I’ve been blogging for a long time now. The last few years were tough for me and lots of other people. Almost three years ago my husband died and I was in a dark place for a while. Then Covid came along. I slipped further into a dark place.
I stayed active on Facebook but not much else. All the dark news. The dark politics. It seemed like everywhere I looked there was darkness.
I got tired of darkness. By nature, I’m usually a very optimistic person but the last few years drew me to a place I didn’t want to be. So, I took a hard look at what I DID want and decided I had enough of dark and dreary.
A couple of friends kept asking me when I was going to start writing again. Or if I was going to continue blogging, or both. Thank you for being such good friends. Especially my best friend, Linda. She had faith in me, even when my faith was gone. So, I decided to come back to blogging. I missed it too. I missed having some sort of purpose to get up every morning, besides my dog, Sam, and my cats.
So here I am!
The blog may be old but I’m changing directions with it. It’s going to be light, airy, and full of positivity. There will be sections on meditation, zen, and just all around chilling out. The more I think of things the more I will add to the blog. Oh, there will also be an advice column! Hey, I’ve lived a relatively long life (yeah I’m old), I’ve experienced a lot, good and bad. I’m also opinionated. Ha! Plus, my friend Linda put this idea in my head so blame her!
We are going to have fun while being positive! Believe me, this is NOT going to be your normal “feel good” blog! Not with me at the helm. LOL Nope, this is going to center on fun, lightness, and love. Love for self, love for animals, love for others.
There will also be stories. Stories of hope, of light, of new beginnings, and maybe, just maybe a few with a slightly supernatural feel. So those of you (Marlene, wink wink) who enjoyed my story writing, these are dedicated to you!
If you have any suggestions, or ideas to make this blog full of love let me know! I have a contact page which you can find on the top of my blog. This will also work for questions for the advice column. Ask any question about anything, if I don’t know a good answer I’m sure I could help you find one. Don’t be shy! If you prefer to ask anonymously you can! No judgments.
As some of my reader’s and friends already know my husband passed away on August 17th, 2019. I miss him every single day.
This is something I wrote in 2015 about him and me and learning compassion. Not only for him but for me also. It’s something I’m still working on. The compassion part for me.
I will eventually come back to blogging. I just don’t know when. Thank you for sticking around.
I watch him out of the corner of my eye as I do the daily dishes. I’m worried about him, as he hasn’t eaten in a couple of days. He has hardly moved from his bed in the same amount of time.
I know I can’t nag him to eat. I’ve tried that in the past and it just makes us both miserable. I feel bad because the other day he asked for something special to eat and I had to tell him no. Not because I wouldn’t cook it because we had no money to buy it to cook. He didn’t seem to understand when I explained it to him.
He doesn’t understand lots of things now. It saddens me, but I have learned not to let it linger in my mind. It’s not his fault. It’s the fault of his medications. The strong pain pills he takes several times a day. They have robbed him of his sharp mind like the pain has robbed him of his appetite, his focus, his ability to function like he used to.
When we moved into this 30-year-old mobile home almost 2 years ago. We decided to put his twin size bed in the living room. He loves his TV, but the couch was too uncomfortable for him to lay on all day. So we got rid of the old loveseat and put in a twin bed we got for free. It has worked out well. The TV gives him something to do.
I watch him as I do the dishes. I see the deep furrows of pain on his face. I wish I could do something more for him but I know I can’t. Soon his afternoon pills will take effect, his eyes will gloss over, the furrows won’t be quite so deep. For a little while.
I finish the last dish, put it in the dish rack to air dry, wipe my hands and make myself another cup of coffee. I’ve been in the kitchen for 45 minutes and not a word was spoken between him and I. Just the sound of the TV going and the clink of dishes being cleaned.
I walk down the hall to my office and sit down with my coffee cup in hand. Taking small sips, I think about the last time we spoke to each other. Was it yesterday? Or the day before? I lay my head back and close my eyes. We don’t speak much anymore. I’ve learned to accept it. As I’ve learned to accept a lot of things in the last few years.
