Tag Archives: Fiction

Daily Prompts

Mama…

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“Mama look at my creation!” holding it on a tray so it does not break.

A tired but still beautiful woman wanders around the corner and stoops dead in her tracks.  Her eyes trained on me. “What did you do?”

“I made it for you. I couldn’t find correct supplies so I just used anything I could find.” Like the toaster, electric wires from my lamp, my eyes glasses, lots of duct tape and paperclips, a bicycle wheel, and other things.

No words or even a noise comes out of my mom. She just stands there stilled and speechless. Her left hand travels to her mouth to keep whatever she was about to say inside.

“Do you like it mama? I made it especially for you.” I am guessing my smile would say it all, I could feel it spread from one ear to the next.

“……..” something came out of my mother’s covered mouth but I couldn’t quite catch it.

“What, Mama?……”

“GO TO YOUR ROOM!” She screamed at me.

She screamed at me…I ran. I didn’t stop until I reached my room. It was filled with the remainder parts and scrapes. All my failed attempts and miscalculations. There were scorch marks on the carpet where it had exploded when I turned it on.

“I don’t understand Mama.” I whisper to myself, because there was no one left to hear me. “I just wanted to help her remember.” I curl up onto my bed, hiding myself in the corner, squeezing a pillow as if it would explode. I slept with tears pouring from my eyes, and my heart slowly breaking into smaller pieces.

…

Headache is the first thing I notice. It is burning my brain and squeezing every last drop of energy out of me. “Mama…” is my second thought.

It must be nighttime or early morning, because darkness is waiting outside. I float out of my blankets and sit on the edge of my bed listening to the sounds around me. “Can I go get some water? Or do I stay here?” The kitchen is on the opposite side of the house. I would have to walk past my mama’s room, and our floors reveal everything and everyone. “I’ll take my chances,” standing up tall and determined.

As I open my door it squeaks just a moment. But I know I can open it all the way because I fixed that last year with dish soap. The floor boards outside my room are now covered with a small layer of rocks, which I did because it stops them from squeaking.

As I walk down the hallway I see all the small inventions I have made to make our lives easier. All of the objects are just of old appliances wired together to help my mom with chores. An electric broom and mop, a window washer, a clothes folder, a tiny robot to do the yard work… mental note…” make robot slightly bigger to push lawn mower.”

My mama’s door is next. I was shut, but not slammed. When Mama slams it new cracks show over the doorframe. I recently made the tiny robot paint the door. It is now a beautiful yellow with small flowers covering it. I wanted Mama to feel happy to enter this room.

I put my ear gently to the door to listen for any noise of crying…nothing…she must be sleeping.  I hate hearing my mother cry herself to sleep. That’s why I made what I did. I wanted her to be happy again.

Now just past te living room and onto the kitchen. I round the corner and….

“Mama…” I whisper so softly that she must not have heard me.

There was my beautiful mama. Perched on the couch, hunched over watching something. I wandered around slowly not to disturb her of frighten her…to see what she was seeing…that’s…

“Mama…” I say louder so she can hear me this time.

Her body snaps up, and instantly her hand moves to brush away her tears. “Yes, baby?”

“Why are you crying? Do you hate it?” tears welling up inside me. Trying to break past the barricade in my eyes.

She opens her arms to me, asking me to climb into her embrace.

I do. I fit my body in the space for me. I nuzzled down into her arm and squeeze it ever so slightly to know she is still there.

“No, honey. I love it. I am sorry for yelling at you before. Before today, it just seemed like you were trying to push me to move on and forget. I didn’t really see what you gave me this time. I just saw another invention to help me forget, so I released all my anger and frustration onto you. After you ran I broke down and cried myself into a sadden sleep right there outside on the cobblestone path. I woke to darkness engulfing me and the small device still spinning and singing that happy tune.” She began petting me and humming the tune which I gave her.

“Mama, can I play it again?” sitting up into her lap, staring into her eyes. “Can I watch it with you?”

My beautiful mama stared back into my eyes, “Yes, baby. I want to remember with you.”

For a second I scramble around the room for an extension cord. I pull the thing in and center it onto the small coffee table. I move back to my mama, climb back into her embrace, then I lean back to the table and flip the switch.

I light bulb comes to life. I painted it yellow to make everything shimmer. The toaster pops and the bicycle wheel stands into existence. The music starts to play and the wheel turns moving the pictures around. Just like a Ferris wheel my invention turn exposing our past. The first picture holds our family: Mama, Dad, Sister, Brother…Me. We are all sitting and laughing.  The next, brother’s 18th birthday; following, Mama and Daddy’s wedding; then our water fight… Mama was taking the picture; after that one, I made a collage of our baby photos: Katie, Josiah, and Me; next our first camping trip…

I hung as many photos as I could on that bicycle wheel, but I ran out of duct tape and paperclips. I programmed it so that it would continue to spin until the song ended. The song I chose was mama’s favorite song. It was her wedding song, and in the past, our go to song to serenade her into sweet embarrassment.

I never wanted mama to forget them. I just wanted to be enough for her to keep living. I wanted to fill the gaps of her life that she hadn’t had enough energy for. I wanted to make her life simpler so she would smile again. I wanted her to see me and not look at me like I was the only one to survive the accident. I wanted my mama back…

“Mama, is this okay? Is this invention allowed…” I say into her arm.

“Yes, baby. This invention is the best one ever!” she sighs into my hair and pulls me closer. “Honey, you need to know…” as she pulls me back and stares into my eyes. Her tears are falling and spilling off of her face. “Part if the reason I never appreciated your other inventions was because they reminded me of your father. He would always discuss wacky or ridiculous ideas and always say he would someday create them. When I look at you I see all of them. Your father’s talent. Your sister’s beauty. Your brother’s wit. And your creative imagination. I am proud of you.”

