First Light: Words

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “First Light.”

With my mind full of cobwebs, my bladder screams into the fogginess of the webs, jolting me awake to get up and take care of it. It’s cold. I can’t sleep if it’s too warm. Immediately I pull on my ridiculous but ridiculously warm, one piece pajamas and stumble into the kitchen to turn on the coffee pot. With that comforting and familiar sound of the coffee rumbling into a delicious brew, I turn on the morning news and next turn on my computer to sift through the WordPress emails that have flittered in during the night before.

I’m thinking, I might need toothpicks to hold up my eyelids. Okay, maybe not. I take a drink of the hot liquid and my mind gradually snaps into the present. I begin laughing, ooouuing and ahhhing over all the wonderful words that have filled my inbox. I delight in reading and answering them.

Can you see me? Can you see my lips formed into a permanent smile as I read your post and view the photographs you have so artistically taken? Do you feel what my heart feels when you say something profound and heartfelt? Do you feel the closeness toward me that I feel toward you when I am reading your words that you so creatively and lovingly woven together just for me to read?

It is through our words, our beautiful words, that we share our own private world and friendship with one another. I sincerely hope my words are as beautiful to you as your words are beautiful to me.

Untitled

Dropping her line into Fool’s Lake, Adela patiently waited for something to bite, but the bait she was using wasn’t interesting the fish. Her patience was getting thin and she was feeling very close to giving up when she remembered what Hank told her,


“They will bite, just be patient. Remember, they will test you first.” .


“If I could just get a nibble, all I need is a nibble.She thought to herself.


It was getting late in the evening and her frustration was mounting.


“Hank’s going to kill me. He wanted to reel in at least one John tonight.”


Just then the bartender winked at her and sat her drink down in front of her,


“Want to meet me in my room after I get off of work for a fifty?”


Adela winked back and set her hook. (130 words)


“Monday’s Finish the Story” Challenge is graciously hosted by Barbara Beachem. She provides us with the first sentence and a photograph for us to base our stories on. If you are interested in joining this challenge, click this link:

Monday’s Finish the Story

 

 

The Statue

The Romans brutally forced their way into our city that night, killing all who stood in their way, with no respect for life. Homes burned among screams being devoured by massive flames. I heard the beating of horses hooves along with the sounds and smells of the dying. Blood ran thick in the street and the acrid smell of death and thick black smoke suffocated my senses. Chaos ran rabid and hell itself had descended upon my city.

Then I saw her. The tiny little one covered in blood and clinging to the body of her dead mother. I ran toward her, certainly not thinking of my own mortality. I scooped her up and fled from that nightmarish scene. I took her home, to the servants quarters of the palace, and raised her as my own.

She grew into a beautiful woman, kind, good hearted and loving to all. She was fortunate to be unscathed from her past. To my delight, she loved me as though I was her real mother. Little did I know she indeed remembered her mother and twenty-three years later would avenge the Romans for her death. She became a magnificent statue, always to be remembered. (200 words)

Sunday Photo Fiction Photo Prompt
Sunday Photo Fiction is hosted by Alastair Forbes who provides us with a photo prompt and challenges us to write a story, using 200 words or less. Our story is required to have some type of reference to the photo prompt.

If you would like more information or wish to join in the Photo Fiction fun, please click on this link:
 

 

 

 

 

Throwback Thursday February 5, 2015

John was about 20 years old when I was only 16 years old. He was my first heart-throb. I mean, my first REAL heart-throb. I know this because I wrote his name all over my spiral notebook. I also know this because he worked at a well known shoe store and my friends and I would go there to hang out (uninvited of course). I also know this because I would day dream about him during classes instead of listening to the teachers.


The day of our first date was the happiest day of my short life. He had FINALLY asked me out for a date. Back then it was a given that “dates” consisted of going downtown to the movie theater and buying popcorn and cokes. There were no DVD’s back then and there were no movie theaters that showed 10 or 12 different movies at the same time. In fact, there were exactly two movie theaters and exactly two different movies showing at the same time.


