tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8069385564535024892024-03-05T16:16:43.594-05:00GigglingInThe DarkPhoto by TessTesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.comBlogger355125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-51816233088264385372022-10-31T00:00:00.000-04:002022-10-31T00:00:00.373-04:00The Lady with the Lantern<p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"> When the fire gets low and the voices quiet, she always comes up. The lady with the lantern. Now the stories often vary: She lost her baby and searches these woods looking for it; crying and wailing. Some hear the woman while others hear a baby. She was murdered and is trying to warn others to save them from a similar fatal end. She was a woman scorned and is seeking revenge on all way-ward men...it doesn't matter. She will scare the shit out of you. This I know.</span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">We had just put the last log on and were slumped back in our chairs; happily buzzed and a little sleepy. One by one friends drifted off to the house and warm beds. I stayed. I watched the stars and steadied my gaze for satellites. I have no idea what time it was; late. I began to drift. Having been in the woods for most of my life, I am not a scaredy-cat. Usually, a shift in the brush is a deer. The dark splash in the lake, a beaver or a restless duck. Coyotes and bear make their own special kind of debuts. But a light? Well, that's different. </span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">I really thought I was dreaming. It was small and "faded" but make no mistake it was a light and it was moving toward me. The other thing you need to know (or reminded), is that I live within shouting distance of about four houses. I simply thought someone was out "prowlin". What got my Spidey senses tingling was the location of this light. It was out in the water. Our lake is small and no motors are permitted so you can hear the gentle slapping of paddles against the water. This was not true. Silence. Still it kept coming. I sat up and forward in my chair glaring at the dark for a shape to appear. Nada. Having had enough to drink and not enough sleep, I wiped my eyes, gruffed at the dark and headed up the yard toward my house and my own comfy bed. </span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">I got to the porch and felt cocky enough to turn around. The light was just along the shore which is brightly bathed in the lights from several porches. Still, there was no shape or object to see. I stared at it and it simply crept closer. I dismissed the nip of fear in my gut as leftover margarita but stepped in and for the first time in years, locked the door. I even found myself leaning back into the drapes and watching ~ waiting for someone to head up to the house. The light seemed to fade into the brush. </span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">"Stupid chicken shit" I mumbled to myself and wandered through the kitchen to my office facing the lake. </span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">The light was suddenly in front of me and there was a thick thud as a form pressed itself against the glass.</span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">It's fingers were long and bony, like a piano players' and it was dressed in a filmy white nightshirt/gown. The hair on it was long but matted with silt from the bottom of the lake and the brown slimy roots of dead lily-pads. The eyes. My God, the eyes...they were watery grey gaping holes surrounded by peeling clumped flesh. Its mouth gaped and dark water spilled from it with invisible syllables as it choked at me. I leaped back, stumbling into the side table. I rounded its corner and tried to convince myself it would save me somehow. I looked to the left and right seeing that those sliding doors were still open. All I wanted was to lock them. I scrambled around and flipped their locks. Each time, the figure met me at the entrance but never came in. It stood, pressed and "spoke". I stumbled back and fell into the couch. It stopped and watched me, tilting its head as if confused. Its shoulders slumped and it lowered the light it seemed to be carrying. Then it dragged away, looking sadly back at me, heading down the yard and back to where it started my nightmare. </span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">I sneaked back to the window peering from the curtain like a child in a mother's skirt. It wasn't looking but steadily heading back to the water. I don't know why I went to the door or why in God's name I stepped out. I walked behind it ~ far behind it, all along the shore, through my neighbors' yards to the dead end. The woods. Its soft little light was never out of my sight. I saw its nightdress trailing behind, tattered and goopy with filth. I heard a soft tread and smelled stale, dead water. I followed it to a clearing; an old, failed development site where it stopped and turned. Everything in my body went numb. Without warning and with incredible speed it raced toward me stopping inches from my face. I was paralyzed. It studied me, shifting its head back and forth, leaning in, seeming to take in the smell of me. It touched my hair. The tears rushing from my eyes were hot and salty. I felt bile in my throat. It reached up and like a frustrated parent, cupped my jaw ~ an icy grip and turned my head sharply to a dark patch of overgrowth. It leaned in and put its lips to mine whispering something into my mouth, my soul. The screaming was raw and raspy as I broke free and ran blindly back to my house where I puked and sobbed until light peeked above the trees promising me it was over. I sat balled up on the sofa twirling my hair. My eyes wide and staring; not really seeing anything.</span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">"What the fuck?" one housemate claimed handing me their coffee. "I told you to stay out of the tequila. When will you listen? Did you barf on the window? Duuuuuude...no bueno."<br /></span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">I remained stoic. Everyone gathered and poked. Good humor and ribbing from those who know me best. But when I began to cry, they changed their tunes and I recanted my story. </span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">No one spoke I'm pretty sure no one believed me. So I challenged them to take a walk with me. Down the road, into the old clearing and over to the clump of tangled briars. I stepped right in it and began to rip at it. I was unstoppable and my head was filled with shouts, voices all unintelligible...but I had..to...dig...<br /></span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">"Ew Don't that's ivy!!!"</span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">I couldn't stop myself, I heard a low grunt and growl as I ripped away to the worthless, dead earth. I dropped to my knees and began to shovel with my bare hands.<br /></span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">No one spoke but all stared.</span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">At the tattered white cloth blowing gently in the wind.</span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;">Help me.</span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></i></p><p><i><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><br /></span></span></i></p><p><span style="font-family: georgia;"><span style="color: #783f04;"><span style="color: #073763;">And a Happy Halloween to you all. I hope you have shared a shiver with me. Be safe. Eat candy for breakfast and enjoy!! I thank you for your visit. I am glad for the time we share.</span><br /></span></span></p><p><br /></p>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-16935422218112175632022-09-30T05:00:00.000-04:002022-09-30T05:00:00.223-04:00Hullaballoo<p> There are moments when the Universe, God or Whomever you connect with shows you something; a reminder about what's important or a good old fashioned butt-kicking to tell you to get over yourself. I got just such a something.<br /></p><p>I've been struggling with what seems like a lot for what feels like a very long time. If you know me, you know I don't ask for help; not even when I need it. Sometimes I send a funny card or flip a crazy text ~ I figure we all have currents to paddle against in this river of life and I'd rather reach out with a hug or a laugh rather than weigh anyone down with my leaking water wings and cement shoes. Believe it or not, laughter is wonderful medicine for me. It clears my head and channels power to my inner Wonder Woman. I might not always be happy but I try to always be cheerful.<br /></p><p> I will confess that I have been rather put out with what I feel is more than my share of troubles lately. I am feeling very put upon and angry.. maybe frustrated is better. Add to the mix circumstances that just continue to keep me from my favorite touchstones.... I'm bent. There. I said it... typed it at least. I notice that being away from them makes me crabby and sad. So to change direction, find positive and mend my own fences, I've been helping others ~ listening to acquaintances, strangers... all needing to vent, to cry, to... you get it. But I was running out of gas for even THAT. I was throwing the ultimate pity party: </p><p> "....but I've been patient. I've been kind and I've lent an ear or several never asking in return or topping their misery and I am just... MORE MISERABLE!"</p><p>Pardonez mi Francese ... mais... WTF???? No translation needed.<br /></p><p>And I'm bent. Said it again...getting easier. Ha, the confessions of a self-proclaimed martyr. <br /></p><p>But today... today I am humbled. I get it. It isn't about me, my troubles, my sadness, loneliness or need for company. Today...</p><p>I unbent myself thanks to a big little something:</p><p>A bird. A young downy woodpecker. It was snacking at my bird feeder and got spooked. It flew "SMACK" into my window right at my face while I sat at my desk whining inside. The toddlers instantly dashed out to see what evil had tried to attack us; well, not Birdie. She went in the wrong direction, got tired of wondering what was going on and took a nap in the middle of the carpet. To my surprise, Tall Man did not chew it or even paw it. He backed up and let me see. I AM the matriarch of our tiny pack you know. MAKE WAY FOR THE QUEEN MOTHER FOR SHE SHALL KNOW WHAT TO DO!!!!! And there it was. I picked it up and sat with it. I spoke softly and rubbed its tiny little head. Its heart was thrumming at a pace I thought would surely cause it to burst. It panted and wiggled in my hand. It shook its tail feathers (much like the song) but wouldn't move it's legs, grasp or vocalize. I actually went inside and got a syringe. (Yeah I know ~and all truths be told I looked up with sweaty hands, a quick heartbeat myself and made a comment about "I'm SO getting in to Heaven for this...") I gave it water, I softened food from the feeder. All no-go's. So I just sat with it, cooing and making soft little chirps. I stroked its tummy and new flight feathers. It relaxed and slept. It woke startled but would snuggle down and sleep some more, all the while panting ( a sign of pain and anxiety) The dogs sniffed and licked but never fussed or tried to taste it. God forbid they think "This toy sucks! It only squeaked ONCE!!!" and I kept it away mostly because well... giant monsters jamming their cold wet noses and slapping at it with wet sticky tongues... anxiety... I know I would be right there too.I got a little towel and swaddled it, keeping it close and checking on it, hopeful that it would stand alone, flap it's wings... but deep down I knew. </p><p>It was paralyzed and wouldn't make it. When there was no more pain or suffering, I buried it with my makeshift woobie so it wouldn't be cold. I kept it from dying alone and scared. I cried for it.</p><p>Life is too short and fragile to get caught up in hullaballoo ...laugh, love and hug someone, anyone or maybe anything. It makes a difference.<br /></p><p><br /></p>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-88591468716428508572022-09-03T10:59:00.001-04:002022-09-03T10:59:17.122-04:00Simon and Garfunkel Hate the Outdoors<p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i> She had been warned, begged, scolded to not hike alone. She listened patiently, always smiled and thanked them for their concern. They didn't get it. It was her freedom, a reset from the stresses of work, family...something just for her. Everyone has their "something" and she thought it strange that no one could accept hers. But in the tall grass, it didn't matter. She felt good, strong, at peace. She thought nothing of it that day, later than usual, when she bundled up her pack and gear and wandered off. She did the usual safety checks: an extra map in her pocket, a text or two for a time stamp and the coordinates left on the table as to her whereabouts. Done.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>She parked the car and smiled to herself feeling the usual "start out jitters" The excitement of getting lost for a little while and just melting into Terra Firma. She had picked one of her more challenging trails; across water, rock hopping and some hills. She knew she would sleep like the dead when her day ended. She anticipated it.<br /></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>The sun was high meaning she only had a couple of hours before the sun would set and darkness swallowed the woods. It wasn't long before she stopped hearing the rumble of trucks on the road and the barks of weekend campers. A stillness settled as the wildlife pulled back to see this woman walking quietly, sometimes singing, or muttering softly to herself. The woods shrugged and went along with its day. Her breath slowed and her gait became more gentle; less harried.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>She ignored the first crack off trail, dismissing it as a deer or some other native. The second caused her pause. She stood stock still and waited. Nothing. She tugged at her strap and flicked the lid to her repellent spray. She walked on trying to ignore the hairs standing up on her arms and the sweat prickling at the back of her neck. Then there was the third time; the charm. Solid footsteps and breaking brush caused her to step off the path, back into some thick vines where she crouched, unsheathed her knife and counted her breath: "innn two three four ouuuut two three four"~ softly~ softly. Her eyes darted back and forth across the trail as she strained her ears to listen for the slightest movement. Again, nothing. But a light breeze brought to her a gentle whiff of something....soap? bug spray? Hell, it could have been Poo-Pourri for all she cared and so she tucked in and made herself smaller. Her kidneys panicked and announced they were scared and demanded to be relieved. She rolled her eyes and pushed off the thought. Whatever it was was watching too. She knew it. Now began the waiting game. Who would juke? Her mind began to create scenarios: one looked something like a bad Sylvester Stallone movie."Were there good ones?" a tiny voice in her head asked. "Later discussion topic" Fear and Reason echoed inside her skull. The next two options were going back the way she came or moving on. She tried to remember the last trail switch she'd made which would give her what she needed ~ the shortest route. Another breeze and a stronger smell. Her back began to ache so she rocked forward onto her knees. The twig snapped like a firecracker. Her kidneys shrieked and cried a little. She held her breath and closed her eyes. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>There was an angry swoosh as it bolted onto the trail. She almost expected to hear "Ahhh~HAA!" or "Olly-olly-oxen freeee" but there was confused silence. She closed her eyes tighter willing herself invisible, praying her brown jacket was enough to keep her hidden. The seconds dragged as her nightmare stood and did what she did; listened, watched...planned. A soft hum trickled to her ears a song she knew: "Sounds of Silence" by Simon and Garfunkel. That tiny voice began to sing along. Fear and Reason told her to shut the fuck up. A tear slipped down her cheek. She was unsure which voice in her head gave it to her. Her kidneys pouted at her awkward angle and warned her again of their needs. She could only grind her teeth and try to focus....ahead or back ahead or back....</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>There was movement; a few steps toward her. She imagined herself taking root in the dirt. Her fingers gripping the knife for an outward strike, her opposite thumb sliding silently to the spray button. She lowered her spine and craned her neck to watch the shadow step closer. It was a man. He leaned in and swiped his arm through the vines above her. Leaves and twigs, berries and stale pollen plopped and drifted across her face, into her eyes and nose. The stinging was relentless. Her eyes leaked like Niagara Falls and she felt the burn of a sneeze. "Jesus wept" Fear screamed..."Stop it...STOP THE SNEEZE" She held her breath as his arms now began to beat the bushes and move down the trail. He stopped and picked up a stick and started to stab into them. She prayed he didn't double back.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"We go back" Reason announced sharply. "When he goes around the bend and we can't hear him..That will save us. Legs..LEGS are ya in there? Get ready kids. We need ya. Kidneys? Pipe down. Stomach...don't go weak on us now. Everyone get ready...." She felt herself nodding in approval. Her mouth was dry but she could feel a scream parked heartily in the back of her throat. She would save it.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>Her ears concentrated and her eyes focused. The sun was dipping below the trees. She would be in the dark very soon. Was that good? She tried to remember if she packed her headlamp.Was he sitting right in front of her? Was he just out of sight? Had he gone home feeling proud of the prank he'd pulled? Had he killed someone else? Her kidneys made good on their threat. Her pants were wet and with the cool evening, she shivered and cursed them. As punishment, if she made it out, she would sell one. Bitches. Pansy bitches she scolded and shivered again.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>Reason began to get restless and egg on the others. "Get ready. It's almost time. I can feel it. We are gonna run like the wind and reach safety. WE got this...."</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>Fear was more reserved..."I'm scared. Wait a little longer. What if..."</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"Shut up you pussy or I'll give you something to whine about!" came Anger's reply.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>She shook her head to quiet them all. She inhaled deeply, slowly, quietly...she smelled nothing. That was her queue. She rocked back on her heels and wiggled her toes. They were groggy and burning. Her legs began to twitch signaling their readiness. Her hands clenched around her weapons of choice. She tried to swallow but almost choked on the dust. She wondered if she would have any molars left after all the grinding. She squared her shoulders to distribute the weight of her pack. She looked like a Quasimodo prepping for the hundred yard dash. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>Reason fired the gun in her head and she burst through the brush and tangled vines. They tried to hold her, keep her safe but she wouldn't listen. She kicked and pulled free, stuttering out onto the trail and began to run. At first her legs felt made of cement and they shook with uncertainty as she willed them to work. Then she heard a sharp crack and heavy thumping coming from behind. The bastard had simply waited her out. Now it was a foot race. Every voice was screeching in her skull, all systems were firing and Fear had dumped every ounce of adrenaline into her burning muscles. He thundered behind her; so close, she swore she felt his breath. She made the choice and tugged her strap, dumping her pack off her shoulders and onto the trail. right in his path. He stumbled and grunted. Fear picked up the pace with her new and improved lighter chassis . There was just enough light for her to see the trail. She took exaggerated steps to try to keep from tripping. Her ankles rolled over wobbled stones and tree roots but she kept the machine rolling. She knew she was close to her car, praising herself that she always carried her key in her pocket never her pack. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"Smart girl" Reason cheered. "Keep going...almost got it...." </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"WAIT WAIT WAAIIIIIT" Fear shouted ..."Listen!" </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>She flicked her head left and right, glancing and listening. Silence. No footfalls. No brush.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>Her chest burned. Her legs whimpered and begged to slow. She hopped off the path and ducked under an old log. She filled in the space between it and the ground. Again she waited.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>Nothing. She turned her head and wretched. Spitting and swiping at her mouth she slowly crawled out of her niche. No shadows. Silence loomed. She stepped back onto the path and walked to the side of it along the pines needles and dirt to avoid the crunching gravel and twigs in the middle. Around the bend was her car. She only had a few yards to go. She could see it. Her tears fell freely. Her breath became happy and ragged. She began to stagger like a drunk coed heading for the dance floor for her favorite song<br /></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>The flashlight blinded her. The scream she had tucked away for safe keeping erupted with such force, she knocked it to the ground.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"JESUS MARY AND JOSEPH!" came the shout.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>Fear stopped her and forced her to hunch; one arm pulled in tightly with her knife, the other perched and ready to unload every ounce of spray in the bottle. She was still screaming; trying to tell this man she needed help, wanted help but there were no words, only gravelly sobs.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"Ranger! I'm a fucking Ranger! Miss are you alright? MISS"</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>She lowered her arms, taking in his words. Her screams became gasps. She felt very tired and small.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>He approached her slowly and quietly spoke. He had his truck. A man had reported seeing in earlier and leaving the park, noticed it was still there. Concerned, the ranger had come to check.</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>She smiled and pulled her arms down, re-sheathing her knife, tucking her spray in her pocket. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"Let me get you to the shelter." he said and reached for her. She stiffened and he put up his hands. Going to the truck, he fetched a blanket and held it out. <br /></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"I'll drive myself" she hoarsely whispered. </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"Let me take you. There is an EMT at the station now. We thought we'd have a bigger problem on our hands. There are people waiting to head out to find you....We can send one of them back for your car"</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>She nodded and got in the truck. It rumbled to life and he backed out of the trailhead onto the park road. It wasn't too far to the station. She felt her body begin to fade, let down. The ranger reached up and turned on the radio. She caught a whiff of soa...<br /></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i>"Hello Darkness my old frieeeeend....."</i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i> </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><i> </i></span></p><p><span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="color: #073763;">Hey everyone! Nice to see you too! Someone close to me asked if I was still writing. I am ... just not putting it out there. I thought I would share this ditty and see what happens. I was hiking today with my dog and another hiker (male) was behind me. He followed me ... even on a couple of less traveled paths. I stopped finally and let him pass. No need to be upset or nervous just let him go; but I tell you what; my imagination took off...this is where it ended up. Enjoy your day and let's not be such strangers. Deal? </span><i> <br /></i></span></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p><p><br /></p>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-87657791131598881752021-08-18T13:06:00.000-04:002021-08-18T13:06:25.967-04:00Loathsome<p><span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;">He wondered what he'd seen in her ~ ever. He batted the envelope containing the papers against his side. Freedom was in there; all possible with a signature from her ugly, daggered claws. He could see the light of a new life and was giddy at the thought of being safe and happy again; no more violence. He hated her. Her name brought a sour burning into his throat. The only good thing that ever came out of that woman was the son they'd had. If he didn't get away from her soon and take their boy along, all would be lost. A signature. He looked to the sky and called upon whatever forces were listening:<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"Please just make the bitch sign...." he prayed. "Grant me this and I'll visit on Sundays. Not all of them but some... Amen." </span></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;">He wasn't sure why, but he smoothed his hair and shirt, taking a deep breath to calm himself before he ventured into the demon's lair. He puffed into his hand and made sure garlic was not lingering; old habits he supposed or he was avoiding any chance of displeasing the Devil. He rang the bell and straightened up. His knees wobbled. What the Hell? Was he actually a bit nervous? Fearful more likely. He hoped this would be a hospital-free stop. He wished she was dead. This would have been so much simpler if she were just in a bag at the morgue. He had fantasies about it...he was stuck waiting and daydreaming on the porch.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