I scramble out of her embrace and dash to my room.

“Honey…?”

I come back holding a tattered notebook. I produce it from my embrace. This is the secret I never wanted to reveal. “This was Daddy’s. I took it when he…when he…I took it…” head lowering, not wanting to see her reaction.

I look up and tears are spilling down her face. But a smile is creeping across it too. Her eyes come alive and her arms embrace the book into a hug. Her beautiful body shakes from the tears, but this time they are happy ones. She looks up at me and…

“Thank you, my baby girl. You have given me the best part of him back. I never knew he was remembering every one of these inventions. Some were jokes, some were love, so were fights, some were arguments, some were special, some were secret…I have all my memories done in this journal, and in this Ferris wheel of memories.

She pulls me again into an embrace. She leaves the journal and wheel on that small coffee table. We cry together and stay there until light comes through. My mama is back. She came back to me.

…

Twenty years have passed, and I am thirty-two years old today. Our house seems so empty. I am there to pack up anything I want and take it with me to my home. The house seems so bare without her here.

Mama is gone, she is with Daddy and Katie and Josiah. I love this place, but I couldn’t be here without them too. Wandering through the house I see all the inventions I made and how they sparkle even with the layers of dust on them. The rocks outside my room and scattered across the floor. Mama’ door is a darker shade of yellow, but the flowers seem just as bright. The tiny robot is at the kitchen sink; frozen in time, probably because the batteries wore off.

The living room…The couch still sits there. Just a small layer of dust covers it. The coffee table still stands firm. I will take this with me. But what I was searching for was…that…there off in a glass case sits the little Ferris wheel. However, this time there are more pictures. Half of the wheel is the past and the other half is me and Mama. Those eighteen years were the best days of my life with her. Next to that glass case is the journal of my parent’s love. I looks the same as the day I gave it to her. Tattered and worn, but loved. And the title still shows on the leather cover.

When I discovered this journal in my Dad’s workplace after the accident I assumed it was for me. He always discussed leaving a journal for his girl, so that she could create or just remember the memories. Thinking back, I realize it was for her. But the lettering was still clear and crisp on that leather cover, as the day I found it in his desk.  It read, “Ellie” which is me, but also Mama.

World’s Best Widget

Daily Prompts

Why Me?

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“Hey Mama!” I yell from my chair knowing that, that was the stupidest thing you can do to a hard working mom.

“What Honey? I am busy at the moment.” An exhausted voice exits the hallway to my left. “If you come to me I can help you.”

“Nevermind!” I yell back, because I can hear the strain in her voice. She must be really busy with her task that I don’t want to burden her any more.

Looking back down at my page of homework I ponder how I am going to complete this assignment. Our teacher wants us to explore our names. She wants us to discover why we are the way we are. But why did it have to be six pages long…that just seems ridiculous. You know how when you stare at a pot waiting for it to boil; I feel like that as I stare at this paper. Maybe magically it will be finished.

“Okay Honey, what’s the problem,” mom sits right down next to me. Her eyes are tired and her body hunches over itself, collapsing but still sitting tall. “You’ve been staring at this paper for 15 minutes with a very ugly face.”

I jokingly glare at her.

“I am sorry, but it is true,” she says with a small smirk across her mouth. “I needed a break from the laundry. Maybe your assignment is more interesting.”

“We have to write about ‘Why we are the way we are’.”

“Hmmm…. well you are tall because of your father. You have brown hair because of me. You have hazel eyes because of your grandfather. You have graceful hands because of your grandmother. And you are loud and annoying because of your siblings. Does this help?” Her smile growing with every statement.

“Mom…” jokingly I throw my pencil at her, but she avoids it and is clashes onto the floor. I am not loud or annoying…not really… “But yes, things like that help. But I think another part is towards my qualities.”

“Hmm…well one is… you are extremely competitive. I believe this is because this family likes to be the best of the best. However, for you I think, you truly believe you must earn everything you want in life. You don’t let people win, because they must want it for themselves. You don’t give up too easily, you try until you can’t physically move. I think you might get this from my side of the family. All of my brothers were extremely competitive and still are to this day.” Her eyes mist as her mind wanders back into her childhood…or somewhere which I was never a part of.

“This is great stuff mom. I do see myself as you describe me, but I always saw my competitive side as a weakness…in a way. People don’t like to lose. They tend to not like getting beat or pushed to their limits.  To me I am too competitive sometimes…” I do feel this way a lot. Sometimes friends leave me because I want to do something to the fullest and they just want to breeze through it.

“It is a strength Honey.  And don’t you ever forget it or change for someone. People who understand you know you have them ahead of yourself. You want them to succeed and accomplish it alone so they can be more confident within themselves.  You do what you do because you care.”

Tears are coming…but I can’t cry now. I kiss her on the cheek and then ask the next question. “A big thing is our names. Some people believe that our history behind our names will give a reason to why we are the way we are. Why did you give me my name?”

“Hmmm…. well Jane was for a past relative. Also I have grown to love the name Jane. It flows off your tongue as people call you. You should add in your paper the meanings of your names. Jane means: God is Gracious. Which is true to me, because I have you. Your last name is, of course your father’s name. It means: Peace Ruler.”

“And my other name?”

“Well Emily means: To strive, to excel, or rival. Which fits you perfectly.” She embraces me into a loving hug.

“Thank you, Mama. But why did you choose Emily?” squeezing her right back.

“Actually…I chose Emily because I liked the name. It has no family ties or relations to our ancestors. I guess God knew that the child inside me was an Emily, and he might have guided me to give you this name. You are forever my darling Emily.”

One last squeeze, and then the words flowed from my mind, to the pen, to the paper. A watched paper will not complete itself. Sometimes words from another can help you succeed, but from the beginning you must want it too.

