Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Another Truth or Fiction

Hello readers. So last weeks story was all about love and flirting. I should have had that story this week for Valentine’s Day. Ah well, I don’t celebrate this particular day anyway.

It seems I had everyone but Bill fooled with this one. It was FALSE. Yup, just a figment of my imagination. Thanks to all who answered with a guess and all who visited to just read the story. All is appreciated.

Let’s move on to today’s story. Like always, you tell me if you think it’s truth or fiction.

 

Pixabay

 

 

Evil in the Water

 

Her thin pale body seemed even paler against the blue of the lake’s water. Her body floated and bobbed with each small wave. A tiny bit of humanity set against the vastness of the great lake. In the distance, she heard the grown-ups laughing and talking. It was faint with a few louder belly laughs intruding on her peace. She knew it was her uncle Ron as he was always the jolliest at these family get-togethers and she could always count on hearing his loud laughter.

Several times during summer the family would come together at the lake with a cook-out, tended by the beer drinking grown-ups with the various siblings and cousins splashing around in the lake, not far from the keen-eyed Aunts and Uncles. There would be the inevitable squabble amongst both children and adults. The family was large and loud and she hated these times of supposed camaraderie amongst them all.

She preferred solitude. Even at the tender age of eight, she would much rather be in her bedroom at home with a good book. She was a quiet and unassuming child who tried not to draw attention to herself.

Her bluish-grey eyes opened slightly to see how far she had drifted from the others. Her white blond hair fanned out in the water like a small halo. She gave a rare smile to see that she was far enough away from the others to enjoy her peace yet close enough that her father could still keep an eye on her without yelling for her to come closer. Perfect.

Closing her eyes against the glare of the midday sun she drifted a bit further and let the quiet surround her. As she daydreamed about the latest Nancy Drew novel she wasn’t aware of the danger that drew closer to her. Until it was too late.

Seconds before she was pulled under the water she felt something or someone grab her right ankle. She was pulled under so fast she didn’t have time to scream much less take a deep breath. She tried desperately to shake the hand off her ankle but it was relentless. Terrified she opened her eyes and her heart stopped for a second as she recognized the face with the evil grin as her nemesis, her tormentor, her abuser for most of her short life. The dark water distorted his face and made it even more terrifying to the small child.

If she didn’t kick free she would drown. She knew that was his intention, she knew it in her heart as her lungs screamed for air and her soul screamed for help.

Finally, with one last pull down he let go of her. Her thin arms and legs kicked at the water to reach the top. Gasping for precious air she felt another hand grab her arm to keep her from sinking once more into the cold water. Fighting against the hand whom she thought belonged to her enemy, her ears heard her older brother yelling at her to stop fighting him. She opened her eyes to see the annoyance in her brother and relaxed. That’s why her abuser let her go because he had seen the shadow of her brother above them.

Giving her a small shake her brother told her Dad wanted her to come out of the water and eat. She was never so glad to leave the water behind as instead of the peacefulness she felt earlier it just held terror for her now.

The rest of the day she refused to go back into the water and sat with the adults until it was time to leave for home. It took many years for that little girl to love the water again but she knew if she didn’t overcome her fear, her abuser would win in the end. That would never happen. Never.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ok, everyone. Is this one truth or fiction? Do you love water and swimming? Let me know!

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Hello everyone and welcome to another week of Truth or Fiction. The comments and guesses were split last week. Was the story true or fiction?

Truth! Yes, it really did happen. I was living in Texas at the time with the ex. We lived next to a field of cows and yes, one cow was having trouble giving birth so we helped it out as it was a life or death situation for the poor cow. The only difference in the story was my ex actually did the turning of the calf. We did use dish soap and one of our dogs alerted us to the cow. According to the rancher, the dish soap didn’t harm the cow or calf. I didn’t think it would (it was my idea) as most of it seemed to come out of the cow with the birth.

About the only redeeming quality of my ex was that he was good to animals. His marriage skills needed the work.

Thank you once again to those of you who joined me last week. Now, let’s see what this week’s story is about.

 

Pixabay

 

Lessons To Learn

 

“The way you flirt is shameful.”

I laughed, “That wasn’t flirting. That was just being friendly.”

“You always do that to get your way. Flirt. It’s second nature to you.”

“I wasn’t flirting!”

Turning my chair towards my co-worker, I frowned and wondered what got her panties in a twist this morning. Millie was usually so cheerful and upbeat but today she seemed to complain about everything. I saw her eyes fill up with tears and her lower lip tremble. Yes, definitely something was wrong with her.

“Millie? What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

She turned away from me and her shoulders hunched over her desk. Walking over to her I put my hand on her shoulder and asked her again what was wrong.

“Everything!”, she cried. “My whole life is a mess and nobody cares.”

Usually, I run away from such dramatics. Stresses me out but this was Millie and since coming to work for this company she has always been a constant source of smiles and cheerfulness. Until today. Something had to be seriously wrong for her to turn into this mess of tears and drama.

