Blogging · Good News Day · nonfiction · stories

Good News Day

Hope everyone has a great and positive week!

About once or twice a month I will be having a “Good News Day”. This is when I post only good news stories from around the world. Everyone needs a good dose of good news during these trying times, so my aim is to provide you with just that.

Reading good news not only puts a smile on your face it restores your faith in humanity just a little bit at a time. So, read on and I hope you enjoy my picks for today!

Now, who could resist that face? Cutest Cadbury Bunny!

Personally, I’m all for saving the bees and this smart idea is wonderful!

Glowing Fishing Nets Could Help to Save Endangered Sea Animals

https://www.happy-headlines.com/blog-posts/glowing-fishing-nets-could-help-to-save-endangered-sea-animals

Jesse Senko working with fishers in Baja Sur California, Mexico. Photo courtesy of Arizona State University

https://www.cbc.ca/news/canada/new-brunswick/nation-tree-seed-centre-indigenous-communities-1.6400008

Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

Great news for Canadians! I love it when we get together to do great things!

There you have it for today. I do hope you enjoyed my first post on Good News Day! Do YOU have any good news you would love to share? Go ahead and use the comment section and have a great day!

Blogging · nonfiction · strength

The Strength of Music

This past week has been darker than most. My heart goes out to the people of Ukraine. It also goes out to the people of Russia who don’t want this war any more than the people of Ukraine do.

With all this pain in the world, it was hard for me to come up with an uplifting subject for my weekly post here. Then I thought, music! Music is so strong. It resonates with everyone. Music can be soothing, healing, calming or it can be passionate, thrilling, and forceful.

Photo by Marius Masalar on Unsplash

Music is also very personal. It has many genres, so there is something for everyone. I don’t know a single person who doesn’t like music, do you? They might like one type of music over another but what ties us all together in this world is music.

Some of the benefits of listening to music:

  • Help you rest better
  • Lift your mood
  • reduce stress
  • Improve your overall health

Did you know there are professional Music Therapists? Yes, it’s true! These are people who are trained to help you find ways to use music for your mental health. This type of therapist learns how to use music-making and listening to help people understand and process their emotions.

But you don’t necessarily need a therapist. You can also use music on your own to improve your mental well-being. I think a lot of us do this already.

Photo by FPVmat A on Unsplash

The best music for stress reduction is the kind that works for you. Find something with an upbeat rhythm, something like 60 beats per minute is recommended. Many people also find that Celtic, Native American, and Indian string or flute music tends to have a calming effect.

Again, it’s personal. Find what works for you! I think this is the best kind of research, try different genres, something you haven’t heard before, or something you thought you wouldn’t like. You might surprise yourself with what you find.

Create a mood playlist. If you’re feeling down, anxious, or upset, find a track that expresses how you feel. Feel those emotions and let the lyrics resonate with you. Then, gradually shift your listening choices so that the music takes you into a happier or calmer place. This is a popular technique used by music therapists.

Who hasn’t been hurt or angered and then listened to music that supports that feeling? I know I have. Just don’t let yourself linger in that dark mood. Slowly start introducing more uplifting and calming music to your rotation. Soon you feel better and happier and can look at a situation with fewer strong feelings clouding your judgment.

Photo by Mohammad Metri on Unsplash

Just remember, music can be a powerful tool in your mental health toolbox but it’s not a replacement for a trained therapist if you have a deeper need. Never be ashamed to need mental health!

Have you used music to heal yourself?

Blogging · Meditation types · nonfiction

Meditation: What kind is best for you?

Meditation sounds like some New Age stuff but it’s been around for thousands of years. During my research, I’ve come across over a dozen different mediations. So, what is Meditation and how can it help you?

Photo by Vie Studio on Pexels.com

Personally, mediation used to help me through migraines. I used to get them almost every week when I was a teenager. I didn’t know about ‘Meditation’ back then, this was in the late sixties, early seventies. Most people never even heard of meditation back then, I know I didn’t. It was later in life when I learned what I had been doing is a form of meditation that helps with pain.

Thankfully I haven’t had a migraine for many years now. I still meditate though, just for different reasons. Now, I use it to stay calm in stressful situations. It has also helped me find peace with the passing of my late husband. It’s certainly not a ‘cure’ for things but it definitely helps keep you calm and centered.