Say Your Name

My Story

A Story: Part 7

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A Story: Part 6

“Janey….Janey” snickering sound travels to the foreground of my head.

My eyes flutter open. I am sitting once again on the soft smooth material, but this time it is Danny’s blanket. The wind around me is chilled and biting at my skin.  Nothing about this beach scene is like before. My muscles all ache and my legs and arms feel like sandpaper against gravel.  The material is only helping keep the wind off my bare flesh.

There is no beautiful sunset; there is a musky dark hue of clouds engulfing the beach. The ocean looks like it might purposefully cascade along the coast in hopes of drowning me in its current. I feel afraid to be here; every time before, I felt peaceful and calm, but this time I am on edge and terrified.

I can’t remember anything that happened or didn’t happen. Always when I dream of this place I wake up back in my prison room. It now is a prison room, because it seems like I will never be able to leave.  Or that I am forever doomed to dreamless nightmares.

“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” a low voice mixes into the crashing waves.

“Who is that? Show yourself?” I have no knowledge of where the voice is coming from. No idea if it is even true.

“Yes, Janey. I am real, and for some glorious reason I am here with you.” And David materializes out of the smog and into view.

“Dav..id?” words escape me. How is he here. I…I…ended him…

“Yes, Janey, you did end me. But I believe I have been given a great chance. Every sleepless nights I have been trapped in your head I have wished to be given a chance to express my feelings in person to you…” his last word lingers in stillness.

“But…how? And huh?” I speak these pitiful words to him, but then in my head questions keep swirling. “How can he hear my thoughts? How is he here? Is he a figment of my imagination?” Unconcerned about my surroundings I do not notice his quick action, as he wraps his long real fingers around my neck and squeezes for his heart’s desires.

“I am real! I am here with you! And now I can end you just like you ended me!” His hands tighten with every sentence.

His hands are strong. He is here in my dream world. I am no longer safe anywhere. His hands tighten more and I have no energy to fight back. My subconscious wounds have constricted me to just accept this fate and be ended.

He feels my body go limp and he shoves me to the ground.  His small body towers over mine digging my back into the blanket deeper into the sand. His face is all contorted, into a wicked, wicked smile.

“How can he hate me so much…How…c..o…” no more thoughts come to mind as I leave this world staring at the stars. At least I was able to die under stars even if they are truly fake. My last thought…”goodbye…”

…

“Hello? Hey wake up!”

Why can’t I die in peace. Why must there be always someone trying to pull me back into this pointless world…I just want to die.

“HEY! Snap out of it! Wake up!”

A slicing pain develops across my cheek. It burns! My eyes jolt open…

I only see black. Everything is black, but it seems lighter.

“Good…you are alive…” a low mumble twists into the darkness. “Hey, she is awake.”

What? The air around me turns to the color of a dark brown. The same as Danny’s blanket…Danny… Danny’s face comes to my mind and I know he is gone. Tears well-up in my eyes but do not escape because I have no energy to cry. “Why can’t this just be over,” maybe my thought will come true…

Still all I see is a dark brown color. I can now smell and hint of blood and smoke…am I to be eaten…is that my fate…

“Look at her neck. How did she get those bruises…? She didn’t have them earlier…” voices keep pouring into my mind.

What is real…what is fake…what..is…r..e..a..l…

And then I’m gone.

Daily Prompts

Let’s Not…

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“You knew you had to do this. It was listed in your job description,” she said plainly and actually quite harshly.

“Shut up. I know it was, but I was hoping I could take myself out of having to in the end. I was hoping I could dump all of my part onto my assistant. That’s what he is for!…to do the things I don’t want to, without hesitation,” than with an afterthought I knew that is ridiculous and untrue…

“You know that’s not what…”

“I know, I just thought the same thing. But I was just speaking it hoping it would magically come true.”

“So, have you planned out what you are gonna do? Or are you just going to wing it?” she said with a hint of humor. Probably because she knows me so well.

“Are you kidding me. I have prepared several different things to say, and I have many flash cards with reminders so I don’t look like an idiot up there. I am jealous though that my assistant will be sitting in the audience just smiling up at me making me feel more uncomfortable. I know he does that just because I hate it.”

“Oh, I know he does. He tells me he sits front a center just to humiliate you.  He also says that when you are extremely nervous you turn the color of a ripe tomato. I wish I could see it, because that is actually my favorite color!” She says with a loud chuckle.

“Well, you are not allowed to come. I already am nervous enough. You could just have drinks with me afterwards to drink away my misery and shame.”

“I am all for that job, and the first round is on me!”

“Thank you.” Gathering up my belongings, bracing myself to stand up. “Well, here I go to make a complete fool out of myself. It wouldn’t be so bad, except their parents will also be in the audience. So they will be staring at me, with their judgement filled eyes, and will be debating if I am suited to coach their children.”

“You made your athletes way faster than the year before. They should only be proud of you, because some of those kids might swim in college. Just be brave, and believe in yourself.”

“Thanks Sis. See ya in about two hours for that drink.” I stand up and exit.

“And Cut!” the director calls.

 

Naked with Black Socks

 

Daily Prompts

“What did you do?…I went…”

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Entry #1

The year is 2007. I am excited for high school. I have prepared every day of my existence through junior high to be the most successful student.  I worked my butt off to be the person with the highest grade, and I will be the person in the year book labeled as, “The Most Successful”…that is my true dream. The moment I came into the classroom I took the front and center desk in front of the teacher. I wanted the teacher to know I was serious about my studies. This is going to be the best year ever!

 

Entry #2

The year is still 2007, but it is now half way through the semester. High school is so much harder than junior high. There are so much extra homework. There are several clubs, that you can join if you want to succeed, which I do. So I signed up for every club. However, I want to be the best, so I must keep up my studies and work harder then ever…

 

Entry #3

The year is…I don’t care…

 

Entry #4

Why?…WHY?!?

