Short Story Saturday!

It’s hard for me to write about myself and then share it with other people. Sure I’ve put parts of myself into characters but that’s different. Not everyone knows everything about me and when I put small things like opinions or feelings in my writing someone reading it won’t always know. This is me using my safety net to break away from my comfort zone a little. Writing allows me to branch out and move forward, to grow. I’m thankful I’m a writer because it makes me feel good to write. Whenever I’ve had a rough day I can always go and write about it or just sit down and write something, and then I feel better. Writing is something that allows me to be creative and express myself. I’ve never considered myself a creative person or an artist but I’ve come to realize that there are many forms of artists; there’s painting, drawing, music, photography but mine is writing. Writing is the way I make something, and even though I rarely share all of it with people I still feel great doing it. Putting pencil to paper, fingers to keys, no matter what way it happens it clears my mind. When I write it feels like I’m taking words out of my head and putting them somewhere else. My mind is cleared and I feel better. I can escape from everything and dive into something else. I love how you can write about anything you want to. If you don’t want to be where you are in the moment you can put yourself on a beach somewhere or anywhere else you want to go. If I don’t want to be sitting at home, doing homework, I can take a break and write about being somewhere else. I could go anywhere with a piece of paper and pencil. I am thankful I’m a writer.

Short Story Saturday!- A Captivating Presence

I’m sitting a room, only lit by the almost overcast sky that shines through the windows, reading from my kindle. This is a place that, even early in the morning, explodes with chaos but today no one’s even bothered to turn the lights on. Although nothing special, like a long weekend, made this Monday morning harder than previous ones, it was clear that this sluggish mood would define the rest of the day. I'm not alone. He is also in here, the one I’ve mentioned before, pacing from instrument to instrument. My eyes follow his every move, completely forgetting my book. I try not to let him catch me watching him but I know he’s seen that I’m here. He doesn’t move like today’s a groggy Monday morning, he walks swiftly and with purpose. I suppose that’s simply his walk. A walk with meaning and destination.

He handles each instrument with careful calloused hands, and it’s beautiful. Without knowing a thing about him you can tell that his respect for each one is a mountain's worth. I’ve known him for almost four years now. We’ve played music together, in this same room, filled with other people playing too. We’ve gone to movies, walked on the beach, and sipped hot chocolate together. I have shared many deep and meaningful conversations with him and him with me. All these memories and yet I can’t find anything to say to him. I keep opening my mouth to say something but each time I bite down on my lips to close it. I really don't know what to say. Do I tell him that just his presence captivates me? I’m sitting here, my hands starting to sweat, holding another world in my hands but the only thing with my attention is him. I can’t go back into my fantasy world, I can’t even tear my eyes away. Should I tell him that being in the same room as him causes my heart to race? My hands that usually shake with chills could burn through the floor with just a touch. My face burning as red as a fireplace. My heart beating faster than a drum. Why can’t I say how I feel? How do you tell someone you’ve built a friendship with that you secretly hope your hands touch in the dark movie theater? How do I tell him that every conversation rings word for word through my head days later?

My attention snaps back to focus. He’s moving towards the door now, maybe the bell rang while I was lost in my thoughts. Just before he goes, he turns around and looks at me. His eyes are so intense they’re hypnotizing. A smile is spread across his face. He lifts his hand and gives a swift wave. For a split second, he doesn’t move, it looks like he’s going to say something. Then the moment passes and he turns back towards the door and goes on his way. I didn’t tell him anything and probably never will. I’m happy where I am. I love what we are. The thought of ruining that is terrifying. So this right here remains a secret. May it never past the confines of this single sheet of paper for if it did I would never be able to forgive myself.

Short Story Saturday!- Little One

Right now you radiate sunshine, brighten everyone’s day. You’re innocent, and still dance around the living room in your footie pjs to the music in your head. Santa Claus, the Tooth Fairy, and the Easter Bunny are all real. Eyelash wishes come true, dream catcher work, and everyone gets a happy ending. Daddy loves Mommy, Mommy loves Daddy, a big happy family. You live in a big house with a trampoline in the back yard. You’re surrounded by a horde of cats that let you dress them up and pull them everywhere you want. The world is perfect and at peace. There is no war. What even is politics? Your dreams soar at great heights. You want to be a farmer and cook for people with ingredients from your farm. You live off of late nights and Cocoa Puffs. Second graders can be mean, school is early, and sometimes hard. You’re past 2+2 and your reading level is higher than the rest. Chapter books are more fun than the books you have to read. Baby sitters are over rated. Why do vegetables even exist? Asleep before 9? Please. You’re 7 now that obviously means you need to stay up an extra hour or maybe two. You’re growing up but at least boys are still gross and pull your hair. Barbies are still your favorite toys. It’s still fun to color pictures of imaginary beings and put them on the fridge. Your height is documented on the doorway, and you ask to check if you’re taller everyday even if you haven’t grown. You will not say goodbye to your invisible friends for a little while longer. We all have a little longer where you still stand on our toes and have us dance around. I never want you to stop being little, no one ever does but someday you’re going to drive yourself to the movies, read bigger books, and live on your own. Someday the Easter Bunny and Santa Claus will be strangers. You’ll learn about war and the lack of peace we have. Footie Pjs won’t be your go to dance outfit and your pictures won’t decorate the fridge. It happens to everyone, and it will happen to you. Just don’t let it happen too fast, give us time to breathe.