I could sink into a pool of self-pity, but why? It’s not his fault he became disabled, so racked with pain that taking a simple shower has to be planned ahead of time, just so the pain will be somewhat manageable.
I could rage at the universe and cry an ocean of tears. Again, why? The universe is not to blame for the circumstances that made us lose our home and come to live in a broken-down trailer. It’s a roof over our heads and heat in the winter.
I could rail against it all. I have in the past, I won’t lie about that. I’m human, with faults. So, I railed against something him and I had no control over. I cried, I felt sorry for myself. Worse of all, I wanted to leave. I wanted to run away from the pain. His pain and mine. I wanted to run fast and as far as I could. Halfway across the world.
I didn’t run. I couldn’t run. I won’t run.
Instead, I learned compassion. Compassion for him. He doesn’t want to be in this much pain. Every single day, every single minute, to live in pain. Who would want that? So I find my compassion for him. My patience. My desire to help ease his suffering if I can. Which I can’t.
I can only help him suffer less. I will settle for that.
I have also learned to have compassion for myself. That was the hardest part. To be gentle with myself as much as I am gentle with him. I make mistakes, I lose my temper, I get frustrated, I get depressed. It’s ok to feel all these things. I will NOT beat myself up over having these feelings because they never last. I can’t let them. I won’t let them. I feel them and then I let them go without the guilt.
I open my eyes, sip my coffee and keep an ear out for him as I face my computer and do what I know I’m good at. Writing words.
I write the words I cannot speak out loud. I write the words that my soul feels. I write the words that I have learned. I write my heart. That’s how I learn compassion all over again.
Hello once again from WordPress Land. Hope everyone is doing well. Ok, so the last story got a mixed review. I’m sorry to say it was…Truth! Oh yeah. This woman is and was a terrible baker. The story was based on my one and only attempt at making bread. I followed the old family recipe to the T, or so I thought. My loaves of bread could have been used as bricks! I swear. My friend Tiny suggested that I exaggerated just a tad.
Well, maybe just a tiny tad, (see what I did there? LOL)
I didn’t exaggerate much. I actually did throw one loaf of bread and nope, it didn’t break. Also, no the dogs wouldn’t eat it. Although I have to admit the German Shepherd did give it a try after fetching it and bringing it back to me. I took it away before he could actually eat it as I was afraid of what it might do to his stomach.
I’m actually a very good cook, just not a baker. I don’t like having to be that precise in my ingredients.
Now on to my next story. Is it Truth or Fiction?
The dog alerted her to the car before she heard it. Strange, she wasn’t expecting anyone. She was here on her own. It was just her and the dogs. She was used to being on her own lately. Seems her husband was always away for work since they moved here. The house they moved to a few months back was in the country. They wanted room to let the dogs run. The city seemed too confining for several big dogs. So they found this place. No close neighbors, lots of room and plenty of quiet. For the most part, she was enjoying country living.
Sometimes though, it got a bit scary for her. Being on her own, with just the dogs for company. Since moving she had to deal with coyotes, black widow spiders, scorpions, and the snakes she found on the grounds. She didn’t want her dogs bitten or herself. She managed to get them out of her yard. She didn’t kill them if she could help it. She just captured and released somewhere else when she could.
Her husband did buy her a shotgun. One of those that held several rounds of shells. She practiced with it until she got quite good at it. Her husband said she was a ‘natural’, whatever that meant. She just wanted to protect herself and her dogs from the aggressive snakes that seemed to love the rock garden and the dogs loved to find these snakes. If she could she relocated the snakes, if she couldn’t she wanted to make sure if she had to kill it, that it didn’t suffer because she wounded it and not killed it.
She glanced out the side window and saw two strange men exit the old, beat up clunker they were driving. She got a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach when she noticed the passenger step quickly around to the back of the house. The driver walked up to the front door and knocked. Max, the biggest of the dogs, growled deep in his throat and her fear grew. She knew that growl. It was when Max sensed something was not right.
