FFfAW – Spanky

My sweet dachshund, Spanky, loved going to the woods and hills and run. We use to take him there when we went hiking. That was his favorite thing to do. I loved seeing him so happy.

When Spanky passed away, we decided to bury him in the hills that he loved so much. We carefully buried him and put rocks over his grave so other animals wouldn't dig up his remains.

I know that Spanky is still there running in the hills with his friends. It brings me peace to think of him running in those beautiful hills and woods.

100

Thank you Pamela S. Canepa for our photo prompt this week.

This is my 100 word true story for the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers. We are given a photo and approximately 75-175 words with which to create our stories. It's fun and everyone is invited to participate. For more information, click HERE.

To read other stories submitted for this challenge, click on the blue froggy link below:

 

FFftPP- The Little Black Dog

My little brother's blonde hair bobbed on top of the kitchen cabinets as he grabbed the container of chocolate pudding. He opened it and ate to his great delight. Before four year old Terry could get rid of the evidence, our dad came walking into the kitchen.

“WHO OPENED THIS?! I WANT TO KNOW RIGHT NOW, WHO OPENED THIS?”

Terry's lower lip quivered as he stuttered out his response,

“A l l little b b black d d dog came in and o o o opened it.”

(Dad looked at him with a fierce look).

“A little black dog, you say?”

“Yes, a l l little b b black d d dog c c came in and o o opened it.”

(I'm sure our dad struggled to keep from laughing).

“…For the thousandth time, I promise you, it wasn't me!”

This is a true story.

This is my submission for the flash fiction challenge, Flash Fiction for the Purposeful Practitioner, kindly hosted by, Roger Shipp. He provides us with a prompt photo and approximately 200 words with which we create our stories. This challenge is open to all who would like to join. For more information, click HERE.

To read the other stories submitted for this challenge, click HERE.

Do You Believe in Santa?

One year, several weeks before Christmas, my children and I were in the car getting ready to go Christmas shopping. My son was about six years old and my daughter was about three years old. Out of the blue, my son confidently said,

“Mommy, I know there isn't a Santa Claus. It's you and daddy.”

Saddened from hearing this and because I didn't want the Santa experience spoiled for my daughter, I quickly replied,

“Oh really?” Did you know that when you stop believing in Santa, he stops coming?”

My son's eyes became huge and with complete sincerity, he promptly answered,

“OH, I BELIEVE, I BELIEVE!!”

I have often wondered, why believe in Santa Claus?

When I was little, I loved believing this jolly, round man left me gifts under the Christmas tree. I always knew the true meaning of Christmas had nothing to do with Santa Claus, but to me, he was a wonderful old man that made Christmas “magical.”

I cherish all the memories of my children and their Santa Claus experience, just as I treasure my childhood memories of my Santa Claus experience.

Santa Claus ignites the fuel to our Christmas imagination with child-like magic, enchantment and joyful anticipation. Santa Claus teaches us the importance of giving and the fun of receiving. To me, he brings out the better part of ourselves. He brings out our child-like innocence.

Not believing in Santa was not an option in our home. So, if anyone asks me if I believe in Santa Claus, I will whole heartedly reply,

“I BELIEVE! I BELIEVE!”

 

Free Write Challenge

I was nominated by Prakash Hegade with “itsphblog” for the free style writing challenge. It’s Fun. You can read his detailed post HERE.

So here goes the RULES of this challenge:

1. Open an MS Word document

2. Set a stop watch or your mobile to 5 minutes or 10 minutes whichever challenge you think you can beat.

3. You topic is at the foot of this post BUT DO NOT SCROLL DOWN TO SEE IT UNTIL YOU ARE READY WITH A TIMER.

4. Fill the word doc with as much words as you want. once you began writing do not stop even to turn.

5. Do not cheat by going back and correcting spellings and grammar with spell check in MS WORD (it is only meant for you to reflect on your own control of sensible thought flow and for you to reflect on your ability to write the right spelling and stick to grammar rules)

6. You may or may not pay attention to punctuation and capitals. However if you do, it would be best.

7. At the end of your post write down ‘No. Of words =_____’ so that we would have an idea of how much you can write within the time frame.

