OctPoWriMo: The Blitz Goes On...

Some days are just not creative, other days are fill with struggles. Today I didn't feel creative, between being without a car still and trying to get to work each day has left me feeling a bit depressed and frustrated. I didn't even want to write today, but then I would be a day behind. Honestly, I still am a bit behind, but the drawing challenges I can catch up in no time. It's the writing that I struggle with time and again. If I don't try to write, then I let it slip. Not really a fan of that. It just happens that the poetic form suggestion for today was a Blitz poem, which is quite the sexy poetic form, if I ever saw one. 48 lines of controlled chaos that somehow makes sense.

This month has been filled with prompts for fears and failure and separation, and maybe it's been taking its toll on me, so I decided to write a happy ending for me blitz poem, because F*CK Yeah! :-) It is my blog after all. I am almost not inspired to write a micro fiction for Writober today, but I will likely double up in the coming days. Going to stick with what feels comfortable today, Dear Readers. 

Enjoy!

Day 7: Fear/Separation/Anaphora (Blitz)

 

Fear the Separation

 

Feel it now

Feel it then

Then comes memories

Then the shame

Shame of my behavior

Shame of my words

Words can hurt

Words can divide

Divide and conquer

Divide the souls

Souls connected

Souls alive

Alive is how I feel

Alive with you

You are not here

You and me

Me left alone

Me thinking

Thinking of loss

Thinking now

Now is the time

Now I know

Know What

Know how

How can this be

How can I?

I am sitting here

I don’t know

Know what you do

Know how to

To make you forgive

To make you love

Love what I see

Love the possible

Possible to lose

Possible to leave

Leave me alone

Leave me

Me sitting alone

Me alone

Alone again

Alone nevermore

Nevermore can I imagine

Nevermore will you

You are leaving me?

You are staying here.

Here

Me

And the Writing Continues...

 Day 6 of OctPoWriMo and Writober, and today's prompt is all about imposter syndrome. It is some that I deal with regularly. Feeling like I am not good enough, or why should I even try to do this or that. It makes for some unproductive days.

Imposter’s Waltz (Bop Poem)

 

It doesn’t matter if it is morning or night,

The beckoning call comes from the back of

My head, where the deep thoughts creep.

I just want to silence their singing,

Telling me to stop the battle that I

Am waging with my own two hands.

 

They sing sweetly of my failures,

Let me dance the tarantella of my faults.

I do not know when it started to play,

This melodic hymn of the false.

In this waltz, I try to step right,

Only to have my feet slide to the left, and I

See my mistakes laid out before me,

Accusatory of my attempts at Art.

 

When there is a flash of light, spilling

Into the darkness that this lying, macabre music tells.

I can see a luminated figure standing guard.

The lamplight is so bright, and I can finally see

Where I left my quill and ink, lying in the dust.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 (Etheree) Imposter Feels

For a moment it feels so natural,

Talking about the plans to be made,

When you tell me that I am dumb,

Stares blankly back towards your face,

What did I do? I ask.

Laughter, then silence.

You thought you could,

Came the words

From me

Mine.

I

Am the

Imposter.

Having some tea,

Sitting with myself

At a poser gala,

With crumpets and shame at my

Lack of control, thinking I could,

But not knowing better, I still say

That I cannot, I am the imposter.

OctPoWriMo and Writober: Day 5 -Tanka and Pantoum

 Today is uninspiring, but I have something for you, dear Readers. Sometimes I just don't have much to write about, or a lack of words to say. So, please enjoy today's fare...

Prompt: Success/Fear/Euphony (Tanka)

 

Waging Wars

 

After its over

When thinking begins again

Was I good enough?

Am I deserving of this?

Battling my fears again.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

In the Dark (A Pantoum Story)

 

This is not a story that I am telling

I am not writing words to entertain.

I am simply writing words down

As a dark figure whispers in my ear.

 

I am not writing words to entertain,

I am writing words I am told to write.

As a dark figure whispers in my ear

That I only have the night.

 

I am writing words I am told to write

Like my life may depend on it,

That I only have the night

To finish what I am writing.

 

Like my life may depend on it,

Writing words in a certain order.

To finish what I am writing

By this dark figure at my side.

 

Writing words in a certain order--

I am simply writing words down

By this dark figure at my side

This is not a story that I am telling.

October Writing and ART Challenges: Art Edition

 Time for another art drop for my Inktober and Doodlewash Art Challenges as I am trying to get caught up on all of my prompts and the various challenges. Today was an art morning, working on my illustrated tale for Inktober, and since it is going to be a story I have to actually plot it out some. So, instead of 31 pages of drawings/doodles I am doing comic book style to tell this story. No, I don't have it all planned out, but I have been working on a page at a time. It has helped guide my concept for this challenge/story.

What I am posted today is the first six days so you can enjoy the first part of this story. I am also including days 4 and 5 of the October Art Challenge. There is nothing specific to those doodles; they are just fun little monthly challenges to keep my creativity churning. Note: doodlewash centers around watercolours specifically, but you can use just pencil, ink, paint, pastels, etc.

I do need a name for my protagonist though. Feel free to drop a name suggestion or two. 

