Fragrance of Innocence

So I've been watching DEM play this game for awhile now and since she's cool and all dat so I decided to play along. It seemed like fun. Here are the Trifecta rules:

Your task this week, should you choose to accept it, is to write a love scene in no fewer than 33 and no more than 333 words. 

~~~~~~~~~~

He felt her without opening his eyes. Her fragrance filled the room and he breathed her scent deeply into his lungs. He liked the way it filled him with her from inside to out. Her sheer robe brushed his cheek as she walked by, but he didn’t dare open his eyes. He could feel her watching him. Her eyes boring into his soul as if she were attempting to read the thoughts that drifted through his inner being. He shifted, feigning sleep. “Would this be the night?”

She’d been coming into his room for the last three weeks. Every night her scent taunted him, but she never allowed him more than a single breath before vanishing. Her scent came stronger, closer. He could feel her breath upon his neck. To be chosen, was all he wanted.  He’d done his research carefully before entering the Coven. He knew why she’d cast aside every chosen before him. He made sure not to repeat the same mistakes. It seemed his plan to gain the Queen’s attention was working. He just had to be patient for a little while longer. He nearly opened his eyes when he felt her nails outlining the perfectly curved stomach he had spent months working to achieve. As her nails continued tracing his body, he almost forgot why he was there. He could have taken her then, but that would have been no fun. “Patience, just a little while longer then I’ll be her Chosen, and then I’ll take revenge for the death of my sister.”

Her scent disappeared. He’d passed her test once again.  He opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. How could something so bitter smell so innocent? He closed his eyes and fell into a deep sleep; knowing soon his bed would not be empty but filled with the Queen and her blood.

Mashed Potatoes Between My Toes

I grew up in the south. Not Gone with the Wind south but never the less I have redneck flowing through my veins. I don't remember much about growing up. I don't remember birthday parties or what I wore for Halloween. I don't remember slumber parties or weekends at Gran's. There are many blanks in my past. Sometimes I am grateful and other days I would just like to know. My imagination has a mind of its own and even if it's bad, some days I would just like to know which monster lurks in my darkness. Then I could stop wondering about the millions of possibilities of what might fill those blanks in my memory. 

But even though there are many blanks, some of them are filled with flashes. Flashes of a 5 year old little girl, hair blowing in the wind. Walking behind the mule pulling a plow. She would step as far as her 5 year old feet could reach, then drop a potato in the hole that had been dug for her. After she had dropped it in the hole, she would take her toes and push it down into the earth and giggle about the thought of mashed potatoes between her toes. The earth was cool under her bare feet. She knew no worries other than avoiding any presents left for her by the mule. The sun was warm on her face, it erased the darkness that clouded her soul. For those few moments, she was free. Just a little girl with mashed potatoes between her toes.

Go Here Because I Said So

Since my crazy has decided to be all boring and stop working and I have nothing interesting to say to the 3 of you who actually read the rambling shit that I spew upon the page, I have decided to share a little love with you today.

No, get back! Not that kinda love! 

In my search for never ending insanity, I stumbled upon a blog who is doing something amazing and very very brave. She is collecting the insanity together in one spot and sharing it with people. See I told you she was brave. 

Every Monday she has a blog hop for mental illness which is way beyond cool. She also does writing and a lot of other stuff but you guys know me I am drawn to the crazy. 

So go check her out. WordsinSync you will not be disappointed. Make sure to save me a seat and don't forget to bring sour skittles. It's rude to show up to a party empty handed. 

Fractured Soul

If you read my blog, then you know the roller coaster that is my emotions of late. Today I wanted to just feel free. To fly and cleanse myself. I have been wanting to join the 100 word game at velvet verbosity for awhile and today seemed like a good day. The prompt could not have been more appropriate. If Andy Warhol, Stephen King, and Dr. Seuss had a love child, this would be it: CHASMS

Fractured 

into a 1000 pieces

Silent Screams

from an unheard voice

that never ceases

Falling deeper

into the abyss

Venomous poison

tickles my soul

with their satanous hiss

My eyes open 

but I cannot see

for empty sockets

stare back at me

Through the darkness

My mouth does scream

unheard sounds

not part of this dream

My soul incomplete

no longer alive

the pounding sorrow

begs it to die

Its wicked ways 

and vile charm

its seductive embrace

want nothing but to harm

Around my waist

into my veins

I feel it slither

and take hold my reigns

Surrender I shall 

just to end this pain

Avenging Hereafter

Trigger Warning: There are references to sexual abuse and child rape in this post

I believe in the hereafter. I have no choice but to believe. For if I did not believe then the world would be even madder than I and while I live in a brain of madness, I refuse to live in a world of it. My father is the reason I believe in the hereafter because I cannot live in a world that allows a man to rape his daughter and that innocent child go without ever seeing justice. 

