Voices Within

Indie Ink writing challenge time again.  My challenge this week came from Barb and I challenged Kelly. Prompt will be at the end.

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Hey, honey, I'm home. Yum, something smells good. Whatcha cooking up in there?

Not a damn thing for you. I invited some people over. This is for them.

Oh, hi Rea. I didn't realize it was you.

That's why you should learn not to speak. It makes you look even more stupid than you are.

I'll be in the study when Leeza comes.

Leeza's not coming. I told you I invited people over. They'll be here soon.

Honey! Honey! Are you ok? What happened? There was a loud noise. Oh god, are you ok? How did you cut yourself?

I-I-I-I w-w-was c-c-cutting the the the p-p-p-uh-tah-toes and and and I-I-I c-c-c-cut my-my-myself.

Oh Jilly! You know you're not allowed to use the knife. Why were you using the knife? You know you're suppose to come and ask me when you need something.

I-I-I d-d-didn't wa-wa-want to b-b-bother you.

Jilly, you know you're no bother. Here we'll finish dinner together. I'll cut the potatoes and you get the salad made. Dinner smells lovely, Jilly. You did an excellent job.

Th-th-thank you. I-I-I tr-tr-tried.

I know you did and it smells delicious. Jilly, can you do me a favor? Can you get Leeza for me please?

K-k-kay. I-I-I'll tr-try.

Honey? Leeza? I need to speak to you. It's important.

Oh, Brian! When did you get home? I was. I was. I don't know.

It's ok, sweetheart. Dinner's started. Do you want to help me finish it?

Did I do this?

Rea was here when I got home. Then Jilly came and I asked her to get you.

I wanted to make you a nice dinner. I wanted to surprise you when you got home. I thought. I thought we could  have a nice dinner. Just the two of us. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.

Don't cry, sweetheart. It's ok. We can still have a nice dinner. It smells delicious whatever it is. I think it's ready. You just sit there and let me get it out of the oven.Wow. This roast looks delicious.

Roast! Yes I put a roast in the oven. A few hours ago to cook. I was. I was going to make mashed potatoes. With the cheese and garlic and and that's all I remember.

It's ok. There's plenty of roast and salad. We'll have that and some of these leftover rolls from last night.

It's not the dinner I had planned.

It's ok, love. Life would be boring without a few surprises.


prompt: ignore the elephant in the room. write a piece about two people discussing everything but the real issue, but make the real issue obvious to the reader.

Escape

Time for Indie Ink writing challenge again. This week I was challenged by Diane and I have to admit when I first read her challenge I drew a total blank. It was way outside my writing style and I had no clue what to do with it so hopefully I did a little justice to it. I challenged Tara. You'll be able to read her reply on her blog. Prompt will be at the end.

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talking to one's self:

Oh God, she's singing. AGAIN! Doesn't she ever get tired of hearing her voice? I know I do. I just want to sleep and she insists upon screeching. I can't wait to get out of here. Just a few more days, and I'm free. I have no idea what's going to happen when I finally leave this dark, damp, musty ol' rat hole, but I don't really care as long as it means I'm far away from that incessant screeching of hers. 

Chinese takeout again? That's the third night this week she's had Chinese takeout. It wouldn't be so bad if she got it from that place down the block, but noooo she has to be all snooty and order in from that place on the other side of town. Just because she likes their fortune cookies better. How did I end up with these people? 

It has to get better though, right? What the?! Will you please stop poking me? Every time I get comfortable HE has to come along and start poking. One of these days he's gonna poke me and I'm gonna poke back so hard he'll never poke anyone again. Please someone make them shut up. 

Oh! What's that? That's new. I have never seen that before. I wonder what it is. Whoa! Why do I suddenly feel all floaty? What the hell did you people do to me? I have to get out of here before they kill me. I'm certain they're trying to kill me. Wha-? What was that? I thought I saw something down there. What's that noise? 

Who? Who are all of you people? Where did you come from? Hey hey put me down! Who the hell are you? Let go of me. Stop it. Don't do that. I don't want to. Please let me go. Please. I'll do whatever you want. Just please don't stick me with that thing again. Please. Ok. Ok. I'll be quiet now. I promise I'll be quiet just please don't stick that thing in me again. Where are you taking me? What's happening? Will someone please tell me what is going on? Please?

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"What is it?", I heard him say. The nurse smiled as she laid the tightly wrapped bundle on her chest. 

"It's a boy". 

Prompt: Pickles and Ice cream?! Also don't forget to check out my giveaway. There's still time to enter!

That's Why

A little late this week, but here's my weekly Indie Ink writing challenge post. This week I was challenged by Transplantedx3 and my challenge went to Allison. You'll be able to read her reply HERE. This week's reply is slightly different. It's all non-fiction; a first for me. Prompt will be at the end.