8. Do not forget to copy paste the entire passage on your blog post with a new Topic for your nominees and copy paste these rules with your nominations (at least 5 bloggers).

GOOD LUCK!

I was given with the topic Train Journey

The only train journey that I have been on is the Narrrow Gauge Railroad which takes passengers from Durango, Colorado to Silverton, Colorado. It is a fun day trip on a very old rickety train. Once you get to Silverton, the passengers goi around looking in the shops and have lunmch there in Silverton and then after a few hours, we all get back on the train and ride back to Durango. The scenery is fabulous t5hrough mountains and forests and rivers. Some places the train is high on a cliff that you can overlook to the canyon. It is a bit chilly and one needs to take a sweater or light jacket. I noticed that Silverton is now a tourist trap and all the shops are geared toward touristy consumers.

I decided to do the 5 minute time as I don’t have that much experience with trains to write for 10 minutes. I still have 2 minutes left and I have already run out of things to say about trains. I am stopping her at 1 minute and 30 seconds remaining.

3.5 minutes = 182 words (and lots of mistakes)

Nominations:

I choose to leave the nominations open to anyone who would like to give it a try. It’s fun and challenging. If you decided to take up the challenge, please leave a pingback to this post. Thank you!

You are given the topic, “Blogging”

Assignment #15 – Voice

Today’s Prompt: Think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Your hometown’s annual fair. That life-changing music festival. A conference that shifted your worldview. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force.

How does that make you feel?

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For some reason, this assignment has given me absolutely no inspiration. I have racked my brain trying to think up something to write about that might show me my voice. I am curious, I want to know what my voice “sounds” like. I also want to know what it “sounds” like to those who read my stories and posts?

Do I come across harsh, negative, and abrasive?

Do I come across wishy-washy and fake?

Do I come across as a know-it-all?

Since I cannot think up something to write about that will reveal my “voice” to me, please tell me what my “voice” sounds like to you?

 

Serially Lost Part 2

Writing 101 Assignment: Serially Lost Part 2

Part 1 can be found HERE.

My depression became so severe that I had a psychotic break, where my mind lost touch with reality. I was taken to Albuquerque, NM to see a psychiatrist and I was in full-blown paranoid psychosis/depression. She had me hospitalized immediately in a mental health facility. I was placed in the restricted ward of this hospital so I could be watched more carefully. This is the ward that suicidal patients were placed. Surprisingly, there were quite a few patients in this ward.

My bed was in a large room which was shared with about seven other women. The first thing the nurses did was make me strip down so they can count and note all my scars. They take away all possessions, including shoe strings. I wasn’t allowed to have anything.

As soon as I finished my incoming check with the nurses, I started pacing, back and forth – back and forth. My mind was filled with extreme worry. It felt as though the entire world was on my shoulders. It was an extremely terrifying feeling.

After a time of pacing, one of the nurses on the ward joined me and began pacing with me. At first, she said nothing, just continued to pace with me. After awhile of our silent pacing, she asked me, “What is wrong?”

I replied to her, “I can’t tell you.”

Somehow, she was able to get me to sit down at a table with her. She asked me again, “What is wrong, please tell me what is wrong.”

I answered her with what I believed, “I can’t tell you. If I tell you it will come true.”

She responded, “No, it won’t come true. I promise it won’t come true.”

I knew I had a choice, to either trust her or not trust her. I had lost trust in everyone at this point but for some reason, my inner voice told me to trust her.

“It’s the end of the world.” I said with trepidation, hoping and praying that the roof of the hospital wouldn’t fall in for saying it.

She softly answered, “No. No, it’s not. It’s not the end of the world.”

I quickly realized the world didn’t end. At that moment, I finally began my long process of healing.

The Conversation from Hell

Assignment #12 Writing 101

Today’s Prompt for Writing 101: Write a post inspired by a real-world conversation.

Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.