He picked me up in his pickup truck and we started driving outside of the city.


I asked him, “Where are we going?” (The movie theater was downtown not out-of-town).


“We’re going to the kegger.”


I am sure I probably swallowed my tongue at this point trying to gulp down the fear I was feeling. I had never been to a kegger. I didn’t drink alcohol or smoke. I was a good girl and good girl’s don’t go to a kegger!


I kept quiet, after all, this was my heart-throb, our first date, and I wanted to make a “good” impression.


When we reached the kegger, John got out of the truck. At first, I stayed in the truck. All the kids were drinking beer, partying and having a roaring good time. I didn’t belong among them. I shouldn’t be here in the first place.


The kegger was right next to the river and there were exactly two entrances into it (meaning two EXITS out of it). It was a beautiful place to “party” if one wanted to party. I didn’t. I wanted to go to the movie.


I watched as the underaged kids got drunk, made fools of themselves, all while I was stone cold sober.


After several hours, suddenly some of the kids started screaming, “Cops! Cops are coming! RUN!” Sure enough a line of patrol cars were coming down each of the two roads coming into the kegger. I ran.


Yes, I ran. I ran because everyone else was running and panicking so I was running and panicking. After a few minutes of running, I found a huge bush and climbed into the middle of it and sat down and waited. I had no idea how long I was going to have to wait or if I would still have a ride home. I sat in the middle of the bush and lamented,


“If I get caught, I wasn’t here on my own free will and I don’t even drink!”


I listened as the policemen rounded up kids and put them into the cop cars. I was able to keep quiet, but I couldn’t control my shaking from fear.


Sometime later, I have no idea of the time, all became quiet. The patrol cars had driven away so I knew they were no longer there. I climbed out from the middle of the bush and looked for anyone else that might have escaped the ordeal. Fortunately, I was able to find John and he immediately took me home.


That was our first date and that was our last date.


I did have to live with the spiral notebook for the rest of the year.





 

A Silly Romance Story

Time for Friday Fictioneers! Hosted by our gracious leader, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields, author of the blog, Rochelle Wisoff-Fields – Addicted to Purple.

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright Melanie Greenwood
A Silly Romance Story

“This picture was taken on a very special day. Ricky told me to go through the labyrinth to get to the gazebo and he had a surprise waiting for me. I was so excited! I knew what it was and I had hoped for this moment for the past six months.”

“Tell me about the labyrinth. Was it easy to get through?”

“It took me ten minutes, but finally I made it to the end. I wanted to get to the gift that awaited me.”

“Tell me what it was, I think I might know.”

Sighing heavily, “A promise ring.”

 

100 words not counting title.

 

Rattle Snake River

Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River in Latchahatchi County, Texas. My grandpa use to tell me stories about Diamond Jack and his motley gang. His legend began in the early 1800’s during the time folks were moving west to homestead land in order to own the title free and clear. Diamond Jack and his outlaw gang would lie in wait hiding and hold up the unsuspecting wagons as they were coming through.

Legend has it that as the gang were coming around a hill to surprise a wagon train, they were met head on by a tribe of Apache Indian warriors that shot the gang members with poison arrows, damn near skinned them alive before they could take their last breath. Everyone said that thieving gang got just what was coming to ’em and no tears were shed for their brutal demise. One wagon train coming through found their rotting bodies, all of em’ missing their hair. (150 words)

Monday Finish the Story Challenge. Write a story of 150 words using the photo prompt and the first sentence of, “Diamond Jack had his hideout next to the Rattle Snake River.” Link your story’s url to inLinkz little blue frog for, Monday’s Finish the Story, which is kindly hosted by Barbara. If you would like to join in this flash fiction fun, click here for more information.

