Hey everyone. I sincerely apologize at my lack of posts recently. The new job is keeping me extremely busy so I've had less time to write. I'm also getting ready to move soon so that has also been a challenge. I hope to have something new up soon as well as continuations of Asra and Liora and Bjarke and Iona's stories.
Thanks for being patient and I hope you will continue to read the things I write. For those where it's summer, I hope you are enjoying all the hot weather, because I'm totally not...
Wednesday, August 17, 2016
Sunday, July 17, 2016
Monster Under The Bed Pt. 2
More monsters under beds! Please enjoy!
The next night, Asra didn't wait until I was in a half asleep state before he showed himself. Like mist curling over a road, he slipped from underneath my bed and took the same chair he had the night before. While his attitude was a bit warmer towards me this time, he still seemed wary and unsure of himself.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Asra seems startled by my abruptness.
"I do not see why it would be a problem, Liora," he said slowly, folding his hands on his lap serenely.
Just the gracefulness of his movements made me feel clunky and useless in his presence.
"You never seemed interested in scaring me the way I would assume a traditional monster under the bed does," I said. "Why is that?"
Asra's golden eyes looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I suppose I'm cut from a different cloth than others," he said slowly. "I did enough to keep you slightly frightened and uncertain as a young child. As you got older, I just made small noises to let you know I was still here."
"I used to try and stay awake all night just to meet you," I said, my voice becoming dreamy and far away, lost in childhood fantasy. "I used to think I could catch you but you wouldn't be scary at all and we could be best friends."
Asra let out a cough but I was pretty sure he was trying to cover up a laugh. It did seem like a stupid concept when one thought about it long and hard enough and it earned me ridicule my entire life.
"Everyone used to tell me that I would outgrow you," I said to him, my dark eyes meeting his light ones. "That I would forget all about the monster under the bed and move on to something worth my time."
"You would have seemed to have accomplished that," the monster said matter-of-factly.
I gave the fiercely handsome creature a sad look.
"No, I never did and everyone has called me everything from crazy and delusional to obsessed," I said, casting my eyes to my white knuckled fingers.
Tears threatened to escape my eyes. I didn't think that asking Asra this simple question would have brought back so many painful memories. It was hard enough being one of the only Jewish children in your school but when you have fantastical thoughts and self-made adventures with the monster under your bed... Well, children are cruel and it doesn't get better as you get older.
A whispering touch on my chin causes me to look up. I find myself face to face with Asra and I am again breathless at the beauty I find in it. He is very far from the monster I would have believed him to be years ago. He has fine features with a proud, straight nose and his molten eyes set underneath well shaped brows. There are no lines or wrinkles on his face save a tiny birthmark at the corner of his right eye.
"The unfortunate side effect of growing up in your world is a lack of imagination in most cases," Asra says, still taking hold of my chin.
His eyes rove over my face as if to memorize it's features. Surely it is a face he has seen many times and he has had lifetimes to gaze at faces more beautiful than mine. I let my gaze drop from his.
"Liora, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent," Asra said, letting his fingers slid off my chin.
My eyes shoot back to him and I let out a surprised exclamation.
"You just quoted Eleanor Roosevelt!" I said in shock.
Asra nods as he finally takes a seat next to me.
"I do like to keep occupied," he said. "I find the human world probably about as fascinating as you do mine."
I give him a look.
"I would be more fascinated if I knew what your world is like, you know," I told him. "You have yet to tell me anything about it."
Asra looks uncomfortable again, his eyes shifting uneasily to my floor as if he can see into his world. For all I know, he can.
"Well, my world can be unforgiving and brutal if you are not careful," he said slowly. "A monster gets to choose their own form when they are assigned to a child."
I nod. I guess it would make sense for the monsters to be assigned children. How else could so many children have the same stories about monsters under beds and noises that bump in the night?
"You and I, we are an unusual case," Asra said. "This is because you still believe I exist."
"So, you're saying, the only reason I can see you is because I believe in you?" I asked, incredulous. "That's like the terrible plot line of a poorly though out 90's cartoon flick for children."
Asra chuckled lightly.
"You and I are different because most monsters are not with their children very long. They stop fearing the monsters so the monsters are reassigned to new children every couple of years," he explained. "Except I have been paired with you for the last 23 years. You are actually a bit of a minor celebrity back in my world."
I felt myself blush, not only at Asra's proximity but at the thought of being a C-list celebrity where he lived.
"No one has kept a child longer than 2 years," he explained. "Children grow out of their imagined fears. Yours just seemed to change."
I sat there mystified. I knew I was strange to begin with but to be considered famous in a world that was invisible to me was strange and disconcerting. A large yawn that almost unhinged by jaw interrupted our conversation. I was tired and had to get to sleep.
"Promise you'll be here tomorrow?" I asked Asra sleepily.
"I will," he said.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I thought I felt him kiss my brow softly and whisper in my ear -- "Always."
The next night, Asra didn't wait until I was in a half asleep state before he showed himself. Like mist curling over a road, he slipped from underneath my bed and took the same chair he had the night before. While his attitude was a bit warmer towards me this time, he still seemed wary and unsure of himself.
"Can I ask you a question?"
Asra seems startled by my abruptness.
"I do not see why it would be a problem, Liora," he said slowly, folding his hands on his lap serenely.
Just the gracefulness of his movements made me feel clunky and useless in his presence.