October Writing Challenges: Writober Edition

 Short and sweet, here are Days 2 thru 4 of my micro fiction pieces written for the Writober challenge.

Midnight Harvest

 

Jesse wandered among the rows of corn, passed dusk, well into the evening time and the minimal light of her torch barely reached her bare feet. The feet that slapped the ground with each footstep. She could see there wasn’t much left of the harvest. She had come late before and still got something from the harvest.

 

The night birds sang quietly but trilled in ominous song as she walked past each of the markers. Each of the markers indicated which landowner owned that crop. So, she was hopeful there would be one or two ears of corn that she could take home for dinner. Her and Matthias hadn’t eaten anything today, and at this rate they wouldn’t eat tomorrow either.

 

Jesse threw up her torch light towards the sky, startling two large dusk moths as they dance in the very pale light of dawn. It wasn’t much light to see anything, but Jesse kept walking. She kept pulling at the leaves, checking to see if there really was an ear of corn left.

 

The moths fluttered down to her head, lowering her torch so not to scare them. They seemed to glow. And she kicked at the dirt, throwing a few small rocks forward, making the moths dart high, though they glowed brighter.

 

Almost at the end of this row, Jesse decided to turn back, her stomach aching with an empty stomach. When the moths glowed brighter still and rushed at Jesse’s face. Her hand batted at the creatures and felt cool metal against her palm. Pulling her hands away she saw thew two moths bobbing in front of her, holding two small lanterns. They quickly turned at raced further down the row. Jesse leapt forward and gave chase to the little inserts.

 

She didn’t really think, but just ran for a long time, until the moths suddenly disappeared. Jesse quit her pursuit, standing now in darkness, until quietly crested the small rise in the row. There in front of her were rows and rows and glowing vegetables. Jesse saw corn the colour of the morning sun, carrots like that of the late afternoon, and a deep purple looking thing that reminded her of the night. She blinked, crossing slowly down into the fields. Her hands grabbing at the corn and carrot, even pulling up the purple looking thing.

 

The moths returned to in front of Jesse’s face. Their iridescent eyes shining in the light from the vegetables. They fluttered their wings and darted away. Jesse turned quickly and took off toward home, she didn’t want to dare to catch a glance and the glowing field because she could get home. Tears at the corner of her eyes, she whispered thanks to the moths. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Visitors

 

Lily sat on her porch, her head in her hands. She didn’t want to look up. She didn’t want to see the evidence of her crime. Of course it wouldn’t be long now, Mom was due home any minute now.

 

She lifted her head, checking every time a car drove around the curve in the road, but there was nothing. Letting her head dangle as she stared at the ground, she heard a noise. It sounded like an animal crunching on the partially dried grass in the yard. Lily lifted her head again to see two foxes sitting in her yard. One was orange, the other a pale white.

 

The foxes sat there, watching her. The orange tilted its head, while the pale fox looked quickly away. Lily had never seen foxes so close, and she wanted to pet them, even give them a hug. Her troubles temporally forgotten.

 

Neither fox moved, nor did Lily. There didn’t seem to be any movement from the road. The orange fox sat still, blinked twice. While the pale fox got up and started to walk away. It was walking toward the road, which Lily thought was strange, but she felt compelled to stand and start walking towards the pale fox.

 

The orange fox blinked twice and let out a slow, but audible growl, but Lily did not turn back to the orange fox, she kept walking toward the pale fox. It was silent as it turned towards Lily, and she suddenly heard the orange one howl, but it was too late as the white car whipped around the bend in the road and right into Lily. The only sound that was heard was the screeching of tires.

 

The driver exited the car to see the young girl lying in front of his car. There were two foxes sitting in the distance watching the scene play out as the driver knelt to get a pulse from the child’s neck. 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Letter

 

Mya’s hand shook as she wrote the letter. Inked letters spilling from the cheap motel, “I hope you are okay…” her hand shook, and she stopped, staring about the back of a paper menu. The words of the Rising Moon Café were bleeding through her letter. She looked again, reading the words out loud, “I hope you are okay, shrimp manicotti. Please come to Hot and Sour Soup.”

 

She shook her hand, trying to rid herself of some offending thoughts.

 

“You want another cup of coffee, Miss,” a voice said above her. Mya glanced upwards to see a smiling face of Juan. “Or maybe a piece of pie?”

 

Mya shook her head with much less force, No. Just the coffee please.” She didn’t want to tell Juan that all she could afford was the unlimited coffee and al the jelly and ketchup packet she could squirrel away.

 

“Alright,” said Juan, “but if you need anything please let me know.”

 

“Thank you,” said Mya, turning back to her menu letter. Her hands cupped around the chipped, cheap porcelain cup. The coffee tasted bitter, even with six sugar packets to flavour it. Mya picked up her pen and started writing again. “I don’t know what to tell you,” Mya scribbled. “I miss you.” She stopped and crumpled up the menu, looked towards Juan who was chatting with the cook. She shook her head, reached into her pocket and pulled out several quarters and dimes. Laying them on the table, she grabbed another paper menu and scribbled a quick note, rushed out of the café. Juan following her path out of the café.

