Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Pretty good guessing last week. The story I wrote for last week’s Truth or Fiction was… Truth! In fact, it happened as recently as last Tuesday night. You would think crap like that would happen on a Saturday night like in the good old days. Nope, Tuesday. The guy is still in hospital in critical condition last I read of the accounts. I cleaned Wednesday and got all the dried blood out of my mud room. It was everywhere! Floors, walls, deep freeze. Amazing how much one man can bleed out of a stomach wound and a few more elsewhere.

Ah, the exciting life of a couple of retiree’s.

Now that’s over with, let’s move on to this weeks story. Is it Truth or Fiction?

 

Image by tookapic from Pixabay

 

 

Steps in the Night

 

The footsteps were moving away from the bedroom door. Huddled under the blanket she wondered who could be in the house with her? A burglar? Or worse? She tried to gather her courage to find her phone. Where did she leave it? It wasn’t on her nightstand where she usually kept it at night.

She didn’t hear anything for a few seconds and was hoping fervently that whoever was in the house had left. Her hands covered her mouth to keep the scream in when she heard the unmistakable sounds of footsteps once more. They sounded like they were headed towards her bedroom door again! She jumped out of bed and with her hand shaking, she quickly reached out and locked her door then raced to the other side of the bed and crouched down behind it.

The steps stopped outside her door and she watched to see if the person tried to open it. Nothing. She didn’t see the knob move. She didn’t realize she had been holding her breath until she let it out when she heard the distinct sound of footsteps leaving her door once again. Why didn’t they try to come into the room? The suspense was driving her crazy! Her heart dropped when she remembered her phone was in the kitchen! The battery had been super low earlier so she plugged it in the charger and left it on the kitchen counter. Damn! There was no way she could get to it without passing the person who was in the other room. Double damn!

She had just moved into the house last week and was still unpacking boxes. Her first real house. She had always lived in apartments before but when she saw this cute little bungalow one day a few months ago she fell in love. There had been a for sale sign up in its neat flower-filled yard and on impulse, she called the agents number listed on the sign. Now she was the proud owner of the house.

And there was a burglar in HER house! Her cute little house and she felt her anger rising. She was not going to cower behind her bed like some….some…..whiney little coward! She would confront the person who entered her dream home and scared her stupid! How dare they? She had confronted worse in her life. This cretin wasn’t going to make her hide inside her own home.

With that thought, she stomped over to her bedroom door and quickly unlocked it and swung it open. She was primed and ready to fight whoever she confronted but the room was empty! Where were they? Her heart pounded as she slowly walked towards the kitchen. She glanced at the windows and doors as she went and saw they all were closed and locked just like she left them when she went to bed. So how did the intruder get in?

She gathered her courage and found her voice to shout, “I’ve called the police! You better get out of my house now!”

Silence. No footsteps running, no doors opening or closing. Nothing.

“I mean it! The cops will be here any second!”

Nothing but silence answered her. She ran to the kitchen and turned on the light. It was empty. The back door was closed and locked as was the windows. What the hell? She grabbed her phone and was about to dial 911 when she paused.

Her house was small. Tiny some would say. There were not a lot of ways someone could have broken in. There were no windows in the tiny basement. All the windows in the house were closed and locked as were the doors. She was positive she had heard footsteps outside her bedroom door. Was she going crazy? She drew in a shaky breath. No need to call the police then. They would just make the assumption she was some hysterical female hearing bumps in the night.

She was positive that she heard the footsteps but she knew the police probably would doubt she heard anything. She glanced at her phone and saw the time. Four thirty in the morning. She knew she wouldn’t get any more sleep this morning. Might as well unpack some more boxes.

Night time came once more to her little home. As she got ready for bed she felt a bit nervous because of the previous night but crawled into bed and shut her light off. She double checked to make sure she had her phone and it was fully charged. She also took the precaution of leaning against the wall a hefty wooden baseball bat, newly purchased earlier that day for protection next to her bed. She almost felt silly taking so many precautions. Almost.