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When I first read the prompt for this week, a million and one possibilities ran through my mind, but none of them truly captured me. I was going to tell you about how every day during my first marriage my house would be filled with exotic aromas and spices as I prepared dinner. Or how the smell of bread baking in the oven was the first thing that hit you when you walked in my door. I thought about telling you how the shoes sat beside the front door in a perfectly straight line like soldiers awaiting their orders. I thought about all of the different ways I could give you a glimpse of my life, but none of it appealed to me. 

For it was all done because he said so not because I said so.

So I let the prompt float through my brain for awhile. Then finally I knew exactly what I would write about. I would tell you about how the world no longer stomps all over me. Pushing and grinding me into the ground. Then I would tell you about how much I have grown these last few months, how my confidence has improved, and how I have slowly begun to change my outlook on life. I would tell you about how for the first time in my life I have friends. Real friends who care about me, who want me to be happy, who worry if I start to get quiet. Friends who don't let me wallow and call me out when I'm pouting and feeling sorry for myself. As I thought about the reasons why my life and the people around me suddenly seem so very different I realized:

It was all because I said so.

Prompt: Because I Said So

No Nonfat Caramel Lattes with Whip Cream For Me

After months of being away from the Indie Ink writing challenge and worrying they would kick me out forever because I wasn't able to participate, I am finally getting back on the II bandwagon. To get my feet wet again, Feisty Cat challenged me. The prompt was "no fancy espresso drinks for you". My challenge went to Wendryn. You can read her reply HERE because she's  super fast like that. I actually wrote this the first month I started blogging back when I had two followers who were actually the same person but I pretended they weren't just so I could say I had TWO followers instead of just one with two ID's. When I saw the prompt I immediately thought of this post and since most of everyone hasn't read it I thought I would jazz it up a bit and use it for the prompt because it really just fits that well.

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In life, we wear many labels simultaneously. Some out of choice. Others come as part of a package, and some just because we have to.

What are my labels?

I am southern and redneck.

I know who the Cable Guy is and how to Get Ir Done

I also know the meaning of "Here's your sign"

I know duct tape will fix anything and Monday morning is the best day to find "good furniture" at the dump.

I have been snipe hunting, and for $49.99 I will take you and two of your best friends. (Half off to anyone who has been before but just wants their friends to enjoy the thrill)

I have eaten frog legs, squirrel, rabbit, deer, and snake.

I am muslim.

I wear a veil.

I pray in Arabic.

I don't believe in ritualized dogma of religion, but I believe in the spirituality of it.

I also believe everyone must find their own path and what is right for me may not be right for you.

I am a mother.

I do not get awakened from a deep sleep by two little eyes staring at me and a small voice whispering "Are you asleep?"

I do not have to repeat myself ten times to take out the trash.

I do not get to hold my children when they have bad dreams.

I do not get to wipe their tears when they fall down trying to learn something new.

I am female.

I prefer doc martins and rodeos to high heels and Rodeo Drive.

I don't wear makeup or jewelry.

I haven't had my hair cut by a professional for almost ten years.

I only found out last year that Jimmy Choo wasn't a man and Lady Gaga wasn't the newest Teletubby.

I am unschooled.

I didn't finish highschool, but I have my GED.

I taught myself to read and write in Arabic and Urdu and now work as a translator.

I speak 3 languages. My pronunciation might be horrible but I can make myself understood.

I am not an expert but I know how to design a website and can use HTML and CSS.

I am a wife.

I love it when my husband asks me to make him a cup of tea.

I love being able to look across the room and see him busily working on his latest project.

I love that he allowed me to be a part of his world without trying to change me.

I love that he protects me from the big bad world and wouldn't think twice about cutting anyone in half who tried to hurt me.

I am a friend.

I can be your shoulder to cry on.

I am caring and non judgmental

I get when you just need someone to "listen" and aren't really interested in "advice"

I might call you a bitch but I will bitchslap anyone else who even thinks it.

These are only a few of the labels I wear. While they are common everyday labels worn by millions of others, I wear them much differently than most. At times, they are burdens, heavy and difficult to carry. Then suddenly their load lightens. Sometimes it's because someone offers a helping hand. While other times, I change my point of view and what once was burdensome becomes a blessing. Regardless of where I go or what I do, these labels will follow me. My light in the darkness. My constant companions. They are more than just labels.

They are me.

Peek a Boo Guess Who

I know I have been scarce. Who am I kidding? I have been comatose the last month, but I am taking a much needed break. I have so much going on outside of blogsphere. If I even attempted to add blogging to it, then most likely I would end up in a padded cell somewhere. Although a padded cell does have its good points at the moment. Hmm I will have think about that one. 

