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, His Days (about the husband), Mi Vida Loca, nonfiction

Life’s Little Ups and Downs

 

 

 

It’s hard to believe it’s been over a month since I posted anything. A part of me is so let down, another part just doesn’t care. I’m nothing if not honest, especially with myself. It’s not like I haven’t been around, I have. I visit some of my favorite blogs, I talk to some of my favorite people. I’m still here. I just haven’t been writing.

As for the personal side of things, well, it could be worse I guess. The husband is slowly on the mend from his stroke in late October. He’s been to so many specialists that I’ve lost count of them all. His mind is much clearer with different pain medications. So, for now, he is on the upswing. He had his 65th birthday on February 4th. Sad thing….his mother died on his birthday. She had dementia for the last few years of her life and didn’t know anyone at the end, but she was surrounded with family when she passed and I guess that’s all anyone can hope for.

The winter here has been snowy and cold and longer than usual it seems to me. Or, I’m just getting old and can’t handle it like I used to. I long for warmer weather and summer breezes. Today we’ve had freezing rain, sleet and now snow. Yeah, I’m so over winter.

To say I haven’t been writing is kind of a lie. Sorry about that. I have been writing, just not on here. I’m working on a new story and I’ve promised my best friend, Maddie that I was going to send it to her first to read and critique. I’m so rusty now that I want to make sure it’s ok before I post it here. So yes, I am writing, kind of. It’s a hit and miss kind of thing lately. Some days I write, some days I don’t.

Mostly my problem is I’m so damn tired. This time change stuff doesn’t help me either. I hate when they have daylight savings time. It messes my sleep up and I don’t need any more help with that.

I thought at one point of closing this blog down. I’ve been blogging for almost six years now and maybe I’ve run out of things to say or do on here. But, it’s obvious I haven’t shut it down. I can’t. I love the community here in blog land. I love knowing I’ve had this blog for so long. No, it’s not earth-shattering stuff on here. I’m not political.  I don’t write deep, meaningful essays. But, I love it. I love the people I’ve met. I love the challenges. So, I’m keeping it. I’m hoping to get back into blogging more often and I appreciate everyone who has stuck with me thus far.

Life might be hard sometimes, it might be damn hard a few times but it’s my life and I’ll keep going for as long as I can. I’ll keep posting things. I’ll keep appreciating all the comments and friends I’ve made here. I’ll keep living life’s little ups and downs.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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 Cee's Share Your World, Mi Vida Loca, questions and answers

Share Your World ~~~ August 7, 2017

When did Wednesday turn into Monday? When I’m doing Cee’s Share Your World, apparently. Time does seem to get away from me and I’m not sure why.

So, here is this week’s questions and answers! Enjoy!

 

What was the last URL that you bookmarked or saved?

The Canadian government’s website. Yeah, I have to fill out some paperwork before the husband turns 65 in February. So, I was looking to see what I would need. Exciting stuff, eh?

Do you believe in the afterlife?  Reincarnation?

Yes, I do. I always have. My thinking is this can’t be it. We can’t be given just one lifetime to get things right. In this whole infinite universe, we can’t be limited to just a one time shot.  This belief has been strengthened by meeting a few people who I swear I have known before. I’ve had one or two people swear they have known me before too. So, yeah, I truly believe in reincarnation.

If you were or are a writer do you prefer writing short stories, poems or novels?

I like to think of myself as a writer. As for preference, I will have to go with short stories. I enjoy writing in a more concise way than novel-writing gives you. Although, I love the challenge of novel-writing. I have written poems but no way would I consider myself a poet.

What inspired you this past week?  Feel free to use a quote, a photo, a story, or even a combination. 

My husband and friends. They inspire me every day. My husband because even though he is in constant severe pain he keeps going every day. Some days slower but he keeps trying. I also have a friend that has fibro and she is one tough cookie. She fights it every day. She gets up and moves even though it hurts like hell. She is going through something right now personally that is devastating and she still manages to keep going. I also have another good friend who just lost her father and her husband within a week of each other. Yet, she still manages to be the sweet and loving person she always is despite her great grief.