"You never seemed interested in scaring me the way I would assume a traditional monster under the bed does," I said. "Why is that?"
Asra's golden eyes looked thoughtful for a moment.
"I suppose I'm cut from a different cloth than others," he said slowly. "I did enough to keep you slightly frightened and uncertain as a young child. As you got older, I just made small noises to let you know I was still here."
"I used to try and stay awake all night just to meet you," I said, my voice becoming dreamy and far away, lost in childhood fantasy. "I used to think I could catch you but you wouldn't be scary at all and we could be best friends."
Asra let out a cough but I was pretty sure he was trying to cover up a laugh. It did seem like a stupid concept when one thought about it long and hard enough and it earned me ridicule my entire life.
"Everyone used to tell me that I would outgrow you," I said to him, my dark eyes meeting his light ones. "That I would forget all about the monster under the bed and move on to something worth my time."
"You would have seemed to have accomplished that," the monster said matter-of-factly.
I gave the fiercely handsome creature a sad look.
"No, I never did and everyone has called me everything from crazy and delusional to obsessed," I said, casting my eyes to my white knuckled fingers.
Tears threatened to escape my eyes. I didn't think that asking Asra this simple question would have brought back so many painful memories. It was hard enough being one of the only Jewish children in your school but when you have fantastical thoughts and self-made adventures with the monster under your bed... Well, children are cruel and it doesn't get better as you get older.
A whispering touch on my chin causes me to look up. I find myself face to face with Asra and I am again breathless at the beauty I find in it. He is very far from the monster I would have believed him to be years ago. He has fine features with a proud, straight nose and his molten eyes set underneath well shaped brows. There are no lines or wrinkles on his face save a tiny birthmark at the corner of his right eye.
"The unfortunate side effect of growing up in your world is a lack of imagination in most cases," Asra says, still taking hold of my chin.
His eyes rove over my face as if to memorize it's features. Surely it is a face he has seen many times and he has had lifetimes to gaze at faces more beautiful than mine. I let my gaze drop from his.
"Liora, no one can make you feel inferior without your consent," Asra said, letting his fingers slid off my chin.
My eyes shoot back to him and I let out a surprised exclamation.
"You just quoted Eleanor Roosevelt!" I said in shock.
Asra nods as he finally takes a seat next to me.
"I do like to keep occupied," he said. "I find the human world probably about as fascinating as you do mine."
I give him a look.
"I would be more fascinated if I knew what your world is like, you know," I told him. "You have yet to tell me anything about it."
Asra looks uncomfortable again, his eyes shifting uneasily to my floor as if he can see into his world. For all I know, he can.
"Well, my world can be unforgiving and brutal if you are not careful," he said slowly. "A monster gets to choose their own form when they are assigned to a child."
I nod. I guess it would make sense for the monsters to be assigned children. How else could so many children have the same stories about monsters under beds and noises that bump in the night?
"You and I, we are an unusual case," Asra said. "This is because you still believe I exist."
"So, you're saying, the only reason I can see you is because I believe in you?" I asked, incredulous. "That's like the terrible plot line of a poorly though out 90's cartoon flick for children."
Asra chuckled lightly.
"You and I are different because most monsters are not with their children very long. They stop fearing the monsters so the monsters are reassigned to new children every couple of years," he explained. "Except I have been paired with you for the last 23 years. You are actually a bit of a minor celebrity back in my world."
I felt myself blush, not only at Asra's proximity but at the thought of being a C-list celebrity where he lived.
"No one has kept a child longer than 2 years," he explained. "Children grow out of their imagined fears. Yours just seemed to change."
I sat there mystified. I knew I was strange to begin with but to be considered famous in a world that was invisible to me was strange and disconcerting. A large yawn that almost unhinged by jaw interrupted our conversation. I was tired and had to get to sleep.
"Promise you'll be here tomorrow?" I asked Asra sleepily.
"I will," he said.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I thought I felt him kiss my brow softly and whisper in my ear -- "Always."
Monster Under The Bed
We've all been scared of the monster under our beds or in our closets. I, to this day, get very uncomfortable sleeping with my closet door open. It usually has to be closed. But this is also coming from a young woman who will still sleep with the light on if she's too terrified, but I digress. This is a cool concept and the way I wrote it was kind of like a combination of "Rise of the Guardians" and "Some Quiet Place" by Kelsey Sutton. If you haven't seen "Rise of the Guardians" or read "Some Quiet Place" [which I recommend you do] then ignore that last statement.
I might want to further pursue this idea. I kind of like the vibe I have going on. But Bjarke and Iona take on precedence. Please enjoy!
The first time I saw him, I was around 6. I had just insisted to my parents that I was a big girl and wasn't afraid of the monster under my bed or in my closet or otherwise. After all, I had my trusty stuffed bear to protect me and I could always hide under my covers. If I can't see it, it must not exist.
That night, I was woken up in, what felt like the middle of the night, by a scratching sound coming from under my bed. In my sleep hazed vision, I saw something appear before me and bend towards me. I screamed loudly and the black shape disappeared into the shadows underneath my bed. I didn't stop shrieking until my parents came rushing into my room, throwing on the light and comforting me.
From that day forward, I knew I would catch and confront the monster underneath my bed. But I never saw the fuzzy shape again. Until now.