Anyways the point of breaking my coma to pop in is to tell you that I am being featured over at Indie Ink today. So if you're free pop over there and take a peek. Read my article on Beauty in the Eye of the Beholder

Not sure exactly when my coma is going to end and when I will be back but hopefully it will be soon. I miss you all and miss reading your blogs. I am still available for cover designs, so if you're in need just email me and I will get back to you.

Shameless Self Promotion

http://indiedesignz.blogspot.com/

I am so totally pimping myself out today which is not something I am good at. I always feel a little dirty and cheezy whenever I do stuff like this especially considering how lazy and off topic I have been about posting this month. Usually Lizzy does this for me. She is a good pimp and an even better writer. So here goes nothing, you may or may not know that in my life outside the blogsphere I am a freelance graphic designer.  I along with my husband own a little graphic design company. We mainly design for companies, billboard ads, storefront signage, business cards, logos, letterheads, etc. Then when I began blogging a few months ago one of the very first people I met was Lizzy She is an amazingly talented new author and I instantly became addicted to the crack she was selling in the form of books. (on a side note her books are free at the moment so if you're looking for some awesome reading then check her out)

How she and I came upon the subject of cover designs, I am not sure, but we did and so I started designing her book covers. She has stroked my ego so much not only did it cause my head to swell but she was the support behind me starting my little side business called Indie Designz. 

I created a separate blog for Indie Designz which you can check out if you want. I don't really plan on posting there. I made it so that I could have pricing pages, service pages, and as a way of keeping my designs in one place without them getting lost in the mess, but if someone took pity on it and wanted to follow it just so it isn't lonely I would be ever so grateful.

I have been doing this for awhile now but haven't actually mentioned it openly on this blog. Although I do have the little blurb at the top, but I thought I would throw myself out there. Even if you're not looking for a cover artist, but just a regular follower of this blog, then I hope you will at least check out the designs, feedback is always welcomed on my work. I love getting feedback because it helps me to improve.

Here is a sample of my latest work for Lizzy. For more samples and pricing check out my Indie Designz blog:

Mind Cafe is scheduled for re-release at the end of June. Join Lizzy's mailing list to receive updates regarding Mind Cafe as well as Lizzy's other books.

Under Appreciated Over Qualified

It's Monday so you know what that means. It's Indie Ink writing time. I suddenly feel like PeeWee Herman just said the word of the day and I should scream or something lol. When I first saw this week's challenge, I was a bit stumped. It was simple but yet not so I wasn't sure exactly what to do with it, but as soon as I sat down to write the words just wrote themselves. As always your feedback is most welcomed!! My challenge this week came from Jan. She challenged me to write about "a confrontation at work with your boss". I challenged Seeking Elevation. You'll be able to read the reply later this week HERE

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 "Doesn't she ever get tired of hearing herself talk?" I wondered as the sound of her voice drifted in from down the hall. It seems she never shuts up. She is always going on about something. Some days it is more than I can take. What was I thinking when I took this job. I must have been insane to think that I could do this. Why didn't I become a doctor like everyone expected me to? Oh no I knew better than all of them. I had to follow my dreams, follow my heart. How silly that seems now sitting here listening to my boss screaming for the umpteenth time today. I don't even know what it's about this time. Everything I do just seems to be wrong. No matter how hard I try she just never seems to be satisfied with my work. Now after only two years of being in this job, I am really starting to doubt my own abilities. I think it's time I did something else, but how?

 I could hear the sound of her voice getting louder as she grew closer to my door. Before I knew what was happening I flung the door open and just began screaming at her. Even as I heard the sound of my own voice ringing in my ears, I couldn't believe that it was me. Two years worth of frustration came pouring out of me and for the first time all day, she was silent. She just stood there.Staring at me with her eyes unblinking. 

When finally there were no more words left in me, I too stood there in silence. Not quite sure what had just happened. Not quite sure what I should do next. That is when she finally got up the courage to speak to me, "Mommy mad at me?" she whispered as the tears began to spill from her big brown eyes. 

I scooped her up in my arms and buried my face into her neck. Inhaling her innocence, "No sweetness, Mommy is so sorry for yelling at you. Can you forgive Mommy? How bout we have Italian today for lunch? Your favorite, what do you say?" 

"Sketti? Me eat sketti?" she asked, still not quite certain what had just taken place. "Yes, you eat sketti. Come on, you can help me make the sauce". As I buckled her into her booster seat and a big smile replaced her tears, I realized I might just be doing an ok job after all. 

"Wuv you mommy". 

