'Portraits of Us'

Throwback Thursday! Well actually all of these entries have been throwbacks since Writers Digest haven't posted any prompts lately. But... I did write something new today! <(See I insert that little symbol when I'm excited.) During work, yes work because all I do is think of writing, I wrote a childrens story called Purple Pigs. I figured that you can't lose in writing bedtime stories, since that is the only genre where it's a Good thing if your audience falls asleep to your work. Smart guy huh¿ <(Thats my symbol for a Rhetorical Question.) But I liked it, and you will be the first to read it. I will release it tomorrow, so make sure that you swing back by. It's a cute story... ANYWAYZZZ, Todays post is part 3 and the last part of the Story I posted yesterday. I believe the prompt was write a story mentioning snow, ex friend, and a picture frame. So I decided to connect it to Silent Night and Love Hurts. So here you go, and again, Thanks for your time.

                                  'Portraits of Us'

Even after what she put me through on our ‘Midnight Movie’, and my hallucination of the ‘Christmas Carols’, Kristina still haunted my mind. I sat there on my door steps chain smoking menthols until my throat was Sahara dry, and my fingertips reeked like burnt popcorn. I missed her… like I was aiming to forget her. Everything reminded me of her, even sitting on the steps smoking; she hated when I smoked in the house, so it’s been routine that I take my habit outside. The stars reminded me of her eyes, which sounds like a corny cliché from an airport novel, but it’s true… her eyes really did twinkle. I was in dire need of a wish right now… I had to see her.

I parked two blocks away from her residence and sat there for a while. I stepped out once but quickly jumped back inside my car. I felt so dumb for doing this, but love tends to make people stupid… She had me dumbfounded. Finally I took a deep breath like I was about to perform a cannon ball, and stepped outside. The wind chill attempted to slap some sense in me, but I was too far gone. I took each step with regret but reminded myself that I had come too far to turn around now. Maybe if I just peeped through her window, just for a glance, my heart would be satisfied and I could return home. I knew just the window to sneak towards, since she always read in her guest room before she went to bed. I just hoped that she hadn’t already gone to sleep.

I slid my feet in the three inch snow to prevent from leaving a footprint; a silly trick I had seen on ‘Law and Order’. I could feel my heart beat bicycle kicking through my hooded Carhart jacket. My popcorn fingertips felt like metal when I rubbed them together for heat, but still I had come too far to let Mother Nature hold me back. I could see her hair in the window like a set of jet black curtains. I dropped the ground instantly, thinking that she was looking out the window; maybe she had heard me sliding my size thirteen boots. Snow flew up my shirt when I fell prone; leaving my chest freezing with ice dripping into my jeans… this was bad.

When I looked up at the window I felt stupid realizing that she actually had her back to the window. I shook my head at my stupidity and snow shot from my earlobes. She was holding something in her hand, viewing it. I crouched and duck walked over to get a closer look; the whole footprint idea was history now. It looked like a card but I wasn't sure, so I eased my face closer to the glass. I was so close that I could actually smell her. Oh how I've missed that smell, untill I remembered the last time I was graced with her aroma, and it didn't end well. I zoomed in with my Kodak and my face melted when I saw what she was holding. It was a picture of us that we took when we visited Chicago… It all was worth it now.

'Silent Night'

     Hump Day has arrived and gone for most of us, so I hoped you enjoyed. How was my day? oh, well since you asked, it was horrible! Well, I don't want to exagerate and eventually jenks myself to have a bad Thursday. But todday... today just wasnt a comfortable day. Sprinted a mile and a half for PT. Not really sure if I'm physically fit for this Airforce life... even after 6years lol. But back to the Blog... Today's entry is a sequel to an earlier post titled 'Love Hurts'. Remember that? You better! When I wrote it for Writers Digest, it was originally named Midnight Movie, and there are a few references to that title in this entry. So look out for that. I made 3 parts to this little story, and I was quite proud of myself. I was taking the random prompts and connecting them to the same story. I forgot the details of this particular prompt, but it was something about a Christmas Carol... so here we go... 'Silent Night'.

