The Photo

barns-1-dawn-miller
PHOTO PROMPT © Dawn Miller

Doc handed me an old, scorched photo.

‘Tell me about this?’

‘Old. Stinks.’ I noted that clearly he hoped for more. ‘What do you want me to say?’

‘Whatever comes to mind.’

Oh, yeah, that’s helpful. I thought. ‘Do I know it?’

‘Maybe.’

I held my tongue. I hated when people did this. It’s a cruel joke. Do you remember this? That? You just have to remember… I didn’t, I don’t, and I don’t care to. That’s what I wanted to say. If I did, I would be labeled belligerent. Oh, well, I already had that label.

‘It’s a barn.’

wc:100exact

Author’s Note: This picture reminded a bit of the old barn at my beloved foster home… the one I went to on weekends for years. That particular barn was while, held cattle for only a few months of the year, and farm machinery the rest. After the house fire, it was all that remained of the farm. I drove by the  farm a few months ago and the old barn still stands alone amid the fields.

A huge joy has come into my life! After 13 years of unemployment and looking for work constantly I was hired this week for a childcare position within the church. People who know me well, know that I love caring for others. It brings me a deep and abiding joy. I especially enjoy working with both the Elderly and Children… both ends of the life cycle. So, I’ve started work which is why this is so late to post. I’m loving it! 🙂 ❤

This short little fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s , a 100 word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. A hearty thank you to Dawn Miller for this week’s photo. If you would like to read more short fictions, or am in a mood to participate, then please, follow the link and come to join us around the table. We’d love to have you!

Miasma: Hot.

82398379_318765765685031_5971849637915525120_n
PHOTO PROMPT © Rochelle Wisoff-Fields

‘Ice.’ I mumbled.

‘Yes, dear. It is icy out there today. Come, look at the trees. Aren’t they beautiful with the sun shining on them?’

‘Diamonds.’ I reached out to touch the window. ‘Hot.’

‘No, cold. Very Cold.’ He gently corrects.

‘Cold.’ I sigh. Another mistake. It seems everything I do is a mistake. Why can’t I just be normal again? Again, the moisture blurs my vision.

Gently, he squeezes my shoulders, kissing my temple. ‘I love you, my dear.’

wc: 80

Author’s Note: A little continuation of something I started writing last week. Remembering that first frigid, icy winter after the accident in ’96, when the world was still so new, yet so old. My first snow, first ice storm… a lot of firsts. There was a constant frustration as I struggled with words. I often got them mixed up… still do some times. Hot was cold, visa versa. I had a hard time remembering that the microwave was not an ice box, or that the refrigerator had wonders inside such as pudding cups, chocolate milk, and popsicles ( I still had wired jaws at that point so eating was limited. ) It was a time of great confusion, and great discovery as my husband taught me about the beautiful world around us. This Valentines day I am very deeply reminded of his steadfast love and devotion. He stayed by my side, reminding often (and still does) that I am loved. I hope that you all take the time to tell the people you love that you do LOVE them… tell them everyday without fail. Life is short. I didn’t have an icy tree photo… This is a tree outside the firehouse with a touch of snow from last week.

20200206_184942
C. Bear Starfire McQuinn

This short little fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s , a 100 word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. A hearty thank you to Rochelle herself for this week’s photo. If you would like to read more short fictions, or am in a mood to participate, then please, follow the link and come to join us around the table. We’d love to have you!

Miasma…

unamed-from-ted-strutz
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Author’s Note: This week, Ted Strutz provided this awesome picture for Friday Fictioneers 100  word writing challenge. Well, it was a good pic for inspiration, so after I wrote a short little 23 word poem for the challenge I couldn’t just stop there. This little bit of a scene is coming out of it…been here many a time after a bad night of flashbacks…

 

Miasma

I’ve been here before… It was another time, another place, another reality. But, I’ve been here, in this moment, before. I blink to clear my head as well as the moisture from my eyes.

Why, here?

Why, now?

The questions flood my thoughts with uncertainty. I’ve been here before, I’m sure of it.

‘Good morning. Welcome back.’ The smiling face looks down at me. I know I know the face. I’m just not sure of the why and how of it. It’s all very blurry. I blink again, chocking as I try to respond.

‘It’s okay. I get it.’ the face winks. ‘You’ll feel better after breakfast.’

I feel the gentle strength as his arms wrap around my body and lift me up to sit. I close my eyes against the wave of vertigo that leaves me swimming in the miasma of the universe. I’ve been here before, too.

