Sweet Moment in Time

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “A Moment in Time.”

There is a moment in time that when I think about it, I feel happy again. I feel as though I can go out and conquer the world and slay all the dragons and save all the princesses. I can ride to the highest mountain on my trusty steed and wear my armor with regal pride and … and… oh, it was so many years ago. So many years to that moment in time. My memory is not as good as it use to be and I am afraid I will lose all my memories and …. and… if that happens… where is my son and daughter? They are so tiny they could get into trouble. Where is my wife?

“Anges! Agnes! The children, they are being too quiet. Where is my wife?”

“John, settle down. It’s okay. The children are okay. You live in Arizona now. You live in a wonderful home in Arizona.”

“No, I don’t. I live in Hampton somewhere… with my wife and we have two small children.”

“No, John. Your wife is no longer with us. She is waiting for you to come when it is time for you.”

“Agnes, I want to tell you about a moment in time. A wonderful moment in time. It was…. we were…”

“John, it is time for you to sleep. Sleep now and when you wake, you will remember that sweet moment of time. And you can tell your friends at dinner.”

Pleased to Meet You

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Pleased to Meet You.”

“This is the happiest day of my life!”

He smiles at me and his eyes not only twinkle as he gazes into mine, they shine with stunning otherworldly brilliance. My entire soul wants nothing more than to escape into his eyes and melt into his intense love. I feel as though I am the only person on earth.

“I wrote my book* to tell people about my life and the difficult road that I have had to travel. I wanted to let them know that you gave me the strength to endure and continue my journey. I want them to know that you are not “religion,” and you are not “hate”. I want them to know You are love.”

He smiles at me with a smile of pure love and joy and his eyes twinkled with stunning intensity into my own eyes.

Max Lucado, one of my favorite authors, introduced me to a man I had never understood before. He introduced me to a Creator who is pure Love. When I came to understand this truth, I fell in love with the Creator of the universe and savior of the world.

This was the most incredible moment of my life.

“You do know why I am here?” He asked.

“Yes,” nodding my head.

He lovingly takes my hand and I, grateful to leave the old and broken clay coccoon behind, take his hand as we walk into the light together.

The End
* My book is not yet written. It is still a twinkle in my eye. I am trying to improve my writing skills before I actually pursue writing it.

Pens and Pencils – Oh My!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Pens and Pencils.”

When was the last time you wrote something substantive — a letter, a story, a journal entry, etc. — by hand? Could you ever imagine returning to a pre-keyboard era? ~ Daily Prompt 1/17/15

Before computers much less, laptops, desktops, and tablets, I kept daily journals with a notebook and a pen. My pen had to be a Shaffer Fountain Pen. I filled journal after journal with my pen scratching of my emotions, my angers, my fears, my all consuming pain. I wrote myself out of my mental illness. I wrote and wrote and wrote. Certainly nothing I wrote, would I want published. I used it to scream at the people that made me so angry that it raged inside of me and turned into severe depression. I wrote out that anger. I told my journal things I would never tell another soul. I wrote about my love interests and about the times I was “dumped.” I wrote about my failures and about my hopes and dreams. I made sure I kept plenty of ink refills for my cheap Shaffer pen. Other than thank you notes, journals are the last things I have hand written.

When I think about using a pencil, I don’t think of writing, I think of drawing. I love to draw. My favorite things to draw are “detailed” drawings. I want my drawing to look as real as possible to the real thing. I haven’t drawn in over a year. Drawing, for me, is very calming and peaceful. With the things I have had go through in the past 5 years, I really need to recapture that calming and peaceful feeling of scratching that pencil across special paper to end up with the finished product that I am aiming for. I have very low self-esteem regarding my drawing which is why I don’t share any on WordPress(until today). I hope you like my drawing.copyright Priceless Joy

Copyright  Priceless Joy

I hope that this year will find me writing more stories and drawing more beautiful things. I hope I will find the confidence to share more of it with all my followers and readers on WordPress.

Agree to Disagree

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Agree to Disagree.”

When I saw the prompt this morning the first thing that came to my mind, was my sister. When I hear or see the word disagree or disagreeable she will always be the first thing that will come to my mind.

Growing up she was always disagreeable. I know it sounds like I am stretching it a bit, but no, I’m not. She was ALWAYS disagreeable. People cannot agree to disagree if they are always disagreeable. Simple. We did not agree to disagree because she would ALWAYS disagree.

Seriously, if I would decide to agree with her, then she would switch sides JUST TO BE DISAGREEABLE. I am serious.

I thought it would get better when we grew up. Nope. It only got worse. She is more disagreeable now that she is older than she was when we were younger, and I didn’t think that was possible. Obviously, it is possible because I have seen it first hand.