“Come on, Mill, tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m in love and I hate it!” And with that statement, she went into full-blown, snot forming, eye swelling, red nose crying.

“Well, usually being in love is a good thing. So, I take it he doesn’t reciprocate your feelings?”

“I don’t know!”, she wailed. “I’ve never talked to him.”

That statement set me back a second. Never talked to him? Who was this love of her life and why in hell has Miss Never Knew a Stranger never talked to him? The mystery deepens.

“Ok, hold on a second. You are in love with someone you never talked to? Am I correct?”

Snuffling into her kleenex she nodded her head.

“Um, Mill…is this a real person? Or is this a character in one of your favorite books?” I was just checking for accuracy because with Millie it could be either.

“Of course he’s real.” And with that statement, she went off into another round of tears.

“OK, ok. Just wanted to make sure I got my facts straight.” I patted her shoulder and the tears slowed down. “So tell me why you two have never talked and where you met this man.”

“We haven’t met. That’s the problem. I see him every morning in the coffee shop I stop at on the way to work. He’s cute and I love him.” She looked at me, almost like she was challenging me to say something smart-alecky. I didn’t.

I could see this man meant a lot to her even if they never exchanged a word.

“Why don’t you start a conversation? You always do here. You never seem to have nothing to say to anyone who comes in the office.”

“This is different. I don’t love the people who come into the office so I don’t worry if I look like a fool to them.”

“Ahhh, I see.” I did too. It’s always just a little harder to talk to someone if you’re always worried about how they view you.

“I want to be like you. I want to be able to flirt and not care what others think. I want to flirt with HIM but I don’t know how.”

With that statement, the tears started to flow once again. Then an idea came to me.

“Millie, what if I teach you how to flirt? You could flirt with him and win his love!” I wasn’t sure how I was going to do it but I needed to stop the tears again. Good thing it was a slow day at work or this could have gotten really embarrassing fast.

“Is something like that teachable?” Millie asked with doubt in her voice. Hell if I knew, but if it stopped her from crying I’d give it a shot. I thought to myself, well how hard could it be? A slow smile at him, a longish look. Sure that’s teachable, wasn’t it?

We would soon find out.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Ok folks, is this story true or is it fiction? Let me know! Do you think flirting is something that can be taught? Or is it something someone is born with? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Welcome, everyone! Last week’s story seemed to be a mind game as only one person guessed right. It was FICTION. Yeah, I wish it had been true. I’ve always wanted to stay in a big fancy haunted house but I haven’t. One person, Bill, did pick up that the main character grew up in a place that was haunted, just as I did. So good on you, Bill! Unfortunately, that was the only truth in the whole story and really, I didn’t put it there intentionally. Just seemed a good addition to the story.

Now let’s get going on the next edition of Truth or Fiction. Is it true or a figment of my imagination?

 

Pixabay

 

Giving a Helping Hand

 

Her dog Molly kept pacing the living room and whining. She shushed her once but the pacing just got more frantic. What on earth was wrong with the dog? Molly was usually such a good companion and would lay quietly at her feet but not today. She’d never get those columns of numbers added right with Molly distracting her.

“What is it, Molly? What’s wrong?”

Molly faced the front door and whined. Maybe she needed to go out? Sighing heavily, she pushed herself out of her chair and opened the front door. The sunshine blinded her for a minute and the heat of the afternoon surrounded her, making her instantly regret leaving the air conditioning behind as the door closed behind her.

She hoped Molly wouldn’t take too long to finish her personal business as she needed to get those numbers added and the account books finished for her favorite client. Accounting paid the bills and playing with numbers was always fun.

She smiled as she looked around for Molly. The countryside was brown and dry but the trees still showed a bit of green. This summer had been unduly hot and dry and the usual beauty of the surrounding fields and trees were dulled with brown grasses slowly dying of thirst. She moved to the country after her divorce. It was just her and Molly, her German Shepherd and constant companion. She enjoyed the quiet of the country after the heartbreak she endured in the city last year. Here, she was able to heal and even grow happy again. Just her and Molly.

Thinking of Molly…where was she? Looking around her ears finally picked up the sound of a cow lowing. She knew a ranch owned the fields next to her and they ran cows on them. She had to teach Molly not to be afraid of the cows when she first moved here. Now Molly usually ignored them. They weren’t fun to play with. As she scanned the field for Molly the mooing of the cow seemed more frantic. Almost painful.

Under a large tree, she spotted Molly, once again frantically pacing back and forth in front of a large mound. No, wait, it wasn’t just a mound it was a heifer. She was laying down and making those awful, pain filled mooing sounds. She called for Molly but the dog refused to leave the cow’s side. Something must be wrong, she thought. Molly was acting frantic and the sounds coming from the cow were almost sounding like screams.

Scrabbling over the wooden fence dividing her front yard from the field she ran to where Molly and cow were. What she saw made her suck in her breath and widen her eyes. The cow was laying on her side, her belly swollen huge with pregnancy. She could see the distress in the cows’ eyes as she once again let out that distressing moo/scream. Even to her untrained eye, she could see the heifer was trying to deliver her calf but something was wrong.