So, yeah, when I bitch about aches and pains of old age, I think about these strong people in my life who are going through so much more right now and it humbles me.

I’m so honored to be their friends. I love you guys.

 

 

 

 

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 Cee's Share Your World, Mi Vida Loca, questions and answers

Share Your World ~~~ June 26, 2017

It’s Tuesday here so it must mean it’s time for Monday’s Cee’s Share your world! A bit twisted I know but that’s me!

Here we go:

What goal are you working on now? Your goal can be something fun or extremely serious.  Have fun with this question.

I always have several goals going on at any given time. Nothing like spreading myself out. First, to get healthy, which seems to be a lot of people’s goals. Second to finish writing my two or three books I have in various stages of completion. Then going on to write several more. Then there is my goal to become filthy rich. Yeah, I’m always working on that one but seem to keep getting further behind with it. Of course, that would mean I need to be ambitious and driving in my goal to become filthy rich. Eh, maybe tomorrow.

What is one thing you’re glad you tried but would never do again?

After my first divorce, I would have said marriage. Yet, here I am, married again. Will I never learn?

I tried flying a kite once because several people have told me to “go fly a kite”. It got stuck in a tree. So, I never tried again.

I tried perming my hair once when I was a kid. Disaster! Never tried that again.

I even tried decaffeinated coffee once on my doctor’s advice. Oh. My. God. Never again! Talk about nasty!

Did you choose your profession or did it choose you?

Well, it depends on your definition of ‘profession’. If it means I’m a Jack of all trades and master of none, then yup that’s what I chose! I never had the same job twice. I’ve been many things in my life, secretary (as Cee would say, “for people old enough to remember what that was”, Antique restorer and dealer, carpet cleaner, Personal Assistant (a glorified secretary really), retail clerk, casino worker, personal aide. Just to name a few that I remember. I like variety.

Have you ever gotten lost?

I don’t get lost! I have mini adventures. LOL

So in short, yes, I’ve gotten lost. I’m terrible with directions. One time I got lost between Fort Worth and Dallas. Now everyone knows Fort Worth-Dallas area is huge. I mean it’s traffic is horrendous. I got so lost I almost ended up in Oklahoma……running out of gas…..with no money. Yeah, that was NOT a fun time. I did manage to get back to where I needed to be but with a raging headache and a vow never to drive in Dallas alone again.

 

 

Posted in Cee's Share Your World, Mi Vida Loca

Share Your World ~~~ May 8, 2017

Hello, People!

I do hope your weekend was a good one. As for me, well, I’ve been sick on and off for the past few weeks. Stomach problems. You can usually tell when I’m not feeling well because I post less and less on my blog.

When I don’t feel well physically it does something to my brain as well. I can’t concentrate to write. Hopefully, this ailment won’t last long. I don’t make a good patient, even for myself. The doctor prescribed some pills for me and sometimes they even work but not always. I find I can eat very little and what I do eat makes my stomach upset. It’s very frustrating.

Anyway, I’ve changed my diet all around and I shall see if that works to settle my stomach. If not. Back to the doctors. Maybe. I’m beginning to have very little faith in doctors lately. They just want to push pills to cover the symptoms but not to find the root cause of the problem. Ugh. I’ll get it figured out eventually.

I would say ‘enough about me’ but this post is all about me! Ha! Let’s get to answering Cee’s Share Your World questions for this week, shall we?

 

When you’re alone at home, do you wear shoes, socks, slippers, or go barefoot?

I wear slippers. Even if I’m not alone at home. 😉 I almost never wear socks. I don’t like them. Shoes are for when I leave the house. Here at home, slippers all the time. When I was younger I went barefoot almost all the time. Now that I’ve become diabetic, I wear slippers as diabetics need to keep their feet in tip-top shape.

What was your favorite food when you were a child?

The only thing I can remember really looking forward to eating was my dad’s chili. He used to make the best chili and I loved it. We very rarely got dessert when we were kids but sometimes my mom would make baked apples. Yum! Those were my favorites as sweets.

Are you a listener or talker?

