Acceptance

       Just another boring summer’s day, and like usual Billy and his friends were looking to start something.  They often gathered in the alley behind his house plotting, planning, and instigating mischief.  Today was no different. Billy’s friends were always a little more prone to finding trouble than Billy himself.  He just wanted more than anything to fit in.   Even though most of their ideas bordered on plain stupidity Billy went along on the most part.

 

      They talked about girls, sports, and challenged each other to silly dares.  Occasionally they would head to the park to throw a ball around or to the neighborhood pool to cool off.  He was only half listening when Tommy came up with the grand plan to steal something…just to see if they could get away with it.  They would make it a scavenger hunt of sorts.  You had to steal whatever the group decided and get away with it,   and the winner not only got the respect of his peers, he also got to decide what was next on the list.

        Stealing anything was completely stupid. He knew it.   As he listened to their latest hair brain scheme he knew one thing for certain, they would always think of him as a complete tool if he didn’t step up to the plate and show them that he had the guts to do anything they suggested.  They already teased him relentlessly and called him the priest because he normally upheld his ideals.  His sense of right and wrong always battled in his head and heart every single time they suggested anything like this.  Deep down most of them respected him for being so good.  On the surface, they despised him for the same reason. 

          “I’ll do it. I’ll go first.” Billy said with conviction.  Shocked, they turned to look at him, wondering if they had heard correctly.  He stood up, and made his way to the street.  That is when he saw Danielle leaving their brownstone, purse in hand.  Instantly, Billy knew what he had to do.  With a deep breath, he ran after his sister, snatched her purse and took off like a bat of hell with her hot on his heels screaming like a wounded banshee.

    “Billy, you little shit! Come back here!  You are going to make me late for work!” she yelled as she sped off in hot pursuit.  He weaved as he ran trying desperately to lose her.  He would have to answer for this later. He knew it as well as he knew his own name.  Danielle would give him holy hell for making her late.   Ducking into an alley, he rummaged through her purse intent only on what he searched for.  Seeing it, he snatched it, discarded the purse knowing she would find it there and ran hell bent for election to meet his friends.

        Danielle saw him disappear around the corner as she knelt to gather up her purse and its contents.    What the hell was Billy thinking?  The little shit.  If he wanted money, he could have asked her!!  Except, all her money was there.  Nothing really seemed to be missing.  Well he wasn’t going to get away with this.  She was going to give him a good telling off for this little stunt.  She was tired of his bullshit.  She was determined to find out just what the hell he was up too.  It was obviously no good.  Worry and anger engulfed her.  She was justified, damn it and threw caution to the wind as she pursued him with all thoughts of making it to work on time forgotten for the moment.    She found him surrounded by his friends, high fiving at his accomplishment as he held up her favorite pen.  A stupid pen! That was what this was about?  Instantly she knew it was about way more than a pen.   With realization, she smiled slowly turning away.   Good for him.  Through the clarity of retrospect, the obvious conclusion surfaced: things don’t always turn out as planned.

This is my response to Speakeasy’s weekly prompt, which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 671) (1) with some kind of reference to the media prompt, a short film by Tanmay Shah, entitled Intent, AND (2) use the last sentence of:  “Through the clarity of retrospect, the obvious conclusion surfaced: things don’t always turn out as planned.”

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Sand Haiku

Burying my toes

Flowing through time’s hourglass

Constructing castles 

Inspired by the prompt at

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The Greatest Love of All

     When I was little, I thrived in the radiance of my parents love and acceptance.  It was all I knew. 

      I went to school searching for even more love.  Instead of acceptance, I found ridicule: too short, four eyes, awkward, and shy.   I withdrew.    I struggled to accept love from anyone but my parents.

      Sad and broken, my soul mate found me loving me as I was.  Children arrived.  I lost myself  along the way.  Like a butterfly bursting from its chrysalis, I emerged.  In the end, I discovered the greatest love of all was inside me all along.