Her eyes flew open and she was fully awake but a little disoriented. Then she heard it. The sound that woke her up. There! Footsteps. Just like last night! She grabbed her phone and noticed the time. It was the same time as the footsteps last night! But how? Why? Who was it?

She threw her covers off and reached for the bat. She slowly crept over to her bedroom door and listened. Yes! There were footsteps. Distinct. Unmistakable. Footsteps coming towards her door. Her shaking hand reached for the doorknob. The bat in the other hand. She opened the door swiftly when she heard the steps stop by the door. She lifted the bat with both hands and was ready to strike whoever was standing there.

Nothing. The door frame was empty! The room beyond was empty too. But…but…how? Then she heard them again. The footsteps walking slowly away from her. Just footsteps with no feet to make them. There was nothing but emptiness. Nothing but the sounds of her fast beating heart and the ghostly footsteps.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So, what do you think? Is it Truth or Fiction? How would you react if you heard something but couldn’t see anything? Like footsteps in the night? Let me know!

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, stories, Truth or Fiction, writing

Truth or Fiction

Hello readers and friends. Last weeks story seems to have been a success in a way. Everyone EXCEPT Bill got it right this time. The story is TRUE. Yup, really did happen to me. It never made me afraid to get into the water again, just made me hate someone all the more. I won’t go into details here, too depressing.

Let’s just move on to this weeks story. Is it Truth or Fiction?

 

Pixabay

 

 

The house wasn’t the same to her anymore. It didn’t hold that fear or hopelessness to her as it once did. She wasn’t sure why she was here. Sitting in her car parked in front of the house. She felt drawn to come. The house was empty, a for sale sign in the yard. She wished only happiness to those that bought it next. The house needed some happy memories made in it. Maybe in some way, those happy memories would wipe clean the many unhappy ones that filled it while she and her ex-husband lived there.

She was free of the man, just as the house was free of him. With his loud voice and his fists through the walls next to her head. The house had been damaged as much as she had. They both had to replace the bad with the good.

They both had scars on the inside that would stay with them. Never forgotten but maybe….just maybe healed enough to not be so noticeable anymore.

She smiled sadly and brushed the tears from her face. Silly woman. Crying for a house. Thinking that pile of bricks, wood and paint could feel as she did. She started her car and glanced once more toward the house. The sun glinted off the windows and to her it was like it was smiling at her, giving her a wink of encouragement.

With that, her spirits lightened and she gave a small wave to the house as she drove away, whispering, “May we both be filled with happy memories from now on.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

So was this fiction or truth? Let me know what you think! Do you believe that buildings can hold memories? Do you think there are some people who can ‘pick-up’ on those memories? 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, stories, Stories of my life, writing

The Haunting of Home

Halloween is coming soon, so I thought I would repost one of my favorite TRUE stories today. Enjoy!

I’ve told all of you about my ghost friend Abe. I know many of you probably don’t believe in ghosts, hauntings, things that go bump in the night. I do, because I’ve seen and heard things that are not explained otherwise. I’ve seen way too many ghosts for anyone to tell me they don’t exist. Just because a person hasn’t seen a ghost, doesn’t win the argument that they are not real. I believe there are many things we do not see, but they still exist.

My childhood home My childhood home

This ghost that I’m going to tell you about was seen and felt in my childhood home along with Abe. It just wasn’t as nice as Abe. In fact, this ghost gave off a distinct aura of menace. It was quite scary, especially for a kid. As I stated in my story about Abe, there were 8 children that lived…

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Posted in Blog challenge, Blogging, Daily Prompt, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, Stories of my life

Daily Prompt: On the Road

Daily Prompt: On the Road

If you could pause real life and spend some time living with a family anywhere in the world, where would you go?

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

I’ve given this question some serious thought. This is my answer.

I would go home. I would go home to my own family.

I would go back  and ask one question. What the hell happened to us?

I would gather my  mother, sister and two brothers and I would sit us down in the living room and ask that question. What the hell happened to us?