                                                             'Silent Night'


    

One of my eyes opened slowly and scanned my surroundings, while informing the other eye that the coast was clear. I was lying on the floor with my door wide open. Thankfully Kristina and her crazy ex had left. I felt a small gash on my forehead as I sat up trying to gather my thoughts. Maybe it was the hit on the head, or my pride dissolving, but I could hear Christmas carols; surely I wasn't struck that hard.

“Silent night... Holy night...” echoed through my head in an angelic tone. I wondered if my mind was playing tricks on me, or was it really somebody in my house singing. After that horrible 'Midnight Movie' the last thing I was in the mood for was a chant of holiday spirit.

I stood up and walked to the front door, the December draft was painful against my new wound but I was startled by a group of kids staring straight up at me. Their eyes judged me pathetically; I guess they had witnessed the previous altercation. I could still hear the Christmas carol, but their mouths weren't moving. Maybe I was too far away, or maybe my eyes weren't fully functioning yet.

“All is calm... All is bright..."

I stood in the doorway and lit a cigarette. The nicotine rushed through my veins and eased my pain immediately as the wind blew ashes back in the apartment... then the carols continued.

“Round yon Virgin, Mother and child”

The kids were still staring at me, still in the same position, like Macy department store mannequins. Their mouths weren't moving, but the carols continued.

"Where are their parents!?" I thought to myself. With sealed lips, and piercing pupils, they stared at me, and the carols continued. I was spooked now.

I began to circle the group. Nobody moved not even a twitch or a blink. No cold smoky breaths escaped their noses; they possessed no humanly qualities, with their angelic voices.

“Holy infant, so tender and mild”

I saw no radio, no source of this carol, but the voices continued.

“Sleep in heavenly peace”

The hair stood up on my neck like Viagra shampoo. I stared into the face of one of the children and saw no emotion, but the voices continued.

“Sleep in heavenly peace”

I reached for one just needing to feel something to assure myself that they weren't ghost. As my hand got closer to the kid my hair stood up even straighter... another four hours of that and I would need to seek medical attention. When my fingers reached a point where they should have felt resistance, they just floated through. It was like the choir was a desert mirage of a water fountain. I panicked and stepped back until I slipped on a sheet of ice. It seemed to happen in slow motion, and I braced myself mentally for impact but I suddenly woke up back on my apartment floor, with the door wide open… and cigarette ashes beside me. 

The Personality Test

    So I took this psychology class and we had to take this personality test that tells You about You. It was quite interesting to see in results what I had been feeling my whole life silently. We had to write about our results and post it on the class message board, and this following post is what I said. I saved it because I received a lot of comments from classmates saying that I'm crazy, and I need help... Serious help. Again, another result that I already knew. Anyways, Here it is... Enjoy your Tuesday Night.

                                                   The Personality Test

     So I took the Big Five Personality test, not solely because it was an assignment, but I really don’t know who I am. My amnesia and my John Doe driver’s license serve as proof. I’m just floating through life, not really knowing who I am, or what it is that I was meant to do. But after taking this personality test, I have somewhat a peep hole into my true personality.

                The results are true; I am original, creative, curious, and complex. I like to do new things in new ways and take simple ideas and make them more complex than they should be. I am relatively open to new experiences, and my curiosity for adventure will eventually become my downfall. I am extremely disorganized, you should see my house, and mentally disorganized as well. I have no idea what I am doing in life, and my mental stability has no structure. My memory consists of sticky notes peeling off of a chalk board that has been erased a trillion times. My damaged memory, and early signs of Alzheimer’s in my opinion, makes me very undependable. Please don’t request that I remind you of something… I chose to get married at the first of the month to simplify remembering it… and I still fail. 