"Mommy wuvs you too sweetness".

Teleporting Hindsight

Ordinarily I have my Indie Ink writing challenge up by Monday, but apparently the bloggy gods decided that I needed a bit of  bloggy break. On Monday I participated in Alex's blogfest, but before I could visit everyone my internet decided to go on sabbatical and stayed there for the next 24 hrs. Then when it finally decided it was rested and ready to work, the transformer blew in our area and the entire city was without electric for the next 24 hrs. Well it would come and go but never long enough for me to get online. So to all of my new followers I apologize for being such a poor hostess and to those who commented from the blogfest I promise I will get by to visit you in the next day or so. My challenge this week came from Heather. She challenged me to write a letter to myself 10 yrs ago. (ie if I am 26 now then write to my 16 yr old self). My challenge went to Trish. You'll be able to read her reply HERE

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Dear Me, 

I realize it must be a shock to read this. After all, it's from me. I mean you. I mean well the you that you will be ten years from now. Damn, this is harder than I thought it would be. Let me start again.

So much has changed in these ten years. They haven't yet been able to transport a human back in time but they have had success in transporting objects. I volunteered because I wanted to let you know that a lot of shit is about to happen. It's not going to be easy on you. I don't want to tell you what's coming because I don't want to alter the person you become, but I just want to let you know that you turn out pretty damn good if I do say so myself. Which I do btw. You make a lot of mistakes. You do a lot of things you will wish you could change, but you learn from those mistakes. You make your life better. You make you better, and the most remarkable thing of all is you survive. You build a life, and you become happy within yourself. You find that inner peace that you have been searching for. Things are still difficult, but yet that's ok. You're ok.

So I just wanted to let you know that there will come a day when things are "better". When things don't look so dark.So just hold on. Be patient, and most of all don't forget to breathe. I'll be here waiting for you. You're not alone.

You're not alone. 

Love always, 

The You that You Become

Becoming Sam- Indie Ink

It's that time again. Indie Ink weekly writing challenge. This week my challenge came from myplaidpants. No that is not a euphemism. It's an amazing blog that you must check out. Every week these challenges get harder and harder. This week was no exception. Entwined. That is my challenge so here goes. My challenge went to SUPERmaren. Yes she is that SUPER. Her reply will be up HERE later. 

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"Will you hold still for a minute?! It's difficult enough without you wiggling." 

"It itches. I told you to tell them about my sensitive skin. They were suppose to use the 100 thread count on the inside so it wouldn't itch so much".

"Don't roll your eyes at me like that."

I miss you, Sam. How am I suppose to go on without you? It's like a part of me is missing now. The best part. I can't open a photo album without your face staring back at me from each polaroid captured moment. You were always there, but now you're not and I don't know what to do. You were the leader.  I just followed you. You showed me how to live life. How to love. How to not be afraid of living. How do I live now? 

"Jamie? Sweetie? How you holding up? You okay?" 

"Yea Aunt Sarah, I'm fine". 

"Good, dear. Here have another slice of pound cake. Why, you're nothing but skin and bones. We need to fatten you up". 

Aunt Sarah means well. They all mean well, but none of them know what to say. Actually that's not true. They do know what to say, but they are afraid to say it. At least, with their words any ways. They had said it a million times with their eyes and subtle nods. They think I don't see, but I do. It should have been me. That is what they are thinking, but no one will say it. Sam was the pretty one. The smart one. The one that was going places. I was just the tag along. From the moment Sam moved to our street we became friends. I think she took pity on me. Sitting all alone on the front step, staring at the other kids playing hop scotch in the street. She walked right past them and sat down beside me on the step. 

"Want some candy?" she blurted out like we had known each other forever. From that until five days ago we were inseparable, now we were forever parted. I had never felt so lost before. I needed air. Without realizing where I was going, I walked out the front door. I could hear Aunt Sarah's voice trailing behind me, but I didn't stop to catch the words or throw back a reply. Before I knew what I was doing I found myself at the Cove. Sam and I spent many a summer's night at the Cove. Sitting on the rocks, with the frothy sea water tickling our feet. The void inside of me eased a little as the salty sea air filled my lungs.

Light faded into darkness, but I remained steadfast on my perch. As I stared into the inky waters, a clarity like no other overcame me. I knew exactly what I must do. It should have been me, and now it would be. I jumped off my perch with absolute certainty. That was the moment of my death and rebirth.

I couldn't save Sam from herself, but I could let her live. I could live for her. As her. From that day forward, I did just that. It's the reason I became a writer so that I could tell her story. Our story. It was my way of doing for her all the things I could never do or say when she was with me. I don't know if she can see me from where she is, but a part of me feels her and knows that she is happy with the life I gave her.