She paced around all morning. She had done her hair three times and changed clothes a dozen. She put on her strappy-come-get-me shoes and donned a necklace he'd bought for her on their first vacation. She had been barking at the crotch goblin incessantly since yesterday; demanding he clean, stay out of the way, get his meals, stop making a mess, quit being so childish...just grow up and be a man. She sighed into her wineglass with exhaustion created by her single parenting. The boy floated about, did what he could and stayed out of view, appearing only when she was in need of a bottle opener. She hated that it had come to this; signing papers as a testament to their failure as a family but she just couldn't stand him anymore. He was such a douche. She had ruined her body to have this kid and he just wanted to up and leave; not even trying to solve problems. She had a few that could use attention and understanding; sure, but he wasn't flawless. She gritted her teeth and prayed someone upstairs would save her temper since last time, he'd needed stitches. She wished he was dead. She dreamed of smashing his head with a shovel and putting him under ground. Then she would grow tomatoes or corn like that Johnny Depp movie...One more coat of war paint on her lips and she was ready.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
They squared off at the door; smiles tight and voices high. Politeness oozed out of their pores.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"You look amazing" he glided, not meaning a word.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"Stop. It's not all me, I've been working with a trainer."she waved him off carelessly, but soaked up the compliment.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"Worth the money?" he barked. She stopped and clenched her fists at her sides. He winced knowing he'd screwed up already.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"I have earned it, don't you think?" she sweetly hissed without turning.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"I brought the papers." he admitted in a rush.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"I figured." She pouted and looked down. "Hey, want to have a glass of wine and celebrate? Cheers to our new lives?" Her grin was a little too large and toothy. <br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
He cocked his head a little.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"Where's..."<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"Oh he's around. You know how he gets. Such a moody little ghost." she rolled her eyes.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
The boy sat on the steps, glaring into the kitchen. His stomach twisted and lurched. His dad had run like a chicken shit and left him here alone with a woman who understood motherhood to be a staggering combo of bruising, smacking and shouting. She had enough cunning to make it look like his dad had done it, crying to anyone within ranget; acting oh-so distraught and afraid in order to demand a higher payout in the divorce. People climbed her cause like a tree; feeling sorry for her, demonizing the husband and forgetting to ask for any other perspective. No one ever spoke to this child with a front row seat, because... Who'd believe a young boy? She'd been sure to rush ahead of him in the odd instance of inquiry, declaring him silenced due to the trauma. Then she'd pinched him so hard the tears welled up and spilled over. She'd frowned and blinked with large sad eyes. "See?" her face pleaded with authorities who took pity. <br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
His dad was just grateful that she didn't know about the young girls he'd been meeting and screwing from the on-line sites. He was more than happy to dole out the money which his mom needed to support a drug habit her new trainer had helped her start. The obstacle son wished they would stay together to save two normal people. He absently rubbed the slash on his cheek from a rocketing cup used to encourage him to finish his homework faster.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
They stood around and made nicey-nice. His mother took out the wine she'd sweetly begged the boy to open the night before and poured two hefty slugs. They gulped, grinned, opened the envelope, getting to the crux of the matter, clicking pens like swords..."En guard" the boy muttered and rested his chin in his hands. War erupted quickly, the verbal punches landing solidly on previously wounded pride. Experience serving as memory, the boy knew to bump up a couple of steps to disappear from their sight maintain his view and earshot with a quick escape rout; better safe than sorry. Her fist connected quickly with her soon to be ex's shoulder, clearly emphasizing her displeasure with the last minute addendums in custody.<br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"><br />
"You sonofaBITCH" </span></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;"> He looked like a guppy out of water: eyes huge and mouth wide. The boy mimicked and smiled to himself as the melee unfolded. His father lunged, grabbing and shaking her, forcing her to the ground where he quickly straddled her body. The words were muffled by rage and spit. The boy tried not to giggle hearing the eff-bomb AND the C-word bubbling shamefully from this grown man's mouth. She flailed and gasped but there was just too much hate built up and the man couldn't stop. From, the vantage point, their loving son heard a light "pop" and then, the woman went limp. Dad froze, trying to catch his breath. It was his turn to tremble. He nudged her and spoke softly, even apologized, but done was done. And now he had to figure out what to do. </span></i></span><span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;">He crumpled next to her on the floor, draining his glass. He swiped at his face, choosing to suck down the dead woman's wine as a valuable first step to a solution. He dropped his head in his hands and wept; not for her, but for the trouble that was beginning to crush him like an anvil. He drew in a jagged breath and coughed. There was pain behind his eyes, like white fire; migraine he figured. But then some cramping; more coughing as his lungs burned and tightened. His color drained as at last he understood. He'd been poisoned.</span></i></span></p><p><span style="color: #990000;"><i><span style="font-family: times;">"That BITCH!" he spat and clumsily tried to jump to his feet, grabbing for his phone he'd laid on the counter with the envelope. His hands scraped and scooted along the empty surface as he groped. A small "tsk" flicked in the air and he looked up, startled by his son's presence. His eyes darted to his phone, in the boy's hands who had quietly witnessed it all.. His father staggered, tried to speak but his limbs all seemed to be turning to jelly. Foam bubbled from him, white at first then fading to a dark crimson. His coughs sent it spattering thickly against the wall, the counter, the floor....<br />
<br />
"oooo bad news Dad." the boy shook his head slowly. "not gonna get the papers signed. Not gonna get that new life filled with young giggly pussy." he wrinkled his nose as if he'd smelled a fart.<br />
<br />
Understanding what was truly happening, the man made one last lunge. The boy stepped to the side with ease and patiently waited while his father began to seize and collapse. Lifeless.<br />
<br />
He dialed the phone and began to cry.<br />
<br />
The police came and shook their heads. Murder suicide in front of their own child. What kind of man would do this? What woman? They would be touted as disgusting and loathsome. Which of course they were. Their selfish, awful secrets were dragged through the mud while the boy remained silent; stoic, and was never really questioned. It was very clear that she had poisoned the wine and he had choked her to death. That was the best gift his dad had given him; his father's loss of control. It steered all suspicion from the little monster who had poisoned them both. He was immediately scooped up by his aunt and uncle, who fussed over him constantly. He didn't know them well but they seemed nice. He hoped they were.<br />
<br />
For their sakes.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<br /></p>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-21027177583780868322020-12-06T12:37:00.000-05:002020-12-06T12:37:19.461-05:00God Rest Ye Tiny Figurines....<p> This is my season... okay it's my SECOND season because I am passionate about all things autumnal but I am reasonably controlled with my obsession when it comes to snowmen, elves and the fat man in red. I walk a fine line between elegantly tasteful and bawdy gauche with my lights, village, shiny balls and sparkly tinsel. I decorate for a couple of days (now I know some who begin in July but your secret is safe with me..for now... but when I want that country ribbon for my mantle wrapping, you better come through or all bets are OFF ....Ho Ho Ho THAT!!) My children, angels from above, do their best to help and stay the hell out of the way. My three amigos? Not so good at it. Let me bestow my cheer upon you with a quick tale:</p><p>Saying: "It's not Christmas until Mah gets the glue gun out." I initially took offense to this perceived criticism. But? With heavy sigh and shrugging shoulders, I confess its truth:</p><p></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMhl7w4XtkA55iim8HtbtnteF1PLOs-IFmwmeZAKB5pcmx0N2MwKQPYuZ6mUZzolrCz5ZQcmRpdjQtxOCyZeVKEFLJqm_F9sIU6GD-jBlSceioEOlvwyi1rutnV-0AflmRrXbm2T5qA/s2048/village.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhlMhl7w4XtkA55iim8HtbtnteF1PLOs-IFmwmeZAKB5pcmx0N2MwKQPYuZ6mUZzolrCz5ZQcmRpdjQtxOCyZeVKEFLJqm_F9sIU6GD-jBlSceioEOlvwyi1rutnV-0AflmRrXbm2T5qA/s320/village.JPG" /></a></div><br />The village was unpacked and I was giddy with holiday excitement to reacquaint myself with my Grinch, Snowmen, Elf bakers, planters, Mr Lickenschtick and Sir Thomas Train who encircles the Village. Each year commands a little different set-up because quite simply I can't remember shit and have usually spent too much time praising said Villagers for their outstanding ensembles. "My Mrs. S... you look trim...Hey Grinchy! Your smile is EXCEPTIONALLY yellow this year. What's that SMELL? Oh my G-you've outdone yourself..." and yeah maybe I have staged some incredibly epic battles between the good the bad and the snowballs but I only do it once a year. Life is to be lived and it pays to BELIEVE<br /><p></p><p><br /></p><p>This also applies to my Nativity scene. I set it up and say a small prayer of thanks and ask Jesus what He wants for His Birthday. I am humbled and ashamed when He whispers "World Peace" ... I was thinking a free ride on the donkey from the stable or a couple of cool homemade candies... But I move on. All was set. I was tingly and happy with everyone's station and began to shop, wrap and cook. My children, angels from above, have confessed to performing WWE wrestling matches with the Holy Group in the Shed. Apparently, Baby Jesus is the reigning champion and His Mom is SUPER PROUD. She even has (upon their authority) taken on a Wise Man and the Chick with wings who is a Blabbermouth and can talk some Holy Smack. </p><p>But "All is calm and all is bright"....</p><p><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDAjEVMRqAD_DD3I3sEyMk2UP7pW_cxXgxrtOmKSAd5SOAJxVIFwDYIsvfyCuYremhNvIJL8j2yQK1ecWdkqleXsReqQKEN4SsKcdximXQdvWTW5S20T-TPxZ1ysCysnoFKzU6yN4Vg/s2048/prayers.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgtDAjEVMRqAD_DD3I3sEyMk2UP7pW_cxXgxrtOmKSAd5SOAJxVIFwDYIsvfyCuYremhNvIJL8j2yQK1ecWdkqleXsReqQKEN4SsKcdximXQdvWTW5S20T-TPxZ1ysCysnoFKzU6yN4Vg/s320/prayers.JPG" /></a>Enter the three Amigos. Apparently, Mulligan punched Winston in the face while he was sleeping on the couch nearest the village and baking elves (whose responsibility is to deliver beautiful cakes to the others ...) This fired up my grumpy Russian and he jumped from the couch to retaliate. The problem was that he misjudged the landing and skidded across my "mirror pond" and took out Sir Thomas, Mrs S and her trio of shrub planting helpers and? Yes, Mr Tallcake. Winston broke both his arms and the delicious looking tall cake he was carrying to the Beard Barber Shop. But that was not enough. He charged after his brother to assert his Christmas authority. Not to be outdone, Birdie who was sleeping in her Royal Cave of Misery and Hate of all that is k-9 came roaring out; complete with bed head and an attitude. She snapped at Mulligan's ass, scared him and he jumped into the Stable sending Baby J rocketing into the village and the wagon of Mrs S and her potting soil. Mary was knocked unconscious while the Wise Men were just that... wise and got the hell outta dodge. But Blabbermouth? ohhhh no~ Hark! that Herald Angel Sang and did a nose dive onto the train tracks causing a complete break in the wings and when Sir Thomas came whirring around the mount to say a prayer and see if all was well... well.... I have included Mulligan's prayer for forgiveness, a village's prayer to survive the Christmas devastation and of course the real symbol of Christmas in our home...the friggin glue gun and the make-shift Holy Hospital.</p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrVcmBX8Xv7dPzJ6tFMPKWcL890rACw6BcUq-DFT7l_VoLan0K8cReyQyf8gLS_Zk1IrJpxpEjpYi7MyFM_7yV97g2NNeGft5GHCs7CgX3BsVRgzFNmaPk7wSTALM8owt8kpF7PDbWQ/s2048/gluegun.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="2048" data-original-width="1536" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBrVcmBX8Xv7dPzJ6tFMPKWcL890rACw6BcUq-DFT7l_VoLan0K8cReyQyf8gLS_Zk1IrJpxpEjpYi7MyFM_7yV97g2NNeGft5GHCs7CgX3BsVRgzFNmaPk7wSTALM8owt8kpF7PDbWQ/w150-h200/gluegun.JPG" width="150" /></a></div></div><br /><p></p><p>May your day be merry and bright.</p><p>Thanks for giggling with me. I do enjoy our time together.<br /></p>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-30043780006758255942020-07-08T09:23:00.000-04:002020-07-08T09:48:24.149-04:00He<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>Hello.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>Let me introduce myself as my mom says it's polite. I'm Mulligan. Some of you know me as Tall Man, Stilts or Shithead but that was just when I ate off the counter after Mommie said not to~ but in my defense... she DID go out and leave the delicious chicken unattended... oh and then there was the pie... and the butter... but I digress. Let's move on and stay positive.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>We have recently moved to a very fun place. I used to know it by the phrase "Go Lake", but now it is "Home". I have made many friends. There is Fat Gus who does keg stands off my mom's hummingbird feeder. There are other squirrels and chipmunks, birds with all SORTS of colors which are fun to chase and shout at. But to be clear, I am just protecting the seeds and bark butter that Mommie puts out. She tells me all the time "not to be greedy" when I eat so I am simply sharing wisdom. My mommie is wise. Oh! And there are these really cool, tall puppies that are tan and have long faces with stubby white tails or they are tan and white spotted. They stare at me and I think they are shy but Mom doesn't let me play with them and I think she is selfish. Please have a discussion with her on this for my sake because I just KNOW we could be deer friends. Haha ~ dog humor.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>Now I believe you humans just celebrated a party time. I know this because there were a lot of people at my "home" and they all made yummy food, wobbly drinks and loud bangers with lights. Mommie says those are okay and are just "fireworks" but it is scary lightening in a box for me and my sister. We hid in the fort she built for us under the desk until it stopped. Then my sister made a scared tee-tee on the rug, but Mommie wasn't even mad. She just made big breaths and told us she loved us. Then she cleaned up. She's cool like that.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>So I am here to tell you it exists. I have never seen it but Mommie sometimes whispers about it and so I think it's scary. She just calls it.."He" I think He comes at night. Mommie and Daddy do their best to clean up and keep He from coming to our home. I wasn't sure what would happen if He did.. but I am now and don't understand all the fuss. He arrived late last night and rooted around in Mommie's stinkybin. I would get in BIG trouble for this. He knocked over over the bin and sorted it for Mommie ~ all over the yard. I thought He did a great job and am unsure as to why Mommie muttered dirty words and slammed things around. He pulled out the yogurt container, making sure it was empty by crushing it at the bottom. Although it made a blob on the grass, He did his best to clean it all up. THEN He designated a special spot for your food holders and those sticks or scoops you eat with. They must not taste very good so He just chewed them up and left them in a spitty pile. I guess that is recycling at its finest. At last, He discovered the piece de resistance. He spread out the butcher paper which wrapped Uncle Chas' pork ribs, and on it, put the bones, some shrimp butts from an appetizer He found, and a few leftover, dirty vegetables (not MY personal favorite ~ but from all appearances, He seemed to enjoy them immensely; so to each his own). Well, He had quite a picnic right there on the lawn. I know how you guys like dessert so I thought it was nice that He got some too. He ate the lightening boxes. Or maybe he was just flossing (There you go Aunt Gwen ~ woodland creatures have good dental hygiene. Fear not). In the end, and after all He did, Mommie just got new black bags and shoved everything in them. Each armful earned a different swear word but her favorite began with "F". She messed up what He had worked through the night to accomplish so if you could just tell her to go easy on Him next time, I'd appreciate it because between you and me, I DID benefit a little since she couldn't clean it all up at once so I helped as fast as I could. I am a good boy for that.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>>Burp< </b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b><br /></b></span></span>
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>And the ribs WERE amazing.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>Happy Holiday.</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>Love,</b></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "courier new" , "courier" , monospace;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><b>Mulligan.</b></span></span><br />
<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-52976677042782438502020-04-24T07:00:00.000-04:002020-04-24T07:00:03.963-04:00The Corner (Chapter 3)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She got up and put on her clothes. Even though it was Dress-up day,
she chose pants and sneakers instead of her boots. They made a loud
"thuck" when she walked now because the glue didn't always hold and one
buckle was missing but she still felt a little beautiful in them. Her
mom hadn't said a word. Her hair was braided off to one side and a lovely
pink balloon barrette slipped in elegantly. She grinned and her heart
skipped a little. Her mom lifted her chin and wiped at a scratch along
her cheek.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"I tell ya kiddo... you are certainly tumble
dry. Always scratched up..." The little girl's smile faded just a wee
bit. "Did the tooth fairy give you money anyway?"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
nodded quickly. "Oh yes, she didn't even care that I didn't have my
teeth" She'd told her mom that she lost them on the playground ~ David
had actually mashed her face into the dirt one day and her loose teeth
had introduced themselves to a rock and some mud. He'd been giving her a
swirlie and when he'd pulled her head away, there they were like two
shiny seashells on a dark beach.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Well why don't you grab your jacket. I sewed that tear."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Her daughter smiled wanly at the jacket and pulled a sweatshirt over her head. No hood. She
picked up her bag and stood at the door. Her mom swiped at her chin
and booped her nose. The little girl acted displeased and juked. Mommy's phone beeped so she reached for it. There was
a smack at the door as David cupped his hands on the glass and peered
down at her. She backed away and wanted to run. He grinned and bent
his index finger in the "come here" way. She felt her belly tighten and
she shook her head.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"All righty, then all set." Mommy
opened the door and all but shoved her daughter into the hands of the Devil himself. Her knees were wobbly and weak. He roughly grabbed her
hand and squeezed so hard her knuckles ground together. Tears welled
up. Not even of the PORCH yet...</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Bye!" he smiled and
pulled at his little victim. They walked silently to the corner and he
yanked her arm toward the path. "This is it." she thought glumly. She
leaned away pulling him like a puppy on a lead but he yanked at her
again. She lost her balance and almost fell. "DON'T" he hissed half
dragging her into the woods.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She listened and looked
around trying to remember each tree and rock. She hoped she could run
away and escape like in those shows her mom watched after she thought
her daughter was asleep. She wondered if anyone would hear her cry or
scream? Would she?</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>His fist found the side of her
head. She collapsed to the ground. She crawled on all fours through
the rocks that bit her knees trying to get back or get out. Which way?
He laughed and kicked her so hard she flipped over. She balled up and
covered her face. Maybe he would just bury her. She'd lie there and be
glad if that was it. Just no more pain. No more hitting or kicking or
.... She peeped one eye open and slammed it shut quickly. He stood
over her with a stick; a big one, raised over his head like a kung fu
sword. She exhaled slowly and waited.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Behind her
eyelids she noticed something. Darkness. "I must be dying or dead."
she thought. "Huh. Maybe there isn't any pain when you die. Are there
angels?" She waited.. and waited but realized it just got darker. She
wasn't afraid of the dark. Not since the dreams. Then there was a
scream. She covered her mouth thinking instinctively that it was her own. But it wasn't.
She dared to open her eyes. Her dreams had told her what to do. She
sat up and watched as they scrambled around her attacker. He was
terrified. He jumped around in tiny circles trying to watch them all.
And there were so MANY! He swung his sword but they easily dodged it.
He stabbed at them and they laughed. When he attacked, so did they. If
he swung at one, another would rush in and bite him or scratch him.
They had such long teeth and nails. She hadn't noticed this about them
before. They were larger than she remembered when they visited her;
with spiky tails and barbs along their backs. They kind of looked like
bats but with smooshy faces... oh and such tiny hands. She was a little
surprised because she had held them and they seemed soft to her, and
gentle ~ these dreams were different. But she wasn't upset.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>David turned to her and called her name. She looked up as if puzzled by his voice.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"You
fucking idiot ~ help me!!" another one rushed in and bit him. He
yelped and turned on it. A different one jumped on his back and pulled a
clump of hair so big it left a naked spot on his head. There was a
sparkle of blood. This made them even happier and more aggressive.
Another climbed on and chewed on his ear. The tallest one cried out.
It was like a burp so she laughed and quickly covered her mouth. The
other dreams stopped and waited. David was panting and bloody. His
clothes were torn and there was a dark spot between his legs. She
smiled at that, even giggled. The big one walked straight up to him and
sniffed him. He snarled and crawled like a spider up his chest. The
two monsters were face to face. Her dream held the bully's head in its
hands and waved its knife like fingers at him, smiling and raising its
eyebrows. Then it snaked it's fingers into David's mouth and began to
twist. The first tooth made a grinding sound as the roots snapped and
tore. The boy shrieked in pain and fell to his knees. The others moved
in but did not touch. There was a thick crackling pop as another tooth
was eagerly liberated. The dreams laughed and elbowed each other. A
third. The boy rocked back as the pain threatened his consciousness.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
stood and towered over him. Blood smeared his mouth and nose. He
shielded his swelling eyes and focused on her. As he did, he cried out
and dug his heels in to try to get away. Her friends stopped him and
held him tightly. She grabbed his hair and yanked his head back. She
stuck her nose to his nose and shook him.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"All
right you piece of shit. I'm going to count to five and then they're
going to chase you. If you make it to the corner...You know you'll
be safe because my Mommy will see you. If not? " She rocked back and
let him go. The gremlins had parted and left a pathway between them. He
stared at her.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"One." she said with a smile, her eyebrows slightly raised.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>The
boy scrambled to his feet and looked around. He was confused, not
knowing which way to turn to get to the corner. Her friends seethed
forward at the sound of a quiet "TWO". David just ran with no direction
and off the path.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"THREEEEEE!"she squealed happily and
he screamed, hearing all the little feet beginning to scratch and dig
excitedly at the ground.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"FOURFIVE" the little girl
laughed and swirled gleefully as her tiny little nightmares did exactly
what they said they would.. She did not stay. They made her promise.
