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Second person challenge…

Anyone else feel up to the challenge of writing a short story/poem from the second person point of view? That would be narrating the story to “you,” as my blessed grammar teachers are helping me understand… I’m including the link to rawgod’s example story because I couldn’t reblog it for some reason.

TRIGGER WARNING: the subject matter involves rape, so if this triggers you, please do not follow this link…

https://wordartbyrawgod.wordpress.com/2019/06/14/you/

Please post links to your stories in the comments section, so we can all appreciate your efforts! 😁

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Poetry

Limits…

Ever wonder where your limits are, just how much you can take?

Standing on the precipice, prepared to take the leap?

How many obstacles can you overcome?

How many sorrows can you shoulder?

How many more tears are left in you to cry?

How much more pain can you, yourself, endure?

Are there limits to what we do?

Or must we carry on, as we always have

making something out of nothing

because we simply can’t surrender?

*** *** ***

Standing on the brink myself

wishing I could jump.

But something keeps my feet planted

after the rest of me has given up.

It isn’t noble, selfless, vain or brave;

just ignorant, habitual and desperate.

If only I knew how…

to leave it all behind…

to go and test my limits

on another training ground…

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Poetry

”Caught Up in My Own Drama…”

Caught up in my own drama

a single person play

a solo performance

on a tiny little stage…

Writing, and rewriting, the dialogue

rearranging the scenes

so very little to work with

so very much to change…

Missing out on what’s around me

as I toil at my craft

convinced if I can get it “write”

the rest will fall in place…

Delusion, like fantasy, the dreamer’s media

presumptuous assumptions

those foundational mis-sumptions

guaranteed to lead one astray…

Yet here I am, complaining again

how nothing turns out “right”

when caught up in my own drama

directing the soul actor of my play…

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#BlogBattles, Stories...

The Wisdom of Alcohol… (#BlogBattles: Corona)

It was a dark place full of shadows and regret. Dim lights created enough illumination to navigate the space, but not to illuminate life. The brightest spotlights reflected off the bottles and mirrors behind the polished bar, creating an oasis of beauty, an illusion of hope. Just one more drink should do it…

Two men, nondescript in the dimness, sat at that oasis, each seeking comfort of their own. The bartender approached the one on his left, whose glass was nearly empty. “Ready for another, Mac?”

“Mac” picked up his glass and studied it for a moment. “Hmm…,” he thought aloud. “No. No, barkeep, I think I’ll switch it up. Bring me a Corona instead!”

“A Corona?,” asked the bartender. “Since when do you drink that crap?”

“Since right now,” the unnamed regular “Mac” responded. “I’ve been seeing these ads on tv. Every time something ‘good’ happens, ‘a Corona gets its lime.’ I need something good to happen to me. Maybe this will help.”

“Suit yourself, Mac,” the bartender smiled. “I’m all for supporting positive change!”

“Hey, I’ve seen those ads, too,” the other unnamed regular added, not so completely isolated as he had at first appeared. “Kind of like the idea that every time a bell rings…”

“… an angel gets their wings!,” all three chorused together.

The other regular rose from his bar stool and stumbled down to sit next to “Mac.” “I think I want to try one of them Coronas, too,” he said to the bartender. “I could sure use some ‘good’ in my life.”

“First round is on the house,” the bartender announced. “We can’t usually give this stuff away, and if it helps you gentlemen out, that would be a good thing in itself!”

The second man smiled crookedly. “Looks like my luck is changing already,” he slurred happily. Turning toward his new drinking buddy, he tried to start a conversation with Mac.

“So… what brings you here on this sunny afternoon?,” he asked sloppily.

Chuckling softly, Mac responded with questions of his own. “Oh, is it sunny outside today? Is it afternoon already?”

“Ummm,” the other drunk replied. “According to my phone it is, indeed, both. Weather app says the sun is shining, and the clock says 3:15,” he explained, quite seriously. “And they must call it a ‘smart’ phone for some reason…,” he added.

Mac laughed. “LOL!!,” he said, enjoying his own humor. “At least one of us knows what’s what!”

His demeanor darkened a bit… “My wife left this morning. Says she isn’t coming back.”