I had moved out of my parent's house just this past week into my first apartment. I didn't mind living by myself, but I was sad at the thought that my monster had been left behind. My family and friends had all made fun of me, still believing at 23 there was still a monster under my bed. But I knew otherwise. I would hear the faint scratching on the wood floors, his sign to let me know he was still there, waiting.
At the end of another day, I collapsed onto my bed, dressed in my most comfortable pair of summer pajamas and snuggling deep into my comforter. It had been a long week with the move and my new job and I was eager for the weekend. As I started to fade into sleep, I heard the quiet 'skritch skritch' that had become so familiar to me. I froze in my spot, eyes wide. Had my monster come to my apartment with me or were the sounds of an unfamiliar place playing tricks on my mind? I lay awake, hoping that I would finally be able to meet him.
Several minutes later, a dark shape slid from underneath the bed and formed the shape of a young man. His bright gold eyes widened as he noticed I was still awake. His edges looked fuzzy, as if he were made of grains of sand and he was more handsome than scary. He grimaced and like he was about to flee back under the bed before I called out.
"Please, don't!" I cried softly, sitting up. "I've been waiting ages to meet the monster under my bed."
He continued to stare at me warily as if I were trying to trick him. I patted the space next to me, enthralled with the creature before me. He looked more like a stock broker than a monster under the bed with dark, curly black hair and a cloak that looked like the whirling night sky.
"Please don't go," I said. "I wish to talk with you."
"Why?" he asked in a deep voice that reminded me of a thundering waterfall. He still looked like he would disappear in an instant if I moved to fast, like a feral cat.
I paused. I didn't know why but I knew I had to.
"I've believed you were real my entire life," I offered. "I've always wanted to meet you. I was never scared, only curious."
"If I recall correctly, you didn't believe in me at six until you saw me and then you screamed your head off."
My cheeks reddened.
"Well, I was a young child," I argued. "You can't expect me to not be startled when the thing your older brother had tormented you with your entire life all of a sudden shows up in your bedroom."
The monster chuckled.
"You are strange for a human," he said, still not taking the offered seat. Instead, he glided over to my computer desk and sat down in my office chair.
"And you are strange for a monster under the bed," I retorted in reflex. "You are not what I was expecting."
He didn't seem fazed by my confession.
"What were you expecting?" he asked.
"I don't know. Something hairier, bigger, more drool and some fangs. Isn't that what the monster under the bed is supposed to look like?"
"I suppose," he said. "But then again, humans see what they wish. I could appear to you like that but I've never had a liking for it. I like the way I am."
"Then you are strange for a monster under the bed," I told him bluntly. He let out a wry laugh before focusing in on my face again.
I blushed. Was there toothpaste at the corner of my mouth? I self-consciously dragged the back of my hand across my mouth to check. The monster noticed and looked embarrassed that I had caught him staring.
"So, is there a reason you came to with me to my new apartment rather than stay at my parent's house?"
He rubbed that back of his neck, looking uncomfortable at my question.
"That is just how it is," he said finally. "There are rules in my world that are mostly likely too difficult for you to understand."
I shot him an annoyed look.
"I've been waiting years to finally talk to you and learn about you and that's the answer you're going to give me," I huffed. "That I'm too stupid to understand the rules and regulations of the monster under the bed world."
He gave an exasperated sigh.
"I didn't say that," he countered. "I have known you for years. I have seen and heard your accomplishments and heartbreaks. I have seen and heard every song you've ever sang into your hair brush and every sigh and whispered promise to everyone."
I flushed at his words. While slightly awkward and strange, it was almost comforting to not have any secrets from someone. The monster's pale skin also seemed to have a bit of a rosy tint after confessing what he knew.
"You are not too stupid to understand our rules," he said again. "They are just complicated to explain."
"Well, seeing as I can't call you 'Monster Under The Bed' forever, is there something I can call you?"
"I am called Asra," he said, with a slight bow of his head.
"Asra," I repeated, rolling his name on my tongue like a sweet. "It's nice to finally meet you, Asra. And even though you already know me, I'm Liora."
Asra let a brilliant smile rise to his lips and his eyes crinkled in what seemed like happiness.
"How fitting," he said. "You light and I dark."
He stood and made is way over to the bed. Reaching out, he touched my forehead gently, his fingers feeling like the brush of silk.
"Sleep," he said in his waterfall voice. "I will be here again tomorrow and we can talk more then."
"You promise?" I asked with a jaw cracking yawn. I didn't want to sleep and find that he had disappeared for good by tomorrow night.
"I promise."
I laid down, my eyes suddenly became heavy and Asra began to fade from my sight as I drifted off to sleep. That night, my dreams were filled with roaring waterfalls and swirling diamond skies.
Research Notes: I feel like I should always put research notes down at the bottom of these prompts because I do actually do some research into what I write. Maybe I'm crazy. Anywayyyyy. Asra means 'travels at night' in Arabic and I thought that was quite appropriate for a monster under the bed. Who cares if it's a female name. You don't know me and I'll live my life how I please dammit!! Ahem. Liora is Hebrew for "light for me" and is the strictly feminine form of Lior. So that is the meaning behind Asra's comment about dark and light. Ohohohoho, I'm so clever.
I might want to further pursue this idea. I kind of like the vibe I have going on. But Bjarke and Iona take on precedence. Please enjoy!