She knew all the doors and windows were locked. She always made sure they were when she was alone. She got in the habit when she lived in the big city. A woman alone always kept her doors locked. It was just survival. It was also the middle of a hot summer so no reason to have the windows open. Her shotgun was always leaning by the front door as she carried it with her when she and dogs went for their daily walk.
She slowly opened up the door. The storm door was locked and it was made of tempered glass. Not easy to break. She didn’t want to open the door but was afraid if the men thought no one was home they would attempt to break in. That she didn’t want. She could always dial 911 but knew from experience that it might take the police more time to get here then was safe for her.
Max stood leaning against her legs. Seeming to feel her fear and reassure her he would protect her if necessary. She didn’t unlock the storm door. She was alone and she wasn’t stupid. She trusted the fear that was building inside her. After glancing at the man who stood at her door she looked past him to see if she could see the man who had walked behind the house. She couldn’t. She knew they were up to no good and to trust her instincts. Not to mention, Max’s.
Max sat next to her, she could feel his body tremble. His ears were perked forward and he gave another soft growl. She laid one hand on his head and looked at the man through the glass door.
“What do you want?” She asked him.
“What? I couldn’t hear you.” He said in broken English. “Why don’t you open this door so I can hear you better?”
In a louder voice, she said, “No. Also, you need to tell your friend the back door is locked and he needs to step to the front.”
He shook his head and with his index finger, he pointed to his ear. “I can’t hear you. Open the door.”
Max growled again, louder. He was ready to pounce.
Louder she said, “No! I want you and your friend to leave now!”
“I just want to talk to you.” He said.
“I’ve called the police before I opened the door. They will be here any second and you can tell them what you want to talk to me about.”
With that little white lie, the man looked angry but yelled something in Mexican that she couldn’t understand and tried once more to get her to open the door. That’s when she saw the second man come from behind the house and step to the car. He started to walk forwards to join his friend. She knew then she would have to do something more forceful as they weren’t going to leave.
She said to Max. “Watch!” That was his command to be ready to attack. She grabbed the shotgun from next to the door and held it. She didn’t want to hurt anyone but if she had to, she would shoot them to protect herself. She felt the icy fear leave her and a calmness replaced it, and things seemed to go in slow motion for a bit.
The man at the door spotted the shotgun, stepped back, shouted something in Mexican again to his friend and turn and run towards the car. That’s when she shouted to Max to “Stay” and she opened the storm door. They were racing the car backward out of her driveway when she aimed the shotgun and fired. She could see she hit the front of the car but not enough to stop them. She didn’t want to stop them, she wanted to scare the shit out of them and to show them she would not hesitate in using the gun.
She watched as the driver gunned the gas and sped out down the road in front of the house. She backed inside the house, locked both doors once again. Keeping hold of the shotgun like a lifeline, she sat at her desk in the living room and started to shake. The adrenaline left her body and she felt sick, limp and in badly need of a coffee. As soon as she got her shaking hand to dial, she called the police and within a few minutes, they were there knocking at her door.
Is this story Truth or Fiction? Let me know what you think! What would you have done in this situation?
I’m beginning to think people know me well. As I think everyone voted right. My last story was…TRUTH. Yes, sad to say it really did happen. When I was younger I rescued a lot of animals. Dogs, cats, whatever. I’m an animal lover. If I see they are being abused I will try my best to get them out of that situation…even if it means breaking into someone’s yard and taking them. Eh, arrest me. I’d still do it.
Doesn’t happen quite so dramatically now as I’m too old for that and my fence climbing days are over…but who knows. If the situation warrants, I still might manage.
My story does have a happy ending. I managed to rescue the dog and finally got someone from the Humane Society to come to pick him up as, unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to take it to a Vet nor keep it as I had four dogs already. This very nice lady came over and I gave her an abridged version of how I got the dog. She called me several days afterward and told me their Vet had to do a major operation to remove the chain from the dog’s neck but he was doing fine and this same lady had decided to adopt him herself.