“Ohhh, dude, sorry!,” his companion commiserated. “I remember that day myself. Said she’d had enough of my drinking, and just walked right out…”. He was quiet for a moment, lost in that memory. “Y’know, I don’t think she ever looked back,” he added sadly.

Mac studied his drinking buddy for a long breath. “Yeah… don’t think mine will either. How do you get used to being alone?”

“Ahhh, that!,” the other drunk answered with a sad chuckle. “Not so hard to do when you focus on the positive: completely guilt free drinking!,” he explained, raising his bottle in a drunken salute.

“Completely?,” Mac asked. “You don’t seem completely free at all…,” he added wisely, being just a tad less drunk than his companion.

“Yeah… well close enough for me,” the other man snapped testily.

Silence ensued as each man sipped his beer and settled in his misery… After a while, Mac took up the conversation again.

“Have you ever been to AA?,” he asked the other drunk.

“You mean the auto club?,” his buddy responded, confusion clouding his expression. “Is that even a real place? I kinda thought that was just a phone number to call when you got stranded in your car…”

“No, no, no,” laughed Mac. “I’m talking about the meetings you go to when you want to stop drinking. They meet all over town, mostly in churches. A bunch of ex-drunks helping current drunks to get sober.”

The unnamed one looked at Mac astonished. “Why would any self-respecting drunk do that?!,” he asked sincerely.

“Umm… maybe because most drunks aren’t self-respecting at all,” he answered honestly. “I went,” he added. “A few times. It was kinda cool, actually…”

Shaking his head in disbelief, Mac’s new friend disagreed. “Nope. Can’t even imagine how a bunch of Bible totin’ ex-drunks trying to change me could be cool. Not in this Universe or any other!”

Laughing outright, Mac responded. “Nah, man, they’re not like that at all! Once you get past the ‘program’ crap, they’re all really kinda like us. They tell great stories. Relatable, you know?”

“Hey, I think there might be one tonight, just down the street. We could go check it out, and you’ll see what I mean.”

His companion turned a bewildered gaze his way. “But we’re drunk, Dude! Isn’t that kinda against the rules?”

“Not really, man,” Mac responded seriously. “So long as we’re not disr… distrupt… disrup… As long as we just sit and listen, they won’t throw us out.”

The other drunk tipped his bottle to stare into its light amber depths. “This stuff looks like piss,” he commented. “Kinda tastes like it, too!” Turning to face Mac he added. “Why not? I could use a good story, and maybe a laugh or two.”

Mac slapped him on the shoulders like an old friend. “Let’s go then! We should leave now, though, since I’m just drunk enough to make finding this meeting difficult!”

Stepping out into the late afternoon sunlight, both men covered their eyes against the sudden brightness. Leaning into one another for support, they stumbled blindly down the sidewalk. The other drunk turned toward Mac and spoke sincerely. “Hey, Dude, I don’t even know your real name!”

Laughing, Mac responded, “just call me Corona today.”

His companion smiled. “Cool! Then I can be Lime! ‘Cause, you know, every time sumthin’ good happens…”

“… a Corona gets its Lime!,” they chorused together as they stumbled into the street.

They never even saw the bus that hit them, or felt the pain of bones breaking…

And across the street at a little gift shop, two chimes began ringing in the chaos that ensued. Two distinctively different tones, unheard behind the shouting and the sobbing and the sirens…

(1051 words)

My contribution for this month’s #BlogBattles. 😁

https://blogbattlers.wordpress.com/2019/06/03/blogbattle-corona/

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Uncategorized

#BlogBattle: Corona

Here we go again… 😁

BlogBattle

#BloGBattle

June 2019 Blog Battle

Our word this month is:

Corona

You can start writing at any time, but make sure you post your story by the 30th of the month to have your story shared here and on social media.

Once you’ve posted your story to your blog, put a link to it in the comments section, and we’ll add your story to the Battle Stories Line-up post.

Make sure to check back and read some of the stories of your fellow battlers. Leave comments to encourage these writers, and share each other’s stories!

Basic Rules:

The Prompt Word will be given the First Tuesday of Every Month.