 

He wandered over to the booth where Mya had been sitting. He saw the change. A quick count showed a tip of one dollar and fifty-five cents and a hastily scratched note. “I’m sorry, Juan. I hope you are okay, please come home. We miss you. Mya.”

 

Juan blinked and looked up. Mya stood outside, looking into then café. Juan rushed out to the meet Mya, but the second he left the café he found he was standing in a field, next to a grave. It was covered over in weeds and wildflowers. The grave was writing in faded etched letter Mya, beloved of Juan, 2024.

October Writing Challenges: OctPoWriMo Edition

It always seems that I try to stay ahead, and thus dooming me to failure (or success) of being perpetually behind. So, I find myself three days behind on my prompts for Inktober, Writober, OctPoWriMo, and the Halloween Photography Challenge. I don't want to dump several pieces for three different days, but I still want to share what I have written. 

This month has brought some personal revelations to light and because of this I need to write it out apparently. So far, a number of these pieces are echoing my own thoughts and emotions. It feels like a therapy session or two, but also, I am trying to write pieces in different style (forms), and really trying to use the prompts given to me.

I will admit that some of the poems this far need a little more work, but I guess that's anything. I am writing and then if I like it, then I can edit it. I guess there is no time like the present.

First up are my writings for OctoPoWriMo: Days 2 thru 4 (Free Verse, Pantoum, and Naani).

Haunting of the Ego

 

What is self?

It is but you

                And all you possess,

Including glost-

Haunting my memory banks,

                Making me squirm

                With the reminder

                Of what I did before.

And I am….

                Embarrassed,

                Though time has long since passed.

 

Brush away,

Brush away,

Brush

Away

With the motion, so habitual,

But like flies swarming.

I shudder.

And still, I shudder

At the memories,

And the embarrassment,

Haunted by my ego ghost.

Shame

I can remember being a child

(trying not to be clique here)

When it didn’t matter what I did,

Because I didn’t know shame then.

 

Trying not to be clique here,

But shame is something that is taught,

Because I didn’t know shame then,

I have learned it now.

 

But shame is something that is taught,

Covering you like a blanket.

I have learned it now

Just how comfortable shame is.

 

Covering you like a blanket.

When it didn’t matter what you did.

Just how comfortable shame is

I can remember being a child.

Orchestral Fears

 

When fears speak

The noise grows louder.

And nothing can break

The cacophonous symphony.

It's October!

October is s time of many challenges and I had a lot of fun with the writing and drawing that I am going to do it again. 

There is Inktober, Writober, OctOiWriMo, and the Halloween Photography challenge. Inktober is very common and easy to find by way of Google, but the others have to be found through Experience Writing, a delightful blog that features prompts for these challenges. OctOiWriMo used to be a major event, but in the last couple of years life has interrupted the regular moderators, so Experience Writing has taken on the mantle. Please check out her blog for all things writing and creative. 

Inktober - Day 1 (backpack) 

Comic Book style and for each prompt I will add to the story.

Let's start with today's OctOiWriMo poem, a quadrille, which is a 44 word poem. The prompt for today is "urgency of moments of nothingness". And go...

Puppet Strings

Tied to...

The clock, 

Ticking meow me awake

Invisible strings, 

Pulling--

Bound to the rhythm of the day.

And I cannot escape

Like a dog

On a short lead, 

Always trapped. 

Stuck

Tied

Too this hell that the have made myself. 

Will someone help me? 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Halloween Photography Challenge