Short Story Saturday!- Dear Reader

Dear Reader,

I’ve stood pretty still for most of my life. I like my home, and maybe that’s why I’m here for so long, although I don’t really know. Most of my days are spent in the same spot except the occasional, often exhilarating moment where I get to leave this spot and am fed the attention I constantly crave, the attention I need to survive. We all need it, all of us in this place but some more than others. Newbies get more of it, and feel it’s because they need it more than others. Oldies, like me, don’t get it much, we’re not new and shiny anymore. Kids don’t run to us with grubby hands eager to hear what we have to say. Even adults forget about us from time to time. It takes someone some time, and digging and even then they might look but decide on another. It’s rather suspenseful, and exciting but it often gets followed by disappointment.

During my younger days, I wished to spend more time in my home, I felt that I never got a break, no chance to breathe, but these days I long to be taken away. I want to feel my insides move! I dream about stretching out, bending my spine, feeling that sigh of relief after a good stretch. I need to ruffle out everything that’s gotten stale from sitting so long. Breathe in the fresh air, even if it’s not fresh! I don’t even care anymore, it’s different and that’s all I want. Different air.

It’s hard sometimes as the years go on. Getting fed less and less. I crave to be picked up, to have someone’s hands on me! I try my best to call out to any passerby but I’ve lost that voice I had long ago. It’s been so long since I’ve been held that I don’t think I remember what it’s like. Sadness hits me to think of it that way but it’s the truth. That feeling is lost, taken away by mountains of time. Time is hard to track from where I am but I’m sure it’s been awhile since I first got here.

I’ll admit, it gets rather lonely here on my perch. None of us can talk or move without the help of someone else. Our keeper occasionally moves us around, but all it does is change our view of the room but that’s not really what we desire. I have a great story to tell! I promise! iI just need people who are ready to hear it. I’m running out of options and I know what they do to things like us when we get old. I’ve seen it many times but I never thought it’d get to my turn. I know that we all have to go sometime, I’m just afraid that my story will get lost in the ocean waves of others.

I believe in my heart that other’s stories are equally important but mine is too! So, I’m begging you. Please don’t forget who I am. Don’t forget my story, it truly is a good one. If you remember then I know that there will always be hope. All it takes is one person to spread my tale like wildfire, and that’s all I am asking you to do! I believe in you!

Sincerely,

Just another book on a shelf waiting to be read.

Short Story Saturday!- The Blanket

A little girl skipped hand in hand with her Mother down the streets of Bar Harbor. They were leaving the playground and were on there way to Grandma’s house. It was just a few houses down from mine, I’ve seen them around town but they keep to themselves. This girl had a bottle dangling from her teeth and a blanket in her hand, her pigtails bobbed as she hopped down the street. She kept trying to run ahead but her Mother’s grip held firm. Although her mouth was full she continued to talk to her Mother. I could hear her giggles, they rang like a bird’s morning song all through the street. As they got closer, before we passed each other, I noticed more detail. Her blanket was lighting dragging against the ground. It was bright pink and had grey kittens on it. The edges were made of smooth, white silk and reflected the sun off of them. Her small fingers were holding on so tightly to that small blanket, I know she would never let it go. They turned the corner and I continued on my way home. We lived in the same town but I rarely saw her after that day.