Post your story by the 30th of the Same Month.

RULES

  1. 1000 words max (give or take a few)
  2. fictional tale (or true if you really want)
  3. Any genre that fits within PG-13 (or less) Content – let’s keep this family friendly!

View original post 110 more words

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Reflections

Movie Dreams…

Rough night last night with movie dreams. Dramatic scenes, like out takes, removed from context, but clear nonetheless…

With sound tracks playing in the background. Snippets of songs on endless repeat…

A happy scene living with my daughter, sitting on the couch with a couple of cats and the dog asleep at my feet. The kids are spiraling out of control, and with a quiet voice, I speak their names. “Can you feel those waves of irritation coming from your mom?,” I ask. They both nod. “That means she’s had enough. For real. Settle down now…” And little one comes to sit beside me.

…our house. It’s a very, very fine house…”

Suddenly my daughter explodes! Ranting about how I stole her animals, and now I’m stealing her kids away from her! And after all she does to take care of and protect them…

I don’t know what to say, knowing no words can heal that self-inflicted pain…

***

I’m at work, encouraging my replacement to look at boxes and paperwork to try and get a sense of what’s ahead of us. “You’re going to have to learn how to prioritize,” I tell her. But she is dawdling and slow to pick things up…

“We have to step this up!,” I snap. “I’m not going to be here to hold your hand much longer, you know!”

“…turning the inside out…”

***

And here, in the waking world, things are stranger still…

Standing outside in a misty rain, watching the streams of water fall in the light from the deck spotlight. All around me the world is wet. Except me and my cat. Holding my hand out in the stream, I feel no water, though I can still see it falling. But I am not even damp, nor is my cigarette…

***

Later, and all is quiet outside. Too quiet. It’s eerie. No traffic, no factory sounds, no slamming doors. Nothing. Not even the bats are flying tonight. What is going on?

And I realize that every time I come downstairs, nausea nearly overwhelms me. Along with that sense of everything being… just totally wrong

***

Co-workers are reporting strange dreams to me. Significant images they feel compelled to share. White horses rearing in the clouds… A tiny car with removable covers on the windows. And my friend who is driving must keep shifting perspective from inside to outside the car, changing window covers, seeking the best combination that will allow her to see properly…

…talk to me. I can’t seem to speak now… talk to me… the words won’t come out right… what are you thinking?… sometimes I wonder… what are you feeling?… where do we go from here?”

And another reporting anxiety. “You know, the kind that precedes a full on panic attack.” And I can feel it all around him like a dark cloud, but none of it infects me…

***

And every time I touch my phone, my remote, or any electronic device, I can feel the electricity coursing through me. Tingling. Numbing. Uncomfortable. I must put it down…

***

Rough energy going on with movie dreams and reality. Dramatic scenes, like out takes, removed from context, but clear nonetheless…

“the ringing of the division bell had begun…”

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Reflections, Visions

Off the Rails…

I close my eyes and chaos reigns. Objects, like thoughts, flying in all directions at once. Little spirals of change and corruption, like dust devils, spinning out of control, starting with me and sliding away.

And I am also moving, aboard my little animated train. Not afraid, not anxious at all. “Just hold on, Lisa,” I tell myself. “This, too, shall pass.”

So I focus in more deeply on the swirling thoughts and objects, seeking to identify as many as possible before they are gone. But they are fast as pixies and just as sly, layering over one another before any become clear.

Just glimpses of faces. And places. Of movement and stillness. Of joy and sorrow, anger and forgiveness. My train has become a roller coaster ride… But the images are relentless, flying around, now with the weight of cars behind them. Each significant enough to warrant recognition, but moving away more quickly than my conscious mind can grasp.

I withdraw my focus, pulling back, to better see the chaos from a distance. And there goes my train car, chugging along, but oddly having no track to follow. And all about, strewn in my wake, a litter of vehicles tossed and tumbled, as though a great wind just juggled them all…

I smile. No track means no one is directing this trip, controlling where it goes. I am free of normal time and space, at least for a little while. And the tumbled tokens in my wake are proof that all of it is real, even if I haven’t figured that part out yet…

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