What happened to what little closeness we had? Granted we were never much for showing our feelings unless they were angered or frustration with each other. But, we used to at least talk to each other. Well okay, let me be more specific here. YOU used to talk to ME. Now none of you do. That makes me sad.

photo by http://www2.gov.bc.ca/
photo by http://www2.gov.bc.ca/

I know I’ve been gone from home for a long time. Except for brief visits or a short time that I lived back home again. Otherwise since I left home when I was 21 I haven’t been back much. Even so, we still used to talk to each other! We would call or write at least once a week. What the hell happened to us?

My younger brother and I used to be so close. No matter what happened it was us two against everyone else. Now? It seems he is a bitter and angry man towards me and I’m not sure why. He holds what my ex did to the family against me personally. Truth to say they all do. It seems they think what he did is what I condoned. That could not be further from the truth. I doubt they will believe that, or maybe they just don’t wish to believe it.

My family was done wrong by my ex ( he is a true narcissist). They forget that he is my EX for a reason. They don’t seem to think that he controlled me, my actions and my thoughts to the point that I said and did what he wanted me to. Until I got away from him. Now I think for myself.

My older sister and I were always so close. I could tell her anything and everything and she would listen. Now, she won’t even return a Facebook message. It saddens me no end. I’ve sent cards, letters and I’ve tried calling. Nothing seems to work. It breaks my heart to think how far we have grown apart. What the hell happened to us?

So yes, I would go home to my own family and sit down with them and talk about the good times. I would talk to them, maybe cry with them and try to get back just some of that closeness we used to have.

My older brother and I never did get along. Even when we were kids we didn’t get along that well. Maybe because I don’t like bullies and he was one. Still is in many ways.  Just an older version. If I could though I would go and sit with him and talk to him and try to be more understanding and forgiving. He is who he is for better or worse. He is still my brother.

When I left home so many years ago, who would have thought I would still be gone at this time in my life? I’m much older and much more wiser, at least I hope I’m wiser. Part of our growing apart is my fault, I will admit that. But it’s not all my fault. I grew into the woman I am today. One I doubt my family would recognize or know. In fact I KNOW they don’t know me. How could they? I have to say that I don’t know them anymore either.

I’ve been through a lot these many years that I’ve been gone. Some my family knows about and much they don’t. They never knew half of what went on in my first marriage. Not even close. For me it’s the past and where it should stay.

I suppose my family still sees me as I was when I was 21. Maybe. They are quick to judge me, all in the worst way, for some reason. The only thing I have been guilty of is having poor judgement in marriage partners and staying in that marriage way too long. Okay, I’m guilty also of being a very private person. I didn’t tell them most of the stuff that was going on in my life because I felt they didn’t need to know.

I’ve left mentioning my mother for last. Her and I have always had a very tumultuous relationship. It was always apparent to me that she didn’t like me much. Sometimes we would go years without talking. One thing my mother knows how to do very well is holding a grudge.

I love my mother. Not sure if she loves me. Simple yet oh so complicated. She has always been the force in our family. A very strong force. What she says goes in my family. As it always has.

We had been getting along great for years after my father died. The longest we got along in my life! Then it all changed. I’m not sure  why. She wouldn’t answer my phone calls. She would get angry at me very easily. Now, she hasn’t talked to me for months. I’m not sure what I did or said this time. Hell, I’m never sure with my mother.

So yes, I would go to my own family, sit them all down and talk to them. One on one, or all together. And I would ask the question. What the hell happened to us?

 

 

 

Posted in Blogging, Humor, Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction, postaday, Stories of my life, Uncategorized, writing

A Conversation With Mom

My mom and I have had a relationship problem most of my life.  We never got along when I was younger. Truthfully we never got along until my father died 8 years ago. At different times in our lives we have gone years without  talking. The longest being 7 years when I was married to my ex. She never liked my ex, and well I was too stubborn to say she was right, till after my divorce. We are both very stubborn women. Looking back I think one reason we never got along is because we are two peas in a pod. According to her, when my dad was dying he told her to  make up with me and to surround herself with her kids, because life was too  damn short to keep fighting. I think she took those words to heart, because we have been friends ever since. My mother is sometimes so funny. You have to stay on your toes to keep up with her.  This is a typical phone conversation with her. I called her this morning and here is how it goes. (Mom is  83 years young)

Ring!  Ring! Ring!  (me calling mom)

“Hello? Hi!”