The first time I saw him, I was around 6. I had just insisted to my parents that I was a big girl and wasn't afraid of the monster under my bed or in my closet or otherwise. After all, I had my trusty stuffed bear to protect me and I could always hide under my covers. If I can't see it, it must not exist.
That night, I was woken up in, what felt like the middle of the night, by a scratching sound coming from under my bed. In my sleep hazed vision, I saw something appear before me and bend towards me. I screamed loudly and the black shape disappeared into the shadows underneath my bed. I didn't stop shrieking until my parents came rushing into my room, throwing on the light and comforting me.
From that day forward, I knew I would catch and confront the monster underneath my bed. But I never saw the fuzzy shape again. Until now.
I had moved out of my parent's house just this past week into my first apartment. I didn't mind living by myself, but I was sad at the thought that my monster had been left behind. My family and friends had all made fun of me, still believing at 23 there was still a monster under my bed. But I knew otherwise. I would hear the faint scratching on the wood floors, his sign to let me know he was still there, waiting.
At the end of another day, I collapsed onto my bed, dressed in my most comfortable pair of summer pajamas and snuggling deep into my comforter. It had been a long week with the move and my new job and I was eager for the weekend. As I started to fade into sleep, I heard the quiet 'skritch skritch' that had become so familiar to me. I froze in my spot, eyes wide. Had my monster come to my apartment with me or were the sounds of an unfamiliar place playing tricks on my mind? I lay awake, hoping that I would finally be able to meet him.
Several minutes later, a dark shape slid from underneath the bed and formed the shape of a young man. His bright gold eyes widened as he noticed I was still awake. His edges looked fuzzy, as if he were made of grains of sand and he was more handsome than scary. He grimaced and like he was about to flee back under the bed before I called out.
"Please, don't!" I cried softly, sitting up. "I've been waiting ages to meet the monster under my bed."
He continued to stare at me warily as if I were trying to trick him. I patted the space next to me, enthralled with the creature before me. He looked more like a stock broker than a monster under the bed with dark, curly black hair and a cloak that looked like the whirling night sky.
"Please don't go," I said. "I wish to talk with you."
"Why?" he asked in a deep voice that reminded me of a thundering waterfall. He still looked like he would disappear in an instant if I moved to fast, like a feral cat.
I paused. I didn't know why but I knew I had to.
"I've believed you were real my entire life," I offered. "I've always wanted to meet you. I was never scared, only curious."
"If I recall correctly, you didn't believe in me at six until you saw me and then you screamed your head off."
My cheeks reddened.
"Well, I was a young child," I argued. "You can't expect me to not be startled when the thing your older brother had tormented you with your entire life all of a sudden shows up in your bedroom."
The monster chuckled.
"You are strange for a human," he said, still not taking the offered seat. Instead, he glided over to my computer desk and sat down in my office chair.
"And you are strange for a monster under the bed," I retorted in reflex. "You are not what I was expecting."
He didn't seem fazed by my confession.
"What were you expecting?" he asked.
"I don't know. Something hairier, bigger, more drool and some fangs. Isn't that what the monster under the bed is supposed to look like?"
"I suppose," he said. "But then again, humans see what they wish. I could appear to you like that but I've never had a liking for it. I like the way I am."
"Then you are strange for a monster under the bed," I told him bluntly. He let out a wry laugh before focusing in on my face again.
I blushed. Was there toothpaste at the corner of my mouth? I self-consciously dragged the back of my hand across my mouth to check. The monster noticed and looked embarrassed that I had caught him staring.
"So, is there a reason you came to with me to my new apartment rather than stay at my parent's house?"
He rubbed that back of his neck, looking uncomfortable at my question.
"That is just how it is," he said finally. "There are rules in my world that are mostly likely too difficult for you to understand."
I shot him an annoyed look.
"I've been waiting years to finally talk to you and learn about you and that's the answer you're going to give me," I huffed. "That I'm too stupid to understand the rules and regulations of the monster under the bed world."
He gave an exasperated sigh.
"I didn't say that," he countered. "I have known you for years. I have seen and heard your accomplishments and heartbreaks. I have seen and heard every song you've ever sang into your hair brush and every sigh and whispered promise to everyone."
I flushed at his words. While slightly awkward and strange, it was almost comforting to not have any secrets from someone. The monster's pale skin also seemed to have a bit of a rosy tint after confessing what he knew.
"You are not too stupid to understand our rules," he said again. "They are just complicated to explain."
"Well, seeing as I can't call you 'Monster Under The Bed' forever, is there something I can call you?"
"I am called Asra," he said, with a slight bow of his head.
"Asra," I repeated, rolling his name on my tongue like a sweet. "It's nice to finally meet you, Asra. And even though you already know me, I'm Liora."
Asra let a brilliant smile rise to his lips and his eyes crinkled in what seemed like happiness.
"How fitting," he said. "You light and I dark."
He stood and made is way over to the bed. Reaching out, he touched my forehead gently, his fingers feeling like the brush of silk.
"Sleep," he said in his waterfall voice. "I will be here again tomorrow and we can talk more then."
"You promise?" I asked with a jaw cracking yawn. I didn't want to sleep and find that he had disappeared for good by tomorrow night.
"I promise."
I laid down, my eyes suddenly became heavy and Asra began to fade from my sight as I drifted off to sleep. That night, my dreams were filled with roaring waterfalls and swirling diamond skies.