After all, isn't that what friends are for?

Apocalypse - Indie Ink

 My weekly Indie Ink writing challenge. This week's challenge came from Tobie. The minute I read the challenge I knew exactly what direction I would go. Hopefully I did justice to the challenge which is "It's the end of the world as we know it". This week my challenge went to Mare. You'll be able to read the reply once it's up HERE

This post is fictional but it is based upon the emotions and feelings I went through caused by the abuse I survived at the hands of my father.


Trigger Warning: This post contains graphic detail of child sexual abuse. If this is a trigger for you, then please stop reading now

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I almost didn't recognize the image that stared back at me from the shop's window. The face was pale. Eyes were hollow and sunken in, rimmed by black circles from countless sleepless nights. I didn't always look like this. I use to be beautiful. I use to be clean, but now things had changed. Looking at the watch on my wrist, I realized I needed to hurry or else I wasn't going to make it on time. Today was not a day I could afford to be late. 

"Don't shut the door" I shouted as I saw Marcy about to go inside. "I'm here". 

"It's about time", she said. "I thought you weren't coming."

"Is she here?" I asked. 

"Yea, she's been asking where you are." 

"Thanks. I better go find her then before she changes her mind."

As I entered the dimly lit room, I searched the dirt stained faces for June. Finally I saw her standing in the corner, waiting. I saw the relief wash over her as her eyes found me. I managed a half smile and a wave. 

"We all here now?" Marcy asked. "Okay then. Let's get started. June, whenever you're ready."

We had been meeting in this abandoned warehouse every Wednesday for more than six months now. How we all had found each other is still a blur in my mind. Somehow we just seemed to be drawn together like magnets after the "Event" occurred. We each had lived through it and needed to tell our story. We needed to be heard and the only ones to listen were those who had lived through it too. I will never forget that day. How one minute the sky was blue, the grass was green, the air crisp and fresh. Then in an instant, a darkness came across the sky. The grass died and withered away. The taste of metal fell upon my throat as I sucked tainted air into my lungs. Nothing would ever be the same again. 

When June squeezed my hand for comfort, I could feel the dampness of her palm. "Go ahead" I urged her on. She licked her lips, trying to moisten them, but her tongue was too parched. Not even the Nile could quench the thirst that lived inside of her. Inside of all of us. 

"I was six the first time", she said. Her words barely a whisper. "He gave me a lollipop and told me that my mom had asked him to "check" that I was ok. He said I might have something wrong with me and he needed to see if I was normal. He made me lie down on the sofa. I wasn't afraid at all. I just remember thinking how sweet that lollipop was, and then suddenly I felt his hand sliding up my leg. Moving aside my Barbie panties. His finger searching, probing. My body became tense and he told me to relax. That it wouldn't hurt, but that he had to find out if anything was wrong with me. If I didn't let him, then my mommy would be mad at me. I let my body relax a bit. I didn't want to get in trouble. That morning my mom had yelled at me for not picking up my toys. I didn't want to make her angry again. That is when I felt his fingers enter inside of me. Like a serpent I felt them wiggling inside of me. Devouring my innocence. Eating me from the inside out. I held my breath, praying for it to end. I must have closed my eyes because I suddenly felt his lips moving beside my ear. Felt the wetness of his tongue on my cheek. I never ate lollipops again after that day."

As I sat there beside June, looking at the trail the tears had washed clean on her dirt laden face, I saw my own reflection staring back at me. We had survived the apocalypse, but not the aftermath. The day each of us met Father Joe was the day the world as we  knew it ended.

When I Grow Up- Indie Ink

My weekly Indie Ink writing challenge. I must say I am loving these challenges. They are forcing me out of my comfort zones and making me flex my writing muscles which I love. I also am reading some amazing people and learning so much. This week will be my first nonfiction submission.  My challenge this week came from Joelyn. The challenge was to finish this sentence, "When I was younger I wanted to grow up to be....and then share why and what you have become today. I challenged Dili. You can read his reply here. 

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When I was younger I wanted to grow up to be a dancer, but not just any dancer. No pole was going to suit my dreams. I wanted to dance in the Alvin Ailey dance theatre. From the time I could walk, I started dancing. Dance was my escape from reality. It was the one thing that was all mine. The one thing that no one could take from me. I never told anyone of my dreams. I never allowed anyone to see how naturally talented I was. It was mine and as long as I kept it a secret, then it would remain mine.

I use to sneak off into the woods with my 80's silver boombox. I would turn the music up loud and then I would fly. That is what it felt like when I danced. I felt free, alive, clean. I would spend hours back there in solitude, flying. When darkness forced me to find my way back down to the earth, I would close my eyes and dream of soaring high up in the sky. 