 

Blog for Mental Health

Blog for Mental Health asks each person who has had an experience with mental illness, either with themselves or through a loved one, to write a blog post about it. The objective is to pull mental illness out of the closet and change the stigma attached to it so more people who need help, will reach out and receive help. For more information regarding this challenge, please go to their website:

blogformentalhealth.com


My experience with mental illness began shortly after my first child was born. I was left in hard (difficult and painful) labor for 2 1/2 days before they decided to take him with forcepts. In those days, Cesarian births were very rare and even rarer in a little bitty farming community of about 900 people. I began having panic attacks after this experience.


When my husband and I were going through a divorce and custody battle, I began to sink into a depression which continued getting worse. I describe the experience as “hitting the bottom and the bottom falling out.” It was a horrible experience that worsened as the grip of mental illness swallowed me into it’s gut of paranoia, severe depression and high anxiety.


For a long time, I couldn’t sleep at night. Often, I would stay up all night and pace, trying to get away from the horrible fears that had gripped me. I would write in my journal excessively and go on long walks in my neighborhood. I would have frightening hallucinations. I tried my best to look “right and normal” on the outside when on the inside my illness was eating me alive. My family members were ashamed of me and this caused me to try and look normal to them and other people.


After years of therapy and trying different medications, I was finally helped when anti-depressants were introduced to me. Apparently, I had a severe chemical imbalance and the correct medicine was able to correct this imbalance. Finally, I was able to feel and experience joy again, and to think as a normal person again. This was a huge breakthrough for me. There is hope. With the medications, knowledge, and therapy available now, there is hope and help for those who are experiencing mental illness. Mental Illness does include simple depression because simple depression can grow into severe depression if left unchecked. Please, don’t be ashamed to ask for help or ashamed to help your loved one find help.

“I pledge my commitment to the Blog of Mental Health 2015 Project. I will blog about mental health topics, not only for myself, but for others. By displaying this badge, I show my pride, dedication, and acceptance for mental health. I use this to promote mental health education in the struggle to erase stigma.”

I would like to give a “shout out” to my friend Cat, author of, “My Travels with Depression,” for introducing me to this site. (Please click on the gravatar below to read his excellent “Blogging for Mental Health” post).


My Travels with Depression

 



 



 

Teacher of Impact

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Teacher’s Pet.”

Tell us about a teacher who had a real impact on your life, either for the better or the worse. How is your life different today because of him or her? ~ Daily Prompt 02/01/2015

Laurna and Murna were two sisters that lived down the road from me and were my best friends in second grade. We ate lunch together every single day. One day at lunch, as usual, we were together in the lunch line and got separated by tables. I was the last one to be seated at one table and they began the next table. I was anguished over our separation. I stood up and over the noisy crowded room yelled, “Laurna, Murna!” They didn’t hear me, so I yelled again.

Suddenly a teacher who was on lunch-room duty came and grabbed me by my arm and yanked me up from the table. She told me she was taking me to my teacher for a spanking. I had no idea what for! Why was I getting a spanking? Because I yelled for my friends? Apparently, it was because this lunch duty teacher had motioned for me to sit down and I didn’t mind her.
The truth is, I didn’t see her motioning for me to sit down.

When my teacher got back from lunch she took me to the back of the class behind a partition and walloped me several times with a wooden paddle. I happened to have on jeans that day so it was very painful.

After my paddling, I laid my head on my desk and cried for the remainder of school day. I was humiliated and I had been punished for something I didn’t know was wrong.

About a month after this happened, we had eye tests at school and it was discovered that I was near-sighted and needed glasses. I didn’t see that teacher motion for me to sit down because I COULDN’T see her.

I think the impact that this had on me wasn’t the fault of my teacher that only carried out what she was told to do, but of that old cranky prune that picked me up by my arm and marched me to the principal’s office.

A Letter from the Battlefield of the Civil War

Waiting for James Henry


Written by James Henry Triplett

Ship Point, York Co. Va.