Ego Death

~~~~~~~~~~~`

Now onto Writober which is a micro fiction piece based off of the photo on Experience Writing's blog.  It is a picture that looks like multiple exposed sites of fingers or branches in a light purple background.

End of the World

It was a crisp morning and the fog ended my backyard, and could only see the edges of the forest. Only just barely see the forest.

To early to be awake, but here I was, standing on my back porch with a steaming mug of coffee. I did this ritual every morning, like I was tied to something. The bitterness of the coffee loitered on my tongue as I watched the fog bank. I did this every morning, and every morning I saw  a little less of the world. Though I still continued onward. 

Today the gazebo was starting to be obscured by the fog, when yesterday I could still see the tree line on the other side of the gazebo.

Another sip of coffee and there was a breeze coming from the fog. I sighed. What works I see tomorrow?

Writober Days 26 to the enddddddd

Day 26: Hole in the wall, sucking a man in (1, 2, 3, 4, 10, 10, 4, 3, 2, 1)

   Hole,

   Is there

   In the wall,

   It is just there,

   Right where I am standing for the subway.

   A breezes rushed up, pulling me towards the hole.

   I cannot stop it.

   A slow fall

   Into

    Hole.

 

Day 27: Face coming out the wall (Villanelle – aba / aba / aba / aba / aba / abaa)

 

    The wall has a tear

    The paint slowly peeling away,

     It is more than my mind can bear,

 

      But still I stare

     With my hands folded to pray,

     Yet I want nothing more than to tear.

 

      A quick movement, I swear

      I grab a corner that began to fray

      And tug a little on that square.

 

       A moment longer and I wouldn’t care

      Peeling the paint, dare I say

      Would hardly be a nightmare.

 

     As a pulled the paintm I am caught unaware

    With eyes staring at my way

    Caught in their glare.

 

    What do I dare,

    But to rush myself straightaway

    And in no time I will forswear

    The peeling paint affair.

Day 28: Weird Goblins riding Strange Creatures. 

            In the world after there was no sunlight, no daylight, only darklight. Most who lived after took to underground as food was scarce. Hunting parties were organized to leave the home cave to search for food and to protect against the child-like darkness trolls. These trolls steal what is left of our livestock food stores. They use our livestock to hunt us. You would be surprised how fast pigs and goats are when they are starved and hungered for flesh. 

             This is where we were after the first night in the cave. The darkness goblins were assembling, and we could hear them through the walls, calling with choking laughter. 

            “Do you think this sounds like a good enough story?” asked Shannon from her bed in the corner of the room. 

            “I don’t know, but they say, write what you know,” I said back from the other corner. The room was dim with only a small lamp to light the bedroom. The outside was dark. Laughter surrounded the room, and small scratchings against the wall. Shannon lit a small candle to make the room feel larger and keep the darkness as bay. 

 

Day 29: Ghost Train with Bug Legs.  

             It was late as I stood in the subway station. I was waiting for the 5C3 train bound for my neighbourhood. There were only a few others waiting with me: an older man reading a newspaper and a younger woman stretching after a run. ‘Why would someone be out for a run this late at run?’ I thought myself. 

            Glancing at my phone, the time showed 8:15 pm, but the station clock showed 8:12 pm. That wasn’t surprising, what was surprising was the station clock was ticking, loudly. 

            Tick! Tick! Tick! 

            I checked my message, Loni messaged me, ‘Dinner is here. Please try to get home soon.’  

           ‘At the train station atm. I messaged back. 

          No response.  

          The station clock now read 8:13 pm. Tick! Tick! Tick! They sounded faster. BING! A message, another from Loni. 

          ‘Hopefully your train will be on time.’ 

          “I hope it is too,” I said aloud. 

          “What is?” said the old man. 

          “Nothing,” I said. Tick! Tick! Tick! When I looked up, I saw a train pulling up. Its face resembled a skull, and it had legs instead of wheels. Tick! Tick! Tick! 

          “I guess I’ll wait a little longer,” I said. 

Day 30: Abandon Cabin with Tentacles, surrounded by Cats. 

          “Hurry up, Bobby,” called Jacob. “We have to get there before sundown.” 

           “Why?” called Bobby, pulling at the briars and thorny weeds that grew across the path. 

           “Because, after dark you don’t want to be there,” he said. 

            Bobby stepped over a log, “I don’t want to be there now,” he said. 

           “Almost there,” said Jacob and Bobby toppled over a large rock, falling into Jacob’s back. “Look!” he said, pointing ahead. 

           Bobby followed Jocab’s fingers line and saw an old house in a clearing. It was about twenty feet away. The roof was partially caved in, but the windows were intact. “See? Cool, huh?” asked Jacob. 

           “Uh, sure,” said Bobby, untangled himself from the weeds, “but why are there all those cats sitting around the house?” when Jacob turned back to the house there were about two dozen cats lounging in the clearing. There were cats of every colour: black, orange, white, tabby, tortoiseshell, grey... “Answer me that, Jake.” 

             “I don’t know,” he said. 

Suddenly a loud roar ripped through the air and the cats all stood up as one. The roar came from the house. Bobby started to back away, reaching for Jacob. 

             “We should go,” said Bobby. A Siamese cat stood next to Bobby, clear blue eyes looking straight at him. It pushed against his shins. “I get it, we should go.” the cat meowed in response. 

              RAWR!!! 