My father escaped justice in this world, but the thought of his eternal punishment brings comfort to my heart. I know some people might say "it is best to forgive and forget, to turn the other cheek", but those people have never had their father slide his hand up their strawberry shortcake nightgown. Those people do not know how suffocating the stench of stale beer can be. Those people do not know what it is like to have your entire being stolen from you. To be forever changed into a creation that is not of your own making. To forever be altered. To forever be stained.

In my world of hereafter, my sufferings will be avenged and justice will be carried out. I will not be disappointed. There will be no judge to bribe. No lawyer to pay off. Justice will be done and once it has been carried out, then maybe just maybe I will be able to find forgiveness for myself and that little innocent girl that I once was will finally be able to know what it is to love and to be loved. 

Maybe.

This was for a Studio 30+ writing prompt. The prompt was justice and forgiveness.

Happy B-day Gran

A few days ago I was sitting, wondering what to do and then I get this message from Naked Girl in a Dress. I don't know if she had just hit her head and was delusional or what but she asked me if I would like to be a featured writer over at Studio 30+. I said "Of course I would! I am crazy not stupid!". So then she told the date (May 5th) she would like me to be featured and well I knew instantly what to write about. So head on over there to read my tribute to my Gran.

Happy Birthday Gran. RIP

Ravaged

Slowly the sky began to darken as the vortex made its way closer. I had been sensing its arrival for days. It had been slowly making its presence known. It's always more vicious and destructive when it creeps in because while you may know it's coming, you don't know exactly when. Then when you least expect it. When you're unprepared, when you have let your guard slip just ever so slightly, it swoops down. It unleashes its full wrath upon you and all of those around you. It sucks you into it and begins to toss you here and there. Savagely. It rips and tears at you. Tossing you here and there, and all you can do is just allow yourself to be thrown wherever it decides to throw you. The more you fight it the more destructive it becomes to you and all of those in its path. 

Then once the vortex has consumed you, has destroyed everything in its wake. It will toss you out. Leaving you dazed and confused. Uncertain of exactly where you are or how you even got there. You look around you and wonder how things got so messed up. Even though you have spent the last hours and days inside of the vortex the minute you exit it, you seem to forget that it was ever there at all. You're confused by the destruction you see in front of you. You can't understand why everyone around you is hurt and angry. 

At you. 

Because it wasn't you that did this, it was the vortex. It was totally out of your control. If you could have stopped it, then you would have, but you were just another helpless victim of its destruction. No different than the innocent by standers who were touched by it as it passed by them. 

Then the clean up must begin. You must begin to pick up the pieces and try your best to glue them back together. To rebuild what was destroyed by the vortex. Some things will be rebuilt and show no signs of destruction. While others can be repaired they will never truly be the same again. They are forever changed by the damage done to them by the vortex. You have to live with the damage. You have to accept that what was will never be again and that what is left is all you have. 

It is a heavy burden to carry, but carry it you must. Because you know the vortex will come again. It always comes again. All you can do is try your best to minimize the damage it causes and rebuild what gets destroyed. 

This is for a writing prompt at Studio 30+. The writing prompt was THE STORM.

Merry F'ing Xmas

If my family were a tv show, then they would be a combination of the Bundy's and the Simpsons. These are conversations that actually took place during various holiday gatherings. I tried to be as invisible as possible during these gatherings. They were basically a government sanctioned excuse for getting drunk and then putting lights on anything within reach.

"Put her down. Put your sister down damnit. Stop looking at her. I said stop fucking looking at her. Why can't you two just be normal? Go outside and play in the street for a while. You're giving me a headache. Well, don't just stand there. Go I said."

"For crying out loud. The gawddamn dog just took off with half the turkey. Who let the damn dog in the house anyways? You? Well I hope you ate breakfast, that was your turkey he just ate."