She walked back toward the entrance; the opposite way from which David
had chosen. She headed to the corner, turning only once when the
leader's gravelly voice whispered her name.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Happy
Birthday." it smiled, something dark dripped from its mouth like
chocolate syrup. She smiled again and bunched up her hand, throwing
each of them kisses.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>For the first time in a long time, she walked to the corner unafraid.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;">And there we have it. The End. This one has been a very long time coming. I had a song stuck in my head that really had a hold on me. I was a victim of bullying when I was about this age. Some of these accounts are sadly real. I did actually have someone walk me to and from school but he was a gentle giant and a kind boy that I fell secretly in love with... understandable, yes? What happened to the bully? That's for another time. Thank you for stopping by. I hope we can visit together again soon.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;">Until next time.</span></span></span><br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjwuCrJPgK-t6_-T249jeaQP4cw34QZyJJWHbHWk4cD10T4PcY4znxJJ30LxqjCUxj8w4BlVJH2jK4zl-Nao4BA5J8SBYGrTnR1z6uuyAr4BVl7C_SEt3b55IhrjUE69rSec79yTZYA/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="144" data-original-width="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOjwuCrJPgK-t6_-T249jeaQP4cw34QZyJJWHbHWk4cD10T4PcY4znxJJ30LxqjCUxj8w4BlVJH2jK4zl-Nao4BA5J8SBYGrTnR1z6uuyAr4BVl7C_SEt3b55IhrjUE69rSec79yTZYA/s1600/heart.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;"> </span><i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-78740182832514960262020-04-21T19:00:00.000-04:002020-04-21T19:00:00.277-04:00The Corner (Chapter 2)<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She thought they were dreams. Dreams come when something happens
that your eyes can't handle and so they pass the buck to your brain and
IT tries to help you out when you sleep. She heard the whispers and
then she saw their eyes. They came from the shadows ~ that's how she
knew they were dreams. She finally sat up and spoke to them (in her
sleep, she was sure) and they began to gather around her bed...these
dreams. They were friendly, not scary. They did magic tricks and told
her jokes. "Where does a pirate put his toilet paper? ON THE POOP
DECK!" ahahahahahaha... she would whisper giggle until tears would
sprinkle over her cheeks. They would stop and wipe them away. They
tasted them and knew they were happy. They brushed her hair and held
her hands. They noticed the marks, the band-aids and the bruises.
Sometimes they touched them or sniffed them and then they would look at
each other and nod. They would then turn to her and in their gravelly
voices they would tell her to sleep, have happy dreams and that one day
everything would be all right. She would put a kiss in her hand and toss
it to each of them before she snuggled down under her purple
comforter. She would try to find comfort in the lie her dreams told.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>It
was her birthday. Her mom made cupcakes and sent in party bags. She
would wear a birthday crown (like a gypsy princess) and when she got
home, she would have her requested birthday supper: fried chicken,
macaronis and cheese with peas and a chocolate cake with clowns all over
it. Clowns were funny; always falling down and honking horns and
making flowers from balloons. Her day would be filled with smiles.
After the last recess, she began to feel sick. She wanted to got to
Mrs. Bodecker and ask to go home early. But she couldn't and she
didn't. She heard the bell ring and everyone was heading home. She
dawdled. She sat in her desk and slowly packed up her remaining
cupcakes and prize bags. "Maybe," she thought, "he will let me go since
I am the birthday girl" An ember of hope sizzled under her new pink
sweater. It had a little bunny sewn on it and in pretty bubble letters :
Somebunny loves me! Her teacher was packing up too. It was Friday.
That meant a weekend and a couple of extra days to heal up before David
began again. Her sneakers felt like they were full of cement as she
dragged down the hall and out the door. Perhaps he'd gone ahead ~ eager
for HIS weekend to start and he'd forgotten all about her.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
started out. The sun was shining and a light breeze tossed hints of
freshly cut grass and hamburgers on the grill. There was laughter as
kids raced home to jump in pools and splash off the hard work week of
coloring and sight reading. Her pace was quick. She found herself
puffing a little as she walk-ran alongside the woods where she usually
was dragged and pounded. But there was nothing. Her heart was racing
and her hands were sweating. She saw the corner and almost began to
run. She was going to make it. She was going to have the perfect
birth....</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>He stood in front of her like a brick wall.
She walked straight into him and bounced back, landing on her butt. Her
cupcakes fell out of the box and the toy bags dumped their goodies.
She wasn't going to cry today she told herself. She scooted back from
him and pulled up a cupcake, holding it out as an offering. He cocked
his head like a dog and knelt down in front of her.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"For
me?" the corner of his mouth turned up. "You're giving this to me?"
she nodded, looking at the ground for a rock he might hit her with. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"It's my birthday." she said softly, reaching up and adjusting the paper crown on her head.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Wow. Birthday huh?" he leaned over her. "Thank you." and he reached out. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>For
a moment, she saw peace. She thought he'd eat it and say it was the
best he'd EVER had and that she was all right in his book. He wouldn't
beat her up anymore. She had a hopeful grin and held it higher, prouder
for him to take it.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>His hand swooped under it and
mashed it into her face and up her nose. She smelled sugar and choked
on sweet chocolate. He took the others, tearing a bite from them and
then shoving them in her ears or hair or down her shirt. He pinched her
so hard she bled. How did he have such long nails? She cried out and
squirmed away. She got up and began to blindly run, swiping at her face
and pulling candy flowers from her hair. She could see the corner.
Almost.... And then she saw a tall figure coming toward her. She was
certain that she'd left David behind her laughing and picking up the
free pencils and little notepads that she'd dropped. This figure kept
coming. Coming fast. She stopped and stared. Then she rushed forward,
tears streaming freely. Her mouth was open and she was shouting her
name "Mom MOM MOOOOOM Oh Mommy...." and her tiny arms made windmill
circles like she could somehow fly to her this way.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Honey...
what... on ... EARTH..." The little girl fell at her feet, gasping.
She looked up and shook her head wildly. "Let's go home. I just want
to go home." she glanced over her shoulders and was horrified to see
David standing next to her.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Hi." he said holding the bags of toys.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Her mother said nothing as her daughter buried her face.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Ummmm I'm David."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Her mother remained silent.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"See,
uhh I was walking and there was this kid ~ he looked like he was
hitting this little girl. Your daughter? So I umm I stopped and tried
to get him off. He uhh he ran into the woods ~ you know that trail that
leads back to the playground? Yeah, he ran off that way, and I was uh
trying to help her. She has these toys. Is it her birthday or
something?" </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Stunned she sat back ~ she shielded her
eyes to see her mother's face. Surely she would understand this was a
lie. It would all come out and she would be safe. David would go to
jail or maybe even H-E- double hockey sticks. She gripped her mother's
legs tighter.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Ah. I see. Well, I can't thank you
enough, David was it? You helped my daughter. What a brave young man
you are. I notice that she's been having some trouble so maybe you
think this guy does it a lot?"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Yeah, I-I- mean, maybe. If he thinks she's an easy target. She walks home by herself..."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Well,
maybe David, since you come this way, you could kind of keep an eye on
her? Maybe even walk with her in the morning? I think that she could
be safer..."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She stopped hearing anything else. She
looked up at him. He who pounded her every day. Now he would have the
pleasure of doing it twice. She looked at her mom with her mouth
hanging open. "No Mommy. Don't"she was half begging, half crying.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Honey...There's
safety in numbers." Mom gently touched her head and turned back to the
bully. "You're Denise Howard's boy right? I'll be sure to call her..."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Okay.
Yes Ma'am. " and he knelt down again and leaned in closely. "I'll be
glad to help you. I'll walk you to school and I'll walk you home. Your
mom won't have to wait at the corner any....more." and his eyebrows
went up. He smiled and his eyes bore into her. Her stomach lurched. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"See you Monday. And oh, Happy Birthday." he stood and waved innocently to her mother who scooped her up and carried her home.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
wondered if she could play sick for the rest of her life ~ develop some
mystery illness that would allow her to be home schooled. She thought
all weekend but she couldn't get it to work. Her mom would cock her
head and tell her she was silly. She told her she'd be fine; that David
would be there.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"That's the problem" she wanted to
yell. But she didn't want to yell at Mommy because it wasn't her
fault. It was David's fault.And she thought she just about hated him.
Yes, yes she did. Saturday night she went to bed and her dreams tried
to cheer her but she rolled away from them. They climbed up in bed and
sat with her, gently hugging her and listening as she at last trusted
her mind to understand what she'd seen and been through. Her dreams
were silent. She wondered if dreams could be mad because hers seemed to
be. They huddled together and spoke in low gravelly tones. They
looked over and then went back to more guttural whispers. She pleated
the sheet with her hands and waited. They got down off the bed and went
back to the shadows. She was sad and wondered if she would ever have
nice dreams again.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>It was Sunday and she was very
nervous. Ms. Howard had talked to her mom and they believed it was a
great idea for her son, David, to walk her to and from school each day.
They couldn't believe who would do such a thing and what kind of
monsters were his parents because that behavior had to be learned from
SOMEWHERE. Oh they clucked their tongues and congratulated each other on
their quick and efficient protective parenting and problem solving
skills. This, after all, is what made a community; attention to detail
and observant parenting.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She was doomed. She moped all
day. She stared out the window and wished she could run away ~ or
disappear. She barely ate and merely sat in the tub allowing herself to
be washed rather than playing and singing as she usually did. There
was no reason. She was certain she would disappear into those woods and
never come out. She wondered if Ms Howard would cry. Would David? She
would miss her mom. Miss fried chicken and cupcakes. She would miss
so many things. She had heard it said at funerals "He/She lived a full
life..." this was not something she felt. SHE had not lived a full
life. SHE had not been the line leader to the lunchroom NOR had she
been chosen to sit aside Mrs. Bodecker and hand out papers. THAT would
have been a full life ... but no. She was just going to be demolished
by David Howard.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She sighed and turned out the light.
Her dreams came in tiny whispers. At first she couldn't understand what
they were telling her. She didn't believe them. She swatted, tossed
and turned. She whimpered as they crawled up next to her and let her
know that everything was going to be okay. Then they told her why....
She lay still and slept deeply. Her dreams waiting patiently in the
night shadows.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;">And here we are together again ~ so exciting, right? Ha. Bear with me. We're almost there. I'll see you at the end of the week. I hope you'll finish this ride with me. I know I've loved it so far. We'll chat soon. Sleep well.</span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;">Until next time.</span></span><br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQFhfQXL4sEhKRQd3csoHgfUIxGC2kYot0b2NFVaXKz120CF6CtO2V_2BUt8duiU3Cyb4QEHeTlhyphenhyphenxQCKh498JyOlKNWh7feURr7M5IxpDIZIu7CPhePZ9Ft_mNYE6rD8qpvi1jPh0A/s1600/heart.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="144" data-original-width="134" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEihQFhfQXL4sEhKRQd3csoHgfUIxGC2kYot0b2NFVaXKz120CF6CtO2V_2BUt8duiU3Cyb4QEHeTlhyphenhyphenxQCKh498JyOlKNWh7feURr7M5IxpDIZIu7CPhePZ9Ft_mNYE6rD8qpvi1jPh0A/s1600/heart.jpg" /></a></div>
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;"> </span></span>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-60531255628665688582020-04-18T21:00:00.000-04:002020-04-19T07:59:42.256-04:00The Corner (Chapter 1)<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Her lungs burned as her kindergarten feet pounded down the sidewalk.
Her arms and hands pulled in tightly hugging her white windbreaker
close as if she were trying to keep her heart from jumping out and
running ahead. She could almost see it; the corner where she would at
last be safe. The laughter got louder. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Please
faster...please just faster" she begged her little boots. She loved
these boots. Her mommy had bought them and they had a little gold
buckle with the slightest heel. They made her feel so grown up and pretty;
like a gypsy princess. Now, she just hoped they would hold together
until the corner.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Today was the day she learned why to
never wear anything hooded. Without warning, her windpipe snapped shut
as the zipper from her jacket gouged her. Her arms that had been tucked
like a baby bird's flew out to grab and hopefully catch her little
body. The boots were no longer running. There was a thick smack as her
head brutally crashed to the ground. She blinked and swung wildly,
knowing what was coming. It came every day at this time. Her beat down
from David Howard; a bully three grades up. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
had never spoken to the boy, only walked the same way to and from
school. He had yelled across the street to her and called her ugly.
Called her a faggot (whatever that was) and after the first time he
punched her in the stomach so hard she fell to the ground and threw up,
he called her Crybaby. His pastime was chasing her home from school,
beating her up before she could reach the corner where her mom could see her from their house.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Today he pinned her with his elbows and
spit on her. He jumped up and down on her arms and wrists until she
thought her hands would pop off. It had been raining so he grabbed
leaves and mud and smeared it under her nose and then into her mouth
when she gasped for air. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"You look like a stupid guppy." he laughed exaggerating his movements and crushing her chest.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Stop David. Please. Why are you...?" she wheezed and choked.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Shut
up you stupid little crybaby...wahhhh wahhhhhhh" he leaned forward
shoving the crease of his jeans up to her chin. He farted. "Guess what
I had for lunch?" He howled at his own joke.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>The little girl sputtered and gagged.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Guess!"
he looked down at her, his eyes dark. His girlishly long hair hanging
in his face. He rocked back on one hip, letting up and for a moment she
thought he was done for the day. He got up and absently brushed his
hands. She rolled over and coughed. Mud bubbled out of her nose and
she spat a small stick. She wiped her eyes now red and swollen. She
took a gurgled breath, tasting fear and dirt. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"All
right you tiny piece of shit. I'm going to count to five and then I'm
going to chase you. If you make it to the corner...You know you'll be
safe because your Mommy can see you. If not? I'm going to kick your ass
so bad you'll piss you little pants. Got it?"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>His
voice was muffled in her ears, dull and angry, the words not quite
clear. But she had been through this enough to know ~ so she scrambled
to her feet and bolted.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>To the corner. Almost. To. The. Corner.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
quietly opened the door begging the hinges to keep her secret. She
knew she was going to get in trouble. Her brand new "pantyhose" (just
like Mommy wore) were ripped. Her boot heel had come loose but she had
glue in her room that she stole from Mrs. Bodecker's craft closet; so
that should help. She washed off what she could at the front hose.
That could explain the slosh in her boots. Nobody needed to know it was
warm and not the cold water from the tap. She snaked her body along the
wall to avoid the kitchen. The rubber soles squeaked softly but she
shushed them and stood up on her toes. She made it to her room and
began to change out of her destroyed outfit. She picked a long
sleeve tee-shirt to hide the scratches and soft pants since they felt
nice on all the cuts and bruises forming along her back. She had not
made it to the corner today. He had gotten a second round that
consisted of his version of kickball. She hissed and winced. She saw
blood on her panties. She would have to throw them away. Gingerly, she
padded to the bathroom and held her breath while she peed. Her mother
hummed a song as she came down the hall.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She knocked. "You alright Doodlebug?" </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Yip"
she tried to sound regular but her face was pinched so tight she
couldn't see. Her lips pressed so close together that the screams never
made it out, only the tears. When her mom moved on, satisfied, she
reached for her bath towel and cried. Sobbing into the plush dancing
teddy bears until everything gave out. Then she wiped her face, stood
up and stepped out. She moved slowly and deliberately until bedtime,
careful not to get too close to anyone. She asked if she could go to
bed early.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Sure Honey. You okay?"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Tired." she tried to smile. Everything hurt.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Want to tell me what happened?"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
felt the color drain from her face and she saw sparkly stars around
her. She got dizzy. She dug her toe at the rug. "What."</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Yes indeed. What. What happened to your boots? Why are your tights ripped? Did you have an accident?"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>All
these questions. She just stood in front of her mom trembling and
shaking her head no. Her mind was screaming for her to tell ~ just
shout it all out. But she knew it would only get worse when her mom
called his mom and he knew. He'd know she told.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"I'm
sorry Mommy." And the tears fell. She was sorry all right. Sorry she
wasn't strong and brave. She was so so sorry about her new clothes
because she knew they didn't have a lot of money to buy stuff. She was
sorry that David Howard was mean and she couldn't be nice enough to him
to make him stop hitting her; every day of her life.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Don't be sorry....talk to me. Want me to take you and pick you up?"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"Oh
no Mommy. I know you are busy. I'm okay. I'll be more careful. I'll
do better." her voice was small and shaky. She rushed her words and
tried to smile.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Mommy wrinkled her eyebrows. She
was thinking. She twisted her mouth and just when she was certain her
mom would say something she blew her a kiss. "Want me to tuck you in? I
can read a story and we can have cookies. Girls' night" </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
held her lips in a thin line. "Just sleepy. I love you." and she
turned. Her jammie bottoms dragging softly on the worn carpet. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>"I love you back"</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>Whew </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><i>She
brushed her teeth and turned out the light. She took her little play
library steps and moved them so she could get into bed. " One day I'll
be big enough." She thought. Her muscles were beginning to ache and the
bruises were beginning to streak and show. They were going to be black
then purple blue green and yellow ~ a painful rainbow she thought
sadly. Her butterfly nightlight winked from near the closet that was
open just a little. She did not turn it on. Most kids her age were
afraid of the dark and closets. She knew the truth; the scariest
monsters were out in the daylight.</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;">Hello and welcome back. I am glad we get to share this time, no matter how short. This one is longer than my usual "drive-by", so I thought I would break it up into a couple of short chapters. Enjoy and I'll post the second chapter mid-week, with a round up by the weekend. Thanks again. You're good company.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;">Until next time.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
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<span style="color: #660000;"><span style="font-family: "verdana" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;"> </span><i> </i></span></span>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-7916326660338347312020-04-09T11:17:00.000-04:002020-04-09T12:29:32.356-04:00Lessons<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">There are times when the universe puts you to the test. You step back, you absorb, process and move on. You grow, accepting the valuable lesson and appreciate what you've learned.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then there are the times where you realize the universe is making fun of you ~ all your efforts and seeming know-how. It takes your well thought-out plans and hoists its heavy leg to make tee-tee on everything; like a fire hose out of control. That has been my collection of "lessons" over the last several months. Yes, months.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It began with the lesson of patience. I was trying to reciprocate my professional license because we are relocating. We are following a more gentle, breathable path in our lives ~ so we thought. I hit wall after wall of "We need...", "We won't release without...", or "It's in our hardcopy archives because it's been SO long ago..." That was a DOUBLE kick in the shins because some lil gum-chewer took a pot-shot at my age. Yes, thank you, Darlin for reminding me that I was thirty something before my first cell phone and I remember a fascinating tickle as AOL cranked up like an old forgotten field plow: rrrrrrrruuuuummmm vrrrr-whirrrrrrrr CONNECTED ....</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">But I persevered and got what I needed. I sighed and stepped up to the next task: Diligence. Cheech and I have come to understand the universe does not enjoy our travel hi-jinx; demonstrating this displeasure by whipping up freak snowstorms, monsoon-like rains and devastating winds whenever we venture out on vacation. I apologize to those of you who did not receive the memo. Please check your spam folder and look for the sender: Muthuh Nature. I know you are scoffing but here are some irrefutable examples:</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"> I wanted to surprise my favorite playmate with a sexy trip to a BEAUTIFUL spa winery. It was a surprise ~ for both of us since 1) I had never EVER done anything so romantically wreckless 2) I kept it a secret for months. The time came and I had wonderful plans from dinners, tastings, massages and other fun activities. Arriving, Cheech became ill, popping a fever and being bed ridden for the entire weekend. Still skeptical? Well chew on the fact that a freak snow storm roared up on the place where we were staying; a southern state thoroughly ill-equipped for even a light frost. The melee that ensued included: panicked (but professional) rescheduling of all services that could not be cancelled, a new flight, and another hotel ~ extra meals... so much for nekkid sexy time. But I soldiered on and took away that I got to read a lot. I dozed in luxury and smelled wonderful smells from a spa I never saw. We checked out and headed to our second hotel. Sitting at a stoplight, we were rear-ended by a taxi. No, I am NOT joking. My gentle, calm thoughts here? We got fresh warm cookies and a free lunch from the hotel. Both were delicious.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And my second example? We want to move to our lake house. We want to breathe deeper and reduce the stress of two household, one of which is too big for us now. That would include travel. And what happened? The whole world broke. A pandemic.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Then there was today. We have been preparing our house our kids and dogs for this day. I am a couple of weeks from going -for good. We are in the home stretch. The painters have finished every inch of the house. The carpets are ordered and on their way. We are moments from listing ... Life is good and the universe is smiling... I mistook it for the "good job" smile versus the "Waaaaaiiiit for it... WAAAAAIIIIIT FOR IT....." grin. Silly me.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So my beloved went tinkle and copped a shower to begin his day. I was sitting in our piano room with my coffee doing my morning think. I heard a gentle trickle and glanced out the window. "hmm ~ didn't think the rain was starting until later..." I frowned thinking of the big load I was taking up to Promises today, meeting the kids and having a stress free weekend of games, food and ... wine. But it WASN'T raining. At least outside. I jumped up and bolted around the corner to see water spewing from my register vent in the ceiling. It assaulted my counters and swallowed my kitchen tile. "Nononononono NOOOOOOOOO!" I heard myself growling as I dashed up the steps, down the hall to my bathroom. My Cheech was soaped up and busy. </span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Rinse and turn off the water." I said calmly. I think I said it. Inside my skull, my brain was shrieking, my grey matter frothing with fear and fury.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"What?" he wiped his face. Water ran. My heart began to race. My feet were wet. I looked over to see the Porcelain God vomiting onto my floor at an alarming rate. I could hear my bathroom carpet slurping, sucking, trying to help me hold it back. Thank you carpet. I loved you best for your dedication to warm feet and now this... I weep at the loss of you but know this: You were a valiant soldier. Amen.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">With a hint of volume and desperation, I repeated myself in a puff "RINSEANDTURNOFFTHEWATER" I jumped to the toilet, and performed the plumbing Heimlich. (Thank God I'm certified) It gurgled and swallowed. Too late now you douche I glared and hissed. I grabbed towels enough to birth a village threw them to the floor and dashed passed my husband who stood awestruck.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"This is not happening." he scolded the water. I felt the rush of his energy willing it to stop. When this was not effective he turned off the water and joined me in the kitchen.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Oh my FUCK THIS IS NOT HAPPENING" The volume drowned out the water. (Hey Alanis... it IS ironic...) I turned off circuits because water was weeping from the lights in the ceiling.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">The shop-vac was awakened, blankets from the couch were deployed. There was no time for tears or distress. We called emergency services and insurance companies. Aqua-war was on. We were winning. Sort of. We waited for the water-vac (like medi-vac but with more rubber and different masks... remember THIS when I throw my next theme party...) and sat silently. My mind was racing, searching for anything positive....I looked at my shell-shocked husband, frustrated and angry. We are exhausted. We just want to move and look forward to something a little easier and more simple.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">So I only had one thing to say.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Why is the floor wet... TODD?????"</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He looked at me over his computer. His lips tight and thin. I should have heeded the warning but I was like Bugs Bunny in a straight jacket; head back scream-laughing... then I got up.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">"Okay well, with the service people coming, I am just going to sneak upstairs and grab a quick shower...."</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">He smiled and said "I do love you."</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">My lesson? We will survive and together we are invincible. That and we will keep this community employed through the beer flu. Pass the putty knife and towels. We're gonna have a spackle party. Bring your tool belts and butt cracks.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Laugh with me. I need the company ... Better days and stronger martinis.</span></span></span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;"><span style="font-family: "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Until next time, please use the downstairs toilet. </span></span> </span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #073763;"><i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i></span>
Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-44158924657463471932019-10-20T16:04:00.001-04:002019-10-20T16:04:48.220-04:00Cookie MonsterThe woman had been watching. After all, it takes a village, right? The boy was alone too much. She often saw him sitting by himself on the large wrap-around porch. He never had play dates. She had never heard him laugh nor had she seen him with friends and at his age, he should have been racing down the street on his bike for a pick up game of basketball or kickball or something. She should have had to chase him from her back yard when he cut through or had to call his mother because he was saying words too grown up and sinister for his young mouth. Sinister. Well maybe that was over the top. She decided to take action in a neighborly way. She began to go outside when he was out. She would wave. He smiled and waved back almost hungry for, no, STARVING for attention.She went the next step; cookies.<br />
<br />
"That poor boy." she clucked to herself smudging flour on her cheek as she baked. <br />
<br />
"Mother, stay out of it." warned her son on his weekly visit. "You don't have any idea what goes on over there. He may just be taking a break from a wild day of Yatzee and coloring books. He might be exhausted from cookie-baking, sing-a-longs and home schooling. Maybe he has a "smother" ..." he allowed the last sentence to sink in and smiled when she attempted to rat-tail him with her dish towel. She grimaced at her failure. <br />
<br />
"One day, I'm going to get it right and you won't sit for a week!" she chuckled and pulled out the tray of golden, delicious disks. Her son was immediately at her side, reaching over and around. It quickly became a cat and mouse game as she twirled and warned against the hot tray. He snatched his prize and juggled it. She stopped and glared with a twinkle.<br />
<br />
"You. Deserve. That. I hope you burned your mouth and ruined your taste buds for the rest of the day. I am taking these over to the family." she said proudly, slipping them into a little basket crammed with other baked goods and little toys.<br />
<br />
"Stah ow uh eet." he said wiggling his hand in front of his mouth.<br />
<br />
"I'm not getting into anything. Just being neighborly." and she headed out the door. Just before the screen door swished shut, she turned and stuck her tongue out, making a resoundingly wet raspberry. It was drizzling. She was glad because then she would be invited in and she could better survey the scene. She found him in his usual spot with some trucks and little wooden people (Fisher Price? Weebles? It had been so long ago that she had had to trip on those toys) scattered around.<br />
<br />
"Hi Sweetie." she said from the base of the steps. "Is anybody home?"<br />
<br />
He nodded, his attention immediately drawn to the basket. <br />
<br />
"May I come up?" She asked from the little path at the base of the steps. It's always best to ask and not frighten such a delicate boy. He shrugged but sat back and crossed his legs, folding his hands in his lap.<br />
<br />
"I baked these. Would you like one?"<br />
<br />
"Yes, please." he said quietly.<br />
<br />
Chock one up for manners she thought and gave him two. He leaned forward and gently took them immediately whispering thank you and popping the entire first cookie into his little mouth.<br />
<br />
"Whoa. Be careful Doll. You might want some milk ..."<br />
<br />
The heavy door swung open and a woman appeared. She looked tired. Moms are always tired. <br />
<br />
"Hi. I don't mean to bother you but I just thought I'd bring some..."<br />
<br />
The woman quickly glanced at the boy then to Lilly. Silently, he gathered his things with incredible speed and rushed passed her disappearing into the house. Lilly craned her neck to see what was behind the woman, the door was quickly shut and the woman motioned for Lilly to sit in one of the two chairs on the porch. Lilly was crushed.<br />
<br />
"That was sweet of you. You'll excuse me, I was doing some work in the house and it's a bit too cluttered for company. We can enjoy your lovely gift together. Here."<br />
<br />
"In the rain?"<br />
<br />
"We won't get wet." The woman offered a small decisive smile. <br />
<br />
"Of course. Well, I just wanted to pop over. I wave to your son when he's out and I thought it best not to be such a stranger. Neighbors should get to know each other. I'm Lilly." <br />
<br />
The woman hesitated and then forced a tight grin. "I'm Tabitha. The boy you see is Levi." she tossed her head toward the house.<br />
<br />
"Your son? What a unique na..."<br />
<br />
"Not my son." she rushed. Lilly waited but there was no further conversation. <br />
<br />
"He seems to keep to himself." Lilly blurted. Tabitha stopped chewing and contemplated.<br />
<br />
"It's better that way." she said and began to chew again, thinking this was the end all beat all answer.<br />
<br />
"Better?" Lilly asked.<br />
<br />
Tabitha nodded thoughtfully. "Better..." her voice trailed off.<br />
<br />
"Is he a foster?"<br />
<br />
"No."<br />
<br />
"Oh. You've adopted him? So lovely. I think it's great..."<br />
<br />
"No." Tabitha interrupted. She took another bite.<br />
<br />
Lilly sat back and crossed her feet under her waiting.<br />
<br />
There was silence. "Cookies are great. Levi will certainly eat them all before supper." she said flatly.<br />
"I don't mean to cut you off or seem rude but I must get back to things inside. A boy like Levi can stir things up pretty quick." and she stood, brushing crumbs from her shirt. "Thank you for stopping by Lilly and for being so... thoughtful." She met Lilly's eyes with such intensity that Lilly pulled her sweater around her as a chill swept under her skin. With that, she slipped back inside leaving Lilly alone. Levi peeked through the drapes and waved with a cookie in his hand. She could do nothing but go home.<br />
<br />
She and her son ate dinner. She pushed her food around on her plate and sighed a lot. He quietly waited until she was ready.<br />
<br />
"It just doesn't make sense."<br />
<br />
"To you. Stay out of it. He's a healthy little boy. He's clean. He's smart-"<br />
<br />
"Polite..." she added with a cock of her head and a poke of her meatloaf.<br />
<br />
"Polite." he smiled. "So please stop trying to find something wrong. Let them be. Families are different now then when you were so lucky." he chided.<br />
<br />
"Lucky..." She rolled her eyes and smiled but her gaze drifted back to the porch across the street.<br />
<br />
It was her son's turn to sigh. He cleaned up. Kissed his mother and told her to stay out of it. She puffed him with her dishtowel. He caught it and pulled it close, giving her a long "hard" look. <br />
<br />
"I mean it."<br />
<br />
She watched him go and leaned across the doorway with her coffee. She scowled at it. "Too late for you, my little buzz factor ..." and she left the door open allowing the autumnal breeze to swirl gently behind her to the kitchen, where she finished up for the night. <br />
<br />
"He's right." she smiled to herself. Bedtime.<br />
<br />
Her dreams were sour. She woke once drenched in sweat. "Haven't had a personal summer in years." she grumped kicking off the blankets. "I'm too old for hot flashes. Hot nights... hot ANYTHINGS. " she giggled to herself and settled back. Sleep quickly pounced but pushed her into a nightmare. There was fog, a damp wind and a panic.<br />
<br />
She knew the place where she was but could see nothing which caused her to walk cautiously and sweep with her hands to find something to ground her; touch something to give her an image of where she was. Her house? It had to be. Then why was she afraid? She heard the scurry of the leaves across the road. They were in a rush to get away. She just knew it. And she felt she should be hustling along herself. Her mind was pushing her. "Move on Lilly. Let's get going now Girl. Don't dawdle."<br />
<br />
And a voice quietly cooed "Do you want to know? Do you want to see? Come a little closer Lilly. I'll show you..." <br />
<br />
She jarred awake; a gasp exploding from her lips. Her eyes darted through the dark, screaming for focus. The silence seemed too thick. She rubbed her face and brushed back her hair, tugging on her earlobes as if that would somehow clear her head. Slowly she began to recognize....<br />
<br />
The porch of her neighbor's house.<br />
<br />
The lights were out.<br />
<br />
"Of course you old fart. It's the middle of the damn night."<br />
<br />
She looked around to make sure. Yep. She had walked across the street in her nightie to stand at the door of her neighbor. She rolled her eyes and shook her head. "Idiot." She turned to go. A gentle movement stopped her. <br />
<br />
"Don't you dare look!" her mind shouted. "Just go home. Lilia. Don't look. That's when the monsters get you." and she began to creep back along the porch toward her own home.<br />
<br />
"You crazy old bat. " she scolded under her breath. But she thought she heard little Levi whisper her name so she began to turn; if only to give him a tiny wave of reassurance then a tightness pinched in her chest; warning her. A soft tapping began at the window. She wanted to look but took another step away from the door. She was at the edge of the porch. The tap was louder, sharper. "Look at me" it demanded. Lilly went down, one, two, three and stopped at the base of the walkway. The tap was now a scratch or a streak, like wet fingers. Her brain screamed that she should run ~ like a child with a Halloween prank gone wrong. But the old woman would not be bullied. She kept her pace. She walked slowly and smartly home. She went up the stairs and purposefully smoothed out blankets and got back into bed having locked each door behind her. A tiny fortress. She approved and plumped her pillows, opened her Agatha Christie and read until the sun turned on the sky with flashes of red....<br />
<br />
and blue<br />
<br />
and white<br />
<br />
The police cars and the barking of walkie-talkies told her she actually had gone back to sleep. She stood and pulled the drapes away from the glass.<br />
<br />
Ambulances, police, paramedics... the whole county of first responders seemed to be in the road. It looked like a disco ant hill with all the flashing and people crawling in and out. She saw her other neighbors craning their necks from the perimeter set by yellow tape. She had that pinchy feeling again.<br />
<br />
She saw the ME and the coroner pull up. She watched gurneys going out. <br />
<br />
She saw Levi sitting on the porch. Alone.<br />
<br />
She didn't realize her hands were clenched and cold. She willed them open and rubbed them together.<br />
"java." she muttered to herself and went to the kitchen. Most of the day was busy across the street. But Levi seemed invisible. He just sat on the porch. He played with toys and wandered around. Once she thought he even started across to her house. But he hesitated and slowly waved instead. Lilly did not. She pulled away from the window as if scalded and went to polish something or make a bed or wash some vegetables; anything. As much of a busy body as she could be, she did not pull up a chair to watch the show unfold. She busied herself. She vacuumed three times and washed the floor register covers. She drank coffee and paced a lot.<br />
<br />
The sun chickened out and dipped below the trees to hide. She became nervous and "prickly" inside as the shadows grew longer. She told herself she wasn't looking out the window for the boy. She muttered to herself she was one crazy old bitch and needed to talk to her doctor about upping her dose. She locked the door three times. Not even Zane Grey and his sassy western novel could keep her occupied.<br />
<br />
It was a surprise when she was startled awake.<br />
<br />
By tapping at her window. Lilly rolled over and pulled the blankets up. Everyone knew that was the best defense against monsters; but not tapping. She stuck her finger in her ear to block the noise. <br />
<br />
"Don't look" she said to herself.<br />
<br />
"C'mon out Lilly. You just had to know. You wanted to help? You wanted to see what was going on? C'mon out. I'll show you. And bring cookies...." The voice was cold and mocking. It sounded watery and thick.<br />
<br />
Dead.<br />
<br />
"No. Go away." she whispered and squinched her eyes shut. She dug her finger in a little deeper to her ear. "Leave me be. Take the cookies but leave me alone. I'll never look. I'll never ask. I'll... I'll<br />
<br />
"Never tell" finished the voice and there was one final tap. Loud and crisp. Lilly thought for sure the window was going to break. Then the smearing sound like someone one writing something.<br />
<br />
Lilia stayed locked in her room, safe with her blankie and curled in a ball. The deal had been made.<br />
Dreams did not visit her.<br />
<br />
When she woke, she was oddly refreshed. She pulled back the curtain and saw the smear, little finger marks spelling out a word. She studied it, then cleaned it with Windex. She never asked. She had promised. Then she headed down to her kitchen where she made coffee and eggs and bacon, baked a banana bread and started a stew since she was a bit chilled with the weather. "Autumnal weather means a hearty stew." she told herself, tugging at her sweater. <br />
<br />
On the counter sat the cookie jar. She replaced the lid and never thought twice. She swept the crumbs and refused to dwell on the trail they made down the hall, across the parlor to the door. She thought of the word on her window and began baking oatmeal cookies.<br />
<br />
Fall came, died and turned to winter. Snow fell, melted and morphed into a muddy spring. Lilly continued to putter, read and be nosy about most of the neighborhood. She baked cookies and sprayed Windex. Not once did she join in the gossip about the horrible crime that took place. The young couple who had been killed. No one was ever arrested. "At least they didn't have children..." was the usual comment. Lilly shuddered but never said a word.<br />
<br />
When the moving truck pulled up and a family appeared, she whipped up a double batch of snicker doodles without hesitation. She put them in the jar on her counter and looked across the road. A little girl was swinging on a new swing on the porch. Her mom and dad worked in the yard. She sighed heavily and with wobbly old knees, Lilly made her way over. She stood at the curb curb and called to them, introducing herself. They came and returned the favor. A conversation struck up. Lilly felt an instant connection and warmth. She liked them and their little girl. She laughed and enjoyed the new life. They invited her several times to come up and sit on the porch, she politely declined. She held out her gift and told them to keep the jar. In fact, she asked them to keep it on the porch. When asked why, she laughed softly and waved her hand. <br />
<br />
"It's a good neighbor thing. Leave it there and always have cookies in it. You'll be blessed and safe."<br />
<br />
The old woman hurried back home leaving the new couple a little confused. But Lilly didn't want to tell them what she knew. She scurried off after the drapes moved and a small hand waved with a cookie in it. Levi stood watching. Grinning. The little girl smiled and waved back at her new friend.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-83908288520355138962019-08-14T02:00:00.000-04:002019-08-19T18:37:58.001-04:00Family<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>I remember that day. It was hot and we slept heavily during the sunny hours. When the big ball began to dip, Mama woke us. We were lazy and she had to prod us to get up. Much needed to be done as always.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>"It's time to go" she whispered. We were still young and understood only a little. We were more in tune with grabbing each other and playing. My brother and sister were just babies but I was a little older and had responsibilities. Sometimes though, we forgot about our situation. We laughed until our lungs burned and were carefree. Mama pretended to be stony, impenetrable, but I saw a small smile creep across her guarded, sharp features. Most of the time she let us go occasionally whirling around and hissing for us to stop or pay attention. This was not one of those times. And we all seemed invigorated by the sweet, damp autumnal night. The shadows were as crisp as the air but we weren't cold. Not today at least. It was tough living like we did. Moving a lot; never really wanted or accepted. I was too young then to see it for what it was. At some level it was always an adventure. That was how Mama saw it. Some days were easy. Then there were the others.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>It had to be so hard on her; sad and yet she made sure we laughed much more often than we cried. She could take the good and make it great. Bath time became a water war where we were left gasping in joy. A long time without a meal always ended in a feast. She saved us. Daily. And she taught us important things: caution, strength and the one I recognize painfully even now - protect those you love.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>It had been so harsh for so long. We had been traveling for what seemed like weeks; not finding shelter or food. We were hungry and afraid. And oh so cold. Mama hugged us against the changing wind and soothed us with stories of better days. She cried in her dreams; wishing better things for us. At last she had to make the second hardest decision in her life; she left us alone to find something- some place safe. I remember the surge of bravery and love and telling her I would be fine. I would protect us. I could barely encircle my brother and sister but I huddled them against the cruel world and I soothed them with stories and dreams. I knew now why she cried in the dark. At last she woke us. I was overjoyed to see her and hear her voice. Her eyes were sharp and clear as she told us she'd found food and we could follow her. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>There was no telling twice. We all jumped up and trailed after her. Our weak bodies finding speed in hope and the promise of nourishment. We had to sneak and be silent. We knew that by watching Mama creep around. I could smell something amazing and my shrunken belly shouted in anticipation. I doubled over and tried to hide it.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>"Patience baby" she whispered. We got closer to the garage and saw where someone had cast aside barbecue leftovers. My mouth was a waterfall. My baby brother actually moaned as it tickled his nose with the promise of a full tummy. My sister dropped to the ground whimpering. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>"Hang on Darlings. Please just wait. I ..." and she turned to huddle us again giving very specific and fierce instructions. Her grip was tighter than normal. I should have known but I was too young and eager; selfishly fantasizing about sandwiches and meat. Then she kissed each of us and like a football team she nodded and we broke, scurrying to gather all that we could. We knew where to meet so that we could share at last in a feast for our tiny, loving family.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>I didn't know what the glare was at first; the flashlight Then the shouts roared inside my ears. I heard her screaming at me. It tore through my hunger and struck my soul as she made the hardest decision ever:</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>"Move Baby! Get your sister's hand. Your brother is close. Run. Get away. I love..." </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>There was a clap of thunder and smoke. I smelled hot metal. More angry voices came at us and we were rushing with what we could carry into the bush.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>"Got one of em! Hurry 'fore they git away... THERE THERE..." more thunder and whooshing around our heads. My heart was throbbing and my mouth was dry. I kept running until my lets gave out, all but dragging my sister and screeching at my brother to keep up. We ducked and crawled under a large stump of a tree that had fallen. It wasn't ideal but we had stayed in worse places. I let them eat. Then they slept as they should. I listened to the night. I thought I heard the men stomping around congratulating themselves on the murder of my mother. I felt the tears rushing down my face. The food tasted of salt and misery but I had to do it, needing the energy. After an eternity, I dreamt she came back to us in the morning. </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>" Mama." I called to no one.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>I shrugged those childish thoughts off and gathered my brother and sister. The sun would be rising soon and we needed to move on. I looked back and whispered "I love you" into the morning light. We began to lumber across the road when I heard a car rumbling upon us. I hustled them into the long grass thinking the men were coming. We ducked and sat silently at the side of the road. Peering out, I glimpsed a small boy craning his neck to gawk and point at us</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i> "Mama! Look! a family of raccoons!"</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><i>I looked at him jealous of his precious, happy family.</i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">This one brought on some tears. I saw while driving to work, a dead family of raccoons in the road one day and it really struck me. I'm a sap that way... so this is my little homage to that lost family. </span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hug your babies. Love.</span></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Cheers. </span></span><i> </i></span><br />
Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-84262278966787835352019-07-24T10:12:00.001-04:002019-07-24T10:12:35.272-04:00Terror in the heartsGather around my little, innocent chickies. Gather and I will show you something. Something horrible; so come closer only if you dare.<br />
<br />
The night was long and my drive made it longer. I found myself shouting my favorite songs to the steering wheel and serenading the road signs as they stared at me; hypnotized by my oncoming headlights and melodic voice. I too felt the road zombie-virus taking its hold. I sang louder and rolled down my window. I sound just like Abba when the volume is that high and J-Lo? She got NUTHIN on me. We be from the same damn block. heeheehee. Those are the thoughts that sauntered through my exhausted brain. I had been defeated and beat up at work for far too many days in a row. I had tried to be the Christopher Robin and acknowledge that I was brave enough, strong enough... you know how it goes; but my peers felt differently. They were definitely in Eeyore's camp: "It doesn't matter. It will just fall off anyway...."<br />
<br />
But there was a tiny ember glowing. One of hope, one of optimism. I was headed to my lake and I was going to stay there for a week. I was going to wake up, sip coffee in my jammies and watch the world rush off to work and busy life. I was not going to join them and was looking forward to actually doing a little giggling and pointing. (You know how I love that.) This was my driving force; my goal. So I hugged Gizmo's wheel lovingly and pushed the gas with just a tiny bit more to go. I could do this; reach my Nirvana.<br />
<br />
The street lights one by one disappeared. I arrived at my oasis at midnight with eyes burning, fingers numb from gripping the wheel and a sore throat. Who knew Elton John's "I'm Still Standing" could do that? Not me. But with the volume up? We are both Queens with soul.<br />
<br />
I pulled in the drive, relishing the soft, crunching welcome the gravel was giving me. It was so very late after all...shhhhhh. I opened the door and was greeted by the toddlers and one sexy husband. "Welcome to vacation" This was where he presented me with fresh bruschetta and wine. What's not to love? My exhaustion was turning to satisfaction. I was dreaming of a wonderful sleep; deep and comforting.<br />
<br />
I trudged up the last set of stairs- no small task if you've been to the lake house. I stopped and got my first full breath in weeks. I dropped my bags and I stripped off my clothes, my worries and woes...oh and my bra. That right there should give you all a collective sigh; am I right? Of course. I slipped into one of the world's oldest and most decadent tee shirts, brushed my teeth (for those of you who care about dental hygiene- I dedicate that moment to you) and slathered on my favorite wrinkle warrior in a jar. Sandman cometh. Taketh me to your castle where I will rule with a soft fist and gentle breath.<br />
<br />
The darkness soothed me, the dogs snuggled and I was gone. Thankfully gone.<br />
<br />
That my chickies is where the sidewalk ends and the broken, jagged journey begins. I opened my eyes and smiled. I heard the dogs sighing and my husband mumbling in blissful slumber. I rolled over to see the marvel that is my life.<br />
<br />