                I’m also reserved, quiet, and extremely shy. Put me in a room of my closest friends, and I will still pick a corner to park my body and rigorously chew on my fingernails. I’m nervous, high-strung, and insecure. I always feel as if I have broccoli in my teeth, so I never smile. I never think that my outfit is socially acceptable, so I hide in shadows like a mugger hunting for confidence. Not once, sober, have I approached a woman first. I usually wait for them to approach me in my solitaire corner and provide them with short insecure answers. This is the soundtrack of my life, played at a low volume.

                To justify my impatience, I blame my father. Every time I ever asked him for anything, his reply would be always be “Tomorrow.” So now till this day, and the day after, not tomorrow, I hate the word ‘Tomorrow’. It has to happen today or never. Also maybe I could blame this poor trait on my mother who once promised me a summer vacation to Kings Dominion that never happened. I got my hopes up so high, and that free fall down destroyed all of my confidence in tomorrow; so now I never get my hopes up, and my eyebrows automatically fold and the sound of the word tomorrow. If I had 24hrs to live, I would commit suicide… that’s the severity of my impatience.

Mama Medusa

Happy Monday my 3 followers! I'm doing big things over here Woot! Woot! lol, but again, thanks for coming by, and i hope you enjoy yourself. Over the weekend I wanted to post a Saturday Poetry Night, and a Sunday Word, but time and laziness were working against me. But anywayzzzzzzzzzzz, here is another entry I did for Writers Digest, by the way, They have been slipping lately. They haven't posted any new Prompts in 2 weeks! What am I suppose to do when I run out of Stories? I guess we will cross that bridge when we get there. <Cliche. So sit back and enjoy, and thanks for loaning me 5 mins of your life... well not loaning, because you will never get these minutes back. Ciao!


The prompt was : Write a Short Story including a Mother in Law, A cut on an arm, and a Rubber chicken.

                                              Mama Medusa


     “So, let me get this straight… Your Momma-in-law comes to visit, and not even a day later she’s already man-handling you in your own house?” Deon asked with laughter flooding his voice. I sucked my teeth loudly; Deon always seemed to find humor in my troubled scenarios.

“Come on now, nobody has me shook. I wear the Levi’s in this house.” I responded.

“Then why are you whispering?” Deon said in a sarcastic whisper.

“Because I swear she is into that Voodoo black magic whatchamacallit.”

“Now Reggie, Everybody from Louisiana isn’t associated with witchcraft; stop being so stereotypical.”

“Oh yea? Then explain why I saw a rubber chicken with one foot in her luggage?”

“…”

“yea… now tell me that I’m overreacting.”

“Well for one, you ARE overreacting. Two, maybe she has a part time gig as a magician. Or better yet, maybe she supports the handicap animal movement.”

“Handicap Animal movement… Really Deon? That’s your theory, a Special Olympics for Cock-a-doodles?” We both laughed at the direction this conversation was headed. “I still think you’re overreacting, and why in the world were you snooping through her belongings anyway?” Deon asked in a detective voice. The question caught me off guard.

“No, I wasn’t snooping, I don’t have to snoop. This is…”“Reggie hold on for a sec, I have a beep. Matter of fact, let me call you back, this is my fiancé and I intend on having a honest happy marriage unlike you Dick Tracy.” I smiled as I hung up and placed the phone back on the dock. With caution I peeked down the hall to confirm that my Mother-in-law’s door wasn’t open. The last thing I need this holiday was an enraged witch brewing up my feast. I smiled gently when I saw that her door was in fact closed, but my lips lost gravity as the hinges creaked while the door slowly opened.
She was sitting on the edge of the bed staring at me with Medusa  eyes… I turned to stone; well it felt like it. She raised her hand and signaled me over with slow pulls of her trigger finger. Mama Medusa had a look on her face like a mother who had just caught her child stealing currency from her purse. I don’t recall my brain authorizing my legs to move, but they did. Suddenly I was standing at the threshold of her door… well my door; cause after all this is my house. I tried to erase the childish fear from my body, and finally stand up to this woman, but I couldn’t. My legs were on auto pilot and came to a screeching halt in the doorway. I attempted to continue in; I didn’t want to show any fear, but my legs refused. I was stuck, paralyzed; I was Christopher Reeves on my last leg. And her eyes... the look she shared with me was so horrific, as if her pupils were glowing Kryptonite green.  I gave up on moving, as if I really had a choice; I was under her spell, and Deon said I was overreacting.

