every day. Alice was amazed at how quickly and quietly he moved through the trees and when she got to the bank, he was always in the middle; on a very large rock. When she came through to the clearing, he would turn, startled but then he would smile and her heart would burst with warmth. But he didn't come back across and unlike him, the cold, wet weather bothered her so she would leave him.
Then after about a week, she got a letter from Robert; more distant, cold and abrupt than the others; telling her at last that he would not be coming. Robert would be heading for California where there was work but with someone new. He stated he would try to send money when he could. Alice was heart broken and crushed. She cried like the rain; her eyes swelling and red from the pain that leaked out. She stopped eating and going to town. She simply sat on the one wobbly chair and counted droplets as they sneaked in and plopped down on her floor. Even her gentleman caller as she called him hadn't been heard. Starvation withered her body and scattered her mind. She spoke to everything; scolding, crying and pleading. No one answered. More rain came.
Then as she sat one afternoon or was it morning? She was unsure. There was a scream. She did not respond the first time. It was the second one that brought her slowly to the door. And there he was. Her boy. He stood in the rain at the path; like he had before. She motioned but had no strength to call out. He turned and they began their game of not so hide and seek. She followed him to the bank and found him on his rock. She stood and continued to watch. He turned and smiled. Alice smiled back. She took a step toward him and watched as he began to come back across. She stepped forward and held out her hand. She was so happy that he was coming back. The water was pushing furiously and she found herself trying to help him from the shore: teetering and twisting in the steps he would need to keep from falling in. He was almost to her when she heard the footsteps, the twigs breaking. Alice had been there long enough to know no one else was around. This caused her weak heart to race.
"Hurry" she hissed to him. "come and hide with me! Someone's coming"
Not a word did he utter. He stood at the last stepping stone before her. His eyes suddenly widened and he reached up as if shielding himself from a blow. Alice was stunned, ducking and falling into the angry water. She raised her head to see a second child, a young girl, strike him with a rock from the beach and then shove him roughly into the swirling murky water. The boy disappeared.
"NO" Alice screeched and began to swim. She struggled against the waves and currents that tugged and slapped her. She kicked and fought to keep her head above it; to keep breathing and find the boy. She was backwards floating swiftly downstream when her head struck the debris at a bottleneck. Darkness grabbed her and bright lights flickered under her eyelids. The pain was white hot and she let her air out in a scream. She felt her dress snag on some branches and looked up. She was so close to the surface but couldn't reach. Her air was gone. Alice opened her mouth and stuck her neck up as high as she could. She gasped but sucked in mud and water. Her lungs caught fire and kicked in her chest. She flailed but then relaxed seeming to accept the fate so near to her. She understood in a fleeting thought that she had nothing and therefore was nothing. She would pass quietly in the water and no one would ever miss her. Suddenly she felt the tug of a tiny hand. Opening her eyes, Alice saw his dark eyes through the cloudy water. She reached for him. He did not pull away but pulled at her skirt and helped her get to the top. Where they hugged. She laughed and pulled him closer and closer.
"My hero" she gurgled for her lungs were full of water and mud.
"A king!" He grinned, nodding as modestly as the young "ruler" could.
"What name might I call such a noble majesty?" she did not feel the rain or the cold of the water just the warmth of his company.
"William"
"King William, I am honored and grateful. I should like to keep your company for a while or at least until the storm stops."
He hugged her and laughed in between claps of thunder they did not hear.
It wasn't until after the rainy season, when the sun had dried out the ground that they found the body of a young woman, the crazy lady in the woods, tangled in a mess of logs and rocks... a bottleneck caused by the torrential rains. She was clutching a filthy wad of dirty old cloth; hugging it somehow.
In a loving embrace.
And hello stranger~ I'm sorry I haven't been here. I did quite a bit of research on this one for an area I hiked not long ago and with my new job, I just got caught up in life. Ha I guess we all do, don't we? Well I like this one. It's creepy, sad and in a dark way, loving.
I hope you enjoyed your visit. I appreciate that you thought of me.
Until next time...
"They are only gonna tell her what to do." said Karastina, his much wiser eight year old sister.
