by Sarah | Oct 6, 2011 | Challenge
Just one little drop
is all it takes.
Just one little drop
for goodness sakes.
With this magical mix
you will fly so high.
With this magical mix
you will touch the sky.
Forgetting all your pains
you’ll attain new dreams
Forgetting all your pains
joy in extremes.
For one measly dollar
a drop of sweet green.
For one measly dollar
all of life has a sheen.
What of adverse effects?
Don’t be so obtuse.
What of adverse effects?
I partake in regular use.
This miracle of magic
Will take you far beyond mundane.
This miracle of magic
Will lead you to a brand new plane.
It’s all natural herbs,
So don’t you fret.
It’s all natural herbs,
Nothing to regret.
A discount I offer,
First drop half price.
A discount I offer,
I won’t offer twice.
There you go, young man,
You see I mean well.
There you go, young man,
And you’re under its spell.
Now it’s a short trip,
Soon you’ll return
Now it’s a short trip,
With money to burn.
*~*
A full bottle you say?
I’m happy to agree.
A full bottle you say?
If you heed my warning plea.
Only one drop a day,
Two at the utmost.
Only one drop a day,
It’s the maximum dose.
Not for physical danger,
My sales pitch is true.
Not for physical danger,
Not with this special brew.
But the places you’ll go,
Wonderful though they are.
But the places you’ll go,
They’re best enjoyed from afar.
If you do more than two,
You’ll get stuck there and then…
If you do more than two,
There will be no more zen.
*~*
Oh look what you did,
You’ve gotten stuck in my land.
Oh look what you did,
Now isn’t this grand?
I tried to warn you,
Don’t whimper and whine.
I tried to warn you,
It’s your fault not mine.
Now that you’re here,
You belong to me alone.
Now that you’re here,
You’ll join my other drones.
Now give me a smile,
This life isn’t that bad.
Now give me a smile,
No more being sad.
You wanted escape,
Escape is what I gave.
You wanted escape,
To be saved from the grave.
The life of pain is gone,
You’ll never feel pain here.
The life of pain is gone,
You’ll never feel joy here.
Welcome to your escape,
All you need to do now is succumb.
Welcome to your escape,
Do you feel yourself go numb?
*~*~*~*~*
This challenge came from Catherine, who gave me this prompt: Oh, the places you’ll go.
by Sarah | Oct 3, 2011 | General
In the depths of my files I have a list of blog topic ideas. In an attempt to get both of my blogs moving again, I’ll be using some of those prompts in between regular posts and writing challenges.
Can you remember what the first book read to you was?
I’ve told this story a lot. I do remember my first book read to me, it was also my first book love – and the source of my first ever (remembered) nightmare (and true first clear memory, period).
I was two, maybe two and a half. I know this because I still slept in a crib. I remember where it sat in the room, (directly opposite the dormer window, next to the dresser).
The dream I had involved the book “Bongo“. I remember that I loved this book. It was my absolute favorite book in the world. I wanted to hear it again and again. I loved the pictures in it. To this day I can still picture my favorite pages of the book, even though I haven’t seen it in years.
In my dream I, for whatever reason things happen in dreams, tore that book to shreds. Ripped it into pieces that were scattered all over my crib.
I woke screaming and crying so loud I think I scared the heck out of my parents.
After my Bongo nightmare I know that my book obsession only grew. I was reading at the tender age of three (my Dad swears to this day that I would read the Readers Digest cover to cover at that age). At the age of four I stole the Little House series out of my brothers room. In my defense my brother didn’t read…and really, who gave a boy the Little House Series anyway? (Sorry, Nana…I think it was you…) After I stole those books from him a new reading obsession was born. I read them through at age 4, and at least 18 more times before I graduated high school.
I still have the original Little House books, and have bought new versions to save my old ones from completely disintegrating – and in the hopes that at least one of my girls loves them as much as I have.
by Sarah | Sep 30, 2011 | Challenge
“Aw what the hell is this, Martha? I told you no more toys with some assembly required. The little bastards just break them anyway.”
“Sorry, hon. It was something they really wanted.” She stood in the doorway of her bedroom, waiting for him to start building the toy.
“And batteries not included? Tell me that at least you thought ahead enough to get batteries. I’m not putting this damn thing together just to hear whining ‘cause it don’t make noise!”
“Of course I got them. They’re in the bedroom.” Martha kept her voice sweet as possible. It wasn’t too difficult, she had almost ten years of practice saying just the right thing in just the right tone of voice.