“Ahhhh… it seems as if you can’t enter the room can’t cha? Maybe cuz you have an evil spirit perhaps yea?” She spoke in a scratchy tone, the voice of sick elder that had just woke up. I tried to speak, to respond to her nonsense… but I couldn’t. She stood up in a lavender dress with black roses scattered in a poke-a-dot pattern, and walked towards me. I felt my heart beat race itself in a billion yard sprint as she reached for me with a wrinkled hand. The only thing I could move were my eyes, as I focused on a small cut on her arm that seemed to absorb me.
 
As her fingertip got closer to my face, I felt my soul leave my torso and then everything faded with an exaggerated blink. The next thing I saw was my wife, reaching for me in the same posture. She was waking me up from a nightmare as sat I up quickly from the couch. I smiled at the fact that I was just dreaming… until I looked down the hall and saw my mother-in-law… sitting on the edge of the bed…  

Letters From War...

     Good afternoon my 2 followers! Thank God its Friday right?...Writeeeeeeeeee. So I'm kind of proud of myself since this is the longest I have ever stayed active with my blog, since Xanga. So cheers to me, and my lovely 2 followers, and also everyone that clicks on my Facebook link for a peek into my imgination. So this next Entry is a short story I wrote for Writers Digest, and the prompt was, Begin a story with, "You won't believe what i got in the mail today." I truly adore this story, and I'm tempted to go further with it, but only time will tell. Again, thanks for reading. R.A.W. (Read and Weep)

   


                   'Letters From War...'






     “You won’t believe what I got in the mail today.” I spoke into the phone while opening the elementary folded letter in my lap.

     “Let’s see, ummmmm, your latest subscription to Muscle Men magazine?” joked Alex. He was always finding humor out of any situation I proposed so I wasn’t caught off guard to the least.
    
     “Man I’m serious Alex.”


     “Well, I give up so tell me Mr. Sensitive.”


     “A letter from Clark.”


     “Hmmm… Ok.”


     “Man did you hear me?” I asked forcefully, fearing that Alex still wasn’t taking me seriously.


     “What’s the big deal?” Alex responded, confirming my fear.


     “He’s been dead for two months!” I almost shouted.


     “Reggie, he died in Afghanistan, and you know how mail tends to get lost over there. So again, what’s the big deal?” I sucked my teeth like a bitter child on the brink of a temper tantrum.


     “True, but the letter said Congrats on Getting Married.” I said while reexamining the single sentence note.


     “I see, well maybe he mailed it before he died.”


     “Alex, I got married three weeks ago…”


    “I know that fool, I was there. But what I’m saying is that maybe he sent the letter ahead of time, like when you told him you were engaged.”


     “He didn’t know I was getting married. I never built up the nerve to tell him since he had a thing for Shannon in the past. It just felt weird you know.”


     “Well maybe Shannon told him. How did she take the news of his death anyway?” Alex asked curiously.


     “I haven’t told Shannon that he died yet.” I responded with a slight sense of embarrassment.


     “Oh My God Reggie! How could you not tell your fiancé that her ex, your best friend, died while serving in Afghanistan? Isn’t it bad enough that you hooked up with his ex anyway?”


     “I panicked ok? I thought that if Shannon found out about his death… that maybe… the memories triggered by sympathy, would rekindle a lost flame. I dunno, I can’t explain it you know.”