 

Entry #5

I don’t know why I am even keeping this journal anymore. There is no point to recording my progress if it won’t matter anyways….Oh, right, now I remember why I am keep this…so that I can write a list of people I hate!

Mom

Dad

Sisters

Brothers

Teachers

Friends

Doctors

EVERYONE!

 

Entry #6

The year is 2012. All I feel is pain. My head is swimming, and my eyes are dull. Crying seems to take even more energy from me than I normally have. There is no point in crying…crying won’t solve anything. I am no longer in high school and I have no path I desire to attempt. I just want to curl up into a ball and live forever in my bed. But, even that carefree dream is impossible.

Entry #7

The year is 2013. I have decided to try; there is no point in waiting for something that might not come. I should live life and experience everything and anything. Now I will use this journal for a new purpose. It will contain my bucket-list. 1) skydiving 2) ride on motorcycle 3) go to Paris 4) visit Hawaii 5) own my dream car 6) sing in public 7) volunteer for something important 8) help build a house for someone 9)…I will continue to write down things I want to do…

 

Entry #8

The year is 2014. Today was not a great day. I went skydiving for the first time and I thought I would die. I wanted to die as I stood on the edge of that plane, the gust of winds kept pushing my body towards the inside. I should listened to the wind and not have jumped. But I did…It was exhilarating and amazing, but I am good only doing it once. Next thing here I come….

 

Entry #9

The year is 2016. I have done almost everything on my list. However, all I have is visit Hawaii and sing in public. However, I was told today I would not be permitted to travel anymore. My days have gotten shorter and I sleep more and more. I feel like I am again in the plane and the wind is knocking me over with way more force. So Hawaii is not happening yet, but maybe in the future.

 

Entry #10

The year is 2017. I am ready to finish my list. I want to experience every moment like it is a roller coaster, swinging me in every direction without knowing what will happen next. Whether I will climb up farther, or I will drop down to a point I can’t survive without a scream of fear.  So I only have left is to sing. Which is my greatest fear. I will go out somewhere tomorrow,where I know nobody and feel accomplished for a moment.

 

Entry #11

Same year. I choose today, because it is November 20th, 2017. Today is my birthday, and I am turning 24 years old. I know I am being selfish, that I want my birthday this year all to myself, but I won’t get another chance to sing on my birthday as a 24 year old. I told my family we would celebrate together tomorrow, but that I wanted to sing to an audience that didn’t know me. I chose one of my favorite country songs, Live Like You Are Dying, by Tim McGraw.

 

Entry #12

My performance was okay I guess. Everyone cheered and there was not a dry eye by the end. I have completed what I set out to do. I am sitting at the back table writing in my journal. I began this journal excited and hoping to be successful…which I have been. I called up my family and told them what I did and how great I feel that I completed something. They all wish me a Happy Birthday. I can hear the love and caring in their voices. “I love you guys so much!” I yell into the phone before hanging up. I collect my belongings to exit back into reality of life. Sitting in that booth against the back wall I recall what I have done so far… I may not have been a wealthy person, I might have not been successful in the eyes of others, but I lived life. Just like the lyrics I just sang a moment ago. This is the last thing I will write in my journal before leaving…I LOVE EVERYONE…including myself.

 

Entry #13

To whomever reads this journal?

The year is 2018. My darling little girl kept this journal a secret from us. I only discovered it that day at the karaoke bar. I am so proud of my daughter; I don’t regret anything that has happened in her life, as well as mine. If you have finished every entry up until this one you have a clear understanding of who my darling was. She was brave, honest, caring, loving, and outgoing. When the doctor told us she wouldn’t live past her 25th birthday everyone’s lives paused. Hers more than anyone. We supported her best we could but she decided one day to just live. The song she sang that night will always be my anthem. I will live life as if there is no tomorrow. I miss her terribly; her whole family does. However, we are still able to give her that missing piece, even as she rests in heaven. Her essence lives forever in us, and as we walk through Hawaii’s landscapes she will experience it too. I give the gift of completion; she will live eternally, even though I can’t see her, I know it’s true.

Love,

Mom

This Is Your Song

Daily Prompts

A Normal Day…Great…

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Sun bathing on the beach in a cute new suit. I have nothing to do; I am now a carefree person. I just want to live in this exact spot and never move. I feel the warmth from the  sand as I trickle it through my fingers. It cascades back down onto itself. I hear the waves brushing against the coast. Its soothing sound makes me want to sleep forever. I am at peace…

“What time is it?” curious because I never have beautiful dreams. My hand stumbles around in search of my phone: my source of time, but it is also my alarm. I must have slept very well last night that I am waking up before it goes off. “That is awesome!” I think about giving myself a pat on my back.

Success, I found my phone. Pulling it close to my face as I gaze at it, I read…7:15 A.M….

“WHAT!?! My alarm didn’t go off. I am going to be late!” I push back the covers and sprint to the bathroom….but I can’t take a shower. I don’t have time. I have to be in class in twenty minutes. “Great. Today I will smell bad.”

Instead I head downstairs to waken myself with the best part of my morning…coffee…

“WHAT!?!” it’s all gone. “Why family did you need all the coffee?” shaking my fist at the ceiling. Thankfully they are all gone, because of this…”AHHHHHH!” I scream out of frustration. “Now I will have to make some. At least mom bought the pot that only takes six minutes to brew. Thank you Mom.”

My brain is cursing at me, because it needs its coffee. I am going to die…coffee…cabinets…must find coffee…coff…

“WHAT!?!” No grounds! No beans! No nothing. I want to cry….