“Hey mom, how you feeling?”

“I’m doing good. I got a new gadget!”

“What you got now mom?”

“It’s for my blood pressure. It’s kind of  like my heart pacer machine. I take a reading of my blood pressure and it goes right to my Doctor’s office!”

“Wow, something else to play with”

“It’s really nice. Hey, your brother got a new job! He’s babysitting some kids.”

“That’s good.”

“Your sister’s been sick though. I’m thinking she had a small stroke, but she don’t believe me.”

“A stroke!!  You kidding??”

“Her doctor said she has a case of palsy, but I think he’s wrong and I told her to get a new doctor, but she never listens to me.”

“Mom you scared me!”

“I got a fox living under my front porch, and someone is stealing my apples!”

“You got a fox?”

“Yeah, he got rid of those hundreds of rabbits I had in the yard.”

“I guess that’s good?”

“Just wish he would get those damn squirrels! I hate those damn things.”

“I know you do mom.”

“If I find out who’s stealing my apples they are going to get their car windows shot out with my BB gun!”

“Um, mom I think that’s illegal.”

“So is stealing my apples! I  get hold of them they are going to wish I didn’t!”

“I’m not sure you should shoot at them mom.”

“I told your brother-in-law what I was going to do. He gossips with all the men in town. Word will get out, so it’ll stop!”

“That’s better than shooting them.”

“I told your brother I’m making an apple  pie  this afternoon. But  I need to go to the store to buy the apples, because my apples aren’t good this year.”

“I thought they were stolen anyway?”

“Not all of them, but they aren’t good for pies. But I like to feed the deer with them.”

“Okay, I got it now Mom.”

“I’m going to clean out my closet today. I got about 50 pairs of shoes and I need to re-arrange things.”

“50 pairs??”

“Yeah, I noticed I didn’t have any green shoes though. So I might have to buy some green ones, so I need room.”

“You going to give some away then?”

“No! I don’t want to give any away. I just need more room. ”

“You can only wear one pair at a time.”

How’s things in Canada?”

“Things are going pretty good here mom.”

“Hey, I’m going to have to hang up for now, I got to go to the bathroom.”

“Okay mom, I’ll call you later this week.”

“Okay, bye!”

 

My  mom might be old, but she is sharp as a tack. And she has no fear. She lives in a very small country town near a large lake, so she has all sorts of critters wander through her yard. She loves animals, except squirrels. Her and the neighborhood squirrels have a running feud. Sometimes they win, sometimes she wins. Most times it’s a draw. I have to laugh every time I talk to her because she is just so…….her! She 4 ft 11 inches of toughness. I love her dearly. And I hope to goodness if I am like her, that when (or if) I get to be her age I can age as gracefully.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Posted in nonfiction, Stories of my life, Uncategorized, writing

Silent gratitude isn’t much use to anyone — Gladys Berthe Stern

I read this quote the other day while I was researching something for my WIP. “Silent gratitude isn’t much use to anyone.” 
— Gladys Berthe Stern

It stuck in my mind and I couldn’t seem to get it out. Then this morning I sat down with my  usual cup of coffee and started to really think about what this quote meant to me and why it wouldn’t go away. I finally got it. I needed to thank all the people in my life, past and present who helped make me into the woman I am today. I’m a strong, independent, stubborn, creative, word loving woman. I’m fearless in trying something new, whether it be a new hobby, job, food, or place of living.  I didn’t get this way on my own. Several people helped me, and today I would like to take this opportunity and thank them publicly for their contributions to the shaping of my life.