"Stop picking your nose and wiping it on me. If I wanted boogers on me, then I would pick my own fucking nose."

"Where are Andy* and Marie*? Has anyone seen Andy and Marie? You know they aren't allowed to be left alone together. You remember what happened at Thanksgiving? Will someone go find Andy and Marie? (mutters under breath) before there is another "accident"?"

"Where's the turkey? I thought you were making the turkey. No, you were suppose to make it. No, we agreed I would make the Xmas ham and YOU would make the Thanksgiving turkey. That was last year. We switched this year, remember? Oh! Well. I got some chicken in the freezer I guess I better get it unthawed."

"What the hell is wrong with this pie?! Why does it taste like that?! You put SALT instead of SUGAR in it! No wonder it tastes like shit. I think you have had enough to drink today. I am cutting you off."

"I thought you were putting the gifts under the tree from "Santa". No, you always put them under the tree. Oh well, she's 5. It's time she learned the truth anyways.Honey, there is no santa. Merry Xmas."

"Why does Aunt Sarah call her grandbaby "izzy"? You don't know? No. It stands for "is he his or is he not?" Get it? Izzy (is he). Ohhhh!"

"Where's my Mountain Dew*? Did you take my Mountain Dew? You know I can't go huntin' if I don't have my jug of Mountain Dew! Now where did you put it?"

 "I'll give you a dollar if you go pull down your mama's sweatpants".


A few seconds later, a loud scream followed by " but Uncle Jay told me to!". "JAY! Did you tell him you would give him a dollar if he pulled down my pants?"

Looking shocked, "NO! NO! I would never do such a thing. Did he pull down your pants?Really? Must have seen it on the TV or something.You shouldn't let him watch so much TV. Rots their brains".


Happy Fuckin' Dysfunctional Holidays to you. Pass the Xanax, turkey's gonna be awhile.





*Andy and Marie -not their real names, but I actually have two cousins who are step brother and sister that ended up married to one another. Their parents married when he was 4 and she was 2 so they were raised as "brother and sister" when they found out they weren't "blood" brother and sister, they suddenly realized they were in love and spent the next 4 years trying to be together whenever they could. After she went off to college and returned, they got married and you thought your family was messed up. HA! You can't outdo our inbreeding. We been doin' it for generations!

*Mountain Dew a.k.a white lightning a.k.a homemade moonshine. By the time I was 4 I had learned NOT to ask for a drink of that "Mountain Dew" . When I was 2, they filled my bottle with it and I  got so DRUNK I could barely walk which isn't that unusual for a two year to be stumbling around and unable to stand. Once they realized that no one noticed. They would continue to do this for about 6 months until they got me so drunk I ended up with alcohol poisoning. After that they only gave me beer. No more hard liquor until I turned 6. Oh and they would be my grandfather and uncle. The Brady Bunch we were not.

 This was for a writing prompt for Studio 30 +. The prompt was holidays with the family.

Reflection in the Mirror

is in the eye of the beholder

Look! Open your eyes damn it and look! Look at yourself! Look at what you have become! How could you let yourself get in this shape? Damn it I said open your fucking eyes and look!

 That's you. That's what you have become. Do you see that pale face with the glazed eyes? Do you see the tract marks in her arms? Do you see them? Look gawddamnit! 

That's you! Do you remember last night? Do you remember how many you did just so you could get a fix? 

Are you crying? I swear to god I will gut you like a pig if you shed one fucking tear. Now open your gawddamn eyes and look in the fucking mirror. LOOK!!

Are you looking? Do you see what is behind you? That little girl in the corner? Do you see her? Look! Look at her! Sitting there, rocking back and forth holding tight to her teddy. 

Look at her! She is all alone and it's your fault. You abandoned her. She has been sitting there. 

Waiting.

For someone. For anyone to help her, but no one came. Not even you. How long are you going to leave her sitting there?

 Alone? 

Scared? 

In pain? 

Don't you dare look away?! Look at her.

 That's it. Go to her. Don't be afraid. Go on. Take her in your arms. Hold her tighter. 

You're ready now. 

"Hello. My name is MJ"

"Hi, MJ"

"Um, I um I um.. 

I was um... my my father um..

M-m-ol.. he raped me..my father raped me and umm this is my um..

first meeting here so umm I just don't really um.. know  what to say...."