‘I love you, my dear.’ He kisses my forehead as he kneels to place slippers on my feet.

wc: 168

 

 

 

 

Ascension

unamed-from-ted-strutz
PHOTO PROMPT © Ted Strutz

Ascension

 

Watching the procession

up the endless staircase

ascending into the unknown

friends, loved ones

always ascending

the line is long

awaiting my turn

5 Feb 2020 0936

This short little fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s , a 100 word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. A hearty thank you to Ted Strutz for this week’s photo. If you would like to read more short fictions, or am in a mood to participate, then please, follow the link and come to join us around the table. We’d love to have you!

If you’re in for a longer read, I’ve gone and written several hundred more words, but Have pulled out one scene (168words) to share. Thank you, Ted Strutz , for such an inspirational picture this week! Here’s the link… https://jellicoswritingnook.home.blog/2020/02/06/miasma/

 

Icyback…

ice-cream-naama-yehuda
PHOTO PROMPT © Na’ama Yehuda

The flashback was bad… really bad.

Screaming metal… the awful slamming stop. The impact of steering wheel… being trapped within smoking metal… Like I said, it was bad.

Nothing so welcome as the icy piece of heaven on earth. The rich, smooth, sugary confection sliding down a throat parched from screaming. The sweet welcome of calm that slowly melts the knot of fear still clutching at my chest. Ah, it is what it is, and what it is, is divine!

As bad as the flashback was, the ice cream was even better.

wc: 92

Author’s Note: Totally non-fiction this week. It’s been a rough one. I went to a job fair last week, and got a call back on Tuesday that led to an interview Wednesday with job offer. the ugly head of CPTSD raised it’s head Tuesday with the night of nightmares. I weighed it up to stress, rolled over and slept as best I could. Went to interview on Wednesday which was sooo Over the Top awesome! The offer was made… the best offer I’ve ever in my life had for the field that I love working in. Wednesday afternoon, the CPTSD started to raise it’s head as I searched for required documents, contacted some people for references (I got 1 of the 3 I needed, ended up adding Hubby). I was nervous, upset stomach, regular old panic symptoms. I realized what they were, did my best to quell the inner beast… that lasted until bedtime. In sleep, the CPTSD pounced and knocked me about with it’s viciously clawed paws. Flashbacks royale began and tore me to pieces all night. No sleep…well, maybe ten minutes. Thursday, shaking, nervous, and tired I forced myself into the car and took Hubby to work before going on to the scheduled orientation, medical, and background checks. Halfway there, some idiot cut me off and I had to slam on my brakes to avoid a collision. The seatbelt hitched… the flashback slammed into my brain. I got the car off the road, rode out the tremors, the panic… took a deep breath, refused to let it hold me back, and went on. I stopped for coffee, called my “buddy” and had a chat. Make a very very hard decision then, realizing that I just might not be able to step back into the same work I was doing that led up to the accident to begin with. So, I met with the interviewer, explained the situation. Left the office on good terms. Called my buddy again from the lot because I opened the car door and couldn’t get into the car. Took several minutes of talking, an agreement to meet two blocks away, a deep breath, and I forced my body to put itself in the car and go. It wasn’t my most glorious day, and I feel like total crap. Still having the nightmares/flashes, but doing what I need to do to get back in balance. And that, my friends, is what it’s like to live with CPTSD. And now, I’m off to find some Haagen-Daz – chocolate!

This short little fiction is written for Friday Fictioneer ‘s , a 100 word writing challenge hosted by the lovely Rochelle Wisoff-Fields. A hearty thank you to Na’ama Yehuda for this week’s photo. If you would like to read more short fictions, or am in a mood to participate, then please, follow the link and come to join us around the table. We’d love to have you!

 

 

Down Memory Lane…

I began my writing fanaticism back in the mid-seventies. My first publication came through the Young Author’s Conference program in elementary school. And, my first published write created quite a stir in my small community. Not only for the content, but also for the use of the word “Helle” as in Hades.  I was 7 yrs old that year. In 2008, I had access to a photo editing software package and made this image with the poem and used it for a college english/art assignment.. This is what I wrote… “Mommy The Alcoholic”

DSCF0520-1

Old Pier

I was going through some old backup files that go all the way back to 2004.  Before that, it was 3.5 floppies that I  have but can’t access. Anywho… I found this write for Friday Fictioneers and thought I’d share it…. It had no picture with it, sorry.

 

Old Pier at Sunset

She walked out to the end of the pier to watch the sunset. Unconsciously, she rubbed a hand over her extended abdomen, feeling the young life as it wiggled within her. The child she carried always moved around at this time of the day. Maybe it was the coolness of the breeze coming off the ocean, or perhaps the stillness that seemed to settle over the island as the sun dipped into magical color. She smiled again as she felt the push of a small foot, or was that a hand. The small pain was a reminder of the joy she contained within. She smiled, dropped her towel and jumped in…

The baby, wouldn’t ya know, loved to swim…

march2004