A few years later I noticed her again, playing tag on the grass in the center of town. She no longer had a bottle between her teeth, she must have grown out of it, she looked to be about 5 or 6. As she ran her long, curly, blond hair trailed behind her but that wasn’t the only thing flowing in the breeze that her running had created. Her blanket was pinched under her arm playing along too. After a few laps around the gazebo she ran to her Mother and asked her to hold the blanket for her while she played. She passed it down to her with care, like putting down a really full cup of soup. I noticed that the blanket had aged. It was more faded, the pink was turning grey but I could tell that it was still the same blanket. The silk edges had a few holes and scratches. The white faded and you could no longer see the sun shine off of it. Then suddenly, I was snapped out of my daze as cries filled the air and before I could look to see what happened the girl’s Mother had already scooped her up. She asked for her blanket, her tone eager and demanding but her eyes were still filling with tears. Once the blanket was in her arms she rubbed it across her face, wiping the tears away. She held it to the side of her face and I could tell that it brought her comfort.

That was one of the last times I saw the blond headed girl with the pink, kitty covered blanket. I stopped seeing her around completely a few years ago. I imagine that she moved away sometime ago, and was living and growing somewhere new. Her blanket is probably stored away somewhere folded nicely maybe in her closet or tucked underneath her pillow. I know she wouldn’t let it collect dust, it’s too special for that. It’s going to be with her forever, no matter how faded or tattered but it needs to be kept well. The magic it’s given her still can reach her from whatever safe place it’s been stowed. That’s the comfort of having it near, just like when she fell playing tag on that brisk fall day. There will never be anything else that provides that kind of comfort for her. I imagine that it’s been with her through a lot, it’s one of her prized possessions. I don’t know where that little girl is now, I guess she’s probably not too little anymore, but I know that wherever she is that blanket isn’t far.

In honor of it being Senior Exhibition Day...

Okay, so today I'm presenting my Senior project (AHHHH!). This project is where you pick an essential question, find a mentor, and then try to answer your question. After all of this, you present at the end of the semester. My essential question is- How will writing a novel in 30 days improve me as a writer? And before you ask yes, I wrote a novel in 30 days. It was 50,615 words by the end of the month. Since I'm presenting today I thought I'd share a few chapters from my book. So here it goes...

Dear Journal,                  September 20, 2001

Grief may only be five letters and one syllable but it’s the word used to describe the deep sorrow and loss. There are many things that can cause it but the main one is the death of someone that you care about. It comes in stages, five to be exact, or at least that’s what they all say. They being the internet and Dr. Rivers my new psychiatrist that Mom has decided I should go to. All we’ve talked about is grief so far like what it is, what causes it and what the stages are.

There’s denial; they say this is what helps us survive the loss of the person who died. It’s a state of shock, you wonder how to keep going, or why you should. Denial helps us cope and is completely natural. Then there’s anger, which is considered a necessary stage of grief. This anger can extend and be released to others that are close to you. But this anger is considered a strength. It can be used as an anchor. The third stage is bargaining, bargaining for you to take their place or change a behavior to get them back. It takes us back in time to fix the events that happened. You say “if only…” causing us to blame ourselves and think about all of the things you could have done differently. Stage four is depression, this is where empty feelings start to form and the grief enters on a deeper level. This stage feels like it will last forever, and you withdraw from life and stop doing regular things you normally would. The last stage is acceptance, the one I never think I’ll be able to get to. This isn’t being okay with what has happened, you will never feel okay about the loss but you have accepted reality as the permanent reality. You will learn to live with this reality that the person you cared about is gone forever. This often means that you won’t be able to return back to the way your ‘norm’ used to be, you have to readjust. Acceptance may just be having more good days than bad days. It may feel like you’re betraying the one you lost but you have to remember that you will never replace the one you lost, but you will make new relationships and friends, have new adventures. This is where you stop ignoring your feelings and embrace them. Acceptance allows us to grow and change.

My counselor, Dr. Rivers, went through these stages at great length during my first session. She thinks that I’m still in stage one, and she might be right. I don’t want to go to counseling, but I have to, and I feel like I might regret it later if I don’t go. Dr. Rivers is trying to help me understand the stages of grief so I can make it through them. Mom practically begged me to go, I didn’t say this, but I think that she should go to one too, so I went. She said she’s worried about losing me too. It scares everyone because I have a history of depression, but I don’t feel the same as I do during a ‘depressive episode’. I don’t want Mom to be worried but I also don’t have the ability right now to hide how I’m feeling. I miss Anna, I know I say that almost every day but it’s true. I miss her so much.