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A-Z Theme Reveal for 2014

      It is almost time for the A-Z challenge that begins April 1 and I am starting to prepare for it!  Yes, me the girl who usually flies through life by the seat of her pants writing as I go.  My dear friend Vidya, a spokeswoman for #TeamDamyanti organized this huge theme reveal!   Obviously I am jumping on that band wagon because that is the way I roll. 

       For the longest time, I scoffed at the idea of a theme.  For the last couple of years I have participated in the A-Z challenge as a spirit of the moment with no planning what so ever.  It intensified the excitement factor and when I completed my Z post at the end, I felt as if I had climbed Mount Everest.  I had survived.  I know it is doable, because I have done it!  Still I am a little hesitant to fly totally blind this year…so this girl is at least formulating a plan!

         While I do not have a specific theme to offer you, I do have a general plan of action so maybe that will suffice.  I plan a month peppered with the fast fiction and haiku I have come to enjoy writing so much.  I may throw in some of my artwork for good measure.  It is going to be one big, exciting ride and you won’t want to miss it as I continue to hone my fiction and haiku writing skills.  You may also see me participating in Speak Easy, Haiku Horizon, and Write Tribe prompts as the month progresses, because quite honestly I am a bit addicted to those!  It is kind of along the lines of if they build it, they will come.  If any of the above has a challenge, I will do my best to participate and write it!  I have slacked off a bit this month, wrestled with the writer’s block beast and still manage to post some of my best work.  Anything is possible if you are willing to try…and I am willing!

         I always enter into one of these month long marathon writing challenges with a little skepticism and a tinge of fear.  In the end, I usually come through it victorious.  Hopefully the odds will be in my favor this year!  I have had a few challenges that resulted in a crash burn because fate stepped in and the universe refused to cooperate.  This time around I am doing something I have never done before; I am writing posts ahead of time so they are ready to go.   Imagine that, me, miss procrastination herself!  It is true!  I hope you will join me here at the Giggling Truckers Wife Writes during the month of April and cheer me on.  It is going to be one exciting month! If you are feeling brave,  there is still time to sign up and get on this crazy train with me.  Join us!

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The Egg

       No one really knew Ellie well.  She was an artist…and quite eccentric.  When anyone asked her brother Nick, he always kind of smiled in a wistful way and explained that Ellie was simply Ellie.  Whatever that meant!  She had lived abroad for years studying, living, and breathing art in Florence, Paris, and finally London before coming home to the states with a broken heart in the early ‘80’s.  She never really said much about the love affair that sent her home to lick her wounds and Nick never asked.  He figured she would tell all when she was ready.  Since then she had withdrew into herself, selling her exquisite paintings and managing a top gallery in New York.   Nick’s family knew her simply as Aunt Ellie.  Those that worked with her thought she was a genius, but odd.  Nick’s children thought her weird, but fun in a way.  She felt awkward around them, and even though they visited her on occasion and invited her for holiday celebrations she rarely came.  Nick worried about her being so alone, but she assured him she was fine.

    Several months ago, Ellie had notified Nick that she had terminal cancer and the end was near.  In complete shock when she died a week later, Nick had taken her death particularly hard.  How could she not have told him?  How could she have not shared what little time she had left with him?  Surely she had known for a while.  Why had she chosen to suffer alone?    He should have gone to her.  He should have forced her to celebrate holidays with him and his family.  He should have made more time for her.  What he should have done was entirely beyond the point now.  She was gone.   He wasn’t surprised when he was notified by a law firm that he was in charge of settling up her estate.  What did shock him was that his sister had been an extremely wealthy woman and according to the attorney, her wealth and all her worldly possessions, barring a hefty sum she wanted donated to the Princes Trust were now his to do with as he pleased.

       He sat in her brownstone now sifting through boxes of correspondence growing more amazed as he read.  There were letters from the Prince of Wales dating back to the early 1970’s, very affectionate letters.  He found photos taken during that time period of Ellie snuggling up with Prince Charles near the easels where their artwork waited for them to commence with their painting.  His sister was intimate with the Prince of Wales?  He felt the room spin, as he read letters which indicated a brief affair and then the lifelong friendship which resulted.  Then he found Christmas cards from various members of the Royal family, and even a personal note from Diana, the Princess of Wales herself.  Even more recent, a card from just last Christmas!  She had never said a word...and he had never thought to ask!