However, like many other things in my life, my dream was to be taken from me. In a single moment, it ceased to exist. It was ripped from my grasp. Even though I tried to deny that it had been stolen from me, a part of me knew. A part of me knew that it was gone and nothing I could do would ever bring it back. 

I often wonder if the other driver knows that she committed murder that day. Simply because she thought herself too important to stop at the stop sign. Even though my dance existed only within me, I grieved its loss the way one grieves the passing of dear loved one. I remember lying in the hospital bed watching PBS tears streaming down my face. I had been waiting for this special for weeks, but now it was bittersweet to watch. When the nurse came in, I pretended to be in pain. Even though my dream had died, I still did not want anyone to touch it. Their touch would taint it and it was the one thing in my life that was pure. I wanted it to remain pure. 

Eventually I would learn to walk again even though my left leg is now permanently shorter than my right. Although I will never dance again; whenever a song comes on the radio, I close my eyes and fly.

Indie Ink - Waltz with Me

 My weekly Indie Ink writing challenge. This week I had kinda difficult time. Not sure if I fulfilled the challenge, but this is what I heard as scary as that is. Apparently I am channeling Stephen King because I have been dark the last couple challenges. This week I was challenged by Melissa who definitely provided me with a challenge. She asked me to listen to a piece of Franz Schubert's music and to then write a poem or flash fiction piece inspired by it. My challenge this week went to Cope. You'll be able to read the reply here.

What’s the matter dear? You haven’t touched your dinner. Eat up. I have something special planned for after dinner. There there now. Stop crying and drink your wine. Oh I almost forgot.  How’s that? It’s your favorite, isn’t it? I remember the first time I saw you listening to it. The way you sat there on the sofa. Your eyes closed. You tilted your head back ever so slightly. You allowed the music to encompass you. For the life of me I cannot understand how a woman of your caliber ended up with a bafoon like him. He is so beneath you.

Shhh darling. Here. Let me feed you. Open wide. Yes, that’s a good girl. Listen at that violin. Isn’t it marvelous? I do my best work to this piece. That is why I chose it specifically for you. You’re the most spectacular specimen I have found. Only the best for you, dear. There now. See that wasn’t so bad now, was it? How was the duck? Exquisite, no? Jean makes the best confit of duck. She would be pleased to know I had chosen it for your last meal. 

Stop blubbering. You’ll ruin your make up.  Now just let me clear these dishes away. Guess what’s for dessert? Strawberry cheesecake. I know how much you love strawberry cheesecake. I picked the strawberries fresh this morning from the garden just to make this for you, darling. Aren’t you going to thank me? Of course not, you’re a selfish sniveling cunt who only thinks of herself, aren’t you? If you hadn’t been so selfish, then you might not be in this predicament, but no, you couldn’t hold the door for me when I specifically asked you to. You were too wrapped up in that snot nosed brat that was pawing at you. Women are all the same. No matter how much you give to them, they never appreciate it.  I worked hard all day preparing all of your favorite foods and you have yet to thank me.

All you can do is blubber like a cow. Filthy animals. Are you a cow? Of course you are. You let those brats feed on you like little baby cows. In that case, it seems only fitting I have them for my dinner tomorrow night. I mean you raised them like cows so why shouldn’t I treat them like cows? Ahh, do you hear that? Do you hear how elegantly the bow slides across the strings? Shhh this is my favorite part. Listen. It is orgasmic, don’t you think? 

I fancy myself an artist. Most are not capable of understanding the complexities of my work. I don’t hold this against them. It isn’t their fault their parents were unclean and therefore destined them to a life of inferiority. I see the world as it truly is.  I do not allow myself to become burdened by the day to day frivolities the way others do. This is why I must do my work. To free them. Like this poor troubled soul that sits before me.  Awww, it ended. You know what that means don’t you? Your end has come too.  Shh, this will only hurt for  a moment.

This Needs Work -Indie Ink

It's time again for the weekly Indie Ink writing challenge. This week I was challenged by the lovely alyssa from alyssagoesbang. The challenge she gave to me was "This needs work". My challenge went to Rachel in the OC. You will be able to read her reply on her blog HERE

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Jamie was a naturally, talented sculptor. That is why when Jamie locked herself in her studio and stopped answering the phone, everyone assumed she was just working on her next piece. She would always lock herself away from the world when she was in the "zone". However, John, her twin brother, felt something different about this piece. He didn't know what it was. It was just a feeling. He and Jamie had never really shared that twin thing people always talked about, but suddenly it seemed to be kicking in. 

