Person One or Two? [FICTION]

Riding the bus filled me with fear, but I boarded the late night bus to the next town over. I hoped it would be worth it if I caught my best friend before her flight to Paris. Despite the late hour, only one seat remained open. The man in the adjoining seat winked as I sat down. He proffered a drink in a faded red Thermos. Had the coffee stain around the rim not deterred me, the aroma of fermented grain wafting from him would have. I shook my head and scooted to the far edge of my seat.

He smiled broadly and took a swig before initiating conversation in slurred syllables, “There are two kinds of people in this world.” He paused to wipe his nose with his already stained sleeve. “Those who live life and those who don’t.”

I raised my eyebrows but didn’t offer a response, hoping my silence would encourage his. He continued. “I can tell you don’t live life. Now me, I live life. That’s why I am on this bus. I am living my life—making every night and day an adventure.”

I leaned away and closed my eyes. He poked my arm. My eyes flew open to inspect crud under long, ragged fingernails as he withdrew his hand.

“People who live life don’t snooze on buses. They listen to the tales of their fellow passengers and are inspired or cautioned by them.” He nodded at this unquestionable wisdom. “Want to hear my tale of caution?”

“No.” I mumbled sullenly.

“Then you need to hear it more than I thought, son.” He leaned in, blowing enough potent fumes in my face to make me worry about my blood alcohol levels. “You need to start living life, so you don’t end up like me—an old sod on a bus, waiting for someone to sit next to them and listen to their laments.”

Something in his eyes, reminded me of my father. My heart softened. I still leaned away from him, but I waved my hand in reluctant surrender. “I’ve got time to listen. I guess.”

His smile returned. “When I was young, the booze hadn’t got me yet. I was well-groomed and didn’t have too much trouble with the ladies. Of course, my passion at the time was travel and a woman holds you back, you know?”

He paused to let me respond but hurried on when I only slightly inclined my head. As he regaled me with tales of women and opportunities that tried to convince him to stop living life, he reminded me less of my father. My attention strayed. I didn’t tune back in to his tirade until he tapped me lightly on the arm.

“Sorry, son, the time for talking is over. I have a life to live.”

“Huh?” I asked as he stumbled over my legs.

“Life calls!” He declared enthusiastically.

I shied away from the look in his eyes as he lurched to the front of the bus.

The driver noticed him in the mirror and quickly pulled over to the side of the road. “Right on schedule, Tommy.”

My traveling companion bounded down the stairs, calling out some string of gibberish that meant volumes more than I would ever understand. As his feet touched the gravel by the side of the road, he removed his coat. Snowflakes swirling down around him didn’t discourage him as he peeled off his shirt.

“Enjoy your night.” The bus driver called out as he closed the door and pulled away from the side of the road.