She needed to call someone. Who? She couldn’t just leave the poor suffering animal to die. Something was wrong with the birth and she needed help desperately. When the cow gave another loud moo and turned her head to look at her, she could see the pleading in its eyes. She needed to do something fast. The cow didn’t have time to wait for someone. She needed help now!

“Think girl, think! What should I do?”

Then she remembered an article she read a long time ago. When she was much younger she thought about becoming a vet and so she read anything she could on animal care and what should be done if a dog was having a breech birth. She was certain this is what was happening to the cow. The calf needed to be turned so it could come out the right way.

She thought, “Well, a birth is a birth, it can’t be that different from a dog could it?” 

Racing back to the house she wondered what she could use as a lubricant. She needed to stick her hand inside the cow and turn the calf. It wasn’t going to be easy but she had to try. Coming to stop inside the kitchen she frantically looked around. Butter? She didn’t have enough. Her eye fell on the brand new bottle of dishwashing liquid. That would make her hand slippery! She grabbed the bottle and a spare bath towel she had left over the kitchen chair earlier that day and sped back to the cow and Molly.

Molly hadn’t left the cow’s side. It was as if she knew what was going on and knew the cow needed her. Molly laid next to the cow and whined comfort to it.

“Good girl Molly. You keep comforting her while I see what I can do on this end.”

Taking a deep breath she quickly opened the bottle of dishwashing soap and spread a thick layer over her arms and hands. She tried to ignore the large strong hoofs and the sticky puddle of blood as she slowly shoved one hand into the cow. She could feel the calf and yes she had guessed right. It was a breech birth. The calf needed to be turned. It should come out head and front feet first and this one was turned just enough it wasn’t coming out that way.

She was going to need both hands to turn the calf. She wasn’t strong enough one-armed to do it. The cow seemed to know she was trying to help as the mooing stopped and the cow lay still, only once lifting her head to look at her. As if saying, “You can do this.”

Slipping her other arm inside she managed to find the front legs and grasp them. She didn’t need to move them far just a few inches to the side to line them up to the opening so hopefully, the mother had enough energy to push it out.

She felt the head and the front legs and gave a tug on the legs. At first, she didn’t think it was going to work, but then with one great effort, the mother cow pushed while she tugged and suddenly she had a newborn calf in her lap. She took the bath towel and wiped the gunk from the calf’s eyes, nostrils and mouth so it could breathe. Normally, the mother did this but this mother was too tired and so appreciated the help.

She didn’t know she was crying until Molly came over and first licked her tears then started to lick the calf. Those had to have been the most intense, emotional minutes of her life. She dragged the calf who was laying on the towel over to the mother’s head to show her that her baby was alive and well. The mom started licking it and making snuffling sounds.

“Come on Molly. We still need to call the rancher and let him know what happened so he can check up on mother and baby. Plus I need a shower.” 

Later that day the rancher stopped by to thank her for helping the cow and to let her know that both were healthy and fit.

“Well, Molly. A good deed was done today. Let’s just hope there will be no repeat!”

 

 

 

 

Ok, folks. Was this based on truth? Or was it a complete piece of fiction? What would you have done if you came across an animal in need like in the story?

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Welcome to this week’s edition of Truth or Fiction. Last week it was kind of split. Some of you voted that the story was fiction, others said it was based on truth.

It was…..fiction! There might have been a teeny tiny bit of truth to it as I have turned down a couple of marriage proposals in my younger days but I never did it the way my story portrays. So it really was fiction.

Good guesses one and all!

Now onto this weeks story. Is it fiction or truth?

 

photo by Pixabay

 

 

Haunted Lottery

 

 

It was just for one night. That’s all the time they had to stay in the old house. They both believed in the supernatural, ghosts, spirits, whatever you wanted to call them. Both had actually seen ghosts too. She had lived in a house that had been haunted and her best friend had stayed at a cousin’s house that she said had been haunted. So yes, they were believers.

Now they had a chance to stay in a mansion. Not just any mansion, but one that was well-known for being haunted by several spirits. They even did a local TV show on the place. It was so exciting! The people who bought the mansion and opened it up to tours were running a lottery for someone to stay in the mansion overnight. She and her bestie thought it was a great idea so they both bought a lottery ticket. The lottery rules stated you had to stay in the mansion overnight and you were allowed to bring one other person with you. You had to stay in one of the supposedly haunted bedrooms and you weren’t allowed to leave the house for any purpose.

If the lottery winner wanted to forfeit the big prize of five thousand dollars they could call a number and just say, “I want out.” Then they could leave the mansion and give up the prize. If they stayed all night they won the prize! Her best friend won the lottery and here they were, inside the house with their overnight bags ready to stay the night. As they looked around while one of the owners explained the rules again to them they could see how beautiful the place was. Crystal chandeliers hung from the ceiling while the dark wooden staircase that led to the bedrooms upstairs glistened under the light.