She is now an old, worn out, bitter and disagreeable woman.

I still have hope.

Brain Power

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Brain Power.”

Let’s assume we do, in fact, use only 10% of our brain. If you could unlock the remaining 90%, what would you do with it? ~ Daily Post Prompt 1/15/15

Something tells me that if I were able to unlock the remaining 90% of my brain power that I would be fully evolved. I would want to be able to do the following things.

I would want to be able to do something that would save humanity against itself. What that would be I don’t know, but if I were fully evolved, I would know. There would be no more hatred, nuclear weapons, or any other weapons for that matter. We would all be able to live together without racism, hatred, greed, and other negative traits that is causing humans to kill, steal, and destroy from other humans.

Next, I would know what must be done to save the earth and the animals of the earth. There would be no more “extinct animals.” Humans would no longer kill and abuse the animals of this earth.

I can see that I am trying to build an imaginary Utopia in my writing today. People think that is completely unrealistic. But I think, should I, and other humans, be fully evolved, we would realize the great need to stop destroying each other, this earth and the animals of this earth and live among one another in peace and love.

Yes! Let’s do this!

Make it Through the Night

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Connect the Dots.”

Open your nearest book to page 82. Take the third full sentence on the page, and work it into a post somehow. ~ Daily Prompt 1/14/15

The officer knocked on the door of the house on the corner of 5th and Saddleback. His demeanor was stoic, as he was there on official business of the United States Army. This was one of his duties that he hated with passion, delivering the bad news to the wives and families of servicemen serving for their country.

Cindy opened the door and immediately knew it was not going to be good news.

“Oh no, God no, please don’t tell me any bad news,” she cried, fighting the fear swelling in her heart and throat.

“I’m sorry Mrs. Sanderson, on behalf of the United States Army, I have been asked to give you the news that your husband is Missing in Action in Iraq.” His words were short and precise. No matter how many times he has had to deliver such news, it never got any easier.

“Oh no, Oh my God, no!” She sobbed.

“The United States is doing everything in their power to try and locate your husband. This does not mean he is dead because, at this time, we do not know.” He put his hand on her shoulder, wishing he could do more than this to comfort her. With a heavy sigh, he turned and headed back to the jeep.

Cindy closed the door and broke out into wailing tears.

Once her tears were all spent, and with a heavy heart, she sighed, “How will I make it through this night?”

At the same time, in an abandoned building in the back country of Iraq, her husband, Ronnie, was lying on the dirt floor, badly bleeding from a leg wound. He had used his undershirt to tie it around the area of the wound to stop the bleeding. Lying still and in pain he thought of his wife back home in the states and began softly singing,

“Come and lay down by my side
Til the early morning light
All I’m taking is your time
Help me make it through the night…..

Yesterday is dead and gone
And tomorrow’s out of sight
And it’s sad to be alone
Help me make it through the night…

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Help me make it through the night, she thought.” Was the third sentence in the book, Riversong by Tess Thompson.

Niveous? Niveous!

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Image Search.”

Pick a random word and do Google image search on it. Check out the eleventh picture it brings up. Write about whatever that image brings to mind. ~Daily Prompt 1/13/15

Niveous - Snow or something white.
Niveous – Snow or something white.

My words is Niveous:   Resembling snow (especially whiteness). My image is from Google and is the 10th image for the word Niveous.

My great niece is obsessed with the Disney movie, “Frozen.” I doubt there are many little girls (and boys) that are not. She wants to have everything that has come out on the market that makes her feel like she is Elsa. She has the “Frozen” dress, the “Frozen” wig, the “Frozen” jewlery, the “Frozen” tiara. Whatever is being advertised regarding Frozen she either wants or already has.

Personally, I think she is adorable in her “Frozen” dress and wig. When I see her in it and then look at her mother, her mother is rolling her eyes to the back of her head, indicating to me she is fed up with the whole “Frozen” movie and the nightmare it has brought upon her family. After all, who wants to listen to, “Let it Go, Let it Go…” over and over…day after day. Many households with little girls are living this nightmare now. (Yes @joyroses13? You gave me this idea).

I can’t help but wonder how willing are mothers going to be to take their children to Disney movies in the future? I’m not so sure I would. The movie is raking in so much money from the movie, videos, and now all the toys and other “Frozen” items. Will it ever end? No! Disney is not about to “Let it Go.. Let it Go…!”

To Whom it May Concern

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Audience of One.”

To Whom it May Concern:

Please accept my apology for any behaviors or words that I acted out or spoke toward you. I am sorry for any of my behaviors that either offended you or hurt you.