Well screw this. Now I only have twelve minutes to get ready without my beautiful coffee. “This is going to be the worst day ever…”

Stumbling back upstairs to change clothes,“Well at least I get to wear a cute outfit with my new jacket at school. All my friends will be jealous. Where is it?” I was smart and prepared it yesterday, so I won’t have to think of what to wear. Destroying my room I pull up every piece of clothing more than once…”Where is it? I put in on my chair next to my bed…

Instead of my amazing jacket and outfit, there lies a paper…a note…from mom…

“Honey, I sent your jacket and clothes to the dry-cleaners because, don’t get mad, I spilled my coffee on them. So for it to not get ruined I rushed all of it there for you. I’m sorry my sweetheart. Mom.”

…”AHHHHH! WHY!?!” tearing up that paper with all of my anger so I don’t do something I will regret.

I throw on whatever, because I don’t care anymore. I smell terrible, no beautiful coffee, and now no cute outfit…great… I look like a nomad…with my sweatpants, striped shirt, crocks for shoes (because I can’t find my tennis shoes…), and a scarf swallowing up my face. Hopefully it hides my identity…

I have eight minutes to get to school, at least it only takes me six. “Oh right! I forgot!” recalling the new CD I purchased yesterday. “At least I get to listen to this great music on the worst day ever.” I gather up my backpack, my older brother’s puffy jacket (its cold outside, and the CD. Push the garage door open…

“WHAT!?!” my car is gone! I run to the front in search of my car. It’s nowhere to be seen. “The keys…they should be in the garage…” sprinting back to the door.

A note…from dad…

“Dear Lizzy, I am sorry for not telling you this before, but I need your car. The mechanic called and they accidentally put the wrong part in your car. I should have woken you up, but you looked so peaceful I didn’t want to disturb you. Love Dad.”

…”Nooooo!” I grab my gear together and I run towards school. Now with only five minutes to go I am for sure going to be late. “Whatever…”

I can’t breathe…gasping for air, but it seems like there is no air in my vicinity…Everything is blurry and now I smell like sleep sweat and sweat sweat…I’ll make sure to stay hidden today. I am late; therefore, I have to do the sad walk to the office to receive my pass to my class.

“I need a pass…” thankfully they were too busy to acknowledge my outfit and hopefully my smell. I trudge through the halls wanting to die. I don’t want anyone to see me. I should have just stayed home and “been sick”. However, I pull that door open and all the students are lined up awaiting…

Pictures… “IT”S PICTURE DAY!!! NOOOOOOO!” I want to run out of that room and make up my picture tomorrow.

Instead, “Oh, Lizzy you are here. Please come to the front of the line and take your photo. After you will need to write me an apology for your lateness.”

I very much dislike this teacher. But I do as she says and I make my way there. The whispers and giggles start and they continuously get louder. Not trying to be considerate.

I sit in front of the photographer, and his face says it all… “What happened to you?”

Great…this is the worst day ever. Slept in, No shower, no beautiful coffee, no cute clothes, no car, running sweat, and now picture…

“Okay,” the photographer says as he prepares himself for the worst picture ever, “One…Two…Three……….”

Nothing happens, and I stop my smile for a brief second to ask what’s wrong…

“Smile!” flash of light. “Next!”

“WORST DAY EVER!!!!”

…BEEP! BEEP! BEEP!

“Huh?”

Just Another Day

My Story

A Story: Part 6

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A Story: Part 5

The sun is blistering hot, as it drives into my bare skin. The breeze from the far ocean spills over me soothing my blistered flesh. I stretch across the blanket and…

I’m awake.“Where am I? What day is it? Has time even gone by?” Then I’m gone again.

…

“Janey…Janey…janey…” David just keeps mumbling to me as I lay here in despair.

“Shut up, David!” silence, and I’m gone again.

…

I shiver as I come closer to the glistening beautiful water. It almost sings to me, inviting me to its break. The sand beneath my feet is damp but warm still. It squeaks as I bury my feet deeper into its existence. Someone is coming closer…

My eyes open. Questions pour into my subconscious, “Why again? What is my life? What is the meaning of me? They said they wanted me; that I was the key to their existence? But why?” My mind is swirling, and if I open my eyes it will be worse, because the air surrounding me is chaos. The only way for it to stop is sleep. I’m gone again.

…

“Danny…Danny…”I picture his adorable face as my hand brushes a material beneath me… “Danny!” I leap from my bed, but the searing pain smacks me back down onto my bed. My head is spinning; I shut my eyes trying to contain the nausea. I can feel my heartbeat race, not seeming to be slowing down.  “Danny…”I try to stand, but the movement makes me throw-up across my bedspread. Small dribbles of goop cover my legs.

I need to know if my dream was a dream, but I cannot move. My eyes feel like they are glued shut. My arms and legs weigh a million pounds making it impossible for me to rise. I still can only hear my heartbeat…and a small pulse beating in time to my heart…”

“What?” The ever so quiet, minimalist pulse, vibrating upon my wrist. I remember the small flower, unclear of its true color. Attempting to bring my wrist into view, I pull aside Danny’s blanket…

“Danny!” This time I gradually pull myself out of bed and attempt to walk to my door. The room is spinning, but I must know the truth. I brace my arms on any firm object within reach, opening my door. It swings open with a whine and a cloud of dust engulfs my presence. Dust…? I travel down the corridor and every door is closed, but the doors seem untouched. Cobwebs covering their door-frames, like no one has been here for months. The air is musky and thick. I smell burnt wood with a mixture of dirt and sweat. I hear nothing, but moving down this hallway reminds me of the past screams that would torture my sleep. My legs almost sweep underneath me, I catch myself before continuing on. One more door…

“Danny…”his door is also closed, but it seems clean except for the scratch marks wrapping around the knob, like something was desperately trying to get in. “Danny…” The knob is cold as ice, and there are sharper edges now. It won’t open, the door is glued shut. “Danny…? Are you there,” I whisper hoping for an answer. Knowing there wouldn’t be one…

There was a sound. Like someone was trying to slide along the floor in short snip movements…

“Danny!” This time I raise my voice a bit. I plaster the side of my head to the door straining to listen.