              Another roar echoed in the clearing as the cats marched closer to the house. “Jake! Let’s go!!!” Bobby saw something long and thin pushed through the collapsed roof and jut out toward the small feline army. The cat continued their trek towards the house. “We need to leave, Jake,” said Bobby and he pulled on Jacob’s arm. 

Day 31: Possession/Obsession 

              Here I am, alone on Halloween. I have the night off, but everyone else is busy with kids or handing out candy. I am here alone with an empty house. 

               Tick. Tick. Tick, goes the clock in the hall. 

               Click. Click. Click, goes the kitchen ceiling fan. 

               The TV is playing an older movie, but the sound is turned far down, some of the figures are just miming in the dark. Strange haunting figures lumber across the screen. I feel disconnected from the zombies in the movie as they are chasing a woman through a graveyard. 

               Tick. Tick. Tick, goes the clock. 

               My mouth opens and I say, ‘Tick. Tick. Tick,” though I don’t remember speaking the words. 

               Click. Click. Click, goes the ceiling fan. 

               Again I feel my mouth open, “Click. Click. Click,” I say, though I swear it wasn’t me speaking. I try to say anything else, but nothing comes out. I try reaching for the remote control to change the channel or turn off the TV, but my hand won’t move. 

              “UIhhhhh” I let out a small moan to the empty living room. My heart begins to race. It is the only thing I am aware of even though I cannot control it. My mouth begins to move, “Uhhhhh...” Panic set in, my hands won’t move, my wrist, my fingers won’t either. Nothing! 

              My eyelids flutter closed, making everything dark. There is no sounds, no light, no body. I sit... 

Writober Days 22 thru 25

Day 22: Cows float in the Moonlight (Cascade – abc / deA / fgB / hiC

     Upon a dark night,

     A light flashes out of nowhere

     A moment that seems to stand still.

     No explanation given,

     But the humming is very loud—

     Upon a dark night.

     Where have the cows gone,

     The pastures are empty,

     A light flashes out of nowhere.

                                                                          

     Standing with a hear of cows

     Floating in the air—

     A moment that seems to stand still.

Day 23: Multiple Faces, Side Views (Etheree – 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10)

    

     Face,

     Watching

     Eyes follow—

     Not blinking back.

     A chorus of mimes

     All stand in a line—

     Don’t you dare blink back or they will

     Cross closer to the meeting place,

     Silent hall, filled to capacity,

     Leaving only elbow room while you wait.

Day 24: Cat Face with Skull Nose (Pantoum – 2, 3 4, 1)

                In the early morning hours

                My cat will slowly creep

                Paw by paw she walks across

                My chest to have a peep…

                My cat will slowly creep

                As a means to awaken my sleep on

                My chest to have a peep,

                Staring wide into my face.

                As a means to awaken my sleep on

                A mission she is set upon,

                Staring into my face

                “Time for something to eat, Human.”

                A mission she is set upon

                And my eyes will blink awake,

                “Time for something to eat, Human”

                As I stare at my kitty’s nose.

                And my eyes will blink awake:

                Paw by paw she walks across

                As I stare at my kitty’s nose

                In the early morning hours.

 

Day 25: Giant Mushroom Guard (Terzanelle – ABA / bCB / CDC / dED / eFE / fAFA)

   Upon the road we go,

   Traveling to someplace new—

   Upon the road we go.

    Through the muddy track we slew

    Upon our arses we did fell,

    Traveling to someplace new.

    “My lord,” he then did yell.

    “Gandrel, my man, help me up,”

    (again) upon our arses we did fell.

    The man called out, “I am in a pile up,

    As mud was flung across the track.

    “Gandrel, my man, help me up!”

    “Sir!” called Gandrel, “this is all whack,”

    “for nay, I cannot stand upon this road,”

    As mud was flung across the track.

    One day the lord and his man did told (that’s)

    Upon the road (they) did go,

    For nay, (they) cannot stand upon this road,

    Upon the road (they) go.

Writober Days 18 thru 21

Day 18: Red Door with Figure Crawling Out.

        The house had a red door. It was why she wanted to buy the house, even though all of the other realtors told her there were other houses she could look at, other houses with red doors. “I want this one,” she said. 

       Every last realtor, save for myself, walked away from the potential commission. I didn’t and now I wish I had. 

       We closed the house with the red door on Halloween. I pulled up to the address 15 Mockingbird Heights, staring at its bright red door, winking at me. My client stood on the stoops wearing red heels. “Oh good, you’re here. I thought you’d ditch me like the others.” 

       “Me? No way. I gotta earn my commission,” I laughed, holding up the keys. The red key tags shining in the sunlight. My hand shook somewhat. “Just excited for you.” She grabbd the keys and I left a jolt up my fingertips. “Go ahead, then,” I said. 

        “Oh, but you must see it,” she begged.

        “But, I saw it during the last three tours of the house.”

        “Not when it was mine,” she said, laughing, turning to the door. The key clicked the lock open and pushed the door open, “after you,” she said grabbing my hand as she pushed me through the door, slamming it shut. 

Day 19: Faceless Figures made to look like a Face.

Front row center. 

       That’s where I was sitting. Never do I get tickets this close, but there was a question on the radio.

       “What are the names of the spooky trio in the Nightmare before Christmas?”. I dial so fast that I was surprised when it rang through and was answered by an intern.

         “What’s your answer caller number three?”

          “Uhh, Lock, Shock, and Barrel.” 

