Assignment #15 – Voice

Today’s Prompt: Think about an event you’ve attended and loved. Your hometown’s annual fair. That life-changing music festival. A conference that shifted your worldview. Imagine you’re told it will be cancelled forever or taken over by an evil corporate force.

How does that make you feel?

——————————————————-

For some reason, this assignment has given me absolutely no inspiration. I have racked my brain trying to think up something to write about that might show me my voice. I am curious, I want to know what my voice “sounds” like. I also want to know what it “sounds” like to those who read my stories and posts?

Do I come across harsh, negative, and abrasive?

Do I come across wishy-washy and fake?

Do I come across as a know-it-all?

Since I cannot think up something to write about that will reveal my “voice” to me, please tell me what my “voice” sounds like to you?

 

Freckles – Writing 101

Day Fourteen

Today’s Writing 101 Prompt: Pick up the nearest book and flip to page 29. What’s the first word that jumps off the page? Use this word as your springboard for inspiration. If you need a boost, Google the word and see what images appear, and then go from there.

Today’s twist: write the post in the form of a letter.

*******************************************************

Dear Freckles,

When I was small you were sprinkled across my nose and I didn’t like you. I thought you made me look ugly. People tried telling me that you were tiny kisses from the sun, but I didn’t buy it. I knew you were a gift to me from my beloved grandmother, but I wasn’t pleased with her gift.

When I was a teenager, I tried to cover you up and make my skin look flawless. I even tried to get tanned so my skin would all be the same color, and you would disappear. I tried everything to get rid of you.

As I got older you seemed to go away on your own, and in some ways, I kind of missed you. After all, you were part of my youth. You were tiny kisses of sun. You were sprinkles of love from my grandmother.

My sweet granddaughters have little traces of you scattered across their noses and I’m happy that you haven’t really disappeared and have remained in my family. I hope my granddaughters are pleased with their little sprinkled gifts from me.

In Loving Memory,


Your Face





 

Serially Lost Part 2

Writing 101 Assignment: Serially Lost Part 2

Part 1 can be found HERE.

My depression became so severe that I had a psychotic break, where my mind lost touch with reality. I was taken to Albuquerque, NM to see a psychiatrist and I was in full-blown paranoid psychosis/depression. She had me hospitalized immediately in a mental health facility. I was placed in the restricted ward of this hospital so I could be watched more carefully. This is the ward that suicidal patients were placed. Surprisingly, there were quite a few patients in this ward.

My bed was in a large room which was shared with about seven other women. The first thing the nurses did was make me strip down so they can count and note all my scars. They take away all possessions, including shoe strings. I wasn’t allowed to have anything.

As soon as I finished my incoming check with the nurses, I started pacing, back and forth – back and forth. My mind was filled with extreme worry. It felt as though the entire world was on my shoulders. It was an extremely terrifying feeling.

After a time of pacing, one of the nurses on the ward joined me and began pacing with me. At first, she said nothing, just continued to pace with me. After awhile of our silent pacing, she asked me, “What is wrong?”

I replied to her, “I can’t tell you.”

Somehow, she was able to get me to sit down at a table with her. She asked me again, “What is wrong, please tell me what is wrong.”

I answered her with what I believed, “I can’t tell you. If I tell you it will come true.”

She responded, “No, it won’t come true. I promise it won’t come true.”

I knew I had a choice, to either trust her or not trust her. I had lost trust in everyone at this point but for some reason, my inner voice told me to trust her.

“It’s the end of the world.” I said with trepidation, hoping and praying that the roof of the hospital wouldn’t fall in for saying it.

She softly answered, “No. No, it’s not. It’s not the end of the world.”

I quickly realized the world didn’t end. At that moment, I finally began my long process of healing.

The Pigeon Man – FFfAW 4-22-2015

Mica Nicholson loved pigeons. He had a morning ritual of walking to the park on the corner and feed the pigeons. The pigeons had become tame for Mica and would actually eat right out of his hand.

Every morning the pigeons could count on Mica showing up with food. Any observer could see the pigeons liked Mica for more than just as a source of food, as they would perch on the bench and hang out with him until he left for home.

Mica was emergency rushed to a hospital in London, and was unable to feed his pigeons. After one week of hospitalization, Mica was released to come home on the train.

When he arrived home and stepped off the train, he was amazed to see that Lucy was there waiting for him. Mica could feel his heart swell with joy, as Lucy perched on his outstretched arm. (150 words)

Thank you Vanessa Rodriguez for our prompt photo this week.

This is my submission for the challenge, Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers, for the week of April 22, 2015. We are given a prompt photo and 100-150 (+- 25 words) with which to write our stories.

This challenge is open to all who would like to participate. All you need to have is a desire to have fun and to write flash fiction stories. If you are interested in learning more, please click on the link:

FFfAW

 

The Conversation from Hell

Assignment #12 Writing 101


Today’s Prompt for Writing 101: Write a post inspired by a real-world conversation.

Today’s twist: include an element of foreshadowing in the beginning of your post.

*******************************

The good news is, she lives 6 hours away from me right now. The bad news is, she is moving back to my area in three weeks. I am referring to my sister. She is like a walking, living, breathing human tornado that destroys, or tries to destroy everything and everyone in her path. (I wish I were joking).

I answered the telephone this morning and the voice on the other line automatically put me on high “red-alert.”

My sister, Chauna is on the other line and she immediately informs me, “These people here are trying to declare me incompetent and take all my money away from me. They are all trying to steal from me.” (These people = her daughter, son-in-law, brother, mother).