Again, a sound.

The door won’t open. I kick it to see if it will budge. Nothing. If I ram my full force into it, I don’t know if I will be able to survive the pain or the headache…But Danny…Danny is worth it.

Preparing myself…Ram! Nothing happens, and the pain shoots through my shoulder to my head. The headache is bearable but the searing pain is troublesome. I won’t be able to survive that too many more times. Again…Ram! The door shifted…but the pain is worse,  and I am beginning to see dark spots. Again the small, faint noise exits the room. “Stay where you are…Danny. I don’t know…what will…happen to the…door.” I don’t know if he caught any of that, because my words seemed to slur from the dizziness. The noise stopped.

I think I can only survive once more. However, one more shove won’t help me succeed…pondering…thinking with a dizzy head is not helpful. I need a longer runway. The opposite door! The room across from his room is almost dead on. Without hesitation or conflict I open the door…

There lies a baby doll covered in dark goo…I do not need a closer look to know, because of the smell…they’re gone. The bed is upturned and every object is torn to pieces and flung around the room. Claw marks have painted this room’s walls, causing it to look like it’s in motion.

“Why am I here? Danny…Do I want to open that door? Do I need to know what I already guess…?” The tears come and clouds my eyesight even more. I cannot see it…I do not want to see this…

But that noise! There is someone in there and even if it is not Danny I must help them. I wander to the opposite wall bracing my stance. I look towards the corridor, sizing up the huge door blocking my path. My legs are shaking, and I only have this last chance…Danny…then I go.

My legs are burning, and my head swells; I see the door in front of me. I square my shoulder to the wood and RAM! Pain, tears, clouds, and then darkness. My eyes flutter open, and I am hanging halfway through the door. The wood only shattered around my body, but the door still hangs firm. I shift to see better but my shoulder…!

I can feel it, but I also cannot feel it; it’s like I have no shoulder at all. Ignoring the room for a moment, I look to the knob. There is a screwdriver driven into its lock, like someone had attempted to escape by unlocking the door. Probably without knowing our doors have no lock, they locked themselves in.

There is no noise. But I also really cannot hear because of the ringing pain in my ears. And my cloudy conscious blocking out noise. Danny…

I maneuver my body so that I can reach through the opening to grab the screwdriver. It’s wedged in pretty well, but thankfully only one arm is dead to me. I grasp it, yank it, it is freed. However, I lose my composure, I topple over myself, fall through the opening, land on my head and shoulders, and collapse onto the floor inside the room.  Bigger headache, and now matching shoulder of pains.

“Danny…Dann…” words will not escape my mouth…I cannot feel anything, except the pulsing. It’s louder now, pounding in my ears.

“Scoot…” The noise…I can’t see anything. This room is darker than the other; it is almost total blackness. “Squeak…” something is traveling towards me, at its slow but unwavering pace. “Squeak………….squeak………..squeak….” It has no words.

An eerie sensation travels down my spine. Goosebumps sprout over my arms and legs. The hairs stand on ends. The small pulse on the wrist heightens and my throat slowly closes. “It’s only Danny. Relax.” I say to myself trying to make myself breath again.

“Danny?” I say into the void.

“Squeak………..squeak……….squeak……….”Its body rubbing against the plywood, each time louder and more forceful than the one before.

Only slightly I hear a low wheezing breath breaking into the silence. I don’t know if it is louder or not, because my ears are ringing in fear. The noise continues, and it seems only a few feet from me. It stops suddenly. Only a hushed chill lingers between us.

Nothing…“Danny?” I whisper afraid of the…

WHAM!

The door breaks off its hinges and a figure lunges into the room. With searing pain, I fling myself out of the way. Then cram my pain-filled head between my arms trying to disappear. Pain is shooting over my entire body, but centered on my arm. I hear the scuffle, but the noises are dwindling in and out. “Dan…n…y” I try, but can’t speak. Then all is black.

…

Daily Prompts

Never Quite Done…

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Kick It

“Why, why, why?” I cannot seem to get this right. Why can I accomplish my other goals but not this one? I was able to go skydiving, falling without control. To travel to Paris and see the wonderful beautiful art. I was able to walk through the terrifying, dark shark tunnel at Sea World. I was able to dance the tango with a partner in a competition. I rode on the back of a motorcycle with my arms stretched out embracing the wind. I sang in front of an audience with judges; along with other things I have accomplished. However, this one is the hardest…I guess I will skip this one and move on to the next, which is number 12…survive a triathlon…

Time has passed, and I have accomplished everything on my list…everything…that’s a lie. There is still that one lingering goal I cannot and will not do. That would be embarrassing if it was not reciprocated. Anyways I have a great life. I have been courageous in every other outlook of my life. I have strived to be the best in my field, and I have gained the highest award…Boss. I am the boss of my own company; I earned every second, and I would not take any moment back…would I? No, every moment has been magical in its own way.  I accomplished 19 out of the 20 goals…that is an ‘A’. I have an ‘A’ in life goals and as well in life. My life is complete and I will live contently and happily to the limit!

Heartbreak, after heartbreak, after heartbreak. I have given my heart to every man that has loved me, but in the end they always break me. Again we danced, we ate dinner, we laughed the night away, and then the moment of which I thought he would love me he pulled away. The distance grew. Why do they keep pulling away? I give them everything my heart can give. I love them unconditionally without ever going too far. Why can I not find true love in this empty land? My heart is whole, and it is mine to give, but they pull away leaving me feeling empty and forsaken.