WRONG-I was confronted with an evil so dark and demonic that I covered my mouth to stifle the screeches billowing from my stomach like rotting bile. Tears instantly sprang to my eyes and spilled over onto what could have been a pillow; a stone, a cluster of thumb tacks. My first vision of the morning? A soccer ball dangling at the corner of the eaves. My mind stuttered and tried to understand what I was focusing on and then it clicked. I was gazing upon a writhing mess of fucking BEES. I slid from under the blankets, dropping to the floor (so they couldn't see me of course) I crawled on my hands and knees toward the bathroom where I thought I could close the door and cry. Oh no. I found not one but two dead centuries on the carpet. They were waiting for me. They knew I would come. I felt the trembling begin in my elbows and shimmy down to my knees. I thought I was going to poop on the carpet. I begged God to save me. Turning to stare at the tiny Death Star I saw the devils zooming in and out. Three at a time. Oh a forth- One just went out, hauled a u-ie and went back in to be counted twice. Bastards. All of them. I crumpled myself between the shower and the tub, rocking back and forth, trying to devise an escape plan. Standing tall and smoothing my hair I chose adulthood. I brushed my teeth (hygiene reference) and opened the door. " I got this. I will not be harmed. I will..." run like a Olympic sprinter at qualifying time. There was a whoosh and curtain movement as I zipped down the stairs and into the kitchen. But the toddlers didn't understand so they came rushing after me collecting at my feet. My tribe was safe. But not Cheech. What would I do without my beloved? How could I save him from the seething collection of teensy angry needles just begging for a place to poke? Certain death awaited him if he remained in that Satan's Sanctuary. The Pit of venomous pricks... hey that sounds like a bar I went to once. While I was pondering risking my life or collecting insurance, he emerged; groggy and coffee deprived. I fixed his wagon and let him join the living. I reached over and lovingly caressed his shoulder.<br />
<br />
"Whatcha got planned for today?" I cooed innocently. <br />
<br />
"Eh. Nothing..." he looked over the rim of his mug. "S'up?"<br />
<br />
"oh well... nothing really... " I thought I was playing so cool.<br />
<br />
"Where are the bees?" he asked flatly.<br />
<br />
"Wha???? What do you mean? Bees. Ha... Where are there be... They are right above our fucking bed and if you don't kill them with fire, I will never let you play with my boobies again."<br />
<br />
Yes. Subtlety is my gift. I teach a class on Wednesdays.<br />
<br />
He snorted into his coffee and leaned over to kiss me. My warrior. My Lancelot. My vacation and dreams would be rescued. Nothing could stop him. I collected seventeen cans of wasp spray and prayed it would be enough. We have no paint left on that side of the house and there is a Stephen King type cloud still hovering over the porch. But I felt safe. I noticed the smile returning to my face. I went upstairs to reclaim my boudoir.<br />
<br />
I heard a soft melody and realized I was humming. Damn I sound just like Adelle. I brushed my teeth and began to get ready for my beautiful day by getting out of my amazing jammies and picking out an outfit that made me feel stunning (it WAS vacation after all) So I made the bed-nekkid. I flipped up the covers, spying a tiny fleck jumping in the middle of the bed... I leaned over to see ... a hornet. I began to sweat. I coaxed myself to get my shoe. Death comes to those so unholy. as I turned it over to take on the form of death hammer, another fell out. I gasped and began to beat, pummel, pound and smack until spittle dribbled from my mouth and I had actually made bee-butter. Each crunch brought me into the fold of a maniacal frenzy. Panting and covered in perspiration I dumped the blanket right into the washer. Venom is easily remove with laundry soap and a little fabric fresh. Did you remember I was nekkid? I was my own peep show for sure. I gathered my wits because I had tossed them all over the floor while abusing the comforter and began to dress. As I picked up my shorts, one last hornet fell to the floor. I felt the sneer slide across my mouth; crooked and hateful. My teeth, although sparkling, gnashed together and without thought or care, I snatched a rag from the counter, scooped up the winged demon and began pinching. My pulse thundered in my ears, my brow furrowed. There could never be enough death to bees.<br />
<br />
I looked around. All was silent. I nodded slowly understanding my test was complete. The universe was done pushing me and I had succeeded. The villains were gone.<br />
<br />
I trotted down the stairs singing... what else? The Go-Go's "Vacation"... I sound just like Belinda. One day she should thank me for all I taught her.....<br />
<br />
Laugh with me. I know it's foolish but those little turds are my end to sanity. I'm glad you're here. Have a wonderful day.<br />
<br />
Cheers. <br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-17698987687763431792019-05-27T08:28:00.001-04:002019-05-27T10:31:24.522-04:00The Holy War<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span><span style="font-size: small;"><i>If you looked at her, you'd call her tiny; a wisp of a woman. She was trim and neat, soft spoken and pleasant. She worked hard and did what was right. By all accounts she would be considered successful. She loved to laugh at work and tried hard to help people. She always had a kind word and time to listen. She was liked by many if not all who crossed her path. Hell, even I liked her.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Yet there was something about her. I can smell it a mile away. Desperation. This woman was covered in it like thick spiritual tar. And it came from one source: the man she'd married. He had introduced her to the worst of herself; been sure to point out the flaws and the mistakes (usually in front of his friends, business partners and drinking pals). He'd notice the weight gain or the stress acne. He'd bark that she purchased too many clothes and not enough beer. How she had been selfish and arrogant by understanding her bank statements, watching her balances and questioning him about his use of her credit cards. He worked tirelessly to make her understand that not everyone could have it as easily as she did. She was fed life on a silver spoon as he so nobly pointed out. He, on the other hand, had always been on the cusp. What SHOULD have been his was usually taken ~ not because it was hard to achieve and he gave up to blame someone with more drive or initiative. No, there were saboteurs. People who took. People who stole and THOSE people got ahead of him so he had to resort to their methods; take from others; a " When in Rome..." kind of thing. So he did indeed take. He took from her; her money, her happiness, her love, her self confidence and esteem. Then when he finally struck her, it came as no shock. He had conditioned her to be ready for it. She knew she had earned it by having it easy. He felt good about that. She needed to comprehend that she wasn't such hot shit and that he deserved more ~ more than her so that is why he cheated. More than her money, and that is why he stole from her and anyone else who gave him a foolish benefit of the doubt. More than her looks which was an instant fury for him causing repeated blows. But sometimes, it was just sport. He needed an outlet for those inklings of short comings, moments of self doubt but had lost his membership to the gym after he failed to pay for some drugs he got from the manager. It wasn't too bad since he sold them to get the bookies off his ass. He considered himself clever.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>How do I know this? I have seen it all. You people: You pray to God and ask forgiveness. You pray to God to save your soul and give you strength. But when you have had enough, you come to me. You seek me out. And, I unlike your God, always come, always answer and always achieve the common goal. So when she realized that God wasn't coming to save her, she asked for me.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> I came to her gently at first; giving her an idea so preposterous that it made her laugh in spite of her tears. I soothed her and comforted her, even let her push me aside when she finally thought about what she found so fucking funny. It didn't hurt my feelings because I knew she would come back especially since I had made her feel good about something. His end. I gave it humor. She reached into her mind for me again after he dislocated her elbow during one of her countless rapes. She couldn't believe she smiled ever so softly when I showed her a picture of what we could do together. This time it was a little more serious, holding more merit. I loved that her heart raced at the vision of him dying by her hand. It was a combination of shock and pleasure. That always gets you guys and I thank "Fifty shades of Grey" at some level. She covered her mouth and made her chuckle a short cough to hide it from the nurse who wasn't paying attention. I nudged her a little bit this time though. I let her see herself being just the tiniest bit involved. This is the most important step. If they cry and turn from me, I walk. I don't ever bother them again. But if they respond with hope or desire then I know I have myself a warrior. She was a warrior and that little skipped heartbeat spoke volumes.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>We began our affair quickly and with such heat that she wore me out. Spiritually of course. I never EVER touch a warrior. Not until it's over. She beckoned my visions and thoughts hungrily and devoured them with such passion that it almost brought me to tears. One because she was so ready and capable to do this and two, she didn't belong with me. She should never have been mine. But, since she was, I enjoyed every moment. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>The planning. Oh we began to watch him and study his lying, cheating habits. We followed him and then we followed his loser cohorts. I never get tired of seeing how willing people are to hurt each other. This makes my job so much easier. She was smart too. She needed so little from me. A few simple suggestions in the form of dreams or whispers in the wind combined with a couple of nervous butterflies and she was off. She devised a plan that made me so proud of her. By all counts, I was getting so much more than just their souls. She began to gather everything she needed. It wasn't much; time, patience and a good camera. She made herself available and visible to the loan shark. She met him at school and was herself; pleasant, kind and thoughtful. He was instantly drawn to her. He had a strong sense of family since his parents were gone and he took care of his little sister. She laughed easily with him and lured him in. She was also getting some fabulous National Geographic worthy photos that would be very valuable to her. As my soldier had discovered, her honey muffin had a thing for young school girls and had set his sights on this ripe, tender, under-aged fruit also known as the bookie's sister whom he'd seen one day during a transaction. Not one to miss an opportunity to spread his magnificent manhood around, he was also screwing the dealer's best hooker...for free or dope as the scamming goes. It served our purpose since the school girl thing took time and effort. He had to impress her, get booze for her, get her all worked up and then not push too hard or he'd scare her. But then he'd be so worked up he'd need an outlet so he'd go get the whore, the dope and go home to beat his wife.He belonged here in Hell with me.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> We got some great shots; award winning doozies. I personally loved the one in the park near the school (told you she was a youngin), and then there was the one with the.. oh wait~ you'll have to see it in my private library. Membership has its privileges. So she had to tip the dominoes she so patiently stacked up. She looked beautiful that night. Truly. She had been working the bookie since his temper was hotter than the pimp dope dealer. She knew that everyone would go down if she lit THAT fuse. See? I TOLD you she was great. She met him not so innocently at the place where her husband liked to take his youngest girls. Her thug sat quietly as she held his hand and tearfully told him she wanted to show him something; awful. She slid the envelope across and excused herself. The timing was impeccable and I never thought I could know love until that moment her husband came in and saw his date's brother; holding the photos. My little warrior had sneaked out the back much too distraught to say another word. Warrior indeed. The pedophile's face was priceless. The fury was palpable and smelled delicious. I sat right up front as a beating so savage took place that even I had to cover my eyes (but I peeked through my claws and giggled) So for the first time, the filthy romeo ended up in the ER with everything broken, smashed, bruised and bloody. He was brain dead and wasn't coming back leaving my beloved mercenary to pull the plug and no one thought anything of it. She was free. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> The only thing I didn't see coming was the stupid whore from the pimp daddy dealer who "loved" that piece of shit. The bitch recognized his wife from photos during the brief time in the news this story held. She also had moments of lucidity where she understood my warrior to have money: money that her lover had said was his and expo facto... hers. She blind sided us. She told her big boy who had the money and that was it: a robbery, an execution and my warrior was gone. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> She stood before Us, this saint and beautiful sinner at the altar (maybe you'll find this out and maybe you won't. Keep praying to your God and we'll see) where she was forced to confess her sins and everything became clear. She was mad at me for giving her the thoughts. She was ashamed that she had been so weak to follow them, want them to be true and damned herself for the role she played. She begged forgiveness. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> And I granted it. I said I didn't want her. I spoke to Your Savior and showed him the whole story. (We have some wicked technology these days) I went to bat for her and God said nothing. I gave up my best and favorite warrior so she could have wings. She looked over her shoulder, through tears of joy as she ascended and nodded to me. I felt a pang as she left. Knowing what it was, I angrily pushed it off, soothing myself with the excitement of punishment I would inflict on her husband who had yet to meet me. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i> Yes. I am always here for you. And the Holy War will go on. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-family: Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: small;"><i>Amen</i></span></span><br />
<br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hello and welcome</span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="color: #20124d;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Sorry for the issues but maybe this will help. This isn't the piece I intended to write but here it is and I have to say I love it. Saints and sinners ~ the good in evil... I love to ponder these things. Thank you visiting me and I hope we get to do this again soon. </span></span><i> </i></span><br />
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<span style="background-color: black;"></span>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-29635246651340875482019-03-13T05:00:00.000-04:002019-03-13T05:00:07.553-04:00Timeless<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Get rid of it" </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Nope."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"It's ugly."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Not to me."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"It smells"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"I'll wash it"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"It's ancient"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"It's timeless"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"It's laughable"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"It will come back in style. You wait."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Please."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"No."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Please?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Silence. Argument lost. He turned, smiled and kissed her. Yep, it was over. Again. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"It's just a jacket...." she prodded hopefully.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"MY jacket." he laughed into her hair while hugging her. He rocked back and forth knowing she hated this. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>She sighed and hugged him back gently patting his back knowing HE hated this. They laughed at each other and he went out.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>In his jacket.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Be safe. Love you." she added over her shoulder as always.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Love you back" he returned just before the back door clanked shut.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>And so went this not-so-big argument every so often and she always lost -good naturedly. She jokingly told him he'd die under a mound of his own stuff- a true hoarder to which he always claimed a happy sentimentality. She would put up her hands and surrender, leaving him to be with his memories. Once in a great while, she sewed a patch or button on the thing; even getting to sneak in a good scrubbing here and there but she kept it. She had even tried to surprise him with new versions, updated colors or styles, similar fabrics and he had dutifully worn each one once. He was always faithful to the "one". She smiled at his devotion in more ways than one. It truly didn't bother her that much. She'd simply preferred him to look as amazing as she knew he was. He'd worked so hard all his life. He deserved only the best. But he was a simple up-front man. Liked what he liked. Did what was right and worked for what he wanted. In the thirty-four years of marriage they had done their share and now at last they could slow, take it easy and enjoy things and she just guessed that he enjoyed that damn jacket.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>So really there was no fight. He deserved what he wanted - not just what she wanted for him. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>She heard the car door and stepped out on the porch, drying her hands on a towel.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Where to?" she hollered.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Hardware!" and he raised the latest sale mailer giving her a childish thumbs up and cheesy grin. He sat in the seat and started up his truck knowing he would return with something silly.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>She laughed and waved the towel. "In time for supper?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"What're we havin?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Grilled ham, corn and beans- and cobbler."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Oooo with crumblies?" his eyebrows went up.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"You know it big daddy."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>He revved the engine and gripped the wheel as if he were driving 90 miles an hour.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>She laughed at him and waved the towel like a street car race. Turning, she headed back in and began to cook for the next couple of days since they would be busy with visits and friends and their meetings and … how were they just as busy or busier than when they worked every day? This caused her to stop and think about it while watching the birds at the feeder. After what felt like a few seconds she redirected herself to her chores and cooking. She didn't realize how late it was until the sun dipped down into the trees and shone in her eyes through the kitchen. Dinner was done. It had been done. He was late. She walked to the doorway and flipped on the porch light. She screamed realizing two men were standing on the porch about to ring the bell. She quickly reached to lock the screen.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Now we don't want to buy anything and you better git before my husband..."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Ma'am. Mrs. McKinney?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"May I help you?" her voice was icy and tight. She didn't realize she had wound the towel in her hand like she intended to rat tail them.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Mrs. McKinney?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"yes." she was going numb. Her voice was barely audible.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Your husband...</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>accident....</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>come with us…</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>hospital.."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>so many details she missed in that instant because her heart flooded, her knees buckled as she gasped for air.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Is he..." she choked through her fingers that tried to keep those awful words from seeping out.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Please come." </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>And she was suddenly there. Like a dream. A nightmare actually.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>He was wired for sound. He was bruised and bloody. There were bandages and blankets and just so many...things and people around him she wondered how she would reach him. She thought of those scary movies where the hallway gets longer as you try to reach the end. She was afraid to go to him for that very reason. He might go away from her. There were beeping machines and strangers in comfy scrubs all around and everywhere. Words were spoken but they sounded like they were coming through cotton. She couldn't hear or understand. She needed to sit near him. She needed to talk with him and get a game plan. That is what they did. That is what they always did.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"No."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>She turned slowly as if the word were foreign.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Get better?" </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br />"No."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Can't come home?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"We don't think he's strong enough for the trip."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Each word was a punch to her chest. She closed her eyes and chewed her lip.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"You will need to call family..."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>And they came. She gave them all time to say goodbye. Privately. There were jokes and stories remembered of their lives that were marvelous because he touched their hearts. She fought the screaming in her head. She struggled not to punch everyone who got to walk out of that room and return to their loves, their families and friends. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>At last, she approached his bed and slipped her hand in his. She called the tubes that tried to wrap around her finger a bunch of fuckers and wanted to rip them all out, cut them to shreds and light them afire. She hated this place.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"It's not time." she said softly and she stayed asking him for help he couldn't give. She scolded him for this. For missing cobbler with crumblies. She told him she was very angry that he was leaving this way and that she thought he was being cowardly. She fell asleep leaning into his bed, her head against his. She pretended the soft wheeze of the machines that were breathing for him was his adorable snore she slept with every night. At first, she thought it was a dream. His hand jerked a bit and he groaned. She sat bolt upright and looked into his handsome but battered face.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Home." he whispered.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>And she got up, went to the desk and demanded they unplug everything. She informed them he was going home. They huffed and puffed, shoved waivers and papers and AMAs up her nose until she thought she was going to have to judo chop each and every one of them. But she took him home. He DID make the trip. In her hopeful heart, she thought he'd get better. No one ever said yes. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>But she got him a bed and each day she sat next to him. She talked and went about her chores. She read to him and held his hand. She went through the sale mailers and talked about the good and bad deals and found herself finding things he would buy that they didn't need. He didn't leave her but he wouldn't come back.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>One night she ordered pizza and went to him.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Scootch. she grumped, crawling in next to him. She watched their favorite shows on the DVR and fell asleep curled around him. Some time later, she thought she felt him shift in bed. But that wasn't possible. She told herself she was dreaming.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Hon?" She thought she heard.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"How ya feelin? " she asked sleepily. It was dark and she couldn't see him but knew where he was of course.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Tired. So very tired."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Well, you look awful"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Thanks."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Why won't you get better?"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Can't. I just can't."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"But I want you here with me."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"I'm so tired Babe."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Stay?" her tears were steady and hot. She was trembling in this dream. "I just want to love you a little longer. This hurts too much. Too deep." she explained. Her body protectively shifted to hold him in the night. She whispered all her love and greatest joys to him. Her chest ached and her head pulsed from trying to cover up her breaking heart. "I'm cold...hang on..." and she reached for her sweater. Funny. She always kept it close to the bed. After a little more groping, she finally found it, wrapping around herself and snuggling next to him.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>"Can you wait for me at least? Don't go shackin up with the first beautiful young angel you find up there..." This was accompanied by a scornful "hmph"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>Silence.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>The pain in her chest told her everything. She had lost her better half. "ohhhh honey..." she cried. It was too much to think about. Too painful. She winced against the headache. A long sigh escaped her; one that was filled with a lifetime of love and laughter. The aneurysm was massive and devastating.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>At last she slept.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i>They were discovered the next morning when the comfort care nurse arrived. She was wearing his jacket. His arms were around her. They were still together ~ their love was truly timeless.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #b45f06; font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #a64d79; font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">And hello my friends. This one was a real tear jerker for me. I let it sit for a couple of days before I was happy enough to let it go. I hope you like it. Not for the sadness but more for the great love. I'm all about them. Great loves. Hope you have one and hug them. Until next time. Thanks for stopping by. It was a nice visit.</span><br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #b45f06;"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="color: #990000;"></span><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"></span><span style="color: #a64d79;"></span><br />
<br />
<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-62088749973353907192019-03-02T07:33:00.003-05:002019-03-02T07:35:32.090-05:00Feathers in the windShe toddled and got lost in the crispness, newness that was spring. Cottonwood trees bloomed and fluttered as the wind pushed them through the sky like snow. She laughed and tried to catch them calling them feathers. She said it looked like Mother Nature and Old Man Winter had had a pillow fight over what season was really ending or beginning. It also meant more time at the lake. Her favorite place where she could play in the creek, chase frogs and newts or float in the sun as the water softly clapped against the shore for her arrival or cried tiny white caps when she left. Crawdads were safe and turtles could rest on their logs undisturbed. Her young years were spent laughing, squealing and loving everything shown to her. "But where do you go?" she asked the billowing cottonwood ~ there was a breezy laugh and that was all..<br />