Research Notes: I feel like I should always put research notes down at the bottom of these prompts because I do actually do some research into what I write. Maybe I'm crazy. Anywayyyyy. Asra means 'travels at night' in Arabic and I thought that was quite appropriate for a monster under the bed. Who cares if it's a female name. You don't know me and I'll live my life how I please dammit!! Ahem. Liora is Hebrew for "light for me" and is the strictly feminine form of Lior. So that is the meaning behind Asra's comment about dark and light. Ohohohoho, I'm so clever.
Paper Love
I have been very remiss in my writing as of late. I am no longer unemployed, which is a godsend but I work much further away than I used to. Because of that, my weekends are used to get everything done because I don't get home until late, then I go to the gym and then I pass out. I guess I live an unproductive life style.
For those who are interested, which I'm sure you're not but I'm going to tell you anyway, I am a journalist. I work at a weekly newspaper in Northern New Jersey. It's definitely an interesting job. I've already had a slight brush with the law. I was taking photos of a NJ Transit bus and had the police called on me because it was suspicious. I don't know how suspicious a girl in a pencil skirt can look but I guess it's a good thing someone said something. As everyone has parroted since 9/11, if you see something, say something. But the officer sent out recognized me because he was our model for my police body camera. So win-win. I didn't get arrested and the cop remembered me. [I'll post the link to my body camera story if anyone is so interested. It was actually pretty interesting.]
[http://www.northjersey.com/news/public-safety/police-rolling-out-body-cam-initiative-1.1630181?page=1]
Anyway... Now that I'm done hawking my newspaper skills and newspaper to everyone. I have a new writing prompt. I've seen this concept before and a favorite author of mine, Jodi Picoult and her daughter wrote a book kind of based on this scenario. I hope you enjoy it. This was filed under both writing prompts and constrained writing.
Out of every all the people who have read my story, you are the first person I have seen are the first one who has truly brought me to life. I have loved watching your lips form the words that make up the deeds I have accomplished, the interrogations I have performed on terrible men and the thoughts I wake up with after my nightmares.
Only you seem to understand and care for me. I have called out to you so many times in my dreams and in my doings but my paper words fall on deaf ears. I wish to tell you of your beauty and empathy and how wonderful it is. I want to use my calloused fingers to wipe away the tears you shed when you read my story.
I wonder what it is about this story that brings you back again and again. Is it the mystery? Is it the resolution of what seems to be an unsolvable crime? Every time I see your face as you read, I see an understanding and a deep, undeniable pain. Have you been hurt in a way that makes you understand my story and my pain and my nightmares.
Sometimes when I am lying deep in thought while the book rests at your bedside, I think I can hear you thrashing around and crying out against enemies that neither of us can see or fight. And when you awake, sweating in the dark, I long to take you tenderly into my arms.
How painful it is to only be able to whisper words to you, only to have them fade into ash and dust before they can leave the page. Each utterance of 'I love you' that fails to reach your ears is like a paper cut. Small, yet painful. And while I watch you suffer your pain in silence while this novel wraps mine up in a sweet little bow, I pray to be able to reach out to you and grip your fingers with mine and comfort you in every way I can.
For those who are interested, which I'm sure you're not but I'm going to tell you anyway, I am a journalist. I work at a weekly newspaper in Northern New Jersey. It's definitely an interesting job. I've already had a slight brush with the law. I was taking photos of a NJ Transit bus and had the police called on me because it was suspicious. I don't know how suspicious a girl in a pencil skirt can look but I guess it's a good thing someone said something. As everyone has parroted since 9/11, if you see something, say something. But the officer sent out recognized me because he was our model for my police body camera. So win-win. I didn't get arrested and the cop remembered me. [I'll post the link to my body camera story if anyone is so interested. It was actually pretty interesting.]
[http://www.northjersey.com/news/public-safety/police-rolling-out-body-cam-initiative-1.1630181?page=1]
Anyway... Now that I'm done hawking my newspaper skills and newspaper to everyone. I have a new writing prompt. I've seen this concept before and a favorite author of mine, Jodi Picoult and her daughter wrote a book kind of based on this scenario. I hope you enjoy it. This was filed under both writing prompts and constrained writing.
Out of every all the people who have read my story, you are the first person I have seen are the first one who has truly brought me to life. I have loved watching your lips form the words that make up the deeds I have accomplished, the interrogations I have performed on terrible men and the thoughts I wake up with after my nightmares.
Only you seem to understand and care for me. I have called out to you so many times in my dreams and in my doings but my paper words fall on deaf ears. I wish to tell you of your beauty and empathy and how wonderful it is. I want to use my calloused fingers to wipe away the tears you shed when you read my story.
I wonder what it is about this story that brings you back again and again. Is it the mystery? Is it the resolution of what seems to be an unsolvable crime? Every time I see your face as you read, I see an understanding and a deep, undeniable pain. Have you been hurt in a way that makes you understand my story and my pain and my nightmares.
Sometimes when I am lying deep in thought while the book rests at your bedside, I think I can hear you thrashing around and crying out against enemies that neither of us can see or fight. And when you awake, sweating in the dark, I long to take you tenderly into my arms.
How painful it is to only be able to whisper words to you, only to have them fade into ash and dust before they can leave the page. Each utterance of 'I love you' that fails to reach your ears is like a paper cut. Small, yet painful. And while I watch you suffer your pain in silence while this novel wraps mine up in a sweet little bow, I pray to be able to reach out to you and grip your fingers with mine and comfort you in every way I can.