“You must stay from 7 pm to 7 am. There will be a dinner served in the dining room at eight and you may pick any of the bedrooms to sleep in.”

They thanked him and listened to him as he continued to explain the layout of the house.

“There are six bedrooms upstairs plus a sitting room and several bathrooms. The kitchen is off the dining room and the cook and server will be leaving the house by ten. At which time you will be on your own for the remainder of the night.”

The two women glanced at each other and grinned. It was really happening. They were going to stay in the house and hopefully see one of the spirits that supposedly dwelled here. A chance they might not ever get again. They were almost giddy with excitement.

Mr. Pedergras shook their hands and wished them luck and reminded them once more that if they wanted to leave they just had to call the number on the card he handed them, tell him they wanted out and the contest would end and they could leave.

They both assured him that he would receive no phone call and that they would see him in the morning. They just wanted him to leave so they could explore the house more fully on their own and decide which bedroom to sleep in if they indeed slept at all.

They had been told there were a few cameras set up to capture them as they stayed in the house but none in the bedrooms or bathrooms. Just as a safety measure Mr. Pedergras told them. For their own safety or for the safety of the mansion they weren’t clear on. The women just shrugged their shoulders and said they understood.

The owner finally left and they were on their own. Well, almost. They could hear faint sounds coming from the dining room and kitchen and knew it would be the cook and server doing whatever they did. They were more interested in going upstairs and seeing what was up there. They quickly walked up the grand staircase and started to open doors and peek inside the rooms. The friends had already decided beforehand that they would share a bedroom. That way if they do actually get lucky enough to see something they would see it together. There was also the secure feeling of not being completely on their own if they saw something. They would have each other.

Not that they were scared…well not really. Ok, maybe they were a little. Seeing something would be much more exciting together than alone. After all, the rules never said they couldn’t share a bedroom.

They dropped off their overnight bags in the biggest bedroom, that had two double beds in it and decided to explore the rest of the place before dinner time. At least they would know the layout of the house before dark. You know, just in case they heard something somewhere. They wanted to be prepared.

Grinning at each other they walked out of the door and down the long hallway arm in arm. Tonight was going to be a night they would both never forget.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, once again was this fiction or truth? Would you stay in a place that was known to be haunted? Do you even believe in ghosts or spirits? Let me know!

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction?

Welcome to this week’s edition of Truth or Fiction. I would also like to thank everyone who has participated in my stories so far. As you know (or maybe you don’t), I will be posting a short story every week that will be based on truth or it may be the writing of my imagination. As I stated in the first story, (you can read it here) the true stories may be MY stories or of someone I know. In other words, not all the true stories are about me.

For example, last weeks story (you can see it here) was a TRUE story but it wasn’t my story. It was my mothers.

My mom shared one of the very rare stories of her past with me a couple of times. How she learned to write so fancy. I always admired her handwriting. It was beautiful. She did indeed learn it from an employer. My mom and a girlfriend ran away from home when she was fourteen. They hitchhiked to Chicago and her first job there was as a maid in a fancy rich lady’s house. It was in the early 1940s. A time when the war was still raging overseas. My mom always spoke fondly of this rich lady and the kindness that was shown to her, a young and naive girl in the big city.

So, some of you got it right, some got it wrong. Thank you all once again for joining me here. Now let’s get going on the next story. Is it based on truth or fiction?

 

photo via Pixabay

 

 

The Proposal

 

The urge to interrupt him before he had finished was overwhelming. She tried several times but her words were drowned out by his proposal. How did things get to this? She didn’t want to marry him! She didn’t want to marry anyone right now. She was young and away from her family for the first time. She wanted to live life to the fullest, not settle down with a man. Not to mention he wanted children right away. Children? She wasn’t even sure she wanted kids. Ever.

She opened her mouth to interrupt him again but he wouldn’t stop. He just talked louder, explaining all the reasons she should marry him. It was horrifying and embarrassing. Her mind flew back to when they first met. It had only been a few months since that first date. It hadn’t even really been a date. She wasn’t sure what it had been.  A foursome with her girlfriend and the guy she picked up at the bar? The two of them just ended up together when her girlfriend hooked up with some guy and he had a friend with him. The man standing before her with a ring and a pleading look in his eyes.

Her girlfriend was no longer seeing the guy she hooked up with that night. Yet, here was Mike, with his greying hair and his earnest eyes and a damn ring explaining all the benefits of being married to him.

“I’ll treat you like a princess. You won’t want for anything.”

Does he really think money is what I want? she thought.  Maybe some women would but not her. She could earn her own money, in fact, she looked forward to it. What she didn’t want was to marry a man twice her age who wanted to put her on some pedestal. Pedestals were shaky things to be on. A person would always fall off at some point. No, she didn’t want that and she didn’t want to get married to Mike, or anyone. Not right now.

“MIKE!”

“Mike, please stop.”

Finally, her words were heard. Mike stopped talking over her and ground to a stop. His smile was still in place as was the earnest look in his brown eyes. She hated what she was about to do.

“Mike, I can’t marry you. I’m sorry.”