~Marlee

Dear Journal,                     September 21, 2001

I got a letter from the school today. They told me, again, that they’re sorry for my loss, and say that Anna was wonderful, and a bunch of stuff like that. They also said that I shouldn’t worry about school and I should stay home as long as I need to. Along with the letter, there were cards from kids at school, all saying they miss me and hope I’m doing well. None of them seem genuine, but that’s to be expected, I have never had many friends. There was also a giant packet of homework with notes from teachers, most of them say that I can do them if I’m feeling up for it. I might actually do some, I think homework might be able to distract me and help me calm my mind. Part of my mind has been in a constant state of panic because of how unproductive I’ve been lately, which could be helped by doing homework, but the other part of my mind is just on pause, all it can think about is the crippling facts about Anna’s death. It keeps going through the whole chain of events leading up to it and what I learned about her death, how she died. I know that there’s nothing I could have done but I still wish that I could have stopped it.

I had another silent session with Dr. Rivers. I still don’t feel like talking about my feelings. She mostly tries to get me to talk and I just nod my head. My view is that at least I’m going. That’s a step, right? Anna would disagree with me, but she almost always did anyway. Anna would tell me to talk about what’s going on inside my head. I’m not allowed to just write the feelings down, like I am, I have to talk about them. That’s exactly what she’d tell me if she was here. Then again, if she was here I wouldn’t be seeing a counselor at all or even be in this situation.

Cam has been such a good boyfriend, I mean he’s always a good boyfriend, but I know that I’m not the easiest to deal with right now. I’ve continuously pushed him away because I haven’t been feeling like a people person lately. He has respected my space and whenever I’ve needed him or asked for him he’s always come to my aid like a knight in shining armor. He brought me flowers accompanied by chocolates, watched movies with me, and just laid in bed with me, cuddling for hours. I think that he’s missed almost as much school as I have, but he said he’s not falling behind and wants to be here for me when I need him. Getting through this would be a lot harder if I didn’t have him. I keep thanking him and he just acts like it’s nothing. I wish I knew a way, or had the energy to, show him how much it means to me.

~Marlee

Dear Journal,                   September 23, 2001

It is Sunday yet again, or at least I think it is I haven’t really been keeping track, to be honest.  I think I’m going to go back to school tomorrow. I know it may be soon, or maybe it’s not, but still I feel like I’m ready. It’s been a few weeks and I’m starting to lose my mind just sitting at home. I have been doing school work and that has helped so I think that going back to school could help too. Mom thinks that I’m crazy and should stay home longer. She’s planning another 2-3 weeks at home, but I just can’t do that. If I stay at home I’m just going to sit in bed thinking of Anna, and right now that does not help the not wanting to cry anymore thing. It really sucks, I don’t know how Mom can do it right now, let alone another few weeks.

Mom was so distraught about me wanting to go back to school that she actually took me to an “emergency session” at Dr. Rivers. She called the office while we were already in the car and on our way. I didn’t know what to expect when walking in there. What she would say or do, or tell my mom was all a mystery. My mom sat down and as soon as her butt hit the couch she started ranting to Dr. Rivers. I think I almost saw her eyes roll back into her head while listening to my Mom. After a lot of nodding and mmhmms Dr. Rivers asked me why I wanted to go back to school. Unlike other times I gave a verbal response. I told her my reasons like I told you and she just got up, looked at my mom, and said, “That is a perfectly good reason to go, and this is progress.”. Then she walked to the door and held it open for us to leave. Mom stayed quiet the whole car ride home. Mom’s still resistant but I’m going tomorrow.

~Marlee

After Everything Broke by Me!

As I stepped outside I urged myself to run. I would have left to see the world, every last inch of it. I would have gone, if I could but instead I just stood there willing my feet to move. The cold, frosty grass glued my feet in place, as the crisp morning breeze called to me to go further. I thought about how everyone at one point in their life must want to run away, maybe not as much as I did, maybe just far enough to know they’re safely away from anything burdening them.

I dreamt of running as far as my feet could take me. I planned to go far enough that no one here in my small town would ever be able to find me. I wanted to run and only stop when there was absolutely no hope of ever returning. I wanted to go, I wished with everything I had that I could go, and part of me needed to go, but I couldn’t bring myself to leave.

I was going to run far far away, to get away from the stuff I constantly had to deal with, and away from all my pain and troubles. I would have ran to a place where I could have been me and no one would want to change who I was. I would go far enough away thatπ eventually they'd all forget who I was, and no longer care about the things I did. I couldn’t help but think that everything would be better if I ran. No longer would I hurt the people I loved, and it would make it easier for all of them to move on. Eventually, I hoped, they would only remember the bad things I did and they would learn to hate me. No one would miss me, I was almost sure of that. Running away sounded so good.

I was going to run away as far as I could… until I 

realized that if I did, then I'd lose you, and that is something that I never could do. So please forgive me for the events I have caused, and help me fix everything broken. I can’t do it on my own.