Too nice and she was being patronizing. Not nice enough and she didn’t respect him. The line was very vine. She wasn’t walking a tight rope every day. It was a damn fishing line.
But it was okay. All of it was. Soon he’d have his Christmas present. Right at midnight. It was the most special gift of all.
“Well don’t just stand there staring at me. Get the batteries.” Jake was knee deep in parts, throwing them aside and searching for another. “Did you search the store for the toy with the most parts or something? This is asinine.”
She had. It was a tiny bit of enjoyment, perverse though it was. “No, Jake. It was what the kids asked for. I’m so sorry. While you’re working on that, I’m going to get your present wrapped. So don’t come in the bedroom. Okay, darlin’?”
All he gave her in response was an annoyed grumbling and cursing about parts and instructions in Spanish. So she slipped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Slowly she exhaled, expecting nerves to kick in. There wasn’t any.
Well, they’d hit soon enough. First she had to get Jake’s present ready. She knelt down on the floor and grabbed the suitcase from under the bed. Inside was the special case that held his present.
Her good friend Jean had passed it on to her. It was the best type of present there ever was. Sure, some assembly was required – but Martha had practiced the assembling for almost six months now. Every day.
No batteries included. They weren’t necessary. This toy didn’t require batteries.
From the next room came the continued grumbles and cursing. Even through the closed door and over the occasional metallic click of her task she could hear him.
As always his volume was increasing. Soon a piece of the toy would fly across the room. Maybe it would imbed into the drywall. Martha would be expected to clean it up and fix the drywall before the kids woke in the morning.
It would never get that far. She screwed the final piece into place and stood.
Still, no nerves. How interesting.
By the time she walked back out into the living room, Jake was trying to slam a piece into place. The wrong place.
“Jake.”
“You stupid bitch. I told you not to get anything that required assembly.”
“Honey. Don’t you want your present?”
A piece of the toy slammed into the floor and he stood up slowly. “You think I care? You never get me the right thing. Your allowance isn’t big enough…and your stupid hand made gifts are always awful.”
“Well this one is real special.” Martha smiled big when he turned around, keeping her hands behind her back. “It’s going to mean the world to me and the kids.”
“What do I care about that?”
“See, that’s the thing. You don’t. And now, I don’t care about what you think. Won’t have to anymore, neither.” She took a few steps back, unable to stop the grin that was splitting her face in two. In a heartbeat she pulled the gun from around her back and aimed it at his head.
Maybe he was trying to attack, or yell, she wasn’t quite sure. Either way he didn’t get far. The bullet pierced right between the eyes and he dropped like a stone. The silencer did its job and the loudest part of the moment was him hitting the floor.
Just for fun she fired two more shots into his head.
“Merry Christmas, you bastard.”
With a sigh of relief, she went back to her bedroom and began the painstaking process of cleaning the gun. Each piece was carefully laid back into the case as she took it back apart.
For ten years she’d tried to make something out of their marriage. In return she’d been mocked, beaten, and turned into a virtual slave. A year ago he’d started to turn his wrath onto the kids.
Her babies.
Well, that was never going to work. That was when she’d started to listen to her neighbor Jean. Jean had moved in four years ago. Within weeks they’d been friends, and within months Jean had known the truth of Martha’s marriage.
It was Jean that had given her the gun. Told her the tale of it being passed from victim to victim for the past twenty or thirty years. This precious weapon had killed many a worthless pig like Jake.
Now it was her turn.
First she would clean up Jake’s mess. Put him down in the basement and let her kids have a wonderful Christmas day. After that they would pack up the kids and move on to another town. Jean would clean up the house for her, leaving nothing behind for the cops to follow.
One day Martha would pass on the gun as Jean had done for her. As she looked into the mirror and straightened her hair she smiled. The first relaxed, genuine smile she’d seen on her own face in years. Yes, she would pass the gun on.
“Everyone should have a day as wonderful as this one. Merry Christmas, Martha. You are free.”
*~*~*~*~*
This Challenge came from Tara, who gave me this prompt: Some assembly required, batteries not included.
by Sarah | Sep 24, 2011 | 100 Words, Challenge, Writing
When the story creeps deep into your psyche.
When the words flow forth like beer from the tap.
When the characters whisper in your ear, or scream in your head. Demanding to be heard. For you to share the story they have to tell.
When they occupy your every thought. Seep into your dreams. Fill your spare moments with ideas and counterpoints.
That is your drug.
The high of the perfect scene. The funniest line that sent you laughing after it spilled from your keyboard. The tears shed at a shared loss or pain.
You are addicted.
You are consumed.