<br />
When her teen years arrived, feelings were very different. Dread. Boredom. There was no internet and she felt alone. She missed her friends and hated getting muddy or hauling wood for the bonfires with a family that didn't know anything about her. She jealously despised that her friends were out partying or dating or sneaking out and she was stuck on this porch while the cottonwood trees bloomed and blew all over, getting in her hair or coating the table and chairs, giving her ANOTHER thing to have to wipe down. It was Hell on Earth. The lake retreated and sat quietly not understanding why her heart was so closed to it. It wanted to play as before. "How can I get out of here?" she begged the tiny feathers. The lake sighed in the night, waiting and hoping for better days<br />
<br />
And they came as she returned a young woman bringing a daughter of her own to share the "spring snow" and marvel over how things had changed yet remained the same. She once again rolled up her jeans and caught frogs and newts, chased minnows or laid quietly while the feathers drifted lazily by, welcoming her back in more than one sense. Her daughter slept peacefully in the sun. She remembered how good life was ~ simply.<br />
<br />
Slowly she moved, her old bones complaining for the car ride and the age that she couldn't outrun. She no longer got in the lake but stayed on the porch and watched as her children and grandchildren swam, floated along in the boats or stirred the bonfire. She laughed to hear the squealing after actually capturing a frog or a turtle that nipped a toe and had gotten away. She blinked up into the sun as the cottonwood tickled her wrinkled face and whispered to her to come along.<br />
<br />
Grey clouds. Wet and raw. The trees sagged sadly and the cottonwood seemed only to drop in messy globs. The lake was like glass as if it were in shock. She would no longer come.<br />
<br />
Her soul had become like the cottonwood she loved ~ a feather in the wind.<br />
<br />
<br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">Hello my friends. This is a quickie but one I loved dashing out. Growing up we had cottonwood trees on our property and I loved it when they bloomed and littered the grass. Combined with my favorite place ~ Promises? ahhhh how could I not.... I hope you enjoyed our time, no matter how brief. Come back again and sit a spell. We get along so nicely.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><span style="font-family: Times, "Times New Roman", serif;">until next time... </span></i></span> Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-5556054458430190522019-02-08T01:00:00.000-05:002019-02-08T01:00:00.466-05:00Love's Religion<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>He looked at me. I went weak. He was beautiful to me; an Adonis When his eyes bore into mine with that flash of mischief and he touched me, my skin ached; felt smothered by my clothes. My throat burned to whisper his name. I wanted to constantly find him in the dark, kiss his body and feel his heartbeat under the velvet of night. When daylight came, I wanted only to watch him do... anything; hang on every word he said. When he criticized my clothes, I changed them. When he laughed at my stupidity or naivety (something he loved to point out in front of his pals) I educated myself to avoid that shame for him. When my butt took up too much room in his house of worship, I dieted. I wanted nothing more than to be his perfect angel.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>Amen</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>For more than three years, his ideas and plans were gospel and I was the most devout. I prayed he would always watch over me; the beautiful shepherd. As quickly as he converted me he dispelled me; cast me aside for a newer, prettier apostle. Hell hath no fury they say. Scorned? Ohhh you bet. I was angryshockedembarrassed ~ and they deserve to be written that way for they all came on that quickly. I cried ~ and not pretty, cherubic tears but the red-eyed, stuffy nose, leave-you-heaving sobs which made me look like love's heretic. I moped, refused to wear make-up, swished with Listerine instead of truly brushing my teeth, didn't eat or sleep and repeated my new Novena. I ate food that made me feel worse than the hideous clothes I wore. Nothing declared heartache (the cross I had to bear) like three bags worth of Frito grease(and hello, NOT the fun size because I didn't give a shit about fun) and stale bean dip boogers smeared across my fitness pants that had a hole up the thigh (from over-stretching or moths rather than the wearing out of the workout- faithful - a different church altogether) covered over by the largest sweatshirt I could find that had old cookie dough and iced tea stains striped across it. Who's beautiful NOW? Yeah, I dared ANYONE to look twice. I punished myself for failing; being less than perfect for him. I was frozen by the sadness that my Adonis had rejected me. I felt worthless and pondered whether I should actually take up space on this earth. My friends worried, called and tried to soothe me. I didn't want to hear it. I didn't want to feel better. I wanted him to love me and call me back. I wanted another chance to be flawless and prove myself... </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>It took another year before I could make it through the day without tears though I had to stop looking in the mirror and remarking all the flaws he must have seen; the mistakes that drove him away. I ignored my over dry cow licked hair with roots that resembled an over zealous banyan tree root system. I chose not to powder my nose, an ugly knob that resembled a car antennae with one of those ridiculous Mickey Mouse heads on it. I cared not if my shoes matched ( I did actually go to work with a black one and a navy one) simply telling my coworkers that, like the kids nowadays who wore mis-matched socks...I was a trend setter. I got suspicious nods on that one.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>Then one day I heard something; something I had refused to believe would ever be uttered in my company again: the words "You look nice"</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>I whirled around with a venomous retort perched on my lips "How DARE you ~ notice me. Find anything nice about me! Who the HELL are you to …" </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>And I saw a wry smile. I froze. "Do I?" I asked smoothing my dingy white work shirt with a marinara stain on it … right above my boob. I felt classy ~ NOT.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>He laughed a little. "Yes. You do." but kept my gaze. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>"You're a liar" I declared. Best to fight the demon when you call him out. I licked my lips and found a sandwich crumb on them. I nibbled at it with my front teeth wondering if he would see it like a tribal declaration of war ~ Come at me bro. I'll eat you.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>"No. I think you look nice." He said again and drank his coffee from a cheap Styrofoam cup that actually smelled like Styrofoam more than coffee.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>I smiled back at him and he disarmed me with: "Now you look even nicer. I'd ask you out for that smile alone."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>My head screamed at me "And that is what you should be. ALONE" but I felt a warmth in my cheeks and I looked down at the rug. I noticed I had different shoes on and tucked one behind the other sheepishly. "Well... I... think I would go...if asked...." I heard myself say. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>And so began a friendship and a soft romance. It was kind and loving and I treasured every minute we shared. He laughed with me; not at me. He encouraged me and made light of himself. We learned new things together and I felt amazing, strong and independent. I told him everything and cried, certain he would balk and leave me but he pulled me closer, held me; whispering how sorry he was that anyone could have ever hurt such a beautiful angel. His angel. I gulped at the healthy love which made me feel better ~ no it made me feel best. </i></span><span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i> We showed each other every day that we were good together and how we appreciated each other. In fact, we didn't realize it was Valentine's Day when we made reservations at our favorite nook. It simply didn't matter. I was finished with work early, texted him to meet me at the bar when he was finished where we'd have a dinner and go to the museum to see the artist I loved whose exhibit was opening. I had been smiling all day just thinking of it.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>I stood there flicking one of my new, sexy heels on an off, sipping my favorite wine imagining the night; missing my best friend and favorite playmate. I was wondering about his day. I couldn't wait to see...</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>"My oh my" I heard too close to my skin. It went cold. </i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>I turned to see my Adonis. He grinned at me and swooped in too close almost engulfing me in a waft of cologne that stung my nose. He cocked his best and most devilish smile across his lips. I noticed a cold sore starting at the corner of his mouth. "You look delicious." he growled against my shoulder and gently kissed it. I noticed a tiny bubble of spit on my skin, and wiped it off with the napkin from my wine, quickly trying to hide the look on my face as if he had just cut one. I backed up and turned to face him. My brain was scurrying to find the words I had practiced when I was hating myself for him. I wanted to gouge out his eyes, vomit all the Frito's and bean dip consumed in his name. I wanted to return the hurt he so easily served up to me. He rushed on about how amazing I looked and how he had thought of me so often over these couple of years. He tried several times to wrap his arm around my waist to whisper to me. He asked me why we ever split up because we were so good together. He said he missed my body and the way I was in bed. He asked if I had panties on under my dress. He told me he was dying to know.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>My mouth went dry. My wine backed up into my throat. My knees were weak but that was because a surge of energy was building in my chest and racing through my arm to my hand that was balling up into a fist. I was going to knock out a couple of cigar stained teeth when I felt my savior sail up behind me. Michael rowed his boat ashore HaaaaalleLUUUUUUUUUjah!!! Kumbaya and all that. I sighed deeply, turned and smiled with relief. My back up had arrived. For a moment, I fantasized we would take my ex lover outside and after a sound flogging, leave him in a dumpster where no one would care if they found him. They might be able to tell he was a complete asshole and write that on his forehead. Or maybe we'd buy him some drinks, get him loaded and haul him to a tattoo place and just have it put on there forever and save everyone the trouble of having to figure it out. I'm all about paying it forward.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>"Hi Honey. Our table is almost ready." my sexy warrior kissed my other shoulder and nuzzled my ear "Is this him?" he whispered.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>I stepped back and smiled. My heart was about to fly down to my stomach, devour the butterflies that were bashing their heads against its walls then zoom out of my body to explode over us like a wired piñata . I made intros and took the opportunity to snuggle under the protective arm of my Greatest Love who stood stiffly and listened while Adonis attempted to brag about our long-ago life. He poignantly yawned and blinked his eye as if dust was bombarding them. I had never loved so much. I felt his touch tighten and turn me slightly, signaling we were going to go. He grinned devilishly and began to excuse us. I was mildly disappointed at the lack of bloodshed and permanent ink across Adonis' forehead.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>Until my man tossed over his shoulder in the loudest voice I'd heard him use:</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>"Gotta go Sport. But you might want to zip your pants..."</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="color: #674ea7; font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"><i>Love. It's amazing.</i></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />
<span style="font-family: Georgia, "Times New Roman", serif;"></span><i></i><span style="color: #674ea7;"></span><br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-51761133603742389822019-01-07T02:00:00.000-05:002019-01-07T02:00:08.626-05:00MonsterShe was a born leader; strong willed, fearless and confident. For a twelve year old that translated into bossy, scary and arrogant. Few of her classmates challenged her; all wanted to please or be liked by her and she enjoyed holding court. She picked and chose her friends and foes daily, weekly, whenever the wind blew and everyone just hoped to stay on her good side.<br />
<br />
Did I mention she was beautiful? Oh yes, hair so black it was almost steely blue and eyes to match; exotic and dark. If you stared too long you might lose yourself in there. All of that and a charming personality; disarmingly so. You didn't stand a chance to not like; love her, until it was too late.<br />
<br />
Of course she caught his attention. He did a double take and that was it. He knew what she was trying to do; trap him. Get him caught for something he hadn't even done, yet. After all, guys like him weren't allowed to linger near school yards but she had looked at him one day as he was heading home from the bakery. Most days he made sure he wasn't anywhere near these little treats but today the line had been long and the bread had been slow to come out of the ovens. She had looked at him with those deep, wanting eyes. She had licked her lips and smiled at him. She and her little whorish friends with their skirts too short and their jeans too tight which sometimes played a not so innocent game of peek-a-boo with their panties. They wore their shirts tied up to show off their tight tummies He had to stay strong though. He couldn't take another vacation...He had promised he was a reformed man; one that could be trusted. He was mumbling warnings to himself, forbidding to look her way again when the ball skittered through the grass and happily rested at his feet. He picked it up and cocked his arm to throw it and she was there. In front of him. He froze, feeling his chest tighten. His breath hitched and he had to scream inside his skull to close his mouth before he drooled. She reached her hand out for the ball and he barely chucked it toward her. She caught it, smiled, waved and trotted back to her friends. And that sealed her fate. He needed her.<br />
<br />
He began to watch for her, follow her, get her pattern down. She was too young to really understand the dangers of not being aware of your surroundings but arrogant enough to think nobody knew she was sneaking out or going to places she shouldn't have been; the park to meet some boys and sneak sips of shitty beer or to smoke half of a cigarette behind the convenience store or hurriedly French kiss some sweaty boy whose lips were chapped and hands trembled at the thought of being near a girl. He would be kinder, gentler. At first.<br />
<br />
It was a typical night when she crawled out her window and headed down the street to pick up her partners in crime. He smirked understanding that even her parents had been taken in. That naughty girl. He had to act quickly and get her before she met up with the others. He passed her once and knowing she would round the corner at Wingate Street, he waited for her in the Johnson's hedgerow. <br />
Nobody should have a hedgerow. It was simple to get up behind her and slip the cloth under her nose. She was so tiny and frail that she melted back into his arms and he whisked her away. To his play house.<br />
<br />
He put her in her own room with some clothes from the others. They no longer needed them. They were with the angels now anyway or maybe devils. If God had not forgiven them for their wickedness they might be burning in Hell. He paused and thought on this for a moment, then continued watching her through the peep hole in the door as he had done so many times before. She woke and stirred, confused and cautious. He felt his groin tighten with her fear and curiosity as she tried to understand what had happened. He smiled at his cleverness. All the little girls had this look and he treasured it. He waited for the rest of it to unfold.<br />
<br />
She cried and kicked; spunkier than most. There were even fits of anger that brought him incredible joy. She might get to live a little longer; this tender morsel he'd found. He always covered his face when he brought her food, bathed or used her. She was instructed to wear a blindfold. He loved it when she wandered over his hands to take dishes from him to eat or bumped into things. He often had to stifle his laugh when she crawled around and scurried like a tiny church mouse. As the days marched on, he noticed her trying to connect with him. She wanted to talk to him; make a friend or connection. This was a sign that she had overstayed her welcome. Because she was so beautiful and he wanted her so much, he might give in and that could lead to feelings or an incident or worse, escape. He knew he would have to cover her lovely face forever. What a shame to lose this precious work of art. He allowed himself to be drawn in to light conversation and asked her what food she missed most from home. <br />
<br />
She paused sadly and thought for a moment. He wanted to kiss her angelic pout. He knew she wanted him to. "Pork chops" she said quietly. He nodded and headed for the store. The night of her farewell, he had given her clean clothes and a bath. He had brushed her hair and permitted her to sit at the table while he spoke of her release. He of course made her promise she wouldn't tell. He of course told her she would be going home. he of course was lying through his teeth all the while chopping vegetables. He asked her to set the table as he generously sprinkled his favorite poison into the gravy he would not eat. He hummed softly to himself.<br />
<br />
"Biscuits too?" she asked marveling at the feast he was preparing for her. She smiled and clapped lightly when he rolled his eyes and stalked past her to the pantry where he rooted around and found some. He turned to see her standing next to her chair and for a moment a knot of panic pinched up inside his gut. He stopped and glowered at her. <br />
<br />
"Sit down" he commanded through his dry chapped lips. He'd been licking them incessantly in these days leading to her farewell. It was a nervous habit. Too much excitement and anticipation.<br />
<br />
"I was setting the table." she said but did as told. "It smells delicious. I am so very hungry." she said demurely, resting her hand along the arm of the chair. She let her fingers play with it, drumming and scratching. He imagined his own body at her tender little hands and smiled forgiving her for her naughtiness and attempt to seduce him. <br />
<br />
"It should be done..." he brushed by her and pulled open the oven to remove the chops. He barely noticed the first sting as she stabbed him with the knife she'd snatched from the counter. He hadn't noticed in time. It was too late. She childishly slashed at him again; giggling as he slipped and fell to the floor, forced to look at his prisoner.<br />
<br />
"You monster. she laughed. "Took you long enough. After I found you on WatchDog" and viewed your page...even had to throw the fucking ball to you. You pitch like a bitch" she said continuing to cut and carve him. She backed away and brushed her hair from her cheek leaving a dark red smudge. He realized for the first time it was his blood. "No more monsters." she smiled sweetly. <br />
<br />
He was defeated and weak. He felt cheated and sad as his last breaths bubbled from his mouth. <br />
<br />
"Wicked" he said to no one for she had turned away and began fixing her plate. She was always so hungry after such a strenuous hunt and this poor chap had proven to be a wee bit of a challenge. She began to look around for a place to dump him. He had, she noticed already begun to dig out in some dead of the wood. She would need to make the hole bigger or maybe cut him up. Didn't matter. She'd think about it. All she had was time. She dragged her fork around and drew a heart in her potatoes and gravy before shoveling it into her mouth. She laughed and licked her lips as the droplets trickled down her chin.<br />
<br />
"Delicious." she said aloud.<br />
<br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Hello there strangers! </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">It's nice to see you again. I hope you all had a safe and wonderful holiday. We did. It's hard to believe it's over so soon but at some level, I'm okay with that and more than a little tired. I am glad you came to sit with me a bit and hope you've enjoyed my story. Let's do it again soon, shall we? </span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">Until next time....</span></i><br />
<br />
Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-89204969653692224732018-11-09T03:00:00.000-05:002018-11-09T03:00:02.933-05:00The WaterShe is waiting for me. I am too nervous to go up to her; speak to her. She is still as a stone at the edge of the water. The sunlight and breeze wistfully comb her hair; playfully tug at her tee shirt. She looks fragile; beautiful. I bet she laughs behind a coy hand unless with her friends. Then she hee-haws maybe even snorts.<br />
<br />
She grew up here just like me. I've seen her all my life, recognize her shadow as the sun plays hide and seek with the moon on long summer days. I know that giggle; innocent yet mischievous as she and her friends plan their futures ~ so far away... the weekend. I have fewer friends than she. My friends. Her friends. we don't meld, never touch and rarely speak except through tight smiles, batted eyelashes and glances around but never directly on each other. <br />
<br />
But here at the lake, the water, things can be different; more neutral. There is no territory. The waves are indifferent to our social caste, tickling our feet and slapping our knees. The water washes all the stickiness of stigmas away- clean. I love it. I breathe deeply when I swim here, gulping at the equality and freedom; kicking away criticism and dirty looks for being different or considered less. And then the waters turned dark.<br />
<br />
The kind of dark that never ends and always needs feeding. The kind of dark that makes you whisper and pray it never finds you. She wasn't afraid of that dark like me. I heard her giggling in it, running in it - to it. Many nights I watcher her dash down the street toward the lake. I listened to her shoes slap away the warnings of the street as it begged her to go back, go inside and be safe. Sometimes she even stopped at my drive and I knew she was looking for me. I would duck behind my drapes and hug my pillow. I would wish her to be gone into the night, into the dark water.<br />
<br />
Others began to disappear into that void but never her. Fear scurried across our town and scratched at each door. Curfews were set and sidewalks rolled up as if the adults could somehow shield us. Protect. But they could not. The bodies of the skeptical, rebellious and (not-so) invincible were found at the edge of the lake; bloated and marred by curious slashes, bruised necks, bulging eyes that saw it all while mouths stuffed wilt and leaves prevented ever speaking of the horrors and pain. The town thought the water was bad but it wasn't. Not really. Now I know it was trying to clean away the fear, the murder, the death. Each day it tried to wash out the blood and tears it's little white caps desperately crashing into screams of those who went. Who disappeared. <br />
<br />
And she just kept going each night down there to the water; stopping at my house while I hid and she waited. I began to hear her calling my name, coming closer to my window. I hugged my pillow more tightly, letting it smother me in fear and common sense "don't go don't go don't go" the wind pushed through the screen and I would scream into my protective down warrior "I know I won't." My tears promised I wouldn't but then one night, she tapped on the glass. Her little manicured nails clicked out a beckoning. My eyes darted to the window and couldn't look away.<br />
<br />
She smiled. Waved.<br />
<br />
I did too. There was nothing to be afraid of She said. Rumors. It was fun to sneak out Better not to get caught. exciting. And I believed her. I wanted to go. I needed to know what it was like to be her friend even if under the cover of night where no once would see; no one would tell that our groups converged and didn't care.<br />
<br />
"It doesn't matter" she said. "C'mon. It'll be fine. Fun."<br />
<br />
I pretended to ignore her. She drifted off. And I waited until my parents thought they'd watched over me long enough. They fell asleep. I went. More cautiously than she. I tread lightly, avoiding the light and made my way to the dark water. There she was but with another. They splashed and hollered. I remember thinking that it DID look like fun. But the night wind blew me a kiss smelling of warm metal and struggle. When the silence came, it brought truth and death. I crouched and shamefully watched. Now she was the only one splashing. The lake smacked at her, pleading with her to stop. The waves tugged at the body trying in vain to pull it from her, wash it away and wash it clean but she just laughed and splashed back like it was a game of tug of war. The knife she raised caught the moonlight and as she struck, I gasped giving away my presence. Handing her my life.<br />
<br />
She stopped and waited for me; still as a stone.<br />
<br />
"Don't hide. I know you're there. Did you piss yourself? C'mere. she panted and sat down on the shore.<br />
<br />
I stood and did what she asked; as she had asked all of them. I looked blankly at the body floating in the water. The lake nudging me, warning me. She poked it with her knife carelessly; stirring, almost writing in the bloody water mixture. She confessed and giggled. She sighed wistfully. I sat there numbly and mindlessly pulled at the mud while my brain screamed behind my eyes. every nerve was burning. Tears ran down my cheeks as she politely whispered my fate to me.<br />
<br />
I will always be grateful to the water for giving me the small log. It softly brushed my fingertips and I understood. It wanted me to end this.<br />
<br />
I swung and heard her nose break. She gasped, shocked and covered her face dropping the blade. I swung again and her body fell back. The waves clapped softly for my heroism. I heard her groan and straddled her quickly. The moon peeked from behind the clouds and seemed relieved. IT shown brighter so I could see where the lake wanted to hide her. Bury her. It pulled at her and like a tiny boat, she went out beyond me. The lake would end this and I did as it whispered. I laid down in it and allowed it wash me and calm my shaking body.<br />
<br />
In the morning, only one body was found. The last victim. The adults mourned and asked why. They begged God to keep us safe and to end this horror. <br />
<br />
But I knew better and at night I went to the water's edge and thanked it. I laid with it and let it tell me the stories and promises of the ending. Which it did; until just a few nights ago. It began calling to me. telling me of its hunger and reminding me of the role I played in a very dirty story, one that could be washed away if I just brought down a child....<br />
<br />