"Why? Momma is all grown up and knows what to do." He shook his head and banged a stick against a tree as they wandered around in his uncle and aunt's wood. He was tired of all the reasonable talk. He knew they wanted her to come and stay with them and begin again. He didn't WANT a new home or a new life. He didn't WANT to hide from Daddy. There was too much hush-hush and whispering. It made his head hurt; all the questions about his papa, the looks, long and pitying, hugging and mussing of his hair. His sister was left alone for the most part. She tended to pull away and struggle; giving off the feeling of "Don't even THINK of touching me" Most people did that. Karastina kept to herself. She did not talk about Papa or the problems. Karastina didn't do much talking at all. It wasn't that she wasn't nice but it was all on her terms; as if anger bubbled and cooked under her skin like venom inside a snake; ready and willing to strike. William smiled to himself, made a "V" with his fingers and curved them into fangs, striking in the air twice; a third time at his sister complete with dangerous hiss but she ran back to "tell", shrieking as if she had actually been struck. He shrugged and kept moving. He had roamed these woods countless times and was grateful for the chance to practice his snake and pirate skills. Around him was lush green overgrowth allowing him invisibility. He sneaked up on squirrel, chipmunk, and rabbit believing that soon his papa would teach him to shoot. Then William would be able to do so much more as a man. It wasn't that he minded being here; he liked playing but missed home and the gruff voice and rougher hands of the patriarch. William knew Papa would be mad at their being gone; missing them too. William yearned for his bed and the smell of fresh meat cooking or vegetables from Momma's garden. He wasn't sure how long they would stay.
"Till the talkin stops" Karastina had announced in her bossy fashion accompanied by a pinch in the arm earlier that day. William wondered how long that would be. It had been three days already.
But his five year old mind switched quickly to the game of hide and seek the sun was playing with him between the branches. As William battled against the evil sassafras and spindly oaks and wimpy scrub pines that held their cones poised to bombard him as he forged ahead to the raging river and the hidden treasure he was sure he'd find making him the BEST five year old in all the world.
Upon arrival at the bank there was a victory dance which roused applause from the maple and birch trees in a sweet, gentle breeze as well as a speech for all to savor: he, "William the Brave" had conquered and been victorious in the most adverse conditions, proving himself worthy even at this his tender age of five. He would gladly be king of all he surveyed and his papa would be proud upon his return. He crossed the river part way on some unsteady stones and plopped down on a large rock taking time to ponder his kingdom and young life as he dangled his tiny feet and was soothed by the pushing water. He watched the eddies and sat so still a deer came to drink. He drifted in the afternoon sun
"William the Brave" failed to hear the twigs breaking. A startled king perked up at the approaching footsteps; his heart almost felt like it was going to burst from his little shirt and run away without him, but when the face came into the clearing his smile was wide. He was not afraid. He was was very happy and skipped back across the water for a hug - an embrace. It was the last time anyone would ever see him.
A grieving mother and silent sister returned to a man unable to handle the death of his heir; his little man. The house filled with anger, rum and resentment. Theirs remained lives empty and sad; unknowing.
Time washed them and the memories away.
Record, tragic weather was going on all around the area in the Spring of 1936. Many were leaving the flooded heartlands for California to escape the rains and find the work. Alice quietly moved in to the little home with the leaking roof, hint of mildew and sparse furniture much of it broken like many of the dishes but for what she had, she knew to be grateful. That night, Alice heard the overgrown woods thumping and watching its new tenant. She was uneasy and cold but there were no other options.
During those first new days, she saw the shadows drifting around her as she returned from the outhouse. She hoped they were animals; quickly scurrying. As time went on the giggles could be daintily heard and then small trinkets from outdoors; little river rocks, acorns even a couple of bouquets left on the doorstep. It made Alice sad and she missed the comforts of her old home. She longed for Robert to hurry and join her so they could have their new start and life back. He'd sent her ahead after making all the arrangements. She was scared but knew she'd be all right until he could join her. She made her weekly trips to town and mailed letters to her husband begging him to come and professing her love and anticipation. His returns were short and vague on both his arrival and his sentiments. Alice began to sink farther into depression. It swarmed her like a million bees, causing such a lonely sting in her heart. At night it crept in and chilled her bones, leaving her feeling as empty as her cupboards. It was no wonder that after four months, talk in town turned from "that little married girl out near the river" to "The crazy woman in the woods". She had taken a liking to her little admirer and always said thank you for the "gifts". She began to talk to it; uncertain at first if anything was even there; but as the time dragged, she cared less and felt comfort in the conversation; one -sided or not.