     “No, I don’t know…” Alex responded, finally showing signs of seriousness.


     “Well we can discuss my moral ethics later. Right now I need you to help me figure this out, because it’s really spooking me.”


     “Calm down, maybe Shannon, courteously, told him before he died, and he mailed the congratulation ahead of time.”


     “I guess it’s possible.”


     “She had to, that’s the only non-Sci-Fi answer possible. So stop thinking weird. As much as you may deserve it, I doubt that Clark’s ghost is haunting you by way of the U.S. Postal Service.”


     “Alright man, actually Shannon is walking through the door now, so I’ll call you later.” I folded the letter back up and stuffed it into my shirt pocket. The conversation with Alex helped a little, but I was still feeling eerie about the whole situation. Ok maybe he did send it out ahead of time, but why would he mail a letter on notebook paper with one sentence so sarcastically formatted. “Congrats on getting married.” I didn’t understand it; he could have called or even emailed something like that.


     “Honey I’m home!” Shannon shouted in her usual playful voice. I could hear her setting plastic bags on the kitchen counter.


     “What? Is that phrase only male oriented?” Shannon joked while standing in the kitchen doorway. She was smiling at me and for a brief second everything was ok. Then I snapped back to the task at hand, well, at pocket. I found difficulty trying to figure out how to word my question without raising her suspicion.


     “Shannon, did you tell Clark about our marriage?” I asked gingerly, trying to avoid her alert system.


    “Of course I told him.” She responded. I felt an extreme sense of relief. I also felt stupid for my previous thoughts. A minor smile was broadcasted on my face, and Shannon returned it. I reclined back into the sofa preparing myself for the upcoming onslaught of jokes I would receive from Alex about my earlier panic attack. I didn’t care at this point, I was just glad that my silly thoughts were finally cancelled.


     “Yea, he called last week…” Shannon said as she re-entered the kitchen.

~Windy City~

Windy City

     I only came to this department store because it was recommended by a friend. He claimed that they had Ralph Lauren jeans and button down shirts half off. I know that he is a pathological liar, and normally I would’ve brushed off his words for just talk, but he was actually wearing a Polo shirt at the time; so I became victim once again to his fables.

     I saw a guy across the street as I exited the small clothing store downtown Chicago. My first thought was a sonar of embarrassment due to the fact that I was standing there holding multiple bags of fabrics, that I paid FULL price for. Here I was buying extra clothes and this homeless guy was standing across the street in his only outfit, deteriorating in this windy city. I felt like I was eating a triple whopper in the face of a starving child, or Hugh Hefner strolling by with a flock of blondes in front of a virgin. How dare I...

        I thought that I should at least go over and put money in his can which I'm sure he has. Crossing the street he started to come into my focus and I was beginning to see the true filth in his attire. His skully had holes in it and threads protruding like they were gasping for air... In this windy city. There was oil or some dark substance, maybe smut, covering his once gray sweater. But at least he had a sweater... In this windy city. His combat boots were the same color as the stains on his sweater but as dusty as his beard, and matched the holes in his skully. I could see that he didn't have socks as his big toe saw me before he did... Such a shame in this windy city.

    He was holding a cardboard sign that read, "Believe it or not, but this is actually the best day of my life." It was rude of me to ask, but my mouth opened without authorization from my brain.

    "Are you serious?" he turned his head towards me slowly and smiled.

    "Today is the day I realize my mistakes." he said showing his four teeth. I smirked and thought of it as a scam, a catchy coin collecting sign. If this guy says that standing on a curb begging for change is the best day of his life, then how could I complain about a made up clothing sale. I started to walk away but his words stalled me.

    "There is a saying that goes, the cow thought the grass was greener on the other side, till he hopped the fence and landed in Bull..."

         I felt weird. I didn't understand what that story had to do with either of our situations but I decided to entertain his nonsense with a final question.