Because I don’t believe one word of it, I say, “No, I don’t believe that. They have no reason to steal from you. Why do they need to steal from you Chauna? They have plenty of their own money.”

“Well,” she says, “I can’t explain it but they are and I’m getting the hell out of here.” (Big City). She starts whining, “They tried to steal my RV from me and now I can’t get it out of the consignment place until May 8.”

I remind her, “They put it in the consignment place because you told Rex to handle it for you because you wanted to sell it. He is just trying to sell it for you!”

Now she begins barking, “Well he didn’t ask me if he could put it in the consignment shop and now I can’t get it out until May 8. He should have asked me if he could do that. I would have told him I would only put it in the consignment shop if I could get it out anytime I wanted to.”

By this time I am getting very frustrated, “How was he suppose to know you wanted to be able to get it out anytime you want to. You don’t even have a truck to pull it with.”

Then she immediately states, “Well I might have wanted to get it out and he didn’t ask me if he could put it in there and I’m madder than hell at him.”

I ask her, “So this is all about control not really about the RV?”

“Well, maybe.” She stated, then adds, “I should have had control of that RV not Rex!”

(This horrible conversation continues for 15 more minutes then turns to something else).

After listening to her barking for 20 minutes I am really getting exasperated. She begins to tell me, “He (her daughter’s husband) has declared my daughter incompetent and has taken over all of her money.”

I am stunned, “What? Why would he do that? That doesn’t make sense!”

She further tells me, “She says that Rex will not allow her to see me anymore unless I hand over the control of all my money to him.”

I am shocked. “What?! (I highly doubt this is true). Why would he want to take control of your money? I just have a hard time believing that.”

“Well he did!” She states matter-of-factly, ” I can’t stand him. He’s a snake and I can’t stand him.”

I am really wanting this conversation to end, “So this all about the fact that you dislike Rex so much you are willing to give up your own daughter?”

“Yes, I am.” She informs me, ” I am not having him control me or take control of my money.”

I inform her, for the thousandth time, “Chauna, you have GOT to go to the doctor and get on some medicine.”

“No I don’t.” She barks, “I don’t need medicine! I need to get the hell out of here!”

“Yes, Chauna, you do.” I further remind her (once again), “You have a chemical imbalance and you need medicine to control it.”

She starts her barking again, “Everybody thinks the world’s problems can be solved with a f—ing pill!”


(OMG, Help ME! And she’s going to be here in 3 weeks)


* Names have been changed. I am not exaggerating this conversation. If anything, I have tamed it down and removed all but one of the curse words.








 

A Lesson on Buffaloes

“They followed the buffaloes and their babies along the trail heading into the woods,” Mr. Logan started to tell his students, “but first, the buffalo had been hunted to death, nearly to the point of extinction,” he said, “and they are now being raised on private ranches to bring back their numbers.”

Michael raised his hand, “Do they know what the numbers are now?”

Mr. Logan, clearing his throat, answered, “Not exactly but it is in the lower thousands and they continue to be hunted illegally.”

“If they are on private land, how are they being hunted illegally?”

“About ten years ago there were large herds on a private ranches in Wyoming.” Mr. Logan told his students. “When the ranchers noticed their numbers were dropping they set up an ambush in the woods.” He paused, then continued, “Sure enough, the poachers followed the buffaloes and their babies along the trail heading into the woods, and right into the arms of the sheriff.”

150 words

photo credit: Barbara Beacham

 

Follow the trail to Barbara Beacham’s weekly challenge, Monday’s Finish the Story. She gives us a photo prompt and 100-150 words and challenges us to write a story. People from all over the world gather here to share stories…

Trail’s End

 

Where was Home?

Today’s Writing 101 Prompt: Where did you live when you were 12 years old? Which town, city, and country? Was it a house or an apartment? A boarding school or foster home? An airstream or an RV? Who lived there with you?

**************************

When I was three and four years old we lived in house in a small town in southern New Mexico (United States). The house seemed huge to me, but I was small, so the house would now be considered small. There were several neighborhood children to play with but my best buddy was Rodney, and Rodney and I were both little three year old partners in crime.

I distinctly remember our neighbors across the street had a beautiful flower bed. What does three year olds do? They pick the flowers. The woman of the house caught me picking one of her flowers and demanded that I go straight home and tell my mother that I had picked her flower. She was an elder so I was obliged to mind her, so, I literally marched myself across the street to the back of our house, where the water heater was housed, and confessed my sin to the water heater. Then, I happily ran off to finish playing.

One beautiful summer day Rodney and I were outside playing and it was our good fortune to find a ladder standing up next to the side of the neighbor’s house. Because we were both little climbing monkeys, we climbed that ladder to the top of the house. Our mothers were outside and across the street visiting . They just happened to look up to catch sight of their 3 year old children walking all over the top of a neighbor’s roof.

I received a LOT of spankings when we lived in this house. Seems like every single night my mother would bark orders to my dad that I deserved a spanking. He would take his leather belt and slap it across my bare bottom three or four good whacks. Then he would go to the piano and play what I considered sad music.

Nevertheless, it didn’t change the fact that I continued to get whacked with a belt every single night. My mother said that she finally told my dad that they were going to have to stop beating me because it wasn’t doing any good.

I think my parents made the mistake of thinking that I had the same knowledge as they had in matters of right and wrong. They knew it was wrong to climb a ladder to the roof of the house at the age of three years old, therefore, I must know that too. I was only three years old! I had no experiences or knowledge imparted to me of the ways of the world and they were wrong in assuming that I did. I was a very curious and adventurous child and learned my lessons of right and wrong from the wrong end of a leather belt.