It was raining again when she heard the scream. She jumped from her bed and rushed to the door. Flinging it wide, she saw the little boy. He stood pale and tattered just beyond the water path. His eyes were dark and large and he was soaked to the bone. She motioned for him. Called to him but he stood firm then turned and walked into the lush wood. Alice did not follow. Certain that he was a neighbor boy or a Gypsy. She barred the door and paced between leaks. The night fell silent except for the rain which plagued her for four more days. Each night, she heard the scream and each night she saw the boy at the edge of the path. On the forth night, she followed him. He seemed to be content in the soggy weather, playing with branches and pretending to be a viper or snake of some sort; charging and hissing some times and others battling weak skinny trees like a French swordsman. She found herself giggling and smiling for the first time in eons. She followed him each night to the bank of the river which was steadily swelling and getting angrier every day. Alice was amazed at how quickly and quietly he moved through the trees and when she got to the bank, he was always in the middle; on a very large rock. When she came through to the clearing, he would turn, startled but then he would smile and her heart would burst with warmth. But he didn't come back across and unlike him, the cold, wet weather bothered her so she would leave him.
Then after about a week, she got a letter from Robert; more distant, cold and abrupt than the others; telling her at last that he would not be coming. Robert would be heading for California where there was work but with someone new. He stated he would try to send money when he could. Alice was heart broken and crushed. She cried like the rain; her eyes swelling and red from the pain that leaked out. She stopped eating and going to town. She simply sat on the one wobbly chair and counted droplets as they sneaked in and plopped down on her floor. Even her gentleman caller as she called him hadn't been heard. Starvation withered her body and scattered her mind. She spoke to everything; scolding, crying and pleading. No one answered. More rain came.
Then as she sat one afternoon or was it morning? She was unsure. There was a scream. She did not respond the first time. It was the second one that brought her slowly to the door. And there he was. Her boy. He stood in the rain at the path; like he had before. She motioned but had no strength to call out. He turned and they began their game of not so hide and seek. She followed him to the bank and found him on his rock. She stood and continued to watch. He turned and smiled. Alice smiled back. She took a step toward him and watched as he began to come back across. She stepped forward and held out her hand. She was so happy that he was coming back. The water was pushing furiously and she found herself trying to help him from the shore: teetering and twisting in the steps he would need to keep from falling in. He was almost to her when she heard the footsteps, the twigs breaking. Alice had been there long enough to know no one else was around. This caused her weak heart to race.
"Hurry" she hissed to him. "come and hide with me! Someone's coming"
Not a word did he utter. He stood at the last stepping stone before her. His eyes suddenly widened and he reached up as if shielding himself from a blow. Alice was stunned, ducking and falling into the angry water. She raised her head to see a second child, a young girl, strike him with a rock from the beach and then shove him roughly into the swirling murky water. The boy disappeared.
"NO" Alice screeched and began to swim. She struggled against the waves and currents that tugged and slapped her. She kicked and fought to keep her head above it; to keep breathing and find the boy. She was backwards floating swiftly downstream when her head struck the debris at a bottleneck. Darkness grabbed her and bright lights flickered under her eyelids. The pain was white hot and she let her air out in a scream. She felt her dress snag on some branches and looked up. She was so close to the surface but couldn't reach. Her air was gone. Alice opened her mouth and stuck her neck up as high as she could. She gasped but sucked in mud and water. Her lungs caught fire and kicked in her chest. She flailed but then relaxed seeming to accept the fate so near to her. She understood in a fleeting thought that she had nothing and therefore was nothing. She would pass quietly in the water and no one would ever miss her. Suddenly she felt the tug of a tiny hand. Opening her eyes, Alice saw his dark eyes through the cloudy water. She reached for him. He did not pull away but pulled at her skirt and helped her get to the top. Where they hugged. She laughed and pulled him closer and closer.
"My hero" she gurgled for her lungs were full of water and mud.
"A king!" He grinned, nodding as modestly as the young "ruler" could.
"What name might I call such a noble majesty?" she did not feel the rain or the cold of the water just the warmth of his company.
"William"
"King William, I am honored and grateful. I should like to keep your company for a while or at least until the storm stops."
He hugged her and laughed in between claps of thunder they did not hear.
It wasn't until after the rainy season, when the sun had dried out the ground that they found the body of a young woman, the crazy lady in the woods, tangled in a mess of logs and rocks... a bottleneck caused by the torrential rains. She was clutching a filthy wad of dirty old cloth; hugging it somehow.
In a loving embrace.
And hello stranger~ I'm sorry I haven't been here. I did quite a bit of research on this one for an area I hiked not long ago and with my new job, I just got caught up in life. Ha I guess we all do, don't we? Well I like this one. It's creepy, sad and in a dark way, loving.
I hope you enjoyed your visit. I appreciate that you thought of me.
Until next time...
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