        He went through her personal effects finally realizing why his sister never married, and why she had valued her privacy so much.  She had been in love with the Prince of Wales.  The Prince of Wales!!   While she adored him, she had no desire for the lifestyle he led.  She never wanted any fame; she only wanted to be left alone to create her art…which is what she did.  The Prince, busy with his naval career at the time had understood and had seen her for the gem she was and had obviously been friends with her till her untimely death.  In a back closet he found a box that had been shipped straight from London shortly after she had returned to the states.  Inside was a beautiful solid gold Faberge Egg, an Easter gift from the Prince.

         Nick had no idea the worth of such an item but when he tried to take it to a dealer found that the Prince’s small gift was now worth an estimated 20 million pounds.  Not only did he discover secrets about his sister that he never knew but also a treasure trove among her possessions, trinkets from a long ago love affair and friendship with a prince.  With her death he discovered a side of her he never knew.  Leave it to Ellie to have kept such an extraordinary secret.

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The Tree

        “Looks can be deceiving.  You think it is a beautiful tree Poppet, but that tree has a horrifying history fertilized in hatred, bigotry, and blood.  As much as I try to forget, my heart forces me to remember for my dear brother Jeb.” 
  

         Startled, my curiosity was instantly piqued.  Grandma almost never mentioned the mysterious Jeb!  He was a subject that was usually brushed aside and taboo.   From that moment on, I was all ears.   Of course I already knew that this old house had been in the family for generations.  Her gaze followed mine as she scrutinized the tree which stood majestically in the clearing to the west.  Its intricate branches clawed at the orange afternoon sky.     A mixture of emotions crossed her features.  With a sigh her eyes clouded over.  She sank into her rocking chair and with resolve began to tell her story.

        “Back in the ‘60’s when I was a young girl; the civil rights movement was at its height.  Here in the south, most people didn’t take kindly to colored folk.   They were the help and beneath us.  It was thought white folk were superior in all things, and colored folk were expected to keep their place.  They were to use their own restrooms, stay on their own side of town, and weren’t expected to mingle…period.  My brother Jeb had different ideas.  Against better judgment, he became good friends with several colored families on the other side of town.  Honestly Jeb had such a kind heart.  He was such a gentle soul.  Although most loved him, most of our neighbors didn’t take kindly to his leanings.  He was warned to stop, but he didn’t.  Next thing we all knew, he had fallen in love with one of them.  Her name was Amanda.  She was a beautiful girl.  Still, I was shocked when I found out that he intended to run away with her.  He was determined to have her.  They were in love he said.

      One night, he snuck out to see her.  The only problem was the local clan got wind of it.  They followed poor Jeb and caught him and Amanda together before they could get away.  While we all slept, they tied Jeb and Amanda to that there tree and whipped them within the inch of their lives.  When dawn broke, the town awoke to discover them hung to death from the lowest branch, their blood tainting the bark a crimson red.   Every time I look at that tree, I can still see their bodies and blood splashed across its bark.   I remember vividly waking up that morning to blood curdling screams outside my window.  I was horrified by the sight.   After that, there wasn’t anyone black or white who wasn’t afraid.  Afraid because we all knew what the clan was capable of and even more afraid of it  happening again.  The police came and cut down my dear brother and his lover and their remains were claimed by their respective families to bury privately.  I bet you wonder if the Klan paid for what they did.  To my knowledge they didn’t. The whole thing was covered up.  It wasn’t spoken of, and wasn’t even in the news.   If you ask me, someone should have chopped down that devil tree and burned it instead of letting it remain and flourish after such evil had been carried out on its branches.”  She gripped the window sill as she finished her story, before wiping her eyes.

        Tears clouded my vision as I watched the tree’s branches blow in the breeze, catching the afternoon sun.  Looks certainly were deceiving.  Upon hearing the story, the tree’s branches seemed more sinister to me, their beauty of moments before fading in the unforgiving light of the horrifying truth.  