A listener. Always. I don’t talk that much, especially at gatherings. I’m the one you will find in a corner watching everyone until I can manage to get away. I have always found that I learn so many more things by just listening than by talking. People forget I’m around and talk freely. I’ve found out some very interesting things that way.

Favorite thing to (pick one):  Photograph?  Write? Or Cook?

It has to be to write. I love to write stories and flash fiction. I just love to write as anyone who really knows me knows. I’ve always been that way. I used to love to cook but as I grow older I find cooking to be highly overrated. LOL

 

 

 

That my friends ends another scintillating session on me. Oh, one more thing. If I haven’t answered your comments recently, I apologize. It seems WordPress is being difficult. Your comments aren’t always showing up and when they finally do I can’t seem to answer them from the drop down box on the upper right side. I have to go directly to the post and answer them. So I haven’t been ignoring you, it just takes time to track you down. Sorry.

 

 

 

Posted in nonfiction, Photo Challenges, poetry, postaday, writing

How Was I Suppose to Know ~~~ A Poem

 

How Was I Suppose to Know

 

How was I suppose to know that time was not unlimited?

That the sands in my hourglass sifted through my fingers,

As I played with life, never living it as I should have.

 

How was I suppose to know that love was fleeting?

When that love was given time and again to the wrong people,

And never to be received back.

 

How was I suppose to know that looking back was a danger?

As it made me sad, depressed and ashamed in myself,

For not giving all I had to my life to save my soul.

 

How was I suppose to know that regrets are like knives in the heart?

It’s too late to make those moments count,

Not only to yourself but to others.

 

How was I suppose to know that dreams are made to happen?

Only if you keep them in sight as you walk toward them,

Not when you forget them as you drift through life.

 

How was I suppose to know that all these things would make me ponder?

So I will work towards those dreams and forget about regrets.

As I have some time left and I’m not dead yet.

 

 

 

Posted in Fiction, Flash Fiction, Wednesday Whatever!, writing

Wednesday Whatever! ~~ A short story

Today I decided to do a little bit of writing. I went to *Random First Line Generator* and just decided to do a short story with whatever first line I happened to like.

Below is what I came up with for the first line of:

The footsteps were moving away.

 

woman-520052_1280

 

The footsteps were moving away. She took a deep breath, drew the hood over her head and turned to dart in the opposite direction when her ears picked up a slight sound. She froze, her nerves tingling. If she was caught they would kill her. No questions asked, no hesitation.

The sound of faint buzzing came from behind her. Damn. One of those mechanical tracking devices had caught her scent. If she didn’t move fast she was dead and she wasn’t ready to die today.

Reaching into her pocket she withdrew a small vial. After smashing the vial into the ground she ran down a flight of stairs barely visible in the darkness. Inside the vial was a concoction of her own making. A vile and long lingering scent that would confuse the tracking device long enough for her to make her escape.

Her lips curved up into a small sneer as she raced around the next building. It would take more than a few slow-moving guards and a bloodhound machine to stop her. She knew it had been a risk to come this close to her enemy but it was also the only way to get the information she needed.

Carson could make demands, yell and fret all he wanted. It didn’t make any difference. Sasha was always going to do what she wanted when she wanted. How else were they going to free her father from the prisons of Alazaban?

Her father was all the family she had left in this desolate wasteland of a world. She wasn’t going to lose him to a loathsome, ego-maniac like Drakon.

Drakon was a self-made lunatic. He had money, power, and men behind him. She had herself, Carson and a few rag-tailed friends. Sasha felt the odds were still in her favor. After all, Carson was the best mechanic around and could build things from almost nothing. Her strengths were that she was a genius with chemicals.

With the two of them and her few friends, she would make Drakon sorry he ever took notice of her that fateful day last year in the market. She wasn’t about to give in to Drakon’s demands.

Because she refused his advances, Drakon took her total dislike of him and made her the promise that she would pay for her stupidity. He called it stupid, she called it survival. It was well known what Drakon did to his former lovers when he got tired of them. She wasn’t going to suffer the same fate.

He kidnapped her father and told her she could trade herself for him. Wasn’t going to happen. Sasha was going to get her father back…or die trying.