I will attempt to list those people that I am aware of (and can remember) and if you are among this list and I have failed to list you, I extend my apologies to you as well:

1. My immediate family members: My mom, dad (RIP), my sister, and two brothers. My offenses are too numerous to mention.

2. My 8th grade English Teacher, Mr. White. I realize now that you teased me endlessly because you liked me and that was your playful way. Every single day I tried very hard to make it to your class on time but your room was on the other side of the campus from my previous class, making it impossible for me to arrive to your class on time. I forgive you for making me stand in the corner in front of the entire class almost every day for being tardy. The day you “friction burned” my arm with your two hands was a very difficult day for me. Maybe it was because I was an awkward, budding teenager, or maybe it was because of family problems, but whatever the reason it was a tough time in my young short life. This is why I went to the administrative office crying, asking permission to go home. I’m sorry they didn’t hire you back the next year. I have always felt that I was to blame. Please forgive me (if you are still alive).

3. My ex-husband: I suppose I should have stuck it out with you but for some reason that wasn’t suppose to happen. Maybe because if I had done so, you wouldn’t have the two awesome daughters you have now who are sisters to “our” children.

4  W2S – lashing out at you for no reason. (Well, I had a reason but found out I was wrong).

5. Various friends and boyfriends throughout the years: I don’t remember my offenses but I am sure there must have been some.

6. Fellow class members of Writing 101. I am sorry about how I was harsh with you regarding your writing. The truth is, you are all wonderful writers.  (I will admit though, I did so because I cared about your writing success and I still do).

7. Again, whom ever I have failed to mention.

I now go forward in this new year,  2015, with a clean slate, less weight and more friends.

Wishing you all the best in 2015!

Audience of One

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Audience of One.”

Years ago, I moved to Ft. Worth, Texas, to my aunt and uncle’s , while I looked for a job and a place of my own. At this time, my uncle was part owner of a country club and generally was at the club during the evenings.

My Aunt Betty decided to go to bed early one night so I went into my bedroom and started getting ready for bed. Suddenly, I thought of something I needed to ask my aunt.

I went to her bedroom door and decided I would only knock lightly. If she was already in bed and asleep, I didn’t want to wake her. I waited for a few minutes and she didn’t respond so I decided to wait and ask her about it in the morning.

I went back into my room, turned off the lights, and got into bed. Just as I was falling asleep, my bedroom door was thrown open and at the same time my bedroom lights flashed on me. I grabbed the covers and sat up in bed, beyond startled to be staring into the barrel of a pistol. I look up and see a policeman behind it.

“Oh my God, what is wrong?” I asked, shaking from the shock and fright.

“Is there anyone in here with you?” The policeman asked.

“No! No one, just me.”

“Are you sure?”

I replied, “Yes, I am absolutely sure.”

“Come into the kitchen with me and your aunt.”

“Give me a chance for my heart to start beating again and I will get dressed and come there.”

I quickly threw on a robe and ran into the kitchen. My aunt was trembling as bad as I was. I had no earthly idea what was happening.

The policeman began explaining that my aunt called 911 because she thought we were being robbed. (Apparently when I tapped on her bedroom door she thought I had already gone to bed and naturally assumed someone had come into the house).

She and I stayed up for quite awhile after that because by that time we were both wide awake. After our adrenaline rush died down we both had a good laugh.

It’s nice to know that the policemen are concerned about our homes and our safety and put their own lives on the line to achieve that, but I hope I never have to experience that again.

He left us one of his cards and I will never forget his name. “Jim Clark”.

The Sweetness

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Call Me Ishmael.”

Like most Friday nights, I wait for Poppa by the parlor window. I cain’t hardly stop my excitement as his old green Buick pulls into the driveway. Like all Friday nights we all is doin’ somethin’ special. Momma, Poppa, Sis and me is goin’ to the Red Crow for hotdogs and to the drive-in movie. I don’t remember what is viewin’ and it don’t matter. I jest know Mamma made a big grocery sack fulled of popcorn and we has to leave ‘fore it gets dark.

Poppa sees me through the window and smiles. I surely do love his smile. I wished I could cetch it and put it in a bottle so I could look at it any time I want. His smile makes me feel happy all over and makes my toes tingle. I do love my Poppa.

My Poppa opened the door and stepped inside and jest as I was ready to jump into his arms, the phone rang. My Momma runned to the door holdin’ the telephone. She hands it to my Poppa. Then she picks me up and starts cryin’ into my shirt. I was afraid cause I didn’ know what was happenin’. I started cryin’ too. My Poppa’s face turned white.

Most Friday nights we go to the movie. I knew right then and there, this were’nt  goin’ to be like most Friday nights.

The End

We are suppose to write a story using the first sentence of our favorite book as the first sentence. I decided to use the first sentence of a book I am getting ready to read, The Sweetness by Sande Boritz Berger, so I won’t be persuaded by the story.