My deceased father: He gave me my love of books. He was a man who always had a book in his hands, and taught me to love them also. He liked a good conversation or debate. He taught me to be frugal with my money, how to love unconditionally, and how to garden. Gardening was his passion. Thank you Daddy, for being the best dad you could be.

My Mother: We didn’t get along all my years growing up in your house. We fought, argued, and generally disliked each other. But, deep down we loved each other. Thank you for teaching me to stand up for myself. To never back down when I believed in something strongly. Thank you for showing me how not to be a victim. How to be independent and strong. We are great friends now, and that I treasure. It was hard-won. Thank you also for showing me that holding grudges is wrong on so many levels. I saw what holding grudges did to you and your family. I will NOT make that same mistake. I love you Mom, you are the strongest person I know. I deeply respect that.

Miss Minney: I never did know her full name. She asked me to call her Miss Minney when I first met her at the age of five. That’s all I ever knew her as. Miss Minney was the old woman who lived 2 doors down from us. She had white hair, always wore a dress, and loved to hug. I need to thank Miss Minney for teaching me how to sweep a floor the right way! How to dust, and generally keep house. She took me under her wing when I was just a tow-headed little girl. I would help her clean her house, run errands for her and listen to her talk about her own little girl who had died years before in a drowning accident. Her only child. Even at such a young age I could feel the sadness and love she had for her little girl. Thank you Miss Minney, for showing a little girl that no matter what age we are we have something to teach and to learn.

New Orleans: Thank you message in the grotto o...
New Orleans: Thank you message in the grotto of Our Lady of Guadalupe Church; added by those for whom prayer or miracles were granted (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

My older brother: My brother is a bit of a bully. Loud and obnoxious. Him and I have always maintained a love/hate relationship. It continues to this day. He taught me to stand up to bullies. That they are a cowardly breed on the whole. They talk rough and try to intimidate a person because they are bigger and stronger. But if you stand up to them they will always back down. It may not always shut them up, but it makes life a little easier when you show them you aren’t afraid of them and their hot air. Thank you big brother for helping me to grow into someone who will not tolerate a bully. Just because I am small and a woman I don’t have to put up with it.

My best friend from childhood: Gloria was a great person. Deeply troubled she turned to drugs and alcohol to escape a life she thought was destroying her. Instead she went down a road to destroy herself. We drifted apart when my parents forbid me to see her again. I never did get the full story of why. But, I miss her to this day. I know she went into prostitution to pay for her drugs when she was still a teenager. I saw her once when we were both about 19, I almost didn’t recognize her she had changed so much. I believe she knew who I was, but she turned and walked away without a word. Thank you Gloria, for showing me that drugs were not a way out of difficult situations. I could very easily have taken the same road, but thankfully did not.

My very best friend in adulthood: Terri is a wonderful and loving woman. She is another strong person. We used to talk for hours and hours every single day. She raised 3 boys on her own. Took care of her mother when she was dying of cancer. And buried her father six months after her mother died. She was the glue that held her family together. She is a tiny little woman with the biggest personality. I lost touch with Terri when I moved to Canada from Texas. I’m still trying to connect with her. Her phone number doesn’t work anymore and when I wrote I got her letter back. Some day I will find my best friend again. Thank you Terri for showing me that being single is not a bad thing. To never give up on myself. And just thanks for being there when I needed someone so much.

gratitude. =)
gratitude. =) (Photo credit: camerakarrie)

To my ex-husband: Yeah, you read that right. My EX-HUSBAND. He taught me several valuable life lessons. He taught me how not to take something at face value. To always question it.  If something looks to good to be true, you should examine it throughly and ask a lot of questions. He taught me to believe in my instincts and not drown them out when they are screaming at me that something is not right. He taught me that violence against women is not right in any form. That just because someone says something is true does NOT make it so. He taught me that once a cheater always a cheater. Thank you ex for being who and what you are. A large example of what not to have in a husband.

I will always be grateful to everyone who helped make me who I am. I’m sure there are others I need to thank. Maybe that’s another posting in the making. Till then, remember to thank the people in your life.