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The good news is, she lives 6 hours away from me right now. The bad news is, she is moving back to my area in three weeks. I am referring to my sister. She is like a walking, living, breathing human tornado that destroys, or tries to destroy everything and everyone in her path. (I wish I were joking).

I answered the telephone this morning and the voice on the other line automatically put me on high “red-alert.”

My sister, Chauna is on the other line and she immediately informs me, “These people here are trying to declare me incompetent and take all my money away from me. They are all trying to steal from me.” (These people = her daughter, son-in-law, brother, mother).

Because I don’t believe one word of it, I say, “No, I don’t believe that. They have no reason to steal from you. Why do they need to steal from you Chauna? They have plenty of their own money.”

“Well,” she says, “I can’t explain it but they are and I’m getting the hell out of here.” (Big City). She starts whining, “They tried to steal my RV from me and now I can’t get it out of the consignment place until May 8.”

I remind her, “They put it in the consignment place because you told Rex to handle it for you because you wanted to sell it. He is just trying to sell it for you!”

Now she begins barking, “Well he didn’t ask me if he could put it in the consignment shop and now I can’t get it out until May 8. He should have asked me if he could do that. I would have told him I would only put it in the consignment shop if I could get it out anytime I wanted to.”

By this time I am getting very frustrated, “How was he suppose to know you wanted to be able to get it out anytime you want to. You don’t even have a truck to pull it with.”

Then she immediately states, “Well I might have wanted to get it out and he didn’t ask me if he could put it in there and I’m madder than hell at him.”

I ask her, “So this is all about control not really about the RV?”

“Well, maybe.” She stated, then adds, “I should have had control of that RV not Rex!”

(This horrible conversation continues for 15 more minutes then turns to something else).

After listening to her barking for 20 minutes I am really getting exasperated. She begins to tell me, “He (her daughter’s husband) has declared my daughter incompetent and has taken over all of her money.”

I am stunned, “What? Why would he do that? That doesn’t make sense!”

She further tells me, “She says that Rex will not allow her to see me anymore unless I hand over the control of all my money to him.”

I am shocked. “What?! (I highly doubt this is true). Why would he want to take control of your money? I just have a hard time believing that.”

“Well he did!” She states matter-of-factly, ” I can’t stand him. He’s a snake and I can’t stand him.”

I am really wanting this conversation to end, “So this all about the fact that you dislike Rex so much you are willing to give up your own daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” She informs me, ” I am not having him control me or take control of my money.”

I inform her, for the thousandth time, “Chauna, you have GOT to go to the doctor and get on some medicine.”

“No I don’t.” She barks, “I don’t need medicine! I need to get the hell out of here!”

“Yes, Chauna, you do.” I further remind her (once again), “You have a chemical imbalance and you need medicine to control it.”

She starts her barking again, “Everybody thinks the world’s problems can be solved with a f—ing pill!”

(OMG, Help ME! And she’s going to be here in 3 weeks)

* Names have been changed. I am not exaggerating this conversation. If anything, I have tamed it down and removed all but one of the curse words.

 

Where was Home?

Today’s Writing 101 Prompt: Where did you live when you were 12 years old? Which town, city, and country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home? An airstream or an RV? Who lived there with you?

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When I was three and four years old we lived in house in a small town in southern New Mexico (United States). The house seemed huge to me, but I was small, so the house would now be considered small. There were several neighborhood children to play with but my best buddy was Rodney, and Rodney and I were both little three year old partners in crime.

I distinctly remember our neighbors across the street had a beautiful flower bed. What does three year olds do? They pick the flowers. The woman of the house caught me picking one of her flowers and demanded that I go straight home and tell my mother that I had picked her flower. She was an elder so I was obliged to mind her, so, I literally marched myself across the street to the back of our house, where the water heater was housed, and confessed my sin to the water heater. Then, I happily ran off to finish playing.

One beautiful summer day Rodney and I were outside playing and it was our good fortune to find a ladder standing up next to the side of the neighbor’s house. Because we were both little climbing monkeys, we climbed that ladder to the top of the house. Our mothers were outside and across the street visiting . They just happened to look up to catch sight of their 3 year old children walking all over the top of a neighbor’s roof.