Through the back window of the bus, I could see Tommy dancing shirtless in the snow as he lived life. I shivered and resolved to live life more warmly than that even if it meant a stranger on the bus would judge me.

~~~

Hope you're enjoying the stories of 2018. Please feel free to leave love, encouragement, and feedback in the comments below.

Legless Doubts [FICTION]

Slithering through the soul, the creature’s slender body curves and twists from side to side. So small that it can slip in the smallest opening, the snake slithers into the darkest, most secret parts of its host. Hissing softly, it whispers. The mind fills with lies, insults, and doubts under the pressure of that soft voice. The spirit quivers and quakes as soft suggestions break through impenetrable barriers. Eventually, oft-repeated phrases and questions push aside reason.

“You’re not good enough.”

“Why do you even try?”

“You can’t do thisssss.”

“Do you think anyone caresssss?”

“You will fail.”

“Why don’t you give up?”

“You don’t dessssserve love.”

Having conquered the mind, the snake changes direction and heads south. Riding the river that flows to the center, it wraps itself around the warm, beating muscle it find there. The heart shudders with every exploratory squeeze, struggling to pump out enough blood with such constriction. Time passes. Heart and mind struggle to regain control. How long the battle lasts depends on when their owner chooses to seek help.

Sinking down to weary knees, a plea for help falls from ashen lips. As tears stream down a pale face, vision blurs. In the haze a winged creature swoops downward, disappearing before its talons touch the smooth skin of the sweat-soaked forehead.

“Who would help you?” A faint question echoes softly.

A feathery warmth spreads through until it finds its prey. A struggle ensues between wings and great worm. The winged creature bites and claws. Sharp talons find purchase in slick scales.

The snake’s hold loosens. Blood flows again from heart to hands to feet to head. Thoughts clear. The hissing doubts subside. Freedom follows faith. Freedom becomes true.

Any Other Friday Night [FICTION]

“Sarah! Mary!” Nothing beats the rush of hearing your name called when you enter your favorite piano bar after a long week of drudgery.

I can’t play a single note on the piano, so the image of me in a piano makes my friends laugh. Mary tried to teach me about middle C once and I made a joke that she forbid me to make again. I enjoy singing and luckily my voice is good enough for the often inebriated denizens of Puck’s Pub. After a rough Friday at the office, we put on slinky black dresses and headed down to the pub, anticipating the lift from our traditional greeting.

“Ready?” Mary asked, rearranging a wayward strand of my hair.

“Almost.” In turn, I wiped a smudge of lipstick from the corner of her lip.

“Now?” She asked anxiously.

I nodded. We opened the door and stepped inside. We paused and waited. A few people glanced our way disinterestedly.

“That’s odd.” I muttered, let down by the absence of greeting.

“Yeah. What’s the joke?” Mary asked.

“Let’s see if we can find out.”

Mary directed her steps toward the piano while I made my way to the bar. 

“I’ll take a water, Joe.” I gushed as I leaned on the bar.

“My name’s Ralph, ma’am.” He replied gruffly, filling a glass from the tap and pushing it toward me.

“I know…” I paused.

Ralph’s reaction floored me. We’d played this same scene over and over with smiles on both sides every night. Suddenly, he didn’t want to joke anymore?

“Then don’t call me, Joe.” This time he didn’t add ma’am, which offered me a semblance of comfort.

“Arnold won’t let me play the piano.” Mary hissed in my ear.

I looked toward the piano. The short, bald man with his fingers on the keys eyed us suspiciously. His gaze morphed to annoyance as he saw our eyes resting on him.

“Really?”

“You can’t see the look he is giving us?”

I frowned. “Ralph acted like our standing joke was just me being stupid.”

“He refused to answer to Joe?”

He looked up as if he had heard the question or noticed our attention turn to him. His gaze lingered on me questioningly before turning to another regular. He leaned in to speak to the woman, who looked back at me with an equally quizical glance.

“She asked you to sing three songs last Friday and now we’re strangers?” Mary asked.

“What’s going on?”

Mary shrugged. “I think my urge to entertain has left the building.”

“Shall we join it?” I offered her my elbow. “Unless you want to take a try at amateur detective work?”

“We could do that…” She started toward the bar.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” I called after her.

“What gives, Ralph? Why is everyone acting like we’re strangers?” She asked as he came over to take her order.

He looked up startled. “Sorry, ma’am?”

“Ma’am? Since when do you call me ma’am?”

“What would you like me to call you?”

“Mary.” She turned to me exasperated. “Are we crazy?”

“I think it is everyone else.” I muttered.

“We’re going to have to ask you to leave.” Heavy hands clamped down on our shoulders, directing us to the door.

“What’s going on, Bruce?” I asked the bouncer as he continued to force us from the pub.

“I’ll tell you next Friday.” He whispered and then raised his gruff voice. “You’re causing trouble. You have to go.”

Mary and I looked at each other, frowning but this was the closest to an answer that we had received. I tried to keep my lips from moving too much as I tried again. “Why can’t you tell us now?”

“Not enough time.” With that, he shoved us toward the door which swung open as another customer entered the pub.

As the door closed behind us, Mary grabbed my hand and squeezed it gently. “I guess we’ll find out next week.”