****
I started this post as one thing, and then realized it fit perfectly into the 100 words Challenge for this week. The word was Occupy. This is about where I’ve been for the past few weeks. I was even working solely on the back story for my new novel (tentatively titled The Tribe) I haven’t been able to come up for air. I love my new characters as much as I have loved working with Jane and Cole in Changing Tracks. It’s been a wild ride so far and I’m just getting started.
Please, visit Velvet’s site to check out other more worthy entries…
by Sarah | Sep 23, 2011 | Challenge
If it takes a village, then I was screwed from the start.
My mother didn’t like people. None of them. Me included. If she hadn’t been living in the middle of nowhere, as far from people as possible I probably would have been an abortion statistic. As it is, I’m lucky that she had a modicum of compassion once I was born. That I wasn’t just left alone or drowned in a tub.
Don’t ask me who my father was. I can’t imagine how she ever let anyone near enough to her to touch her.
She tolerated me. I guess it was some form of love. When I was quiet and well behaved and stayed in my corner, playing with the dolls I made from kindling.
I don’t remember birthdays. Or Christmas. Or anything but the standard day in and day out. There were no photographs. No memory books.
One day out of the blue she told me in her monotone voice. “I’m just so numb.”
It left me numb.
Two days later she left. I was ten at the time.
I stayed there. In our numb cabin.
Until one day I left too. I’m not an original thinker or person in general.
But I had found a book in my Mom’s room. It described such odd things. Feelings.
Pain. Sorrow. Grief.
It left me with an odd sensation.
Curiosity.
I know, I know. You don’t care for my life story.
It probably doesn’t matter to you right now.
What does it feel like? I’m so curious.
Can you feel each needle separately where it pierces the flesh?
Is there a difference between pressing just one in like this?
Please, stop screaming. I’m looking for answers.
How about when I push my whole hand on a bunch? Is that worse?
Wonderful. If you can’t answer straight, I suppose the louder screams help.
Don’t worry, I’ll take those out soon. Well, most of them. I want to know if it’s worse from a needle to this here. This blade is called what again?
Oh yes. A butcher knife.
*~*~*~*~*
This challenge came from FlamingNyx, who gave me this prompt: I am the combined effort of everyone I’ve ever known, at least according to Palahniuk. What are you the combined effort of?.
*Image Source
by Sarah | Sep 15, 2011 | Challenge
Indie Ink time again!
I almost didn’t make it this week. The day I got my challenge email was the anniversary of my grandfather’s death. To top it off, the challenge I was issued (via Chaos Mandy) was “Time of Loss and Change.” Needless to say, neither I, nor my muse, were inspired for anything but depression after that.
However, just under the wire tonight, I got inspiration for something a little more light hearted. Thus you have my bad country song cliche…
*~*~*~*
Is there a big scarlet ‘L’ on my chest for “LOSER”?
Everyone is staring at me. I didn’t change, so why is everything so different?
Maybe I did change. After all I’ve become the poster-child for a bad country song.
I lost my dog.
Hit by a car when she slipped out of her collar. My ex swears it was an accident, but he never put that collar on tight enough.
I lost my man.
Of course, my sister would tell me that I shouldn’t call that bad news. The eternal optimist (and champion defender/big sister) in her would see fit to remind me that he was an ass. That he cheated on me, stole money from me and was in general emotionally abusive.
I lost my job.
I worked in journalism. Newspapers are folding all over the place, don’t you know? I’ve been searching for a new job, but with this economy and the job market? I’m waitressing at the greasy spoon down the corner. Making a whopping twenty bucks a night in tips. Did I mention greasy spoon? The place is a dive and no one comes in. I don’t expect to keep that job long either. Way my luck is going the health inspector will shut it down.
I lost my house.
Okay, it was an apartment, but still. It blew up. Yes. Seriously. Turns out my neighbors two floors up were cooking meth. Whole place went up in smoke. Oh yes, as my sister cheerfully reminds me – at least I wasn’t in it, right?
“It’s a time for renewal! You get to start with a clean slate! Emerge like a butterfly!” I swear my sister is risking getting knocked in the teeth when she says that. I mean, really.
I’m 35. Who the hell wants to start over at 35?
*~*~*~*~*
In turn, I had to hand over my challenge, and it went to R.L.W. Head on over to see what this inspired (I love it, BTW):
Twenty years have passed. Time has flown, but nothing has changed. The ghosts are lingering, and have gathered the strength to answer your questions.
Join the Indie Ink challenge…it’s great – you never know what you’re going to get!!
Just one little drop