 Meditation has been shown to be helpful in taming stress and anxiety, reducing cardiovascular risk factors, managing chronic pain, and improving sleep.

I won’t go into specific details about each and every type of meditation in this post. I will write a post for each type of meditation going forward. Right now this is a sort of introduction to it.

Do you have to dedicate hours to meditation to achieve any benefits from it? NO, you don’t. Even as few as five or ten minutes will work. I have found it just takes practice. Like most things in life, if you want to become proficient in something, you practice it.

Photo by Spencer Selover on Pexels.com

Do you need to have a specific place to be able to meditate? NO, you don’t. That’s one of the wonderful things about this, you can literally do it anywhere! Hell, I’ve done it in the bathroom. It’s just anywhere you can find that is quiet and lets you concentrate. You don’t have to sit cross-legged on the floor with your hands doing that “ohmmmm” thing and emptying your mind. I find it almost impossible to completely empty my mind so I believe it’s not about perfection, it’s about training our minds not to wander so much. Just sit or stand relaxed and focus inside your mind and body.

Bottom line, which form of meditation is right for you? Answer: Whichever works for you! Whichever one you will do! Relax and experiment until you come up with what feels right for you and which fits with what you need. I don’t really think there is a wrong way of doing it.

In the coming months, I will write about various different types of meditation and how they can help you. Below is a list of types of meditation I will discuss in further detail in future posts. I will also discuss what beginners can do to start! If you are interested in any particular one feel free to let me know and I will make sure it moves up the list!

  • Mindfulness meditation
  • Transcendental meditation
  • Cultivation practices
  • Guided imagery
  • Movement meditation
  • Future visualization meditation
  • Gratitude meditation
  • Forest bathing (my personal favorite)
  • Body scan meditation

Photo by Tina Nord on Pexels.com

If I find any others in future research that sounds interesting I will add them to the list. Hope you will join me in discovering how many ways you can do meditation to help yourselves be the best you can be!

Blogging · nonfiction · writing

A New Old Blog

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.

Pixabay

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!

Photo by Monique Laats on Pexels.com

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.

Let’s be a beacon of peace in a world of turmoil!

Blogging

Under Construction

Remember me? I’m back! I took a three-year pause from blogging after my husband died. Now, I’m back and want to blog about fun things. After the rough three years when I dealt with my husband’s passing, then Covid, and all the stuff that comes with that, I thought it was time for something uplifting.

I want this blog to be someplace people go for smiles, laughter, and good vibes. To my readers who are still following, thank you for sticking with me! For new readers, welcome! I hope you will enjoy the blog and smile and have fun.

To the friends that have convinced me to start my blog up again, thank you! I love you guys!

For a little bit, you will probably come across some funky stuff as I work on the blog and relearn how to do things on WordPress. It’s been a while. There will be a few changes, some parts of the blog will go away while I add other parts.

Also, the name of the blog will be changing! I’m naming it: Life, Love & Strength.

So go on! Enjoy yourselves!

Photo by Gelgas Airlangga on Pexels.com
Photo by How Far From Home on Pexels.com
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Blogging · His Days (about the husband) · Mi Vida Loca · nonfiction · Stories of my life · writing

Learning Compassion (again)

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.

oldmansil

 

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.

 

 

 

stories · Truth or Fiction · writing

Truth or Fiction (April 14, 2019)

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?

 

 

Image by Pexels from Pixabay

 

 

Alone

 

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?

 

 

 

 

Blogging · Humor · stories · Truth or Fiction · writing

Truth or Fiction (April 5, 2019)

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?

 

 

Pixabay

 

 

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?

 

 

 

 

Blogging · stories · Truth or Fiction · writing

Truth or Fiction

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.

 

via Pixabay

 

 

 

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! 

Blogging · stories · Truth or Fiction · writing

Truth or Fiction

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

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

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

 

Image by tookapic from Pixabay

 

 

Steps in the Night

 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

stories · Truth or Fiction · writing

Truth or Fiction

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?

 

 

via Pixabay

 

 

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? 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Blogging · stories · Truth or Fiction · writing

Truth or Fiction

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

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

 

Pixabay

 

 

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

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

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

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

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

 

 

 

 

 

 

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