“Maybe.” I looked at the door, pondering whether I wanted to return in a week for a repeat performance.

Shall our story continue? It's up the you, dear readers. Do Mary and Sarah return to Puck's Pub and find out what was going on. Feel free to cast your vote in the comments below.

The Write Start to 2018

So my number ONE resolution for this year is to give my writer more freedom. She has been languishing so long that I might need to give her a solid kick in the direction of putting words to page, so feel free to drop encouragement.

Resolution number TWO is to make headway in the battle with my desire to create in other forms. From cards to jewelry to journals to quilts to stuffed creatures, I like to craft from paper and cloth until I have something new. If you are interested in purchasing one of my creations, please let me know. For instance, I created this choker necklace:

I should have more than two resolutions, but I feel like those two goals need the most attention in 2018. What goals do you have?

UPDATE: I found resolution number THREE. It was actually gently suggested to me by a beautiful and sweet friend. What is it? I need to work on being a better, mire-loving person (in the words of my friend, I need to look for ways to follow the example of Christ in my daily life). Hopefully, many people add a similar resolution to their list. I've heard far too much news of people destroying each other's lives instead of lifting each other up. We need to lift each other up. We need each other more than we know...

Write in a Forward Direction

A new year brings new goals, or, for most of us, a renewal of old goals and rebirth of old dreams. My writing has continued to suffer serious neglect over the past year, despite intentions to bring it back to the top of the list. I signed up for Camp National Novel Writing Month in July and wrote a four word title to my piece. Then life happened and the idea behind it has long since melted back into the folds of my brain. In November, I signed up for National Novel Writing Month with only a little more success. I eked out 10,000 words between morning sickness, caring for a sick toddler, Thanksgiving festivities, and the other excitement life threw at me. 

So with so many obstacles, why do I still pursue the allure of words strung together? One of my earliest memories is following my brother around, asking him to help me spell out words. I was about three and I wanted to communicate with those around me through the written word already. As I grew older, I learned to read. I loved making new friends inside the pages of books. I explored the pages of every tome that fell into my hands. I even borrowed reading textbooks from my older brothers. Then I discovered that I could write my own stories. I could send my toys to far off lands with my words. I could explore unknown kingdoms and make even more friends, as unique and interesting as I needed them to be. My early attempts amuse me when I unearth yellowed pages with my youthful scrawl, but some of my later efforts have brought smiles and laughs, so I shouldn’t give up. Should I? 

What lies ahead for my writing? I’ve resolved to make a real effort to balance my time better in the upcoming year. I want to spend time with my family and fulfill my callings at church, but I don’t want to lose the inherent abilities that I have, especially the writer inside who sometimes begs me to jot down lines of poetry or breathe life into a character who dances through my mind. So the upcoming year should see more posts for your reading pleasure and hopefully the completion of at least one of my half-started tales. Feel free to offer moral support, particularly if a piece touches your heart, makes you laugh, or stirs your imagination.

Sky Diamonds (POETRY)

Bring me diamonds from the sky
Promise me this one last lie
That these crystals won't melt away
Bringing me even further today
From where I was when the journey began
Crystal shapes do not understand
But you could if you opened your heart
And stopped trying to tear mine apart
Melt this ice, release this pain
Bring sky diamonds that don't melt to rain.

Grow Your Heart Three Sizes...

The heart of a grinch has taken over my tiny little hobbit body this season. I am hoping that when my cold dissipates, my heart will grow back to its normal size. In the meantime, I am trying not to overdo my slightly less than seasonal feelings. I did weed out a few names from my Christmas card list. If I have not received a card or heard from someone in a number of years, I don't feel confident that I have the correct address or that they want to hear from me. I always have extra cards. If someone surprises me and sends a card for a change, I can send one back.

In the opposite direction, the end of my cold promises the chance for some warm seasonal baking. I hope to still have enough friends who would like a sweet token of seasonal affection by that time. I don't think I will repeat last year's efforts to distribute treats individually to the hundreds of members of my church family. That takes far more energy than my body can handle this holiday season. I'll just have to pass out more smiles and wishes of a Merry Christmas. Those won't threaten to send buttons flying off of pants at least.

How do you get in the holiday spirit when your skin feels a little green and your heart feels shrunken?

Sing Christmas carols?

Spend time with friends?

Mail out holiday cards? Admire the ones you have received?

Watch cheesy holiday movies?

Help someone in need?

Donate to charity?

Read select passages from the New Testament?

Wrap presents?

Bake treats?

Inspire me...