“Baby, don’t say that. Think about it. I know I’m moving fast but I also know I want you as my wife.”

“I’m sorry. I’m not going to marry you. Not now. Not ever. I don’t love you like that.”

“I’ll give you anything you want. I have money. You won’t have to work. I have a nice house for you to live in. I love you.”

“I can’t. I just can’t, Mike. I don’t want to get married. I want to live my life, right now.”

“Think about it, ok? Just take some time and think about it.”

“I don’t need time, Mike. The answer will still be no. You need to find someone who will love you like you need to be loved. That’s just not me.”

“Just take a day or two. That’s all. Think about it.”

She knew it was the coward’s way out but she agreed. She also knew she wasn’t going to change her mind but at least it got him to stop begging her. It was so sad to see him do that. She felt so bad for him.

When he tried calling her several days later she wouldn’t take the calls. Another cowardly episode on her part but she just didn’t know what else to do. Eventually, the phone calls stopped and she hoped that Mike found someone he could be happy with.

 

 

 

 

 

Have you ever had someone ask something of you that you just couldn’t do? Or have someone propose and turn them down? How would you have handled this situation?

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Bettering Oneself

Thank you to everyone who read last week’s story. I must have given something away in the story as everyone got it right! Yes…it was based on true events. I was working at a casino in Wisconsin at the time and the man really existed and the story of his murders and suicide are true. He was creepy and I always got bad vibes off of him but he insisted on standing at my cashier window every time he came in. He would just stare at me and never say a word.

So, when I heard of what he did, I was shocked. Not so much at what he did but because it came a bit too close to home as one of the men he killed was my brother-in-law’s brother. It was a strange experience in my life. Ok, another strange experience in my life. Seems I have had quite a few of them as my friend Marlene stated.

So, thank you again for participating last week and guessing correctly! Now, onto this weeks story.

Is it based on truth…or fiction? You tell me!

 

 

Bettering Oneself

 

She sat at a small, scarred wooden table which wobbled if she didn’t stick a magazine under one leg. A dim flickering light shined down on the paper she so studiously copied from. A short stub of a pencil was wrapped in her hand as she tried to copy the flowing letters on the piece of paper.

The lettering itself was of the alphabet. Beautiful flowing cursive letters of the ABC’s done in black ink that was a bit smudged and dirty from constant use. Her mouth pursed in concentration, her black curly hair falling in disarray around her hunched shoulders. Her brown intense eyes, usually seen with a sense of sadness behind them were focused on the letters she so diligently copied.

Behind her lay in darkness, as the dull flickering bulb was not strong enough to penetrate the shadows of the small room. A single small bed sat neatly made next to her and an even smaller window sat above it. Curtainless, the glass clean with a tiny porcelain figure of a woman sitting on its tiny ledge. The figure had been broken at one time and one could hardly see the lines of glue holding her together. A broken beauty in a stark bare world.

The woman, girl really, should have been in bed. Her workday started early in the mornings. She was up at 4 am every morning but Sunday. That was her one day off a week. Tomorrow was only Saturday. She promised herself a few more minutes of work with the stub of pencil, then she would crawl into her bed and go to sleep.

Her maid uniform was neatly hanging in her tiny closet. Pressed earlier in the night so that any errant wrinkles were ironed out of existence. Her employer, Mrs. Hightower, hated an unironed uniform. She said it was a slight towards her if any wrinkles should be present. The young woman didn’t want to slight Mrs. Hightower. She had a lot of respect towards her employer, if not outright love.

Mrs. Hightower hired the young woman six months ago over her better judgment. She knew in her heart the woman was more a girl, at least two or three years younger than the eighteen she stated. She was small, young and vulnerable. She was also quick, smart and willing to learn, Mrs. Hightower found out within the first few weeks. They quietly settled down to a routine.

The girl was fascinated with the flowery, flowing handwriting of Mrs. Hightower. In her mind, it was a symbol of wealth and breeding. She wanted to learn to write like that, so secretly she started copying the beautiful penmanship of her employer. She already copied her speech, her walk, her posture of shoulders back, spine straight. Young women didn’t sit with their legs crossed either. They kept their persons clean and neat along with their surroundings. It was lessons learned that would stick with her for a lifetime.

By chance, Mrs. Hightower caught the young woman picking an example of her handwriting out of the trash and asked her what she was about. The girl stammered out an answer. Embarrassed that Mrs. Hightower caught her stealing a piece of trash, she thought for sure she would be fired. Once it was explained why the girl wanted the castaway, unfinished letter to a friend, she stood a moment in silence than smiled.

She turned, sat at her writing desk and pulled a clean sheet of paper out of a drawer. That’s when she started to write out the alphabet for the girl stating that if she wanted to learn she can’t have her learning only half the alphabet when she could learn it all. With that, she handed her the paper with the letters on it and several blank sheets of paper as well.

“Never stop trying to better yourself, my dear.”

The girl with the big brown sad eyes and dark curly hair turned off the dim bulb, crawled into the small bed and closed her eyes to sleep. Four in the morning came quickly for young girls who were far from home and trying to better oneself.