You did good today. 

Look! 

Over there. 

She's smiling. The little girl. She's not frightened anymore.

 Do you see her? She's singing to her teddy now. Look, teddy must have told a funny because she's laughing now. 

"Hello. My name is MJ and today I am a counselor here at Haven House. Looking around the room I see a few new faces and I know what you're feeling. You're scared, nervous, not quite sure what to think. I was you one year ago today so if you need someone to talk to, I am here. I have been where you are and I know what a scary awful place it is, but just know that you're not alone. You have people here that understand what you're going through and are willing to help you. Willing to just listen. 

You're not a bad person, and it's not your fault.

 What happened to you, it wasn't your fault. "

This was for a writing prompt at Studio 30+. The prompt was "Integrity is telling myself the truth. Honesty is telling the truth to other people" Spencer Johnson.

I have the golden ticket

"I've got a golden ticket. I've got a golden chance to make my way, and with a golden ticket, it's a golden day."

I may never own the chocolate factory, but I  can own the world. My passport is my golden ticket. It allows me to go anywhere I want. Work anywhere I want. It's a status symbol of freedom and superiority. It gives me the right to vote, to dress how I want or not. It allows me to speak my mind without fear of reprisal. My passport allows me to be a lot of things, but most people never realize I carry that passport.

They see ignorance shrouded in a veil. Oppression tied by a leash. People tell me "You can be anything. So why choose to be this?"

My world is strange. "Freedom" is just an illusion. If it were real, then no one would question my clothes. No one would ask why I don't use my golden ticket. No one would judge me because of the color of my skin. People tell me I am "free", but then deny me the "freedom" to wear my cloak of oppression. As long as I don't shackle them, why do they care if I shackle myself? As long as I don't enshroud them, why do they care if I enshroud myself? Is this freedom? It is not my definition of freedom.

The world looks at me and sees someone who has lost a valuable priceless treasure. When I look at the world, I don't really see that I have lost anything. I am happy with my nothing. My "nothing" is more precious to me than the world's everything. I wouldn't trade my shackles for the freedom of the world. I wouldn't trade my hunger for the food of the gods. I wouldn't trade my poverty for the gold of the kings.

I thrive in my world of nothingness. It was in this world of nothingness that I found everything. The world may pity me when it looks at me, but I pity the world. 

"One man's treasure is another man's garbage" I prefer the garbage.

This post was inspired by a Studio 30 writing prompt. The prompt was "irony".

Twist of Fate

Slowly I let the waves overtake me. Engulfing me. Filling my lungs. Eyes wide open staring up  at the deep blue sky from beneath the water’s surface. Then suddenly without warning, the surface cracks open, shattering into a million pieces. Something grabs me from its sweet embrace. Air pushing the water from my lungs. Reclaiming its rightful place and pushing out that which had usurped it. Darkness closing in, not understanding I look back towards the deep blue sky. “Sam” barely a whisper before the darkness overtakes me.

That was how I met my best friend Sam. She rescued me from the Cove. I have always wondered what she was doing down there that day, but she never would tell me. No matter how much I begged and pleaded, she would just laugh and say, “I felt like going fishing. You were the biggest damn fish I ever caught too”. Even though she never told me why she was there, a part of me knew. There were only two reasons teens went to the Cove. Sex or suicide. Sam was a virgin.

Sam would save me countless times after that too. She was my guardian angel. I was content to stand in her shadow. Letting her have the spotlight. Everyone loved Sam, but she loved me.  I never understood why. She was all of the things I tried so hard to be, but just never could seem to figure out. When others made me feel stupid, she made me feel worthy. When others pushed me down, she held me up.

It would be ten years before we would return to the Cove. The wind howling as the waves crashed upon our feet. The siren’s enchanting song beckoning us to return.  “You know you saved my life that day,” suddenly Sam said. Willing time to stand still, I remained silent. Looking down at the waves licking my feet.

“Wanna go for a swim?” Sam asked.

Sensing my uncertainty, Sam locked her arm in mine and said, “Let’s go. The water’s too cold . I don’t really feel like fishing today anyways.”

Arm in arm we walked back into town. Forever united by an unspoken secret that only the two of us knew. While Sam was the bright shining sun of my world, back there on the rocks for just a moment, I was the moon.

This is for a writing prompt at Studio 30+. The writing prompt was Serendipity.