Friday, July 1, 2016
Trapped
Hey everyone, it's been awhile. I'm so sorry for neglecting you all. I have been very remiss this month in completing writing prompts. I've been busy searching for a job in my field, which hasn't been easy, especially when the industry is so small. Back in March, I ran into a speed bump in my career that I was afraid would ruin me forever. But I'm happy to announce that it hasn't.
I was also offered a job today, which I accepted so my writing skills might be a bit sharper and Iona and Bjarke may get a bit more ignored. I'm really trying, I promise. I hope to have something up about them by the end of next week.
Until that time, however, please enjoy this other little writing prompt that I did. My first in almost a month.
She was finally free. After millennia of being bound to the Amulet of Bast, some fool had finally broken the spell and Neith was finally released from her hellish prison. Stretching her arms to the sky, the ancient, evil being and cooed with delight.
Wait... Cooed? Neith began to panic slightly, confused by the sound that came from her mouth. She was a thing to be feared. She did not... coo. She attempted to howl in triumph, but it came out more like a ear piecing and desperate sounding shriek.
No, no, no, no. Something was not right. Neith lifted her head as best she could, noting how heavy it seemed to be now. She waved her arms in frustration and was bewildered to see they were soft, small and pudgy. She flexed each tiny fist, perplexed at her situation. What in all the Gods' names was going on? Neith began screaming, the sound practically sending shockwaves through the room. Moments later, a small boned and harassed looking woman came rushing into the room.
"Oh, my poor darling," the woman said in a babying tone. "What is the matter?"
'How dare you speak to me as in such an insolent way! I am an ancient being to be feared and worshiped, not coddled,' Neith snapped.
Her protests instead came out as high volume shrieks as opposed to a voice that typically sent mere mortals to their knees. As her yowling got louder, the woman picked sat her up and made her turn so she was facing reflective glass.
"Emma, look who it is! That's you!" the women said, pointing to Neith's reflection. "It's my sweet baby girl in the mirror."
'Bloody fucking hell,' Neith thought, staring at her reflection. She was a Gods damned infant.
This was an absolute nightmare. Neith had not thought for a second that, when the seal on the Amulet of Bast was broken, that she would be forced into the body of a helpless child. This was an absolute nightmare.
Ready to cry again in frustration, Neith took a long look at herself in the mirror. If she was going to be stuck in this body, she was going to own it. She looked down at her fleshy legs and moved them experimentally.
'Alright,' Neith thought. 'First things first: learn how to walk."
Research Notes: Hello again. Thanks for making it this far! Research note time! If you've read anything else on my blog, you will know that I try to put significance in most of my writing, a lot of times through names. I do make an effort to do some research about what I'm writing. This time, I'm based in Egypt, but with names only and there's not too much to report. Neith means Goddess of War, and if you're going to have an all powerful evil, she might as well be the goddess of war.
The Amulet of Bast isn't a real thing (I checked) but Bast is a real Egyptian Goddess; She was the daughter of Ra and become the goddess of protection, protection and blessing,and was the protectress of women, children, and domestic cats. She was the goddess of sunrise, music, dance, and pleasure as well as family, fertility, and birth. That's according to Wikipedia. Bad source, I know, but it's around 4 a.m. my time right now and the proper research habits are out the window with my need for sleep. I hope you enjoyed the story!
I was also offered a job today, which I accepted so my writing skills might be a bit sharper and Iona and Bjarke may get a bit more ignored. I'm really trying, I promise. I hope to have something up about them by the end of next week.
Until that time, however, please enjoy this other little writing prompt that I did. My first in almost a month.
She was finally free. After millennia of being bound to the Amulet of Bast, some fool had finally broken the spell and Neith was finally released from her hellish prison. Stretching her arms to the sky, the ancient, evil being and cooed with delight.
Wait... Cooed? Neith began to panic slightly, confused by the sound that came from her mouth. She was a thing to be feared. She did not... coo. She attempted to howl in triumph, but it came out more like a ear piecing and desperate sounding shriek.
No, no, no, no. Something was not right. Neith lifted her head as best she could, noting how heavy it seemed to be now. She waved her arms in frustration and was bewildered to see they were soft, small and pudgy. She flexed each tiny fist, perplexed at her situation. What in all the Gods' names was going on? Neith began screaming, the sound practically sending shockwaves through the room. Moments later, a small boned and harassed looking woman came rushing into the room.
"Oh, my poor darling," the woman said in a babying tone. "What is the matter?"
'How dare you speak to me as in such an insolent way! I am an ancient being to be feared and worshiped, not coddled,' Neith snapped.
Her protests instead came out as high volume shrieks as opposed to a voice that typically sent mere mortals to their knees. As her yowling got louder, the woman picked sat her up and made her turn so she was facing reflective glass.
"Emma, look who it is! That's you!" the women said, pointing to Neith's reflection. "It's my sweet baby girl in the mirror."
'Bloody fucking hell,' Neith thought, staring at her reflection. She was a Gods damned infant.
This was an absolute nightmare. Neith had not thought for a second that, when the seal on the Amulet of Bast was broken, that she would be forced into the body of a helpless child. This was an absolute nightmare.