I felt so much better knowing he was going to a loving home and would have the good life he richly deserved.
Now onto my next story. Is it Truth or Fiction?
A Slice of Life
“Hmm, maybe we could make something out of these?” She asked.
Looking at her listeners as they cocked their heads to the side. She stated, “They would make a great border for the garden. I mean, no birds or animals would take them away.”
Reaching down she rubbed the ear of her closest listener. Whining softly he leaned against her leg. It was like the dogs were agreeing with her.
“I mean, look at them.” She reached over to the table and picked one of the items up, rapping her knuckles against it she spoke again. “It’s as hard as a rock, it would make a great garden border.”
Sighing she placed the object back on the table and sat down hard in the kitchen chair. Frowning she pulled the cookbook over that was laying open on the table and read the recipe again.
“I don’t understand what I did wrong. I followed the recipe. I didn’t substitute anything, which I’m usually doing.”
The three dogs lined up in front of her with expectant faces. “Sorry guys, nothing to eat here. The recipe didn’t exactly turn out like I wanted. I don’t think even you could eat this, Max. It would break your teeth.”
She picked up the item from the table and let it fall back down. It made such a loud thump that it even startled the dogs.
“See, Max? I bet I could throw them up as far as I could and let them land and they wouldn’t even break.”
She stood up and walking around the dogs she opened the back kitchen door and tossed the item out of it as far as she could into the yard. It landed several feet later with a dull thud. “I told you.” She stated to no one in particular. She watched as the dogs raced outside to find the object she threw. Max managed to lift it in his powerful jaws as the little dogs yapped and jumped excitedly beside him. Max proudly came back and laid it at her feet.
Looking down she had to laugh at the look Max gave her. “I told you, you wouldn’t be able to eat it.”
Such a sad sight, the item laying at her feet and three very disappointed dogs. She was sad too, as she had been looking forward to a warm, buttery slice of freshly made bread. All they got were four loafs of…bricks. Hard as rock bricks of bread.
Her dad had always made it look easy when he made bread. So she decided to try her hand at it. “I think I’ll let Dad keep the bread making skills, guys. I stick with my world-famous potato salad.”
So, is this story Truth or Fiction? Let me know! Have you ever tried a new recipe only to have it fail miserably? What was it?
To my few (and I do mean few) loyal readers, thank you for stopping in every week. As for last weeks story, it was……false!
Not to say I haven’t heard ghostly footsteps before, or even seen them! Just not like I said in my story. One day I will write about how it came about that I actually saw them. Just not today. Or last week. ha!
Anyway, on to this weeks story. Is it Truth or Fiction? You tell me.
A Good Deed
She had heard from a friend about a dog in need. Everyone knew how much she loved animals and this friend was very concerned about this dog. It was her friends’ neighbors dog. Tied up in the backyard with a heavy chain. No food, no water…in the middle of summer. Also, they were having an unusually hot summer, even for this hellish place.
Her friend said she tried talking to the neighbor and offered to take the dog off his hands. But no go. The neighbor wasn’t giving up the dog even if it was painfully (for the dog) obvious he wasn’t taking proper care of it. Half the time this guy wasn’t even home. Who knows how often, if ever, the dog got fed and watered. Her friend said she had been living next door for six months and never saw the dog off the chain. Once she thought she heard the man beating the dog but by the time she got outside the man was gone and the dog was shaking and crying. She felt terrible for days afterward.
The friend reported the man to the Humane Society but no one ever came to investigate. Short staffed they told her. So that’s why she told her story to her, in tears, not knowing who else to turn to.
That same night, after her friend’s tear-filled story, she went to see the dog for herself. She wasn’t sure what she expected but it sure wasn’t the pitiful sight she saw. The man should be shot! Treating any animal this way. She peered over the back fence and in the bright moonlight could make out the form of the dog cowering away from her as far as its heavy chain would let it. It didn’t bark, didn’t whine, didn’t make a sound. Which made the sight of it all the more powerful in her eyes.