I received a LOT of spankings when we lived in this house. Seems like every single night my mother would bark orders to my dad that I deserved a spanking. He would take his leather belt and slap it across my bare bottom three or four good whacks. Then he would go to the piano and play what I considered sad music.

Nevertheless, it didn’t change the fact that I continued to get whacked with a belt every single night. My mother said that she finally told my dad that they were going to have to stop beating me because it wasn’t doing any good.

I think my parents made the mistake of thinking that I had the same knowledge as they had in matters of right and wrong. They knew it was wrong to climb a ladder to the roof of the house at the age of three years old, therefore, I must know that too. I was only three years old! I had no experiences or knowledge imparted to me of the ways of the world and they were wrong in assuming that I did. I was a very curious and adventurous child and learned my lessons of right and wrong from the wrong end of a leather belt.

 

 

Five Photos – Five Stories – Day 5

I enjoy watching the hummingbirds and so did my cat. Except, my cat watched them for a different reason. One day she “gifted” me with a hummingbird. Of course, when I saw the little bird laying on the living room floor, deader than a doornail stiff, I shrieked. My cat was very proud of the gift she had given me. I was horrified. They are sweet little birds that shouldn’t be on my cat’s menu. Sassy was a well fed cat and didn’t need to kill birds to eat. Therefore, she got no pity from me.

Picking up the little body, I wrapped it very carefully in paper towels and gave her a quick funeral in the trash can. I walked off to do something else and my conscience told me to go get that little bird and bury her outside. I turned around and went and took her out of the trash. Wait… What? Why is this little bird moving? Dead birds don’t move. I quickly unwrapped her from the paper towels and discovered she was alive! She had only been in shock. After inspecting her and confirming there were no wounds on her, I took her outside and sat her on the patio table hoping she would fly away. She tried, but her little wings couldn’t take flight. I determined she must have a broken or bruised wing.

I set up housekeeping for my little bird, in a box with a hummingbird feeder. To keep her safe from a certain death, I kept her locked in my bathroom for a few days.

I bought her a bird cage and put her in the area where I am most of the time, the kitchen. My cat wasn’t too happy about her “gift” being in a cage on top of the freezer, but she dealt with it. One day I tried covering her cage thinking that might be calming to her. She threw a fit. So, I took it off. I named her Flower, and she would cling to my finger as I lifted her out of her cage to kiss the top of her tiny head. Every few days I would set her on the patio table to see if she would fly, but to no advail.

Thanks to the Humane Society, a couple was found that rehabilitates birds and then releases them. Reluctantly, I gave them Flower.

Two weeks later the woman called me and told me she found Flower flying around her cage that morning. So, she put her cage on the picnic table, leaving the hatch door open. She said she watched as Flower poked her head out the hatch door but she wouldn’t fly out, until another hummingbird flew into her cage to eat from her feeder. Flower then made her escape to freedom and in just enough time to migrate with the other hummingbirds.

Last summer, while I was sitting in front of my large kitchen window a little hummingbird came flying right up to the window, hovering for a few minutes as it watched me, then flew away. I can’t say for sure if that was Flower, but I certainly like to think so.

My cat never again gifted me with a hummingbird. But at least I got to save one little bird, and her name was Flower.

I was kindly nominated to participate in the Five Days Challenge by snowsfissuresandfractures and was asked to post five photos, one per day for five days, and write five stories, one for each day. Today is day 5.

Next, I am to select one person (each day), to carry on this challenge.

Today, I choose JR, author of the blog, Nuggets of Gold. I am asking you to post a photo every day for five days and write a story to go along with each photo. This story can be fiction or non-fiction and can be from a short paragraph to a page. Next, please select one person each day to carry on this challenge. This challenge is not mandatory and can be refused. (However, I hope you will agree to participate and to join the fun).

This is my last day of the challenge and I wish to tell snowsfissuresandfractures thank you for this opportunity.

I would also like to thank all of you who have so graciously accepted this challenge.

 

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)

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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.