Crazy Girl

Nothingness has become my constant companion. The emptiness of not knowing who you are takes over and envelopes you. I have searched high and low for the answer to who I am that I am just tired of searching. I don't have the mental or physical energy to do it anymore. But yet, here I am.

As I head back toward my house at the end of my walk I find my mind wandering. It is wandering through the photo albums of my past. I usually keep these closed and locked up real tight. Remembering is almost a fatal proposition for me. These photo albums have faceless and nameless people from my past in them that I don't remember anymore. No matter how long I spend searching my brain to remember them I still can't seem to put the faces back on each person in the pictures. If I am not careful I will get lost in these photo albums for days before I come back up for air.

Rounding the last corner to my house I am watching for cars so I can cross the street. Something is lying in the middle of the street. It looks like a book but it is hard to tell until I am in the middle of the road. Focusing on retrieving whatever the object is I stop focusing on the oncoming traffic. It is not a busy street but I still manage to have to dodge a car in order to pick up the book and head back to the house.

As I walk up the driveway with the book in my hand and through the back door I notice that my reverie has been broken and I am not the only one up in the house anymore. I can smell the coffee in the coffeepot, and hear the news on the TV as I close the back door. I put the book down to look at it later and head into the kitchen.

"Good Morning, Darling. You left for your walk before I woke up. I missed you."

Crazy Girl

Waking up next to someone you don't know has to be one of the most existential experiences you can have as a human being. The cobwebs of sleep are so cluttered across my brain that I look at the person sleeping soundly next to me and I am filled with questions. As the sunlight slants across the room I realize I have no idea who this person is. The glint of sunlight that hits the mirror across the room catches my attention for a brief moment and I look up and away from the person next to me. As I look into the mirror I suddenly catch a glimpse of a girl and wonder who she is.

Now, I find there are two people in my bed and I have no idea who they are or where they came from. I am baffled by the situation I find myself in this morning. I search and search for the answers to my questions, but to no avail. The answers are as elusive as a mirage in a desert. Just as soon as I get close enough to understand the answers to my questions the answer disappears and I am left with nothing but sand running through my fingers.

As if on cue to some director behind the scenes the squawking of the alarm clock rings and I am roused from my dreamlike consciousness to the day. The person I have shared my life with for the past six years is stirring next to me and I somehow push all the uncertainties away from me as though they were part of a big meal I was finished eating. When I really wasn't finished at all and now still starving wish I could return to the table.

I reach over to silence the squawking before the person next to me is completely roused from their slumber so that I can silently slip off to begin my day in some kind of reverie. Their happiness totally eludes me. Their feelings totally elude me. I am consumed with just making it one more day on this earth.

My focal point of the next few minutes is getting my shoes on and going for a walk. I have gone for a walk every morning for the past six years. I put my shoes on and tie them in double knots so they won't come untied and then I step out the door. It doesn't matter if the sun is shining, the rain is falling, or the snow is blinding me I go for a walk.

As I walk I see the things around me. I see the cars on the side of the road. I see the people coming out to get their papers. I see the cars backing out of their driveway as people leave for work. I see people wave at me as I pass by.

As I walk I hear all the things around me as well. I hear the trash truck as it is coming down the street. I hear the cars in the distance on the highway. I hear dogs barking. I hear birds singing.

However, as I walk I feel nothing. I know the ground is beneath my feet, but I do not feel it. I know that the sun is shining, but I do not feel it on my skin. I know my chest is tightening from the pace I am walking, but I do not feel my heart beating faster and my breath quickening as I walk ever faster toward nothing.

Hey Y'all

I really want to start writing in this thing again. I am thankful for my seven loyal followers. I find myself wanting to finish both the muse and the heist. The newest one is still going somewhere in my head and I am not sure. Would anyone be interested in me finishing either of those?
Comment and let me know what you think. :)

Time in a bottle

The first thing that I’d like to do is to save everyday…

The summertime is my favorite. The days are so lazy and all I want to do is lay in bed. Every morning I wake up and listen. Maybe this is the day that daddy will come home, so I can’t lay in bed all day I have to get up and get ready for him to walk through the door.

I start the beautiful day with a bath. Momma leaves for work every morning at six. She comes in and kisses me goodbye and tells me that she will see me later for my coca-cola. I lay there for exactly thirty minutes listening closely to the porch.

Daddy worked nights. He would come home from work each morning in the summertime exactly thirty minutes after momma would leave. I would hear his boots climbing the stairs, but I would pretend to still be asleep. He would come in and call out to me. He would call out and tell me he to get up because he was coming to get me. I would bury my head way down in the covers, and sometimes put the pillow over my head.

He would walk down the hall real loud to warn me he was coming. The giggles would start way down inside of me. By the time he made it across the room to my bed I would be giggling so loud, but trying to be still. He would pull back the covers and tickle me until I thought I was going to pee in my pants. Then I would get up and head to the bathroom and he would run the water for me to take my bath. So that is how I start my day every day, except now there are no footsteps, no deep gruff voice calling out to me, and no giggling, only a bath.

The Muse

Wendell felt groggy as he began to wash up. His head was pounding, and he felt very different. He knew where he was and what he was doing, but he wasn't sure how he had ended up on the floor of the living room. He remembered coming in from the fields quickly before a storm, but that was it.

As he finished washing up he could smell Cecilia's fried chicken in throughout the house. He loved her fried chicken. It must be a special occasion because she only made it on Sunday's and special occasions. It wasn't Sunday was it? How long had he been out cold on the floor? He could feel the anxiety rising up in his chest. This was an unfamiliar feeling to him. Why was he anxious? This was the house that he had lived in his whole life, and yet something was different. Something was very different.

"Wendell, lunch is ready," called Cecilia.

"I'm on my way." he called back down the hall.

What was he going to do? Would she notice that things were different? Was it something that could be noticed? Wendell's head began to spin again. When he first woke up his head was spinning, his whole body hurt, and he was disoriented. He recognized the living room, but it was somehow different.

Something caught his eye. He turned to catch a glimpse of what was there and it was gone. Strange.

As Wendell walked out of the bathroom he almost ran right into Cecilia in the hallway.

"Are you coming? It's getting cold?"

"Yeah right now."

Time in a bottle

If I could save time in a bottle…

That’s the song that was playing on the radio when my daddy left one night to get some milk for the morning. Ever since that day I decided that I would save every bottle until he came home. When I started I thought he would only be gone for a day or two, maybe a week, but now I have over four hundred bottles lined up in my room.

I make it a point to have a bottle of real coca-cola every day. I walk to the same store daddy was supposed to get milk from and put in my fifty cents and get a litle glass bottle of coke from the machine outside.

I made another decision that night, I would never drink another glass of milk until my daddy came home. Momma buys a gallon of milk each week. She gives me a glass every morning with my breakfast and one at night with supper, but I never touch it. Momma says I need milk to make my bones strong and that my teeth are gonna rot out, but I just tell her that only when daddy comes home will I drink a glass of milk again.

I am sure of most things. I don’t have lots of questions, but I have always wondered one thing. What does time look like when it is being saved in a bottle, and how do I know I am doing it right?

New one...

I can't seem to finish anything I start writing...
I am going to finish the Muse...this is what I have decided:
Monday I will post to The Muse
Thursday I will post to the new one

I hope this helps me stay focused on finishing and also keeps some variety in my life...I get so bored with stories I begin. I think this is why I can't finish the book I started SOOOOO long ago....Enjoy!