          “You’re correct,” interjected the radio DJ, “You’ve won tickets to tonight’s show. Front row, center. Whatdya think of that?”

           “Wow,” I said. Pretty big stuff. Now I was sitting in the audience, waiting for the show to start. “Funny,” I thought to myself, “I don’t even know what I am seeing.” 

           The house lights flashed and slowly dimmed. The crowd grew quiet as the curtain opened to see myself watching the show.

Day 20: Creature with long tongue and glowing eyes.

          My puppy had gotten out one night.

          It was as I was patrolling the streets in my neighbourhood with a flask, calling for her, I could hear the other neighbourhood dogs barking as I passed them.

         “Steelllllaaaaaaaa!” I called. Echoing my voice into the night. It sounded strange to be calling her as she typically never left my side. The nearby dogs barked, but as I stood on Hickock Hill Road on the sidelwalkless side of the road, the air seemed to echo with any noise. Stella was a black puppy, and it was after sunset, so much harder to see. “Stella?” I called again, “Where are you?” Brutus the pit-bull in M. Delaney’s yard was barking, it sounded like a warning.

          “Hush, Brutus,” called Mr. Delany from his porch. “Find her yet, Allie,” he asked, sipping from a teacup.

           “No, not yet,” I sighed as I scanned the yard across from Mr. Delaney, though it was mostly dark and my flashlight didn’t reach far.

            “I doubt she is in Mr. Yoshi’s yard,” said Mr. Dalaney. I shrugged, I could see the forms of Mr. Yoshi’s tuxedos cat, Pip and Pop. They were sitting in his flower bed, Pip yawned in the bean of my flashlight and Pop let out an eerily quiet yowl. “I wouldn’t worry, Allie. She’s come home, especially when she is hungry.”

           “I hope so,” I said.

            I continued walking further up Hickock Hill until I ran out of streetlight and it was quite dark that the flashlight was my only way to see anything. “Stella?” I called, swinging my flashlight left and right, when I hit something reflective. I stopped. “Stella?” I called again. I heard shuffling and paw pads on the gravel in front of me. “Stella?” 

           Suddenly there was a pool of light around me and a large creature with strangely glowing eyes. A long, wet tongue flicked out and brushed my face. “Stella!” I called, wrapping my arms around the creature. “I found you!”

Day 21: Clown in a bunker with a ‘Free Hugs’ sign.

           First day of bootcamp and after a lengthy orientation I was advised to take my bag to my bunk around at Bunker 3.

           This was the normal procedure, but I had arrived late to the orientation and didn’t have time to drop off my gear.

           No one else was in Bunker 3. There was a soul around and was surprised by this. The gravel crunched under my feet, “Home Sweet Home,” I said, “for the next year, I guess.” Smiling at the empty bunker door as I pushed it open. A chill ran up my spine.

            The door squeaked upon opening, stepping through the door I saw a figure in the middle of the main bunker room. It was a clown. It was smiling, and holding a sign that read ‘Free Hugs. Today!’

             “Um, no….thanks,” I said and slammed the bunker door closed.

              “No thanks, Sir?” a voice said behind me. I turned.

              “Captain Grant, uh, Sir,” I said, saluting. “Um, yeah, there is some…thing in Bunker 3.”

               “What?” said the Captain, lifting his head and stepped toward the door. As his hand touched the door another chill went down my spine. Captain Grant pulled the door open. The clown still stood in the middle of the main bunker room, holding its sign. “Oh, that’s just Carl. If you aren’t into hugs just let him know.” Captain Grant walked out of Bunker 3, leaving me alone with Carl and the sign.

              I smiled at Carl. Carl smiled back at me. He pointed to a bunk that appeared to be free.

              “Hey, thanks,” I said as I dropped my bag on top of the bunk.

Writober Days 13 thru 17

Day 13: Shadowy Figure ripping open a Person’s Chest.

                It was hard to tell what someone was thinking, especially if they were arguing with themselves. Gerald sat on a bench in Hathorne Park, eating his Reuben and people watching. Most of the time it was fun coming up with back stories for the people walking in Hathorne Park while on their lunch. Gerald would sometime jot down these mini stories in his notebook for a possible story. Today was a little different.

                A man was pacing in front of Gerald, who was writing frantically, the man was scratching his arms and shaking his head. There was no voice coming from the man, but his lips were moving.

                Gerald paused in his writing, taking another bite of his sandwich. He couldn’t think of why the man was so agitated. He watched the man. The man was pulling at his shirt and there appeared to be tears in his eyes. A cloud passed overhead, dimming the light in the park. The man stopped, he suddenly ripped open his shirt and collapsed.

                                Gerald just sat there watching the man. Someone rushed up to the man and started CPR. He picked up his pencil and started writing again, scratching words onto the paper of his notebook, “there was a form standing over the still man. The form was humanoid, but with long nails that were dripping with blood. The still man’s chest was deeply scratched and was red. Gerald looked at the figure, it was looking at him. 

 

Day 14: Hands Playing the Piano; Keys become Hands Grabbing Back.

Saturday

                Halie sat at the piano in practice room 12. She shook her head as she stared at the sheet music in front of her. “There’s no way I’ll be able to play this for Friday’s concert” Flipping pages, “I don’t ever know arpeggios…”

                The clock on the wall clicked loudly to the next minute. “I only started learning this piece on Wednesday.” Her hands shook as she set her metronome; tap, tap, tap! The rhythm match her heart race, ”oh help me,” she whispered to the empty practice room. Her hands on the keys, “Help me…”