 

 

 

So, what do you think? Is it truth or fiction? Have you ever had an employer you really admired? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

A New Year, A New Start

Happy New Year, everyone!

Surprised to see me? I bet you are!

I’ve been wanting to start my blog up again and what better time then the new year? I’ve been warning a few people for quite some time now that I was going to start writing on my blog again. Now here I am!

There’s going to be a few changes to the blog. Nothing major. I’m just going to focus more on why I started this labor of love six years ago. Writing. Stories. Imagination. Fun.

As you might have noticed I’ve changed the title of the blog. It’s now “Stories to Tell”. That’s exactly what I want to do. Tell stories. The twist is this….well maybe not so much a twist as….well, ok, maybe it is a twist. For me, anyway.

The stories you will read here might actually be based on truth. Not all of them. Some of them. The others will be complete figments of my very vivid imagination. I will post one once a week, (day of the week still to be determined). What makes this idea a bit twisty is this…..

YOU, the reader, get to guess if the story I post is based on truth or fiction. In the comment section, you write whether you think the story has truth in it or is it a made up story. The following week I will post another story and tell you if the story the week before was truth or my imagination.

The true stories will not all be about me and my experiences. They could also be about people I know and their true experiences! I didn’t want to make it too easy for some of my readers who have followed me throughout my six or so years blogging. I gave out a lot of personal information through the years. This evens things out a bit for newer readers. Or…I’m just devious that way.

So, this is also a call out in a way. If anyone has a true story they want to share with me, so I can write a story based on your experience, get in contact with me through my contact page.

With all that said, let’s get to the first story! Is it true? Or not? You tell me!

 

Photo by Katya Austin on Unsplash

 

Stone Cold

 

She had only been on the job for a couple of weeks. She enjoyed it even if she had to work the night shift. Now that was something to get used to. Usually, the shift was from 5 pm until closing, which was usually around three or four in the morning. She had never had a job where she worked nights. If it hadn’t been for her co-workers she wasn’t sure she would have made it past the first week. They were a great bunch of ladies and gents. Always having a fun time even if they were on the clock.

The job dealt with the gambling community. Not the high rollers like in Vegas but the retired group that had nothing better to do with their time than spend a few hours putting coins in the slot machines. Usually, they were a quiet group, the coin droppers. Sometimes you might get the odd one but all in all unassuming.

Weekends or holidays were the big days. That’s when the working public came in to spend their paycheck or part of it. They’d get busloads of people from the big city farther south. She didn’t mind though, the busy weekends brought in bigger tips and new people to watch.

Her job was exchanging money for coins or paying out winnings. It was interesting. Every once in a while she might even see a big winner at her window. Sometimes she dreamed of winning big somewhere and what she would do with the money. Big dreams.

One weekend she was exchanging paper money for rolls of quarters to one of the regulars when she felt a strange prickling on the back of her neck. Like a cold draft of air brushed over her. She shivered a bit and looked around and found a stranger staring at her. He was behind a couple of excited older ladies, lined up at her window. She only glanced briefly at him and turned to ask the ladies what they needed.

That glance was enough to see he had stone cold eyes. They stared at her without blinking.

As the old ladies walked away the man took their place at her window, still staring coldly at her, and tossed a twenty down on the counter. He didn’t say a word. Just stared. After a brief hesitation where she waited for him to state what he wanted, she decided to ask him hoping that would make him go away quicker. He was giving her bad vibes.

“Would you like quarters?”

He only nodded his head in the affirmative. She slid a roll of quarters his way and picked up the twenty to put in her drawer. After picking up the quarters he turned and walked away all without saying a word or taking his eyes off her. She doesn’t think he even blinked. It was a busy night, so she just shrugged the encounter away thinking he was a bit odd but harmless.

She saw the man with the cold eyes once again that night as he stood in her window to collect his winnings. Once again he didn’t say a word, just stared at her. She counted out his money and pushed it across the counter to him. Picking it up he pulled a twenty out and threw it down on the counter in front of her. For a minute she was confused. Did he want more quarters? Smaller bills? What? Abruptly he turned and walked away. That’s when she deduced that the twenty he threw at her was a tip.

After that first night, he came every weekend and they went through the same routine. He stood at her window, staring with cold eyes, getting his quarters, then cashing out at the end of his night. A few times a co-worker would tell him that they could help him and he would shake his head no and stay where he was, even if he had to wait. He always tipped her twenty, no matter if he won big or not.

Once she asked her co-workers if they knew who he was. They informed her that he was the new owner of a small bar she was familiar with. She used to know the man who owned the bar before the strange man. Most of the people she worked with just said he was a bit on the weird side.

This routine went on until she left her job and moved on to something else. A few months later she had heard from a friend that the strange man, with the stone cold eyes, had committed three murders before he took his own life. He killed his ex-girlfriend and two men he disliked. She gasped when she was told that the man also had a ‘hit’ list of some sort.