September 4, 1861

My Dear Mother and Sister,

I received both of your kind letters late last night and was indeed very glad to hear from home again. I have had a bad spell of Bilious fever since we left Yorktown and am very week (sic) yet. If I take proper care of myself I shall be as well as ever. I think that this may be a healthier place than Yorktown, but the water is very bad, mudy (sic), and salty. We are encamped on a point of land on the Bay, covered with pines. We have pine poles for a bed, pine poles for a table, and pine poles to cook with, and have to make a smoke with pine brush in front of our tents at night to keep off mosquitoes. I received the oil cloth and drawers that were sent and like them very well. I do not know whether to send for my overcoat or not but I will need another blanket pretty soon. If you have any chance to send a small box I would like to have some paper & envelopes ink & pens,(jsp?) I would like to have some butter too, but you need not trouble too much. We can get plenty of fish and sweet potatoes here and a few chickens, by exchanging our bacon.

 

Our regiment has never been paid off yet. We have not seen anything of the Yankees yet except ships, we see vessels sailing down the Cheasepeake (sic) everyday and one of the Blockade Steamers is constantly in sight. Jim Young, Bob Coleman, (not sure of this next name) Stringler or Stringles or Dringles or Dringler; and several others were out scouting last night. They caught a Tori Verginian (sic), near fortrep Munroe; who was keeping a light house on some point there, for the Yankees. He was sent to Yorktown this morning.

Gen Hill is here looking well as ever. We can hear heavy firing here almost everyday, and our chance for a fight are pretty good.

I would like very much to be at home now, to eat apples & peaches.

Our time will be out about the 18th of Nov. The I will be home to spend the winter as soon as I get there. Give my love to all the family. I want to see you all very much. Give my love to all my friends, and write again soon.

Yours Affectionately

James

This is all the paper that I’ve got and it is borrowed, so I wrote to both of you at once. James

James Henry Triplett

Born: November 3, 1843

Died: July 1, 1863 ( Died in the Civil War in the Battle of Gettysburg)

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

Forgive me for it being over 200 words. I was going to write a story about a mother, sister, or wife waiting for their soldier to return home from war. I remembered the original letter that I have which was written by my distant cousin to his mother and sister. I felt this might be very interesting to the other participants and readers of this challenge.

As a footnote, James Henry’s sister and another brother, died the same year as his him, 1863.

 

Burned and Burnt

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

Remember this prompt, when your home was on fire and you got to save five items? That means you left a lot of stuff behind. What are the things you wish you could have taken, but had to leave behind? ~ Daily Prompt 1/30/2015

Yesterday my house was suppose to be on fire and I was suppose to grab five things to take out with me (the family and pets were already safe). I wrote that I had been in a house fire before and that you do not take five things with you, you simply get out.

Today I am going to write about those five things I was suppose to grab and take with me and other things I would feel the loss of if they burned.

First, I would mourn the loss of my purse

Second, I would mourn the loss of my iPad and blue tooth keyboard because that is what I do all my computer work on.

Third, I would miss my camera, even though it isn’t the best on the market, it is the best for me at this time of my (no)skills of photography.

Fourth, I would miss all my art paraphernalia; pencils, erasers, measurement devices, circle templates, line drawing devices, special drawing pads, books, rulers, leads, etc.

Fifth, I would miss my clothing. Although my clothing is nothing special you don’t realize how important it is until everything you own (and wear, including under garments) are all burned and you have nothing to wear except the clothes on your back. (In my case, I was asleep when it happened so I had on a nightgown). As a footnote, the day after this fire happened, I had to call my employer and tell him I couldn’t come to work because I had nothing to wear (because of a fire) and I was fired (and he was fired shortly after).

Sixth, (this should be higher on the list, but it didn’t occur to me until now), I would mourn the loss of all my paper photographs and photograph albums.

Seventh, I would miss my Password Vault.

Eighth, I would celebrate life. I would celebrate that I was still alive and that the things I mentioned above are all replaceable except the paper pictures. Yes, I may mourn the things that I have lost in the fire but I will celebrate that which did not perish. Me.
.