                She closed her eyes and began to play, swaying in time to the metronome. When she tried to open her eyes to see what the next part was, they were stuck fast. Panic seized Halie.

                “Just follow me,” a voice said in her ears.

                “What?” she asked.

                “Shhhh…Let it happen,” the voice said, and she felt hands upon her hands. They were guiding her fingers across the keyboard. “Just follow me,” the voice said. The music spilled out from the piano, dancing around her ears.

                At the last arpeggio, Halie felt her hands released, her eyes opened. She was alone. The clock clicked another minute.

Day 15: In a car, parked in an empty lot with creepy cat figures walking around.

                There was no reason why she was still sitting in the parking lot of the Safeway. The store was closed, and the lamppost lights were all on, yet she sat there with hands on her steering wheel, not moving.

                What compelled her to stare past the empty lot when the last employee had already left her alone in the parking lot. There was a fog rolling in. It wasn’t raining, but the air felt damp.

                She looked to her right, nothing, then to her left, not expecting anything to be there. There was a slight movement, her eyes caught it. A quick turn to see a figure trotting up to her car. She slammed her automatic locks: click, click! The figure continued to trot up to her car. It stopped right in front of her and smiled a large blank smile.

                She smiled back and the figure nodded. There was a rush of movement and a herd of figures rushed in, crossing in front of her car. The lead figure was a giant cat with black dead eyes, it is waiting patiently as the herd passed her car. It nodded again as the last figure passed and then trotted off.

                She blinked slowly, but the herd of dead eyed cats were gone. Her hand turned the keys and the engine turned over. “Time to go,” she said.

Day 16: Hands coming out of a fridge.

                I learned a hard lesson once.

                It was after a dinner party with friends, were like a potluck with a little bit of everything. It was the best time, but man, was it a hard lesson. We played Cards Against the World and hastily made cocktails. Everyone brough so much food that there were leftovers.

                It was late when I stumbled home, practically falling into my apartment and ruining the leftovers. I grabbed at the fridge door, sliding the tub of chicken wings into the middle of the shelf. That was until three weeks later…

 

3:04 am.

 

                I heard shuffling downstairs. No one was home at the time except me and I was wide awake. The shuffling came from the kitchen. Grabbing an umbrella, I snuck downstairs, at the bottom of the stairs I saw a dim light reach around the corner. It was louder as I came down the stairs.

                I peeked around the corner and saw long claws coming out from the fridge’s dim light. “Shit,” I said, louder than I thought as the shuffling started to come towards me. “Those chicken wings went really bad.”

                I closed my eyes, hoping for a miracle.

 

Day 17: Laundry Machine filled with blood; Figure sitting on the Washing Machine with Red Eyes.

                I hate laundry day, especially when I must bundle up seven loads and take them down three flights of stairs to the laundry room in the basement. Thankfully it doesn’t cost me a single quarter to do my laundry like my friends’ buildings do.

                Of course, I always decide I need clean underwear at midnight. So, here I am lugging seven loads down three flights to the basement to clean my unmentionables.

                I have to fumble for the light switch, which is about three feet into  the laundry room. It is quiet except for the furnace running quietly in the corner. Setting down my hamper and large laundry bag at the doorway, I walked into the laundry room, about three feet, feeling for the switch.

                CLICK!

                There is front of me, sitting on the washing machine is a woman, reading a magazine. “Sorry,” I said, “I didn’t realize anyone else was up. She turned to me, her eyes were glowing red. “I, I, um….I didn’t realize the machine was busy.”

                I moved so fast out of the laundry room and up three flights of stairs, slamming my door with a thud. “I didn’t see that. I didn’t see THAT!” I said as I sat on my bed.

                I don’t remember anything else, except that my laundry was washed, dried, and folded right outside my door.

Writobers backlog (Days 8 thru 12)

I am finally getting my Writober pieces typed and posted here. It's a good thing that I consider early November extra Halloween time. Enjoy today's writing fare.

Day 8: Figure made of string, blowing away in the wind.

                It was the first day of September and Ariel was out in the yard. School was going to start in a week and she was feeling sad the summer was almost gone. She only had a few days, a couple of candle ends, and a Diet Pepsi. She didn’t like Diet Pepsi.

                “I wish summer didn’t have to end,” she said to the emptiness around her. Placing a candle end, one by one around her, making a circle. The circle was barely wide enough for her to sit in. “I don’t even have anyone to enjoy the last few days with me.”

                The bottle of soda ‘shhht’ her as Ariel opened it. “I wish I had someone here with me.” A fresh gust of wind blew over her candles and a ring of light surrounded her. She couldn’t feel the sun anymore, but the breeze was cool around her. There also appeared to be no sunlight out. “Hello?” she called.

                “Come here,” a voice called.

                “Who are you?” Ariel asked, as she stood up, breaking the circle of light and candle ends. She felt her arms turn to string and slowly began to unwind. “Wait! What is going on?” screamed Ariel. “You asked for someone to cone, Ariel, did you not? We have come. For you.”

                Ariel tried to scream, but all she heard was the breeze and her body blowing away.