Ready to cry again in frustration, Neith took a long look at herself in the mirror. If she was going to be stuck in this body, she was going to own it. She looked down at her fleshy legs and moved them experimentally.
'Alright,' Neith thought. 'First things first: learn how to walk."
Research Notes: Hello again. Thanks for making it this far! Research note time! If you've read anything else on my blog, you will know that I try to put significance in most of my writing, a lot of times through names. I do make an effort to do some research about what I'm writing. This time, I'm based in Egypt, but with names only and there's not too much to report. Neith means Goddess of War, and if you're going to have an all powerful evil, she might as well be the goddess of war.
The Amulet of Bast isn't a real thing (I checked) but Bast is a real Egyptian Goddess; She was the daughter of Ra and become the goddess of protection, protection and blessing,and was the protectress of women, children, and domestic cats. She was the goddess of sunrise, music, dance, and pleasure as well as family, fertility, and birth. That's according to Wikipedia. Bad source, I know, but it's around 4 a.m. my time right now and the proper research habits are out the window with my need for sleep. I hope you enjoyed the story!
Monday, June 6, 2016
True Story
True story is true, bro.
Meghan and I drove down Route 9, headed towards the mall.
"I like your new Twitter handle," I said, as we pulled up to a red light. She had recently changed it to reflect her love of t-rexes. "Mine's so boring. It's just my name and favorite number."
Meghan laughed.
"I'm sure we can come up with something better," she said, glancing to the right where a large light and fan store was located.
Above the white and windowed building was a sign: Paddle Fans.
"Hey, change it to paddle fans," she said pointing to the sign.
"Hmmm, I like that," I said, tucking paddle fans into the back of my mind. It was certainly more interesting than @kaitkanzler8. "Paddlefans it is."
----------------
And that's the [for serious] true story of how I got my handle for Twitter, Instagram, reddit and much of the social media I'm a part of. I always get awkward looks when I tell that story. My boyfriend passed the sign when we first started dating and had to ask if that's where I got my social media names. I had to admit that it was. The end.
Meghan and I drove down Route 9, headed towards the mall.
"I like your new Twitter handle," I said, as we pulled up to a red light. She had recently changed it to reflect her love of t-rexes. "Mine's so boring. It's just my name and favorite number."
Meghan laughed.
"I'm sure we can come up with something better," she said, glancing to the right where a large light and fan store was located.
Above the white and windowed building was a sign: Paddle Fans.
"Hey, change it to paddle fans," she said pointing to the sign.
"Hmmm, I like that," I said, tucking paddle fans into the back of my mind. It was certainly more interesting than @kaitkanzler8. "Paddlefans it is."
----------------
And that's the [for serious] true story of how I got my handle for Twitter, Instagram, reddit and much of the social media I'm a part of. I always get awkward looks when I tell that story. My boyfriend passed the sign when we first started dating and had to ask if that's where I got my social media names. I had to admit that it was. The end.
break through the silence pt. 2
Part 2 of Maise and Oscar's story. I haven't slept all night, again.... I don't know if I'm just excited to write sometimes or it's just insomnia. It's great for my creative side, not so great for my sleep schedule...
“I promise I'm not,” Oscar said.
As we walked to the PATH station on
33rd Street, Oscar and I continued to chat. I was having a
hard time containing my enthusiasm, even with how tired I was. The
excitement of being able to finally hear a voice was starting to wear
on me and I could feel myself starting to drag my feet but I was
determined to keep up with Oscar. I could relax and rest a bit once
we were on the PATH train.
“That coffee place was pretty good,”
Oscar said, still allowing me to hold onto his arm.
Maybe he was afraid I was going to run
into something again.
“Cup & Cup? They're one of my
favorites,” I said. “I work in Murray Hill so when I'm in the
city, I naturally gravitate to it. Though I'm a caffeine addict, so
I'm there quite often.”
“I've passed them a few times and a
lot of my friends have recommended them,” he said, releasing my arm
so we could go down the stairs to the station. “Where do you work?”
“Oxford University Press. I'm an
editorial assistant there.”
Oscar looked impressed, but he
shouldn't have. It was an interesting job but could get repetitive.
Sometimes I felt like a glorified intern, being sent for coffee and
making copies. I was always tempted to make the argument that if I
wanted duties typically assigned to administrative assistants, I
would have applied to that job instead of the one I had. But it was a
pain to argue about so I left well enough alone.
“That seems like an interesting
enough job.”
I shrugged and made a face. We swiped
MTA cards and waited on the platform with several other people.
“There are some things that are
pretty cool, but I'm not sure if that's what I want to do.”
“You're young,” he said. “You
have plenty of time to decide what you want to do with your life.”
I laughed and pushed his arm lightly.
“I doubt you're much older than I am,
sir. You can't be older than 35.”
Oscar looked sheepish as he adjusted
his messenger bag on his shoulders.
“I'm 29,” he said with a sigh.
“See, you're not so worldly and old
after all.”
He grinned at me and threw up his
hands.
“I'm plenty worldly and the kids I
teach make me feel old,” he told me. “I think that counts.”
The PATH train whooshed past us with a
hot and smelly gust of air before slowing down and stopping
completely. We stepped into the cool car and took seats next to each
other on the hard plastic bench. I blushed a bit when the train
lurched forward, causing me to knock into Oscar. Him offering his arm
was one thing, but we were about to be cramped together in a small,
undoubtedly packed train car. He glanced down at me with his clear
green eyes, brow furrowed.