She shivered and wondered what would have happened if she stayed at that job. Would she have become a name on his hit list?

That night as she lay in bed and tried to sleep, all she could see was a set of stone cold eyes.

 

 

 

 

 

So, is this story based on truth? Have you ever met a killer face to face? How would you feel if you found out you did?

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, Humor, poetry, writing

There Once Was……..

 

 

 

 

There once was a woman who wrote……..

Stories, poems, notes…….

She wrote and wrote and had a grand time…….

 

Putting words down for others to read…..

Was a habit, no wait, a need……

Now she has stopped because life got in the way……

Too much to do and little to say…….

Then the New Year came……

And she vowed it would not stay the same…..

Making a promise to write again with renewed vigor……

Only to find herself doing nothing but spewer…….

Silly little rhymes instead of something of note…..

So, I hope you’ll excuse my false little promise……

That I made in a moment of blitheness…..

I thought life would be different……..

But Life thought me too flippant…..

All I could come up with after thinking and plotting…..

Was this silly little poem that will make you think I’m dotty…….

Because the rhyming is all wrong ……..

And it’s silliness is overlong……

But, that’s all I got on this cold winters day…..

Is a dumb little poem that won’t garner any applause……

Named so appropriately, ‘There Once Was’………

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, writing

End of the Year Rant/Talk/Catch-Up/Something or Other

Hello, People! Yes, it’s really me. Been a while I know. I haven’t posted anything since November 9th. I think in the five or so years of blogging this is the longest I’ve gone without posting a thing.

Honestly, I just didn’t have the energy or want to. I felt/feel drained. Totally used up. It’s not a pleasant feeling.

It’s been a hard year, hell, it’s been a hard couple of years. No one’s fault. Just the way life is.

I find myself moody lately, my temper easily set off. I’m not a pleasant person to be around right now. Just ask the husband. I snap at him and everyone else. I’m super sarcastic and just awful, to tell the truth. Hell, I don’t even like myself.

I’m tired of life giving me the finger. I’m tired of dealing with one crisis after another. I’m tired of NOT writing. I’m tired of being tired. I’m tired of having to make all the decisions and deal with the repercussions of my decisions. I’m tired of dealing with people who treat me like I’m an idiot just because I’m old, a woman, short and fat or whatever reason.

I’m tired of some people treating me and the husband like we are lepers and have something they might catch just because the husband had a stroke and lost his hearing aids and can’t hear very good. Yes, he had a stroke. Yes, he gets confused sometimes, yes he walks bent over like an old man, yes, he repeats himself……a lot. Yes, he’s sick and his next stroke might be his last. And ok, maybe you don’t like me personally. I’m fine with that. You don’t have to like me. I’m not everyone’s cup of tea.

BUT……he’s still alive, he’s still talking, eating, walking, carrying on conversations (limited I know but still doing it). Yet he gets ignored and left alone and there is nothing I can do about it. I realize people have their own lives to live. That is no reason to forget about someone who is supposed to be a friend or relative.

I just don’t understand people. Maybe that’s why I don’t like most people.

Whew! That was quite a rant. I have felt it boiling up in me for weeks. Maybe I’ll feel better now that I’ve ‘blown’ so to speak. Maybe not.

Now that my rant is out of the way. And no, I’m not apologizing for it. It is how I feel. I don’t tell people how I REALLY feel often enough. That might change.

As for the husband. He’s still weak. Still can’t use his right hand. But, he does seem to be getting stronger. God knows he’s more stubborn. Some days are good and he can carry on conversations and stay with it. Some days not so much. Some days he’s super argumentative. Some days happy and joking around like he used to. It’s a bit of a roller coaster ride.

As for this blog. I’m continuing it. I’ll be writing more (fingers crossed). I’m not sure what I will be writing. I’m hoping more stories, more fiction, more poetry (even bad poetry) and fewer rants and raves.

I’m needing to get back to writing. It helps ground me.

I’m not trying to find the old me. She’s gone. Like the past year, gone forever. I am looking to find the new me. The one that is a bit wiser. A bit more settled. A bit happier.

I want to thank all my friends who have asked after me. Asked about the husband. And never judge.

I want to thank all the readers who no matter how erratic my posting was, read what I wrote.

I want to thank everyone who will be back again next year to help me grow into a better person, friend, and writer. It’s good to have you with me.

Happy New Year’s Everyone!

 

 

Posted in Blog challenge, Fiction, Flash Fiction, writing

A Challenge Accepted!

Two posts in one day for me! Wow, I must be in the zone. LOL

Frank over at A Frank Angle has issued a challenge to write a flash fiction piece on the picture below. It has to be 150 words or less. It’s been a while since I did a challenge like this, so I’m kind of rusty. Hope you all enjoy it and zip on over to Franks to read all the other great writings, including Franks!

 

Footprints in the Sand

 

He was told that he would be alone at this outpost. Then why is he seeing footprints that aren’t his?

Looking around he didn’t see anything for miles. Just sand. Lots of sand.