~~~~~

Day 9: Rubix Cube with windows.

                Raymond looked out his window from his balcony, there she was, She, being Cassie. She was out in her garden, pulling weeds. “Hey Cass!” called Raymond.

                Cassie looked up, dark brown hair tied in a bandana, smiling.

                “Cassie! Up,” he called. She tilted her head at the sound of his voice, upwards and smiled.

                “Hi, Ray!” What are you doing?”

                “Oh nothing. Just staring out of my balcony at the pretty flowers.” He smiled.

                Oh, I see,” said Cassie smiling even more. She giggled as she wiped her cheek, leaving a dirty smudge of dirt. “You should come down for a bite,” said Cassie, picking up her trowel and basket of flowers.

                “Is that an invite?” asked Raymond, leaving over his balcony railing.

                “Oh course, silly. Now, come on down,” she said as she walked into her back door out of sight of Raymond.

                Raymond bolted from the balcony into his apartment. He barely took a step, when he was on his balcony, looking down at Cassie.

                “Of course, silly. Now, come on down,” said Cassie.

                Raymond bolted for his apartment from his balcony, only to see himself reappear on the balcony, looking down at Cassie. Again…

~~~~~~~~~

Day 10: Woman coming out of the pupil of an eyeball.

                All the Elders used to say that she has stars in her eyes.

                Janie would sit for hours watching the electronic vision box as programs danced around, the singers drifting across a celluloid screen. The Elders warned her about watching the electronic vision box, that nothing good would come from those abominations. She only replied, “It’ll be fine!”

                One day, while an electric storm raged outside, Janie sat watching a rerun of the Rockettes Christmas program from a long time ago. Elder Jean walked over to the vision box, bent down to turn it off. “No! Not yet,” screamed Janie, reaching for the dial at the same time, but it was too late. A bolt of lightning hit the vison box and both Elder Jean and Janie. I flash of light resounded and Janie could only see the faint vision of Rockettes kicking higher.

~~~~~~~~~

Day 11: Man in a suit standing in a pool of light.

                It was times like this one that Randell disliked. He disliked the dark and it was dark, except for the streetlamp that cast a green glow around him. He was waiting for his bus.

                “I wish I had a car,” he muttered to himself, instead of this waiting. The night air was cold, but not uncomfortable. He could hear the crickets lightly chirping and is seemed to ring around the streetlamps green light. Randell turned from the busstop’s sign. “Hello?” he called to no one in particular.

                The crickets stopped their chirping, “don’t let me bother you,” a voice called to Randell from the darkness beyond.

                “Who are you?” asked Randell, eying the darkness but couldn’t see anything. He took a step close to the darkness.

                “You shouldn’t leave the safety of the light,” said the voice, “Not right now, anyway.”

                Randell took another step, titling his head, “Are you waiting for the bus too?”

                “Waiting? Yes. For the bus? No.” the voice said.

                The air was quiet, the crickets had stopped completely. Randell took another step, only one step away from the darkness. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

                “Waiting. For you, Randell,” the voice said.

                “Why?” asked Randell, he lifted his foot to take another step.

                HONK!

                Randell turned to see the bus coming right at him. It stopped with a screech of rubber and asphalt. The voice was silent, and the crickets began chirping again…

 ~~~~~~~

Day 12: Swinging Doors with Handprints.

                “Meet me in the basement,” Bernie said to herself. “Why of all the terrible ideas should we meet in the basement. Greta has the most terrible ideas,” thought Bernie. The sound of her footfalls on the tiled floor gave the hallway an echo. Bernie was sure she heard a second set of footsteps behind her, but when she turned there was no one there.

                At the end of the hallway was the stairwell door, down to the basement. Down there was the morgue, where Greta worked. “I don’t know why we can’t meet somewhere, like maybe the coffeeshop upstairs.” Bernie pushed the stairwell door open. There was only one dim light that illuminated the stairwell this far down.

                Step.

                Step.

                Step.

                Down walked Bernie, down to the basement. She could definitely hear another set of footsteps on the stairs. She was sure of it, because as she picked up speed, so did the extra steps.

                Bernie rushed the last few steps and flung herself at the door towards the morgue, rushing into the hallway and the only less dim light of the morgue’s hallway. Turning around, Bernie still saw no one. She was breathing heavily as she ran to the morgue’s door. There were handprints on the windows of the morgue, bloody? Handprints. Bernie pushed the doors with the bloody handprints open, bracing for whatever was on the other side. The doors flew open.

                “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” called Greta and all of Bernie’s friends.

last Halloween Photography Challenge post, I promisr

Last 3 days: Night, Blood, and Swamp. Whew! I made it through....

Halloween Photography Challenge (days 26 thru 31)

Sorry for the photo dump, but finally getting around to checking up on my challenges. This post includes days 31 through 26: costume, cat, party (pumpkin carving party), scream (cover of an Edgar Allen Poe anthology), Forest, and Haunt (haunted side porch).

OctPoWriMo end of Halloween Poems

I have been keeping up with my poetry entries for OctPoWriMo, just not as good as posting lately. I really tried to follow the daily prompts, usually writing something loosely around the theme of the prompt, but using the poetic form suggested. There were a few that were either a bit to hard on a particular day, or the prompt was a bit different than I planned for. This usually meant that I wrote a haiku about the prompt for the day. Haiku is and probably always my go to poetic form, that and pantoums.

Here are days 30, 31, 29,and 28.

Thank you to Maria Berg for keeping OctPoWriMo alive.

Halloween Photography Challenge (dump post)

Another bit of Halloween photos for the challenge and I have lost most of the days, but the prompts were remembered. This batch is haunt, superstition, spider, and vampire. 

Truth, I have enjoyed doing this challenge and trying to find ways to multiple the subject matter or the settings on the pictures. I think it's the month, all the spooky and spoopy things are helping bring out the creative.

Enjoy!

Halloween Photography Challenge (backlog)

This is a long post, because I am trying to get caught up on my days. Here's the calendar I have been using, bright to you by Maria Berg over at Experience Writing. What you see here is the entries for fog, scream, zombie, veil, moon, jack-o-lantern, and one that I don't remember what I was trying to do. Also, it appears that scream is further along in the month, whoops, AND twice. Ha! Anyway, please enjoy my noob photography. I will be posting the last of my backlog this week. Stay spooky, Dear Readers!