She pulled out the small binoculars from her pants pocket and held them up to her eyes with one hand while she stood unsteadily on the stool she brought with her just for this reason. It was 2 am in the morning and the small breeze touching her cheek was still on the hot side. Even at night, there was no relief of the unrelenting heat. The neighborhood was quiet and dark. Just a few street lights dotted the overgrown alley she had parked in. She was glad the dog didn’t bark but her heart broke knowing it didn’t bark because it had probably been beaten too often for doing just that. She slowly looked around the backyard. No doghouse, no tree or bush for shade in the middle of the day. She didn’t see any water or food dishes which made her angry. Just the poor dog chained up with a chain that was stuck in the ground with a heavy metal stake.
As she looked at the dog, her breath sucked in and tears formed in her eyes and ran down her cheeks. Taking that closer look she could see the dog was in pain. It must be in terrible pain she thought to herself. She couldn’t see the chain that was around its neck. She couldn’t see it as it was embedded in its neck! Oh my god! The chain had been wrapped around its neck so tight that it wasn’t even visible! It clearly wasn’t hidden by rolls of fat either as the dog clearly looked malnourished and skinny.
From what she could see in the moonlight the dog was a beagle or of beagle mix. It was medium in size but so skinny it broke her heart. Tonight was to have been just a reconnaissance sort of mission. Now though, she knew she had to get that dog tonight! If she could do anything about it that poor animal was NOT spending another moment in that yard with that chain and in such misery. She was going to rescue it tonight.
She stepped down off the stool and went to the back of her car. From the trunk, she pulled out a set of bolt cutters. She had put them in her car earlier. She had learned a long time ago to go to these rescues prepared for emergencies. This definitely was an emergency situation. She tossed them over the fence then thought….”How am I going to climb over the fence with a dog in my arms?” This was more of a two-person operation but she was by herself and there was no one she could call at 2 AM.
Her mind worked furiously to come up with a solution to her problem. Even if she could call someone she didn’t want one of her friends to chance getting caught helping her and being arrested for stealing. No, she had to do this on her own and it had to be tonight!
Her eyes spotted the two old blankets she had in her car. She always kept one or two for picking up injured animals from the side of the road. Which she had done a few times.
What if she fashioned some kind of sling? She could put the dog in the sling and with her hands free, climb back over the fence. Perfect! She grabbed the bigger of the two blankets and quickly tied two opposite corners together and slung it over her shoulder. Now, back to the rescue.
Stepping onto the stool she grabbed the top of the wooden fence and hauled her body over the top and dropped the few inches to the ground. She stood to make sure nothing was changed in the quiet of the night then when she was satisfied with the silence she grabbed the bolt cutters and walked quickly to the dog. Her heart broke as the dog just whimpered and shook and strained on his chain. It must be in so much pain from the embedded chain yet still tried to get away from a potential threat.
She crouched down in front of the dog and slowly held out her hand for it to sniff. Softly talking to it she took her time so as not to scare the dog further, even though she could be caught at any time. The dogs fear was palpable. It was heartbreaking. She slowly reached in her pocket for a dog treat. A nice soft one, as she didn’t know how well it could eat just yet. The dog stopped whining but still shook with fear as it sniffed the treat. Its hunger overcame its fear and it took the treat from her hand and ate it with a few chomps. It whimpered a bit, either from the pain of swallowing or from gratefulness of having something to eat. She wasn’t sure.
The woman took precious seconds to pet and reassure the dog in soft words as she slowly lifted the bolt cutters and cut the chain. The dog winced a bit when it was done but moved closer to the woman in seemingly understanding of what the woman was about. She gently and slowly lifted the dog in her arms, all the while talking in soft warm tones to it to reassure it. She settled the dog in the sling and cradled it to her body as a mother would cradle a baby.