“Happy Birthday!” they all scream for me. I am 25 years old and I feel no different. I am living life as I have done through my many days. I have experienced much and I continue without truly knowing where I am going. But I continue. I search the room looking into all these faces and I see nothing. I feel nothing. Every hug I receive I feel nothing…Why do I…

…You?

Across the room stands someone I thought I would never see again. They look the same; they have grown taller and…more handsome. His eyes…he catches my stare and heads towards me. I can feel the warmth grow in my cheeks, and I imagine I look like a tomato with arms. I look to the floor trying to calm my face, as a pair of shoes enter my space. I look upwards and there is the smile that has always warmed my heart. His eyes are closed but I can feel the happiness in his face. “Hello,” I mumble out as I can barely speak.

His eyes open, those beautiful green eyes, “Hello.” And he brings me into a comforting embrace. And I feel everything.

We wander outside to relieve our faces of the warmth. The air is chilly and it soothes my burnt red cheeks. We sit on a wall facing the ocean. The waves crashing against the coast matches my heartbeat. He is sitting right next to me with his eyes closed soaking in the air. There is a small hint of blush still within his cheeks, making him more radiant than before…if possible…

“Happy Birthday” he whispers still with his eyes closed, but his fingers intertwining with mine.

“Thank you,” is all I can say without the tears spilling down my face. Years have passed, but it seems like only days. The warmth of his fingers sends electricity through my veins. I feel my heartbeat soar, and I worry he can feel my pulse through my fingers.

“Joseph…”

“Hmm…” he turns my way and his beautiful green eyes seem to pierce my soul.

“Do you remember how you helped me with my bucket-list?”

“Yes. Did you ever finish it entirely? Those were some good times.” His smile grew to fit his entire face. His eyes slowly drift back to the ocean, but his hand still holds mine. “Why?”

“I never did my number 11…I was not brave enough to complete them all…” tears welling up inside me.

His arm wraps around me, and he pulled me close. “Well I am here now, I can help you with that troublesome 11. What is it?”

I bury my head into his shoulder, wanting to soak up as much of him as possible… “You. You were my number 11.”

 

Daily Prompts

Whom Do You Hear?

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Can’t Stand Me

The lights are blaring into my mind, and the chattering of people engulfs my essence.  There is just an audience of strangers ready to judge and comment on my performance. “Why am I doing this?” I question my reasoning’s as I stand behind this curtain about to take the stage. The curtain hides my figure and my fears. I have never wanted to be a singer; I have always been the girl who just quietly hums to herself. In my head I sound like this musical angel and there are no cracks or squeaks in my voice; I just hear soft, smooth, lyrics pour from my mouth without much thought.

The curtain is a stiff material and smells of alcohol, grease, and an unmentionable. I step away from the curtain, but then I feel revealed and less safe.  Because if the moment came that the curtain would rise I could clutch onto it and disappear into the darkness above. But I stand there, cowering behind the curtain, almost center stage, waiting for…

“Next up we have, Emily2Jane! Clap for her it is her first time here!” Thunderous applause erupts after his last syllable.

My hands are sweating and I drop the mike. The echoing sound causes my head to pound and ache. I snatch it up and the assistant off to the right gives me questioning look of, “Are you okay? You can give this up now if you still want to.”

I ponder this choice. Give up…that is not in my vocabulary. New Year’s resolution was to try and be courageous no matter the result. Although, if I leave now I could still keep this as a daydream…No do this for yourself. I answer with a firm shake of my head and the assistant cues the curtain to be raised.

Again I am flooded with light. I can see no faces. That makes this bearable, until the light dances off to my side and I see every face staring at me. The machine to my left brightens and the music begins to play.  My chance is here and everyone is waiting. I pull the microphone to my mouth and…squeak! I stop dead not wanting to continue. “I already accomplished my fear. I stood in front of an audience and put myself on the chopping block.  Can this be enough?” Looking back to the assistant. He is bright red but he circles his hand, telling me to continue.

I continue, but it is awful the whole way. I cannot hear my own voice, but I imagine it is what everyone usually experiences.  My throat is dry and weak with nerves as I continue; I imagine I must sound like I am just mumbling the words off as they appear on the screen. Nerves are not a fun thing to have; they make everything twice or three times as bad.

The song ends and I hear nothing. I want to run off the stage and through the door into my quiet life. But of course, I freeze with fear and my feet are glued to the center part of the stage.

“Well that was great, wasn’t it?” the announcer tries to diffuse the silence. If we were outside you would hear crickets. Nothing. Silence. And every eyes still trained on me. Mouths gaping open with wide eyes. My hands are sweating again. I feel the microphone slipping and I clench its handle tightly spraying sweat over my knuckles. I can hear a mumbled voice speaking, must be the announcer, only my heart beat is penetrating the silence. A hand opens, pointing off stage, trying to lead me out the right side back behind the curtain. Still there is silence. I reach the curtain and there is a small clap. It is slow and steady; then another clap joins in. Until the audience is clapping in unison. I stand halfway behind the curtain and half on stage. I thank them with tearful eyes and a small reassuring nod and exit to my right.

I have no idea if they clapped because they liked me or because I was brave. I have no recollection of my performance and I couldn’t describe it to you now. I only slightly remember the squeaking and this could have been my imagination. I am drenched in sweat and smell terrible. I need a bath and a large bowl of chocolate ice cream to help me recover. I move towards the exit and many hands congratulate me with a small pat on my back. I wish they wouldn’t because I can feel the sweat dripping off of me. I reach the coat rack and move towards the exit. The announcer calls back, “Come again, Emily2Jane!” and I leave.