    "So what did the cow do about his situation?"

    "That's not important... You should be asking how a cow jumped a fence..."

43

                                                                          43
      I could see myself lying on the ground looking up at a figure holding a gun to my head. In my mind I knew that I wouldn’t die… I can’t die, I’m too young; but younger people have died. Still I always feel invincible, like nothing can harm me. So I stared at this gunman with no fear, until I saw the flash. I could feel my body relax; such a soothing relaxation. My vision became blurry and everything turned white. I felt a level of disappointment because somehow I knew I was dying. How could I die? Not me! I’m never supposed to die.

     So while I rest there on that pavement, feeling my soul being sucked out of my body from the heavens… I hope it’s the heavens, I witnessed something strange. I didn’t see this next scene, nor did I hear it… but I did both. Sounds crazy I know… how can you see and hear something but not see or hear it? Weird. But this little girl walked over to my body and said that she would trade lives with me. She would sacrifice her life so that I could live. Who was this girl, I couldn’t tell you, or what she looked like. I could only see, well not see, a dress so I knew it was a girl… Wait, the dream gets more complex.

     I woke up in a dark room which I soon educated myself that it was a school. Comical irony huh, I educated myself in a school…*Drum Roll* Anyways, I quickly realized that I had to start over my life, well not start over, but continue from where that little girl left off, but I was still me… I think. There was this lady, I guess she was the head of the school, which wasn’t a typical school, because it was small and the kids and staff slept there. I told this lady, who looked to be about my age, that obviously I shouldn’t be a student since I knew this curriculum already… or did I? Anyways, I recommended that I should be a teacher also, and she granted it; probably because from the looks of it, she was the only teacher here. I ended up sleeping in her room, separate beds unfortunately. I say that because from what I felt, she was sexy. Again, I didn’t see any of this… but I saw it. So there I was sleeping next to this strange woman, in this strange place. I don’t know exactly where in the world I was, but I remember it starting with a ‘C’ and being located above Greenland and Iceland. (This morning I searched Google maps, and there is nothing above Greenland or Iceland.) I found myself in her bathroom and her phone was on the counter, an iPhone at that, and it rung. I saw the name on it, but I can’t fully remember it; all I know is that it started with a ‘D’. Some dude named ‘D’ was calling my new crush, this late at night, on her iPhone! I was slightly upset, and I walked back into the room and told her that her man was calling her. I didn’t even look at her, I just walked out of the door into the street… and it was the same street that I died on.

                So there I was, somehow back on my crime scene. And a group of people were walking towards me. I turned around a tried to run back into the school, into the arms of my cheating crush, but there was nothing behind me. A voice from the upcoming crowd called out my name in a familiar voice… it was my Mother’s voice. How could I ever forget my Mother? I turned and ran to her arms but stopped out of shock. Beside her was my Dad, who has been dead for quite some time now. But I wasn’t shocked that he was here from the dead, I was more stunned because he had a haircut… my Father never had a hair cut…ever. My Mother looked at me with loving eyes flooding with tears… Again, I saw none of this, but I could see it all. She told me that she was glad to have me back, and informed me that I was in a coma after that gunshot to the head. I stood there shocked, glancing between her and my father’s haircut, and I asked her how long I was in a coma. She told me that I was now 43 years old. My knees buckled and I hit the ground hard. No white flashes this time, I could just see myself there throwing a tantrum. How could I be 43 years old now? I don’t feel 43, and if I am, how did I miss majority of my life. Sadness… now that I think about it, I’m ashamed of my behavior in that Dreamland. I was so heartbroken over wasting most of my life in a coma, that I didn’t take time to appreciate the fact that I was actually ALIVE! And what’s even worse, is that in 20yrs, iPhones will still be around!


(S/N)- This dream emphasized on the age 43. I did some thinking, and If my Brother was still alive, he’d be 43…