He radioed back to headquarters about the footprints and waited. No one did anything on their own. If it wasn’t an approved activity dire consequences would occur. He knew that. He’s seen it in action. He didn’t want to be the next person it happened to.

So, he waited.

When he didn’t hear back from headquarters the next morning he did his usual walk around the area. It was protocol. You didn’t go against protocol.

He saw new footprints. With strange holes next to them. Whoever it was, it was barefoot and fairly small. He couldn’t figure out the holes. A stick? Where would they get a stick in this godforsaken wasteland?

Hearing a sound behind him he spun around and gasped. A small woman holding an antique firearm was standing there. She was pointing it at his chest.

 

 

 

That’s where my imagination took me. Hope you enjoyed it and will go visit Franks blog to read more. 

 

 

 

Posted in poetry, postaday, writing

Hidden Pain ~~~ A Poem

Hidden Pain

 

She looks but doesn’t see

the hurt she dishes out with words

careless words spoken without thought

she doesn’t care

 

He agrees to everything

the anger stays hidden deep inside

words are not spoken for hours, days, weeks, years

Yet, he doesn’t miss the hurt the child receives

 

The small heart is broken, shattered, torn

words spoken so carelessly taken so far deep inside

tears fall silently, never seen by the woman who caused them

never-failing to try to make her change her mind

 

A woman hurting, even after a lifetime

wondering again as the hurt resurfaces countless times

tears falling inside to wet the damaged soul

asking the same old question that never got answered

 

Why did she dislike me so?

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blog challenge, Mi Vida Loca, questions and answers, writing

Questions and Answers

Hello, people! I do hope your weekend went well. On Mondays, I usually do Cee’s Share Your World post but unfortunately, Cee has been ill the last few days and will not be posting her famous Monday questions for us to answer.

So, I have decided to post some of my own questions with of course my answers to them. If anyone would like to answer the questions please feel free to do so!

Here we go……..

Have you ever played a practical joke on anyone?

No, not that I recall. If I have it wasn’t on purpose. I’m terrible at practical jokes or joke telling.

What is your most essential appliance?

I was going to say my refrigerator but then I thought, well I have gone without one for a while, it can be done.

For this house right now I would have to say the microwave. I use that thing every single day, several times a day. The husband uses it more than me. Or my coffee maker, although again I have made coffee on the stove before and can if I have to. It doesn’t make the best coffee, though.

Have you ever been in a newspaper? 

No. Probably the only time I will ever be in a newspaper is the obit section.

What did you want to be when you grew up?

Free. No, really. I wanted to be free. I’m still not sure I made it. If you mean career wise, well, like most kids I had phases. I wanted to be in the Navy for the longest time but I couldn’t pass the physical (bad hearing). I also wanted at one time to be a vet but was afraid that all those hurting and abused animals would just tear me up too much.

Then I decided I wanted to be a secretary (that’s what we call administrative assistants back then. I’m not sure what they call them now.)

Was that for a few years, hated it…plus I refused to make coffee for the boss. He didn’t appreciate it.

I always wanted to be a writer but I knew even back then one very rarely makes enough money doing that but it didn’t stop me from dreaming.

Have you ever had a secret admirer?

Wouldn’t be much of a secret if I knew, now would it? I have no idea but I very much doubt it. I’m not the kind of woman who men (or women for that matter) fall for and are afraid to step forward and say so.

What’s the most unusual conversation you’ve ever had?

I have had lots of unusual conversations. I seem to draw that out in people. I’m open to discuss pretty much anything, unusual or not.

My most unusual? Hm, I think I would have to say the most unusual was when I was much younger and my best friend and roommate was in her mental breakdown and we discussed her hallucinations. We discussed what she saw and what they were saying to her. This was all while she was in the middle of her breakdown and I was trying my best to calm her down so she wouldn’t kill me.

Looking back I would have to say, yeah, that was the most unusual. It saved my life, though, I firmly believe that.

Are you a bad loser?

I don’t like to lose. Who does? I don’t think I’m a bad loser. I mean I don’t throw cards in card games or swear (much) or pout. I’m used to losing. Terrible thing to say, eh?

Do you have any superstitions?

I would love to say….no. But, if I’m being completely honest I am somewhat. I do believe that if you think negative thoughts it will come back on you. That might be karma.

I’m not superstitious about black cats or walking under ladders or any of that kind of stuff. I’m superstitious about universal things, like karma.

I don’t throw salt over my shoulder (my ex MIL used to do that). Or my grandmother always said not to put a hat on a bed as it would bring bad luck. I don’t own any hats so I don’t think I have to worry.

I do kind of believe in special numbers and what they mean. I don’t know if that qualifies as superstitious. Probably does.

Are you good at keeping secrets?

Yes, I am. Very good. Some I’ve been carrying around for too many years to count. Others are more new.

So, if you have a secret you are dying to tell someone, I’m your gal!

Have you ever used the yellow pages?

I’m old. Used to be the only way to find a business’s phone number. Now I just Google stuff.

So the answer would be ….yes, of course I have. Sometimes I still do.