<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-73279260296758550532018-10-19T12:29:00.003-04:002018-10-19T12:29:44.929-04:00Pearly White<i><span style="color: #990000;">Gather my little darlings and let me whisper to you a story, a warning if you will that began as every parent's nightmare ending in indescribable anger and ultimate fear. Hold your smirks and giggles, reserve your eye rolling and "Oh brother"s until you know all...</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">She was a beautiful queen who naturally had a beautiful son. They were adored in the kingdom by all; except the king. He was a narcissist, an arrogant soul; wanting all things for himself, whether it was love or gold. But the queen and the prince were kind and caring for those less fortunate creating a loving name for themselves across the land. They fed the hungry, gave to the poor all of which infuriated the pompous, greedy lord. And so on the day that the darling prince with the beautiful smile and warm heart wandered off to play in the wood instead of studying his lessons, this wretched king sent his henchman in to destroy the baby royal. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">The boy did not join them for tea. Nor did he return to sup. Night fell as did his mother's heart. She begged for help to search for him. Many in her kingdom scoured the forest but to no avail. After several mornings void of the joyful child's giggling, along came a note demanding money for the valuable prince. The queen begged her husband to pay, stating that nothing was worth more than their angelic son's toothy grin. The king nodded, feigned concern and fatherly fear, even declared he would give his last coin but he did nothing. He lied when he said he sent his best men to search near and far. He put back all the money and gold he ostentatiously displayed for payment. Nothing more was heard. After a fortnight, the crumpled body of the lost was found. He was beaten and bloody; his beautiful smile ruined as all his teeth had been harshly yanked. The queen fell into an inconsolable despair. She wandered restlessly day and night, calling out to her angel child. She would stop at cottages, asking if they had seen her son, the prince. One day, she found a small girl sitting by the water's edge. She wept softly to herself. The queen approached and sat next to her. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">"Why tears little one?" </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">"My mouth is broken." she looked up through teary eyes and held out a tiny white pearl; her baby tooth. A small ember glowed inside the Royal's chest as she reached out and touched it. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">"May I have it?" she queried. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">The baby girl began to close her fist, hesitant to give up something of her own, a part of her, but the queen quickly reached in her purse and pulled out a coin. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">"Here. For your trouble." she eagerly rushed quivering at the thought holding the gleaming treasure. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">The child glanced at the shiny gold and rejoiced. She snatched it up and curtsied to her queen thanking her. Her majesty plopped it victoriously it in her pocket and hurried back to the castle where she put the ivory gem in a small velvet purse. There was peace in her heart but it was not so easily satisfied. She needed more of them ~ all of them. So began her travels far and wide~ checking with any and all children for loose, lost teeth for which she would gladly pay to restore the smile of her son, bringing him back. </span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">Her husband saw the gold she was taking away and grew furious. He plotted to kill her thinking only of the riches he would preserve. One night, when he could take no more, he demanded she be poisoned; telling the staff to bring it in her drink after her favorite meal had been laid before her. But the servants had seen enough of his cruelty and known too much deceit, choosing instead to give their horrendous lord the deadly drink. He discovered all too late he had been fooled. As he lie dying in his bed with his loving wife soothing him and unaware of all that had taken place around her, he confessed; begging forgiveness and leaving her ears ringing from the life of lies and murder. In a blind rage, she pulled all of his teeth and left him; bleeding and alone, retreating to her private chamber where she fell into madness. She spent the remainder of her days sauntering the land, visiting children and collecting their teeth, dispelling her fortune and searching in vain for her son. Even after her body gave out, she did not cease. She continued on... searching... dubbed the tooth fairy. But this has taken its toll on the once generous and loving queen.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">Her soul is restless and her need so great, a despair so immense that her spirit has begun to search not just for the lost and loose. She has begun to peer jealously inside those innocent, dozing mouths where even more teeth hide ~ and if only she could have them, take them, she might have her greatest treasure restored; her son's twinkle. She bitterly questions why these children should be allowed to laugh and grin; to enjoy what her baby could not. Her anger has changed her and changed what those ivory jewels mean. She no longer believes she should pay for what is cast aside and taken for granted~ she thinks she is owed for her suffering and that of her lost boy. She hates you; your pearly barking and polished beaming and she will find you and it is now you who owe ~ for her loss, for her dead son's gaping and bloody mouth and her cheated sad life.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<i><span style="color: #990000;">Sleep tight my little darlings.</span></i><br />
<i><span style="color: #990000;"><br /></span></i>
<span style="color: #073763; font-family: Helvetica Neue, Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;">Happy Halloween. This is for my daughter who gave me the idea. "Write it. I know you can." I hope my little girl gets a squeal of laughter and a shiver from this and you as well. Thanks for coming over. I hope we can do it again soon.</span><br />
<br />
<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-17495111709858367232018-06-03T17:02:00.005-04:002018-06-03T17:02:57.787-04:00Warriors and Heroes<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>The day was rushed. We are getting ready for my baby's graduation (and subsequent celebratory festival) and I am super busy making lists of lists of lists. There is the important stuff, the hot topics, the Uber important and then there's brushing the toilet, spraying Febreeze, hoping it lasts, and praying for sunshine.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>The toddlers (my three fuzzikids) were giddy and bothersome doing what they do best; interpreting Mommy's mood and nibble at it. I needed to get chores done. I needed to make calls. I needed... needed... needed.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Now I know it sounds like I was panicking but I was not. I was simply suiting up for the American Ninja Warrior- Mom edition. I had to dodge the growing laundry pile, try to make it down the deadly dog steps (this is an obstacle where my guffaw of a dog, Mulligan, shoves his nose into my back or up my butt and encourages me to trip, stumble or fall down the stairs while bubbling out dirty words ~ it's his favorite game. I am not a fan and not just because I suck at it. THAT would make me a bitter loser) and conquer the dishwasher drop (THIS obstacle is where the dishwasher lid comes open and all fuzzikids feel compelled to attempt to get inside and feast like it's Golden Corral on Surf n Turf night~ again, not a fan but I am a WARRIOR dammit) and the coup de gras, the trash bag toss. Oh I was in rare form and was feeling the burn of determination and success. I was gonna hit that button (the garage door button) get outside and GO OUT ~ </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>What's that saying about best laid plans?</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Well, I had it until the trash bag hit the can in the garage. It cracked the side and popped open, dumping papers and coffee filters and yucky, dirty trash at my feet. (insert dramatic sigh and eye roll if you feel so inclined. I did.) But I stepped down and angrily plucked the now empty bag and hit my knees. Oh I was gonna pray alright. Pray I could get this junk done and just move on. I wanted to GO OUT. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>I don't know where it came from, the bent dog food lid, or should I call it the evil shiv of pain and slicing? Because that is what it did. It sliced me. Deep. It bit me so fast that all I could do was hiss and then hold my breath while my brain tried to catch up screaming in my ears "WHAT HAPPENED? I FELT SOMETHING ~ CUT! ARE WE CUT?" but my body was in warrior mode so it kept picking up trash and papers. It ignored the growing change in color of those papers from white to red. In fact, it shouted at my brain to move faster! So I did. Ignoring now that it looked like I was trying to pick up liquid with my hands and put it in the bag. Then the smell hit me, copper. I began to see speckles dancing around laughing at me. I felt a little ... confused. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Get inside Stupid YOU'RE BLEEDING!" I got up (the trash was picked up so my body allowed it.) and stepped inside. How do I stop the bleeding? Paper towels of course but not just ANY ... no... Viva. I grabbed a little sheet and wrapped my finger. It instantly turned red. Ooops better get another... and another... and another.. huh... a little worse than I thought. I applied pressure. Then a little more and some more until my pulse could be felt in my teeth and heard next door. I put my hand on top of my head. Raise it right? You betcha. I walked around and wiggled my fingers so it looked like a deranged Halloween party hat. More towels please. Yes, just give me the roll. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>I made my way upstairs to where the band aids are. No issue there. (another towel or four please ~ hand on head- wiggle fingers.) I think it might be a good idea to rinse off. This is untrue. The minute water hits my finger, a flap of skin swishes to the side. I see a flash of white. Bone? oops. More towels please. Direct pressure. Hand on head. I pace around my bathroom and wonder if I will get in trouble if Cheech...</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"What are you doing?"</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>(insert that "uh-oh" theme song. It's appropriate)</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Nothing"</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Yeah?" </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>The phrase in our house: If I'm asking, I already know. For a brief moment I wonder how but considering the fact that I have two rolls of Viva around my finger that are as red as bricks... </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"I... think I cut myself."</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"I think so too. Let me see"</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"NO!" I pinch harder, put it on my head and close my eyes. If I can't see him... he can't see me... right? Didn't we all try that when we were uhhhh FOUR???? (sigh ~ go ahead. I'm a wussy)</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Let's go get stitches."<br /> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"NOOOOOO. No No No... Uh-uh. Nope."</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Why are you being like this?" </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"They won't numb me. Just sew it like it was a sweater!" I hiss tears welling up.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Honey, I bet they will. They'll use..."<br /><br />"A NEEDLE! DOUBLE NO. I'D RATHER EAT HOT GLASS!" (for those of you who don't know already, I have a phobia of needles, bees... sharp pointy things.... and being chased but we can revisit that)</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"You're being silly. Give it. Now let me see...."</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>And childishly I do. My own loving warrior, bandages me. He never asks again and helps me. My finger is throbbing and I am in so much pain I want to cry but I don't because I don't want to go get stitches. He never questions or scolds me. He goes downstairs and we make dinner. I really just watch as this hero of heroes makes a king's feast for a cowardly jester. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>He gives me Tylenol and kisses my head. He smiles softly and tells me the house looks great... aside from some stray blood splatter. I warn him that the police will question him if I disappear. Luminal will not be his friend. He makes me dessert. I ask him why it tastes like bitter almonds and he takes a bite of mine and says ~ always together.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>He gets ready for work and I am sad because I want to simply sit and worship my hero. I want to fall asleep in his safe, first-aid ready arms.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Have a good day Hon." I say as he heads out the door.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>"Will do. Could you put paper towels on the grocery list? We're very low on Viva."</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><i>Warriors til the end.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Hello there. It seems weird that we are here together again. I said I would try and I will... again and again missing my friend and mentor all the while. I can't tell you the number of times I started and threw out my work. I am still a little shaky but I always feel better sharing family stories; good and bad. Thanks for visiting. I have another on the way in a week or so (gotta get through graduation first) but it will be a fiction piece. It's been too long since I've done what I love, write. </span></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">Thank you for visiting. You're good company.</span></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: Georgia,"Times New Roman",serif;"><span style="color: #38761d;">See you soon. </span><i> </i></span></span>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-10623140883628182762017-10-08T14:54:00.002-04:002017-10-08T15:02:50.890-04:00 I See Red<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I don't know that I remember my first so much as my last. Things had escalated at that point; from simple sexual assault, a warning beating or the threat to kill, to the shredding and violence that got me caught. I was out of control and seeing red. Well, that and I was a stupid kid. But I had plenty of time to think growing up in juvie and I certainly came out with a better understanding of what not to do this time. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>My last. I still think of her; the fear in her eyes and the bubbles of pleading that dripped from her wet lips as I choked her. I really thought she was dead and so in my young mind, a coverlet of rotten leaves would surely be enough to hide my sin. Her sin. But as the newspapers spewed, she crawled to through the woods, to the road and then ten miles up hill in the snow with no shoes... yada yada yaDAH. She went twenty yards on level ground. Okay, she was naked but it wasn't like my new graduating class. My new students are left with very little; to identify. They are mere shells of who they are when they go into the woods with me; physically, mentally and spiritually. Maybe they help me. Yeah at some level. They quiet the salty gears that scream under my scalp and demand I do this. Funny, I always liked girls; soft and gentle. Tender and loving. But then the rage of the machine became too strong so in order to fight back, I needed minions and warriors; willing or not to <span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;">get past the awful shades of crimson that flooded my mind</span>.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Having been out for two years, I thought I was good to go but then there was a familiar, rusty squeak as the gears sensed my availability to feed it once more. I had a job, friends, even started flirting with a lovely lady I met at a bookstore. We were both in the self help section. Since her death and disappearance, I honor her by hunting there. In different cities of course. I am fortunate that my job takes me all over. I hunt only when needed. When my sweating and stammering are too pronounced. When I notice the looks from others as I walk by arguing with the powers that be; often bargaining like a child. "Just leave me ALONE! You can't tell me what to do...." but it can. The machine is strong.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I was enjoying Chi-town. My home city; waltzing down the main drag and sucking down a slice as the wind slapped at me; welcoming me home. I felt good. Confident. I almost made it beyond the store but the machine ground my feet to a halt and left me there at the door; as a command, you see. It was time. I had no choice so I went in.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I love the smell of paper and ink ~ the way it fills your mouth with pleasure and words unspoken. The sound of books being opened for the first time, their spines cracking under the unassuming oppressor; their pages, their skin, bent and pulled, caressed or etched with worthless tattoos of notes and pointless observations. I begin in the comedy section and look around. No little dumplings in need of a pretend bestie; someone who makes them laugh when they are alone (again and again). Onto the Sci-fi. These are not my type because I think they are crazy. They live in some far off Neverland where aliens and robots play off of ancient myths and devour our society and species. They need lives.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Always pass by the true crime. They are suspicious lonely bitches who love Lifetime movies and hate the thought of giving any part of themselves in a relationship. They take pictures all the time and ask questions like they were Poirot or Madame Christie herself. I don't need that shit. No thank you, let's move on. A woman here stops and stares at me. She is in the middle of the aisle, wearing a stupid hat. Who wears hats? Really! I look at what she's reading~ a book about that lady who killed all her babies in Philly. Munchausen Syndrome? Maybe. She nods and offers a small pretty smile. It looks familiar to me. I reach out an gently touch her to get her to do what I want ... move. I return her grin and quietly whisper into her hair "Spoiler alert... everyone dies at the end." She laughs and covers her mouth because we both know it was in poor taste. I keep going. Not that one. Not today. She looks after me, disappointed I think that we will not be engaging.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>Ahhhhh the psych section. A little self help anyone? I love it here. All the uncertainties and reservations wander around like lost hopeful puppies. And there she is. My next student. A lovely little red head. I pick something near her and make sure it isn't about menopause or baby blues. I look at her nervously and when she looks up I know to sheepishly back up with apologies for invading her space. I see her author and the book and realize she is a young woman needing or wanting to build a more rewarding relationship. I smile at her choice and tell her I've read it. I have read the jacket cover before when I was hunting in Wisconsin I think. She tucks it away and so begins our game. I must start again by apologizing for reading over her shoulder. It builds her confidence and gives her power to forgive me, a stranger. She volleys back by looking at my book. "How to make friends." She looks at me and says I should have no trouble. I look smart and polite. I dig my shoe into the carpet as an "aw shucks Ma'am" we grin at each other again.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>She doesn't know what she's done. I look away as if embarrassed and we continue to lob insecurities at each other. This turns into a coffee and laughter at our fears of relationships and frailties. We exchange numbers and text worthless emojis while making another time to meet because she is on her way to an appointment. I'm sure her therapist will happily scrawl that progress was made today...venturing out of her shell to be rewarded with a kind friend and possible relationship by showing her vulnerabilities and demonstrating the human need to be ... loved... liked whatever... she IS needed. And the machine shifts into second gear to remind me. I feel a hunger and a burning know what is to come. I am so excited that I bump into someone I head out the door. I need to see if Red is driving her own car, Uber or a public system. Public. YES. I feel a pat on my chest. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"Everyone dies at the end." she giggles and adjusts her frumpy hat. A true Inspector Clouseau.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I brush passed her to get the bus number and begin my game of cat and mouse. Weirdo.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I spend about two weeks watching Red. I know her gym routine (why would you go to a spin class and pretend to ride a bike?) and her work schedule. I know she has a been working long hours to fill a void but she says it will get her up the ladder. She meets her posse on Tuesdays not the normal ladies' night Thursdays because that turns the bars into meat markets and who knows just what kind of loser or deviant you could run into... am I right? I know.. Ohhh I know. So we exchange and exchange and the machine is getting warmer and I begin to sweat. I sound like Mel Tillis as I hear myself stammer through sentences with her about an imaginary home life and ex girlfriend or the job where I am a victim of a ruthless self-absorbed prick of a boss who doesn't understand... I don't know ... I just talk and she reaches out to me and befriends me and when we meet for coffees, she touches my hand and looks at me ... Done. She trusts me. I can ask her for anything; money, sex but all I want is to take her on a picnic. It's laughable. A picnic sounds so lovely and sweet doesn't it? You picutre a little blankie with wine and cheeses and dogs in a park and sunshine. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I tell her there is a pretty little place I know of and would she join me. She jumps at the suggestion and this makes me smile. The machine knows it's almost time. We set plans and I begin to prepare my kit. I will need the drugs for the wine and cheese spread in case she doesn't drink. I need the tarp and the bags of course and my knives. I look over the jars... do I keep anything ? Nah trophies are dangerous. Maybe I'll just eat some of her hair or her fingernails like the others. We text back and forth about how excited we are. This is the only truth I have told.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I tell her where to meet me and arrive early to scope the scene. It is fairly empty; this spot I've chosen. I've used it before when I was young. Before I got stupid and nabbed by the cops. I sit on the bench closest to the trail I want to take. I've been walking through here for the last few days making sure things are where and what I want them to be. Not too desolate to rouse her fears but intimate so she feels we can be alone. </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I wait. As I sit and play the endgame in my mind I am jarred by conversation that is coming from outside my head. It's not the machine's happy prattling and expectation but another voice... I look up and see a frumpy hat.</i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i><br /></i></span></span>
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"Wow small world. I've seen you around here a lot these few days" she says and sits down. I take a breath to ask her what the fuck she thinks she's doing but the machine stops me. "I read that book.." she plays with the buttons on her coat. "You were right."</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>I check my watch and give her an impatient half smile. "Do I know you?" I ask. That should embarrass her. Mortify her into running away and hiding. She cocks her head a little wounded but continues on. </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>"Yeah. You do." she playfully slaps me with the back of her hand and drudges on with words I don't care about. I want to shut her up. The machine is running at full speed and I feel myself sweating. It's so hot in these clothes. I stutter that I am supposed to meet someone. She asks when. I look at my watch again and say now. She looks around and tells me no one is here so she will keep me company until they arrive. GOOD GOD ALMIGHTY ! I can't believe this stupid bitch. She is like gum on the bottom of my shoe. The machine slows a bit and tells me it's fine. Take her instead. I decide that is a wonderful idea. I regain myself and become more charming. I offer her my arm and ask if she'd be so kind as to keep a silly romantic who's been jilted company. She beams and says of course. This may not be so bad. We stroll off into the woods. She eats bread and drinks from her water bottle. This isn't working for me or the machine. I make a cheese and cracker and pour wine. She refuses. I'm getting really pissed. I scooch closer and touch her hand. She doesn't pull away. I reach for her cheek and brush her hair back. There is a bald spot and a scar. I focus on it too long. She becomes sensitive and pulls her hair back to cover it, changing topics. I am not listening. I am thinking of how to feed the machine. I say "Uh-huh" and "mmm " thoughtfully and listen for footsteps. No one is coming.</i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>And that is when I feel a heat and spray of warm. I gasp and feel a harsh push and pull. It smells like blood. I look and see that it is. It is MY blood. This crazy bitch has taken the bread knife I was going to use to get her clothes off and cut her with to stab me. I am wild eyed and shocked. I grab my chest but she is slicing and slashing at me. Fast. She is really fast. I fall over and begin to kick and scramble away from her. She grabs my shirt and pulls me back. I am surprised at her strength. Every time she touches me she cuts. I can't stop the blood. It is ruining my picnic blanket. I am reaching for the wine bottle to crack her head open. I am begging her to stop. I tell her she's crazy and she is hurting me. Her voice is a childish, whine as she hisses at me "Do you know me? DO YOU REMEMBER ME?" </i></span></span><br />
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<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i>She rolls me and puts her knees to my chest. It feels like my blood and life are racing out of me with each beat of my weakening heart. She stuffs napkins in my mouth and I am choking. My eyes are bulging. My head is throbbing. She cups my face in her hands and pulls back her hair. A wig. The scar is bigger than I first saw and I understand. I am looking at the one who got away; the one who has waited and plotted better than I have. I am too weak to fight her. There is no sound, only muffled noises through thick cotton. I no longer feel pain. I glance around one last time and stare at my shredded clothes, pieces of me she has hacked away... I see Red.</i></span></span><br />
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<br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #4c1130;">And hello friends. I am trying to get back here sooner and yes, this is my first re-introduction into the fear factory. I have a couple more ideas floating around so be sure visit again and share with me your thoughts and opinions. It helps me become a better writer. Besides, I enjoy your company. Hope your days are good and your laughter long. Until next time...</span><i> </i></span></span><br />