After being unable to reach Jamie for more than two days, John decided to go to her studio. He just had to be sure she was ok. The pit in his stomach continued to grow as he approached the front door of the studio. From outside he could hear the music blaring that she played as she worked. John knocked on the door, but Jamie didn't answer. He tried to listen for sounds inside the studio, but the music drowned out any sound that may have been within the studio's walls. Uncertain of what to do next, John suddenly found himself kicking in the door of Jamie's studio. He knew she was going to be angry, but the pit in his stomach just wouldn't let him leave. 

As soon as he entered the studio, John knew something was wrong. He couldn't see Jamie anywhere. There were no signs she had been working on a new sculpture. He slowly made his way to the back of the studio. Jamie had made that area into living quarters for when she was in the "zone". 

At first John couldn't figure out what was happening. Jamie was sitting on the edge of the bed. He could hear her muttering, but was unable to hear what she was saying. He reached over and turned off the stereo. The studio fell instantly quiet. 

"Jamie, are you ok?" he asked. "Jamie, it's John. I was worried about you. I just wanted to be sure you were ok". 

Jamie didn’t move. She just sat there, frozen.  As John made his way around to where Jamie sat, her words became clear. 

“It just needs a little work. Then I’ll be perfect”. 

It was all John could do not to vomit when he saw what Jamie had done to herself. He took the bloody sculpting tool from her hand and raced to the bathroom to grab some towels. He began applying pressure to the gaping holes Jamie had cut in her body. 

“It’s going to be ok Jamie. We’re going to get you help”. John tried to sound calmer than he felt. Frantically he dialed 911. “Please hurry” he whispered into the phone. 

The ambulance arrived within minutes although it seemed like hours had passed since he entered the studio and found his sister covered in blood caused by her own hand. Jamie was taken into surgery immediately upon arrival at the hospital. John was told to wait in the family waiting area. 

He collapsed into an empty chair as soon as he walked into the room. The full weight of the day’s events filled his mind and a long forgotten memory flashed before his eyes. He could see his 13 year old self sitting on the sofa in the living room of the family home. Jamie was standing in the center of the room, naked. He could hear the voice of their drunken father as he mocked and laughed at Jamie. Poking at her body. Grabbing at her breasts. Licking the tears that slid down her cheeks. Even though John always kept his eyes tightly shut during these sadistic inspections of Jamie’s body, he could hear the slurred words of his father, “This here needs a little work and then you’ll be perfect”. 

Lost in the past, John didn’t hear the nurse enter the waiting area. He nearly jumped out of the chair as she gently touched him to gain his attention. “Your sister’s out of surgery. There will be a lot of scarring, but she is going to live”. 

“When can I see her?” John asked. “Please I need to see her. Just for a moment.” 

“Ok” the nurse seemed to understand the unspoken plea in John’s voice. “But just for a minute. She is sedated and probably won’t even know you’re there”. 

“It’s ok. I just need to see her”. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he entered the hospital room where his once beautiful sister lay. Bandages covered almost every inch of her face, arms, neck and chest. He quietly approached her bed and leaned over her, kissing her softly on the head. Just like he did whenever their father would leave the room and he would grab the afghan off the sofa and wrap around Jamie’s exposed body. Even though he knew Jamie couldn’t hear him, he said the words anyways.

 “You’re perfect just the way you are. I will never let you forget again. I love you, my beautiful sister”.  

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V (iew through a child's eyes)

This is my third week participating in the Indie Ink Writing Challenges. There are some amazingly talented writers there. This week I received my challenge from Andrea. My challenge was "you're 12 and got the task at school to write about your family". I challenged Leah and you'll be able to read her reply at her blog here.Your feedback is always welcomed.

Growing up living in my grandparents house, we didn't have much. There was no indoor plumbing. Instead you just picked an unused spot out back in the weeds. If you had to go at night, there was an old tin can at the end of the front porch. It was too dangerous at night to use the weeds. A snake might crawl up your pant’s legs and try to take a bite outta ya. At least that is what Pa use to say.

 I wasn’t allowed to use the weeds at night.

Our water came from a well at the side of the house. In the winter it would have to be heated on the stove. Then Ma would quickly fill the bathroom sink so I could take a bath.

It was fun when Ma helped me wash my hair.

We didn’t have a normal washing machine. Instead we had one of those old timey ringer washing machines. My arm got caught in that thing more times than I can remember trying to get the sheets through the ringer. We also didn’t have a dryer so clothes had to be hung out on the line.

 Sheets take a long time to dry in the winter.