This is my response to Speakeasy’s weekly writing prompt, which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 632 words) (1) using “Looks can be deceiving."  as the first sentence, AND (2) make some sort of reference to the media prompt- a painting called Avond (Evening): The Red Tree by Dutch artist, Piet Mondrian.

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Level Haiku

stepping back, crooked!

a little this way and that

equal on both sides

Inspired by the prompt at

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Travel Relief

        While traveling on a vacation of a lifetime to scenic Italy with my best friends, I felt the sudden urge to relieve myself.  Pointing, I exclaimed   

“As I pee, sir, I see Pisa!” 

      This week the folks at trifecta challenged us to use a palindrome in a short story of a mere 33 words.   A palindrome is a word or phrase that reads the same forward as it does backwards. 

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Escape

 
       Amy was no stranger to hard work.  She worked 10-12 hours daily at the grocery store then rushed to college to study art.  Being an artist was her dream, not ringing up groceries.  The job brought money that paid her way and gave her hope.  By the time she returned home, her husband was at work and she was tired.  As far as he was concerned, she was completely worthless and couldn’t do anything right.

       She didn’t dare infuriate him.   Making him mad always spelt trouble for her.  She tried to stay up and wait for him, but always seemed to succumb to sleep before his arrival.  Her dreams haunted her.  She was always running and terrified, with the beast breathing down her neck.  She could feel his hatred.  Even her dreams mirrored the sorry path her life had taken recently.  She was jarred awake by unbelievable pain in her temple.  She saw stars and tasted blood in her mouth.  She slowly opened her eyes to see him glaring at her, twirling a revolver on his thumb.

      “Get out of bed and get me a beer you lazy ugly bitch, NOW!”  He grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor.  A sob escaped as she reached for the bed to pull herself up.  She felt dizzy and tasted blood.   Disgusted, he kicked her in the stomach as he left the room.  Her thoughts jumbled as she registered the gun.   Where had he gotten a gun?  He would kill her for sure now.   She had to get away before it was too late!   She wiped her tears and rushed to do his bidding. 

         He was sitting in the living room, surfing through the television channels like he always did.    How she hated him.  Oh God, how her head hurt!  She felt like throwing up.  Her stomach hurt worse than the last time he had kicked her there, if that were possible.    One day he would go too far and kill her.   She knew this as well as she knew her own name.  She could run, but she couldn’t hide.   He made her pay daily for being sleepy, for not doing something fast enough, and for simply breathing. Reflecting, she felt she had paid enough.

        She poured the beer into a frosted glass, just the way he liked it.  Once she had made the mistake of taking him the bottle.  She had gotten a broken arm for that silly mistake.  She wasn’t about to provoke him tonight.    She had to hurry or he would come looking for her.  That simply wouldn’t do.  Casting a sidelong glance over her shoulder, she added a handful of pills from the bottle in her pocket and watched them dissolve as she quickly stirred the concoction.  Her mind went over her plan of a different identity, a disguise, and flight to safety to the other side of the globe.  He would never find “Amy” again.  She had worked out the details over the past month.  After months of overtime, scrimping, saving, and planning she was finally ready.   She hurried the beer to him as he began to complain about how slow and stupid she was.

 

      “How in the hell is it possible that you could ruin beer?  This stuff tastes like shit.” He ranted and raved.  She took a seat as far away as she could.   It was then he began to sweat.  He turned green, then a ghastly shade of white.  “What did you do bitch?” he demanded.  He fell from the chair in convulsions as she watched horrified until his body finally stilled.  With one last look, she grabbed her car keys.  “I am taking my life back.  Burn in hell asshole!” she called as she frantically made her escape.  The trunk of the car had been packed for the perfect moment for the last week.   Inside held all her hopes and dreams.    Within a day the transformation would be complete.  She would change her clothes, her hair, and her face.  Amy, the cashier would cease to exist and in her place Angela, the artist would be born.  It would be so easy and the only chance of staying alive she would ever get.

This is my response to Speakeasy’s weekly prompt, which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 702 words) and (1) use the sentence “It would be so easy” anywhere in the piece; and (2) make some kind of reference to the media prompt, which happens to be a video for Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees.

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