<span style="color: #351c75;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "times new roman" , serif;"><i> </i></span></span>Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-67737283123858925872017-09-22T14:53:00.001-04:002017-09-22T14:53:44.792-04:00War is Hell<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">As many of you know and remember, my husband LOVES to farm. With two large fenced in gardens, we have a ton of food to eat; from squashes, beets, Italian dandelion greens, collards, kale, beans, peas, tomatoes, not to mention herbs. We don't need to shop for veggies from mid spring to late fall, but in our land of plenty lurks an evil. One so devastating and vile that it haunts our dreams and threatens the very roots of a simple happiness; a whistle pig, a ground hog. His name sends shivers through our bones beyond what Harry Potter and his gang of trusty albeit new wizards experienced with the V-word. </span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">My husband is a kind man, a sharing man. He has let some of our rogue veggie seeds flourish to satisfy the hungry beast. Offerings you could call them. Eat these and leave the rest... He wouldn't even mind if he lost SOME of his bounty to a greater good and reasonable link within the food chain. But that is not what happens. Oh no. This furry angel of vegetable death terrorizes our fresh haven, ravaging and voraciously destroying whatever he can get his little selfish claws into. And trust me. I've had to witness the aftermath; butternut squash senselessly gutted (or is it gourded?) or worse, digs and bite marks rendering once voluptuous ripe organic rewards useless to anything other than bugs and ants and well, Winston if he can hoist his grumpy Russian ass up on the hay bales to gnaw a bit. Not to mention the pumpkins and watermelons he stole from us; both summer and autumnal treats ripped from our grasp after much nurturing and care. We've watched him scale the fence with Mission-Impossible talent to hog beans (I believe they have pouchy cheeks like other rodents soooo that's a LOT of hoggin!) and peppers but the tomatoes? He must just sit back on his haunches and eat until he wishes he wore pants so he could unbuckle them; the scratching himself part he has down, trust me. After such a binge he usually ends up lying on the ramp to the barn where it is warm and giving us a gratis shot of his over bloat. Thanksgiving is every day for the thief.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Well, Cheech has battled long and hard every year from fox pee to HIS pee, magical nuts (poison ones not his own...although we have two beautiful kids soooo...magical IS applicable) even Halloween motion sensitive decorations that light up, speak and move. Let me confess this: At midnight when I get home from work and let the three stooges out for last hurrah and one of those bastard toys starts whispering in the dark woods to "Heeeeelp meeeeee PLEAAAAAASE heeeeeeelp meeeee ... " I am ready to ninja chop mah bad-ass self some whistle pig, twigs, leaves throw some acorns and rush squealing back to the house some ancient prayer to rid myself of the demons haunting my barn... oh wait... yeah just decorations. All in good fun. No I didn't pee my pants but yes I carried a bible for trip. Amen ... and also with you.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">But he has had it and I don't blame him. We manage to rescue one little melon that hid itself and grew up more like a two inch high rectangle than an adorable sphere ~ geometry is forgiving as are we; rectangle, sphere, rhombus... doesn't matter and hey the Japanese teach their watermelons to grow like squares for easier stacking in the stores... just saying we loved Melon head as he came to be known. We brought him into the house and set up the plan. Having lost his entire clan (I think that's what you call a group of melons like a pod of whales or a gaggle of geese.. yeah a clan of melons.... let's run with it shall we?) he agrees to make the ultimate sacrifice. Cheech purchases a trap; a whistle pig trap. And Melon Head is going to Scooby doo it, lure him in and we will at last be rid of this wretched menace that plagues our homestead. Our goodbyes are brief and heartfelt. The trap is tucked into the underbrush that SHOULD have been my sunflower bed buuuut all the new sprouts were mysteriously and gluttonously plucked, nibbled and destroyed by aforementioned varmint. Oh yeah, I was on board to get him and get him gooooood. My brilliant vegetable protector covers it with hay and sprinkles Melon Head around and puts some in the trap. Not all of it because if there is more than one... we must slay them all. Melon Head would want complete vengeance. We're doing it for him remember. </span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">and we wait. </span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Then one night on my way home from work, I get a call. It is my son. I am hoping to hear the terrified squawls of one outwitted whistle pig.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">"Mah ~ I let the dogs out for last hurrah."</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">"Awesome. Thanks Boo"</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">"No Mah~ Listen. Winston ran away. I was watching Mulligan in the woods and Birdie went back in but during last head count.. he was missing. I've been searching for half an hour. He's gone Mah."</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">There is real fear and sadness at the thought that our grumpy Russian may have defected. Nah. He can't see, barely hears and has four teeth. He's not leaving the sanctuary that gives him soft food, cool blankets and a new stuffed duck to shred or hump every three months. I tell my son to check the compost bins in the back.. .he LOVES to eat trash ~ stinky trash is apparently his favorite. I step on the gas to aid in the search.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">I get home and welcome the other two who are huffing and panting to tell me that "The tiny dog is gone! He made tee-tee and then disappeared into the night....I'll eat his treats and sleep with his stuff.. can I have this duck?" I step out and brave the dark thickets behind our gardens, ignoring the spooky warnings from animitronic zombies and seizure causing lights. I head into the woods listening for his little jingle or a sneeze which would be most likely and make my way to where I KNOW he is.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">in the effing trap.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">And he is. Sitting there. belching and gorging on Melon Head.</span></i></span><br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"><br /></span></i></span>
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">SERIOUSLY?</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">He makes no sound as I open the damn thing and has the brass ones to snag a tidbit for the stroll back to the house. </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">My son picks him up and hugs him as if he has returned from the Bermuda Triangle.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">Three more times we attempt to catch the bastard. Three times I must set our homemade POW free.</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">WAR </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">IS</span></i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #4c1130;"><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;">HELL </span></i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"></span><i><span style="font-family: "Courier New",Courier,monospace;"> </span></i></span><br />
<br />
<br />
Hello there and welcome back. It's nice to see you. I thought we could all use a little laugh after having a new hectic school year start and summer begin to drift off and the weather fiascos that seem to be ravaging the world at the moment. Hope you are all safe and sound. Let's do this again soon, shall we? I enjoy sitting here with you... even if only for a little bit.<br />
<br />
<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-1315748621032501142017-07-16T14:00:00.000-04:002017-07-16T14:00:41.776-04:00Save their own<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I want to give it to you ." Her smile was sheepish, too shy for all we had shared over three years and endless talks.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"For keeps?" I turned it over in my hands as if it were a rare jewel. To me, it was nothing less. "Trish, this is special. I'm not special," but I was holding on to it with white knuckles cherishing the texture of its cover and all the tender, wonderful thoughts and drawings I knew it held secret. Secret for me.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Stop it you reject. You are to me." she leaned in and kissed my cheek. I loved the warmth of her mouth and the honesty of her friendship. I wiped it off like it was dirt. She punched me and called me a douche.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>We laughed, sitting in comfortable silence as the sun yawned behind the clouds making my safest and favorite time of day...night. She was right. I WAS a reject. I had been labeled quickly when mom moved here. Other choice descriptions/nicknames were: Stupid, Retard, Wackadoo, Weird... the list goes on because people never tire of hurting.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>No one liked me; but no one ever tried. I was a little different, maybe slow to understand some things but I was honest; unlike Mr. D who liked watch little girls in dresses on the swings at recess, or Mrs Hawthorne who pinched Dr. Mickels butt when she thought no one was looking (right in front of the book store~) that 's where I hang out. Printed words hurt much less than the ones thrown from bad mouths.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I had a respectable but reasonable "pass" being friends with Trisha. Everyone loved her. She was beautiful, talented and smart. Her dad died in a hunting accident a year before I moved in to town. He was with his best friend who took her in and guarded her like the sheriff. Well, that makes sense because he WAS the sheriff. He always gave me stink eye but she could back him down with a look. She was my guardian angel. My only friend. We met every day at the river. We talked. We sat in silence. We read poetry or drew or played hangman. I suck at that game because I am a lousy speller.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Can I open it?" trying to hide the excitement.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Of course you goof."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I flipped the pages catching bits and pieces of diary entries and poems; flashes of sketches and homework assignments. It was a piece of her. I treasured it instantly.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>We sat for a while; conjuring up a story about a beautiful princess who had teeth so bucked she could eat an apple through a picket fence and a fear of sunlight. Being of royalty, sheltered from everything because of her looks and her father's fear of the cruel world, she burned easily and was often mistaken for a vampire or a ghost.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>In ignorance; sparked by whisperings from a shallow jealous little man in town who constantly spoke of her evil powers and malicious intent, the town rejected her and threatened to revolt; killing the royal family. However, there was a wise, kind priest who gave her a test; holding a mirror to show her reflection which she passed and saved the family, the monarchy and the world. The only price to pay was that she love him and stay with him forever.</i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>What else do fifteen year olds do? We were out of Madlibs.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I don't like that ending" I said softly. It's not happy. In my simple world; stories you made up should end happily.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"You don't always like what you hear." she said stiffly and pulled away a little.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"But she was a princess and should be able to do what she wants to be happy."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"You ARE a reject sometimes. Sometimes, you get stuck. You have to do things. You hate them. You may hate the people who make you do them... but you're stuck."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"You're the reject. Mean story." I nudged her shoulder to show no hard feelings. I heard her sigh and saw the shadow of a smile cross her mouth.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>As always, we said goodnight. We hugged and promised to go straight home. I always cautioned her:</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Beware the free candy van..."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"In search of a puppy? I'm all in..." she would add over her shoulder.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"If they get you, scream so the angels can hear ~ they will always save their own... or at least me.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I would save you Trish."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>She laughed. You? Nooo I'd have to save you.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>The night swallowed us. I was almost home when the lights came on. I heard the slow crunch of gravel as the car cruised lazily behind me. Nothing new. I rolled my eyes to no one and prepared for battle.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Not home? On a school night?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"On my way Deputy Scott." I picked up my pace.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Where ya been Boy?" He never bothered with my name. "Who would spend time with a loser like you?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"don't reckon anyone, Sir" I said never looking up. He would pummel me again.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>He reached over and snatched the book. "With you GIRRRRRLfriend Trisha?" he purred like a second grader. and they called ME dimwitted? I snatched it and held it behind my back.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Dear Diary! Today I met with the girl of my dreams" this was of course accompanied by the clutching of his chest, cocking his foot behind him and batting his eyelashes to the moon.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I was relieved to understand he thought it was my book and not Trisha's. I stood there and took the verbal abuse; the lewd insinuations and questions about what we'd been doing. I knew he really liked her and I could hear in his voice that he was hoping what he'd said was true and he would shame me into confessing.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I gave him nothing. I saved the kingdom. He shoved me to the ground and called me a fagot pervert and told me to get home or I'd be in BIG trouble. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I got up and walked quickly until he shouted for me to run which I did; just for safety's sake.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>He turned around and sped off to my relief. </i></span><br />
<br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I got home and began to unveil the secrets of my friend. I read all night. The tears streamed down my face like the river that rushed by us when we were together pretending everything was all right.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>The morning brought noise. Loud noise. My mother yelling and stomping; a man cursing and screaming my name.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I was ripped from my bed and dragged down the stairs. I was thrown into the back of the sheriff's car and driven with lights and sirens going full tilt to the station where my mother met us and pawed at me.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I was dumped into a barren room and left to sit with her. She said nothing. someone brought a cup of coffee and set it harshly on the table spilling some. They chucked a napkin down and left us.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Honey. do you know where Trisha is?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I sat and stared at the spilled coffee not answering.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Honey? Sheriff says she didn't come home last night."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I looked up puzzled. I left her by the river. Like always. She walked home.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"You didn't see anyone give her a ride or follow her?" my mother sounded hopeful. "Did she text you when she got home?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I shook my head.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>The door flew open and the Sheriff rolled in; a big man. A mean man who disliked me.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Well Boy?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Am I in trouble? I didn't do anything."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Not the way I see it. Yes you are in trouble. Where is she and why did you hurt her."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I would never hurt Trisha"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"You loved her."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"She was my friend."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"She rejected you."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"She made me laugh"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"You dumped her body"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"She was my only friend. She would protect me and I would protect her. You should have done the same."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>He wiped his face and sat in front of me. He smelled like panic and bitter coffee. "Just tell me what you've done. I can't help you if you won't tell me where she is and what you've done." His voice hitched just a bit. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>My mother stroked my hand and encouraged me to do the same. "Hon, if it was an accident, we need to understand. sometimes people do things by accident and get scared and ..."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I turned and looked at her. Even my own mother thought I was a monster.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>There was rushing outside my dungeon. The river. A body. A girl. Naked and ruined.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>Trisha. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>The two adults left me. I heard hushed mumbles outside the door. I heard my mom crying. I hung my head and said nothing. Not through the charges being read to me or the finger printing. I didn't speak in the cell or to the lawyers that came nor the doctors. I sat quietly when we went to the courthouse and I was pelted with cruel words, death threats and a rotted tomato from Mrs. Hawthorne. Mr D went on the news and said he knew I wasn't right. I should be locked up and the key thrown away or just bury me in a hole like he was sure I'd done to Trisha. Dr Mickels said I was a loner of a kid with problems. He'd never even been my doctor. He was a baby-doctor in the next town over. But they hated my guts. They pointed their fingers and cursed my name. They condemned my mother for birthing such a wretched excuse for a human being.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I said nothing. I didn't have to. At last, when the judge smacked her hammer and asked if I had a statement I'd like to make I stood. My knees were knocking. I was so sweaty that my shirt smelled like three weeks of gym class.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>" May I speak to you?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"You may speak to this court"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"You."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"With your lawyer."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"No thank you."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I will record it."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I'd like that."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I was ushered in to her chambers with confused whispers and hisses of objection dragging under my feet.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"What do you want to say young man?</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I have nothing to say." I almost whimpered. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>She whirled on me her mouth hanging open like a prize bass. "Do NOT waste this court's TIME!" she bellowed. She stuck a finger close to me and repeated "WHAT DO YOU HAVE TO SAY?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I have nothing. But Trisha does." and I quietly slid the book across the big desk. Why are their desks so large? do they use different size paper and pencils when we aren't around ... like the giant crayons? Or those pencils you need a knife to sharpen?</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>She sat and began to leaf through it. Half-heartedly at first but then she sat straighter in her chair. She smoothed the pages as she read. She pulled her glasses off and beckoned me to sit in a nice chair and then poured me a glass of water. She smiled gently. It was the first smile I'd seen in months. </i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I need to bring the sheriff in. and your mom. and the lawyers."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"But not him."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"No Dylan. Not him."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Will he get in trouble?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Oh my yes."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Will they hate him like they hated me? Treat him like that? With rocks and threats?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"I don't know."</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>"Will they say sorry to me?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>She hung her head sadly. Shamefully. "I don't know that either. but I will. I will right now say I am sorry Dylan. I was wrong. Will you testify against the Deputy?"</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>I looked around nervously. People were coming in and glancing at what she showed them. There was a lot of silence. Or maybe is was sorrow and guilt. I nodded slowly because I knew it was going to be all right.</i></span><br />
<span style="color: #660000;"><i><br /></i></span>
<span style="color: #660000;"><i>Trisha was right. Angels save their own.</i></span><br />
<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-806938556453502489.post-26861982534525207902017-07-15T10:00:00.000-04:002017-07-15T10:00:04.685-04:00Surprise Mommie<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">So I thought maybe it would be best to restart our adventures with a little update.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">I have a new puppy. His name is Mulligan and he is a wrecking ball wrapped in fur; a rat terrier-lab mix soooo let's think about what he looks like: a tiny giraffe with a huge head. It bobbles and he runs like that special kid in gym class with the one leg that juts out (for more speed and power?) He is a guffaw. But I love him. He makes me laugh and the Seniors hate his guts. He towers over them at a whopping 30 pounds versus their combined weight of 25. It is official. I run a circus. I love it...most of the time.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">His favorite hobbies are: biting Birdie's toes until she bites his face and he plays victim; whining and crying to Mommie, laying innocently on his side near Winston until Winston falls asleep, then :"swimming~ sidestroke" over; every so silently to punch Winston in the face. He steals socks; EVERYONE'S socks. He believes that there is another dog we keep locked up in the fireplace as well as in the bathroom (the one with the mirrored wall) that he needs to bark at and scold. He has not grasped the concept of sliding doors ~ smacks into them regularly. He cannot appreciate that everything is not fair game for chewing, eating, licking or smacking with his tennis ball sized feet or oversized mouth.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i> <i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">We got Mulli to put a little spring in the step of my seniors. The only high stepping going on is Birdie who lets him know hourly with "stink eye", hissing, or cage-match worthy wrestling moves that SHE and ONLY SHE rules the roost.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Winston... He sits and mopes with his four teeth and white face. He shouts at Mulli and snarls and spits with all the ferocity of the wolf the TV commercials say he is a descendant of ... buuuuut.. mmmm.... nope. He still looks like a naked, little angry Russian. I imagine him just yelling "MORE WODKA COMMRADE!" and glaring at everyone from the bushes as he poops.</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Work has been a little less than fun so I thought I would take the toddlers and head up to the lake. We are planning some parties and will need to get some chores done. Peace, quiet... I couldn't wait<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">, s</span>o after work I tossed them all in ~ it's a nice thing being the leader of the vampires and working until midnight because when I do head to the lake...no traffic. We got here, had breakfast and took naps. All was right in everyone's world. I went across the way to chat with my neighbors as it was cocktail hour<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">.</span> I love my neighbors. I looked at my watch and said "ooo better go.." because one thing the baby has taught me; it's that he has a SET schedule. Potties are at 6am, 9am, 5pm and 9pm. I came home at 4:53pm.</span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">SURPRISE Mommie! </span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Mulligan apparently made a change to the schedule without notice. Lovely rug brownie. Fabulous. He is cowering and wagging his tale "sorry" so I point my finger and shake my head. Everyone heads for jail. This is not a good sign. So now it is a "bad" scavenger hunt.</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">SURP<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">R</span>ISE Mommie!</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">Birdie got upstairs and pulled all the laundry out of the basket, rolled in it and chewed up my propers. Really? I loved those panties. You witch.</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">I sigh and clean it up... heyyyyy it's damp</span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">SURPRISE Mommie! Winston decided that he wanted the laundry basket for himself; so he signed his name on it. Oh and on the sofa. Oh and on the bathroom door Oh and on Mulli's cage...Really Pal? You weigh less than fifteen pounds. Where is it coming from?</span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">I am now grumbling and glaring. I stomp down the steps and hit the kitchen</span></span></i><br />
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<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">SURPRISE Mommie! The three stooges have broken in to the pantry and helped themselves to kibble, a piece of chocolate, my favorite flavored coffee and some cocoa mix.</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">I spin around like I'm ready to battle the devil himself and find three little amigos standing there wagging and wiggling, hoping I will be SUPER happy with the decorative modifications they efficiently made during my absence; one with sticks from the wood pile hanging from his face and the breath of one delICIOUS flavored coffee ~ hints of hazelnut and mocha I bel<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">ieve</span>, <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">another</span> with toilet tissue stuck to her chin and the third with dropping eyes <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">food wrappers tucked under his chin like a mafioso sitting down <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">to <span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;">Sunday lasagna.</span></span></span> </span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">THAT IS IT! I hiss and point to jail. Everyone slinks in and gives me the last hopeful wag as I slam the doors and say mean things they don't understand about gypsies and selling and countries that EAT dogs....</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">I go into the pub and click on the television. I just want to sit and relax; watch a bad movie and ... I jump up like I've been bit in the arse.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">There are teeny fragments of kindling from the woodpile all over the couch.</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">SURPRISE Mommie!</span></span></i><br />
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><br /></span></span></i>
<i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;">i will love them ... later.</span></span></i><br />
<br />
<span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"><span style="font-family: "times" , "times new roman" , serif;"><span style="color: #20124d;">Thanks for coming over. I hope to see you again soon. It feels nice to be here with you.</span></span></span></span><i><span style="font-family: "helvetica neue" , "arial" , "helvetica" , sans-serif;"><span style="color: #0c343d;"> </span></span></i><br />
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<br />Tesshttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03763936667478509435noreply@blogger.com0