She picked up the fallen bolt cutters and walked quickly to the back fence. Now came the tricky part. Getting over the fence with the dog without hurting it any further. Taking a deep breath she gave a little jump and grabbed the top of the fence. She never really was very athletic and in that instant regretted it. She was determined though and with anger still burning in her heart for the mistreatment of the dog she hauled her body to the top of the fence and threw a leg over. The dog whimpered either in pain, fear, or both but didn’t struggle in the sling.
Once her leg was over the fence the rest was easy. She did manage to scrape her forearms climbing over the fence but didn’t even feel it for the adrenaline coursing through her body. Once over the fence, she grabbed the bolt cutters and stool and as fast as she could she tossed them in the trunk and closed it. She ran to the passenger side of the car and settled the dog on the passenger seat still inside the sling. Closing the door as softly as she could she quickly made her way to the drivers’ side, slid in and turned the car on and drove out of the alley.
She didn’t seem to breathe until she was safely inside her garage with the door down. No matter how many times she rescued an animal there was always that chance she could get caught. The adrenaline rush seemed to leave her then and she broke down crying. The dog in the passenger side whimpered and tried to crawl into her lap. It seemed to understand and appreciate all she had done for it.
Even though it was in pain, hungry and scared it sensed that she had just done a good thing for it and was trying to make HER feel better. Animals are like that. Full of love given the chance. Now, this dog had that chance.
Is this story Truth or Fiction? Have you ever rescued an animal in need? If so tell me about it!
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?
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!
The last Truth or Fiction post was true. Yes, I have said good-bye to a few houses but that particular one I felt needed it the most. Or maybe I’m just weird. Toss up.
Sorry I didn’t post last week. Life got in the way. So with that, here’s this weeks story….Is it Truth or Fiction?
Dialing D for Drama
“911, what is your emergency?”
“I need an ambulance and the police. Someone has been stabbed.”
“Where are they now?”
“In my hallway! They are bleeding pretty bad.”
“Ok, give me your address and phone number. I’ve already dispatched the police and they should be there shortly.”
A little shaken she gives the dispatcher her name, address, and phone number. She’s told to stay on the line until the police arrive.
“How old is the person who’s been stabbed?”
“I don’t know, early twenties maybe.”
“Can you see where he is stabbed or how many times?”
“Not really, there is too much blood. He’s holding his stomach but I can see that he’s been stabbed at least twice in the shoulder and his elbow is sliced open.”
“You’re doing really well. As soon as the police get there I will let you off the phone. Do you know if the assailant is still around?”
“Well, I hope not! But no, as far as I know, they are not around.”
She looks at the young man moaning on her floor and notices for the first time all the blood on the doors and walls and a thought comes into her mind about what a mess she will have to clean up later. Strange thought in the middle of a bloody drama but it seemed to settle her.
She should be more upset. More…she didn’t know exactly. Not this calm. Not this blasé about a man laying on her floor possibly bleeding to death of multiple knife wounds. The dispatcher interrupted her thoughts with another question.
“Do you know the man who’s been stabbed?”
“No, we don’t. He just came up to my husband while he was outside and asked for help.”
Another stray thought crossed her mind as she glanced with worry at the young man now writhing on her floor in pain. Her husband seemed to attract drama like this. It was like he was a drama magnet. Not his fault really, she supposed. She always thought she was the one who attracted it and she did and had plenty of times in the past. Now she was married to someone who did the same thing. Shit.
All she wanted was a quiet life now. No drama. Nothing like this. She wanted boring for a while. Was that so bad? Was that asking too much for her life now? Seems so.
Sighing she saw her front door open and the police coming in. Finally. Someone who could take over.
“The police are here now.” She said into the phone to the dispatcher.
“Yes, I hear them. I will let you go then. You did really well. Goodnight.”
So is this story based on truth or is it fiction? Let me know! How would you have handled a situation like this?
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?
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?
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.
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!
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.
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?
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?
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?
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?
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!