“So I have a bit of a prying question
for you,” he said, adjusting his bag in his lap. “But I figure it
makes us even considering you barreled into me and then commandeered
my evening. How did you lose your hearing?”
I felt heat creep up my neck and ducked
my head, embarrassed.
“I'm sorry. I never even thought that
I was derailing your night,” I wailed, hiding my face in my hands.
“I was just focused on the fact that I could hear you that nothing
else around me mattered.”
Oscar pulled my hands away from my face
and gave me a friendly smile.
“There's nothing to apologize for,
Maise,” he said. “Trust me when I say this is better than what I
was supposed to do tonight. I can imagine this whole situation is
quite a shock to your system, considering you haven't been able to
hear anyone for 10 years. Which brings me back to my question. How
did you lose your hearing?”
“What were you supposed to do
tonight?”
“Nice try at a diversion,” Oscar
said. “Answer my question first and then I'll answer yours.”
“It's actually really simple,” I
said, quickly checking my iPhone for text messages. Since meeting
Oscar, I had pretty much ignored it's pulsing buzz. “No one knows.”
“What!? How is that possible? Your
hearing loss must have been caused by something.”
“Oh, I'm sure it was,” I said,
shooting off a quick text to my roommate, telling her it was okay
that she went out without me. “But no doctor's have been able to
figure it out. One day, I went to bed as a normal high school
sophomore and then woke up as the deaf freak. It was like someone
took a remote and pressed the mute button.”
Oscar frowned.
“Being deaf doesn't make you a
freak,” he said, nudging me with an elbow. “You're just as normal
as everyone else. Did people really think that?”
I lifted my shoulders in a nonchalant
salute to the assholes I had once called my friends.
“You would know better than anyone
how cruel high schoolers can be,” I pointed out. “No one seemed
to understand that, overnight, I went from the happy-go-lucky girl
they knew to someone who was now struggling with absolute silence for
the rest of her life. There was always something else to occupy their
time once they realized I couldn't communicate with them easily.”
Talking about my past sometimes made me
uncomfortable. I had grown up in an extremely small town on the
Jersey Shore and had gone to a fairly small high school. I was still
the girl next door but I was the girl next door who was suddenly
different.
“None of them bothered to even
attempt to learn sign language,” I explained. “I had only one
friend who seemed interested but she got busy with school. That was
just one more thing she didn't have time to add on her plate. By that
point, she and I didn't see each other and we mainly communicated
through Facebook and texting.”
“That sounds lonely.”
I nodded.
“It was for a time, but it lead to me
studying very hard and getting into a good school. So I guess it paid
off in the end. Okay, now for my question.”
“You are full of them,” Oscar said,
snickering as I swatted at him.
“Yes, well. As I said earlier, I
could listen to you talk for hours and hours. I'm afraid your voice
will be the only voice I ever hear for the rest of my life.”
“I have faith that you'll be able to
hear someone else's voice,” he said. “Maybe some doctor will
figure out what happened to you.”
“Maybe,” I echoed as the train
pulled into the Hoboken station. “So?”
“I was going to pick up some things
from my ex-girlfriend's apartment,” he said as we got up and exited
the train car to the platform. “We broke up a few months ago and I
just haven't had the time to go and grab it. I'll just go tomorrow.”
My heart leaped with glee. With such a
recent breakup, he may not be attached to anyone, leaving me
potentially able to monopolize his time. I was slightly selfish to
think that, but I was used to getting my way. I was a charming girl.
We climbed the stairs to the surface
and began walking along the sidewalk. It seemed so strange. It was
like I was hearing Oscar's voice in a vacuum. Only his voice and his
gentle breathing. I really did want to keep him to myself for the
rest of the night to learn more about him but I had to go to sleep or
else I'd fall asleep standing up.
“I hate to leave, but I must go to
bed,” I said, pausing at a corner and waiting for traffic to stop.
“I'll never be able to function in the morning.”
“Me as well,” he said. He held out
his hand. “Here, trade phones and we can put our numbers in them.
That way, you can hear my voice again and again.”
I smiled as I said, “I would like
that. You know, I meant what I said about wanting to be your friend.
I guess I got lucky that the one person I can her isn't jerk. At
least that I know of.”
“I promise I'm not,” Oscar said.
Trading iPhones, we added each other to
our contacts. Getting my phone back, I quickly sent him a smiley face
emoticon and he laughed as it popped up on his screen. I navigated us
to my block, which wasn't far from the station at all and stopped at
an intersection. As enamored as I was, I was going to play this smart
and not let him know exactly where I lived.
“Well, this is my street. I can walk
from here,” I said. “Thank you so much for tonight. I don't think
I can ever tell you how much this means to me.”
Oscar looked down and scuffed his foot
against the pavement.
“I enjoyed myself considering how
strangely everything started,” he admitted. “And I'd really like
to get to know you better.”
His statement made me melt inside.
Without even thinking, I gave him a tight hug. He stiffened at first
and then he relaxed against my body. Before he left me on the corner
of my street, Oscar placed a soft kiss on my forehead. It felt rather
brotherly but I wasn't going to complain. I'd take any contact with
him at this point.
“Text me when you get into your
apartment,” he said. “I'll give you a call tomorrow.”
“That sounds like a promise,” I
teased.
He looked at me with solemn green eyes.
“It is.”
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