…

My Story

A Story: Part 5

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A Story: Part 4

Without opening my eyes I extend my limbs in every direction, and my hands stroke smooth material which seems to melt through my fingers. As my legs brush against the fabric my small hairs spring to life from the slight shocks of static. My feet repeatedly bury themselves and then expose their toes feeling the fabric glide off their visible skin. I can feel the warmth of the sun beat down on me and I hear a faint breeze shift in the wind. All is still and peaceful, but with my eyes closed I wonder about that figure. I hear a small bird, just out of reach twitter is own magical tune; however, it’s sound seems so far away. Then there is a tapping on the window.

Window? Bolting up I see the bird outside the dirty window whistling its song while ever so often tapping the window glass. So I am not dreaming. I am again in my room. But the fabric? …looking down I see a brown blanket draped under my body twisting into my bed sheet. This isn’t mine. I take the material in my hands and try and distinguish something recognizable. I can see nothing but my drizzles of drool spilled over a top corner. “Sorry” to whoever’s blanket this is. At the farthest corner, I see a cursive “D” spelling a word….Danny. “Bless little Danny’s heart.” I feel bad about the drool, but he did snot-fest my shirt that one time…I will wash it out later, showing him the same kindness.

Strange I have no headache and no voices, maybe David has gone for good. Of course as I say this to myself I know if will come back to bite me later. But still with the thought of his name, he does not surface. I am just confused because I can’t even feel his presence like before.

I stretch my arms high above my head wanting to touch the celling. I feel no soreness or pain; I feel content and bliss. I prepare myself for the dizziness after standing, but nothing comes. This is strange…I almost glide over to the mirror in search of my eyes knowing I will see truth.

I fall back suddenly in shock. Looking in I saw orange. Not just plain orange, but fiery orange. I saw hints of gold and shards of red. I looked like a possessed human or even a ferocious monster. Standing, I peer into the mirror again my eyes are normal with the peaceful green and hints of blue and brown. But they also look alive. I can see my own reflection looking back at me. I wonder if my orange eyes had been real or if the light had hit the mirror in a new way.

I change my clothes quickly not wanting to see the bruises from the day before, and I see the layer of dust covering my dresser. Nothing has moved or is out of place; I lift the brush, beneath is shiny, new, and bare. How…? …No….

I open the door and all the surrounding doors are standing open, allowing any to enter. “Danny…” I rush to his room and there it is tussled and ruined with no sight of life. The little bear which he always slept with lays torn in my path. All the furniture is turned and trampled. Nothing is as it once was.

I scoop up the bear and wander back to my room. Each doorway shows another lost loved one. Gone without notice and what seems like, without a say. Each door similar to the next. Each door hanging on its hinges ready to give up on life.

Me too. Knowing that all these children, all these beautiful children are gone. I have no will to live either. I wander back into my room cradle the bear into the smooth blanket, my last piece of Danny, and almost whimper myself into a dead sleep.

…

Danny…Danny…DANNY! “Why Danny?” screaming myself awake not able to handle the reoccurring torturing nightmares. Since I have no recollection of the canceling, I know the shadows must have done this. My nightmares consist of me trying to save the children, but remain glued to the floor unable to save anyone. Then the shadows turn towards me and I awake. The bear is still swaddled in the smooth brown blanket, but now there is more drool and small dabs of snot from the day before.

I have not left my room. I have not seen another soul or shadow.  I don’t move because of the fear of being next, also because it will awaken my stomach. The doors all still hang open, including mine. Why bother. If no one comes I will die alone, and if someone comes it is my end.

Except for my stomach I would have laid there until I became dust and died. But the constant growling is obnoxious and I can’t ignore it any longer. Going to leave I turn back and scoop up the bear and blanket. I tie it as a sash across my chest keeping my precious keepsakes close.

The hallway seems deadlier. No noise. No life. No warmth. It reminds me of a book I read about ghost stories; the cemetery of headstones, each having a new original story to tell. Slowly I meander to the red door to reality. Maybe beyond that door all will be gone too. No shadows. No fear. No life. Maybe I am the only one still left living. The knob turns too easily, then I push way too hard, the door swings open suddenly, and I collapse to the ground. I lay there in silence. Catching my breath and thankful for the bear, because it might have saved my ribs. I brace my stance and push myself into a kneeling position….

Nothing. The small room with the dining table is toppled over and in disarray. The swinging doors to the kitchen are torn off its hinges and lay shattered on the floor. Dishes are broken and scattered everywhere. Every step I take another shard breaks into a million smaller shards beneath my feet. The diner is empty and every table is distorted. Nothing is the same. Everything is destroyed. I hear nothing except my breath; I am no longer hungry. No one is present, no children, no shadows and no customers, just me. Looking back over the path I have followed, I see nothing but the evidence of destruction. Something flickers in my side-eyed vision. A sign I have never seen. In blaring red lights it reads, “EXIT”. Curious…

I stumble across the broken dishes, torn cushions, and the spilled syrup covering the floor, towards that sign leading to oblivion. The door is glowing and the sun is pouring through the windows. I touch the knob and it begins to hum and sing into my palm. It almost feels alive. I turn the knob, shove open the door, it won’t budge. I shove again and I hear a crack. I kick and slam into the door. I continuously pound its wood until the door gives away and I topple into the light…

Thud…I hit the ground and I feel plywood beneath me. I open my eyes as the pain in my knees send a stinging sensation to my back. I see fabric wrapped around my head, and I feel it strangling the air from my throat. I frantically struggle to unwrap my suffocating body from the material.  My head is finally released and I am on a cold wooden floor. Danny’s blanket was the cause of restriction. Completely confused, I search of a recognizable building to know my surroundings. I see a dark form. A sturdy block shaped form slowly comes crisply into view. A desk…a dresser…

I am in my room…