You also had to be careful where you walked. Some of the floor boards weren’t too sturdy and you could fall through. Like the time my uncle forgot and stepped on the wrong one and fell through the attic. I never laughed so hard in all of my life. Me standing at the bottom of the stairs looking up at his legs dangling through the ceiling. Him yelling at me to get Pa. Me doubled over, tears streaming down my red face, trying my best to suck air back into my lungs. I thought I was gonna suffocate right there.  Finally, air seeping into my lungs just as Pa came to see what all the ruckus was about.

Times were tough. Dinner sometimes was just cornbread and buttermilk. I liked those nights the best. Filling my glass up with ice cold buttermilk. Then crumbling the freshly baked cornbread into it. After each spoonful, taking a bite out of a crisp green onion that I had just picked from the garden. Much better than the nights when we had poan bread and salmon patties.

I didn’t like poan bread. I tolerated the salmon patties.

Saturdays were the best. Pa and I would go to visit Pa’s sister, Aunt Giddie. Her house smelt like dog piss, but she made the best turnip greens and macaroni salad I had ever eaten in my whole life. As soon as she would hear our car pull in the driveway, she would start fixing my plate. By the time I walked in the door, she would be saying, “There’s a plate on the table fer yee. Help yurself. The rest is on the stove”.

 Aunt Giddie didn’t get any visitors except on Saturdays when Pa and I went there. I didn’t really like Aunt Giddie, but if I went there, then she would always let me take an extra piece of chocolate pie home with me for later. Along with a big bowl of macaroni salad.

 I loved macaroni salad.

Some people called us poor. Others called us “white trash”. I didn’t mind because on Sundays I got to go exploring in the woods or fishing with Ma, and when we would get back, there was Aunt Giddie’s extra piece of chocolate pie waiting on me, and sometimes Ma would even make her homemade banana pudding.

Homemade banana pudding is my favorite. It's the only dish Ma knew how to make.

Psht

This is for the weekly Indie Ink writing challenge. This week I was challenged by an extremely talented writer alyssa at alyssagoesbang. I have to admit I cheated just a teensy bit on this challenge. The challenge was to look to my LEFT and write about the first blue thing I saw, but to my left is a wall that is painted completely WHITE with nothing blue on it whatsoever. So I looked to my RIGHT and saw well something blue. I am not telling what because I don't want to spoil the surprise. The story below is fiction but it is based on a real event. Only the names have been changed to protect the innocent and the guilty. These are their stories.  Oh and I challenged Andrea. You'll be able to read her reply there." 

PS I am trying to use dialogue which I am pretty weak at using so any tips, feedback, suggestions are most welcomed. 

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Psht! Psshht! Psshht!

"Where did he go? Do you see him?" I asked Shane, who by now is doubled over laughing so hard tears are streaming down his face.

"He ran in the other room", he manages to blurt out in between fits of laughter.

"I cannot believe he did this again. I swear he does it just to piss me off. He knows he isn't allowed in there so why does he keep doing it?"

I put the can down and begin picking up the panties that Uncle Fez had scattered about the room. "Stupid idiot", I mutter as I pick up the last of them and put them back in the drawer. "I swear if he does this again, I am going to do more than get the can after him."

"Awww, Nina. Don't be so hard on him.  It's not a big deal,".

"Not a big deal?! I'd like to see how you would react if it were your underwear he kept trying on instead of mine."

"You're just jealous that he looks better in them than you do".

"Oh really! Well for your information, that pair he had on just now? I just bought those today and was planning on surprising you later. Guess which one of you WON'T be getting in my panties today?" 

Just as I turn to walk out of the room, Uncle Fez runs passed me, headed straight for my panties drawer. 

I grab the can off the dresser.Psht! Psht!  Terrified, Uncle Fez runs between Shane and me, and disappears into the guest room down the hall.

"He did it again, and right in front of me this time!" I scream at Shane, "Will you do something? Please? He's more afraid of you than he is me. Besides, aren't you a little jealous he gets in my panties more than you do?"

"Ok! Ok! Give me the can. I will go see if I can get him to give them back.".

"Thank you."  

 As Shane takes the can out of my hand, I kiss him lightly on the cheek. "My hero," I say in my most southern accent. He rolls his eyes and then starts to laugh again."I never in my whole life saw a cat so afraid of a can of air freshener before," he says as he walks down the hall towards the guest room where the extremely naughty  Uncle Fez is hiding and  protectively guarding the latest addition to his prized Victoria's Secret panty collection . 

Please visit indie author Lizzy Ford's site. She has just released her April free ebook novel, The Warlord's Secret. 

Synopsis of “The Warlord’s Secret:”

Rissa, the tormented Warlord of Tiyan, struggles to protect her people and Tiyan’s magical springs against enemies led by the King of Landis and traitors within her own walls.  She must also protect the secret of Tiyan’s magic and the source her ultimate doom: read more..