Happy Halloween!

Cereal Killer!!
Eee, eee, eee, eee!!!


Quote for the Day

Life is too short to wake up with regrets.


2 Quotes for Today

If she had stayed in that incarnation, she wouldn’t be who she is now.
On any given day, there is a poem in you that’s wanting out.

Freewrite 10/15/08


“If you weren’t so capricious we wouldn’t be in this mess. You know that right?” Steve sighed.

“Don’t throw your vocabulary words at me right now. I don’t want to hear it.” Wanda stated.

“I’m just sayin’, you’re completely unpredictable and it gets you in trouble. Gets us in trouble.”

Steve threw his hands up at their current surroundings. Sitting next to each other, but still separated, Wanda touched the cold metal.

“You’re the one who got in a fight. That was not my fault.”

“Not your fault?!” Steve cried. “You let that drunk fool put his hands all over you. I was trying to get him off you when he swung. What was I supposed to do, just let him hit me?”

Steve kicked the bunk and the passed-out drunk fool belched and rolled over.

Wanda cringed. “He looked a lot cuter on the dancefloor. And after a few shots.”

“Well he ain’t so cute now is he? I said, let’s go to the movies. You said, no, I wanna go out, let’s go line dancing. I know a great place where they don’t ask for ID.” Steve’s voice rose high as he feigned Wanda’s accent. “Great place all right. Great place to get felt up and in a fight. It’s your fault I’m sitting here. My dad is gonna kill me.” Steve dropped his head to his hands.

“Your daddy? I am not worried about your daddy one little bit.”

As if on cue, two disgruntled fathers walked up to the adjoining jail cells. Steve father looked down on him. “You ready to go home young man?”

“Yes, Sir.” Steve said, jumping up. He moved quickly out the sliding cell door.
“See you later.” He said to Wanda over his shoulder as he regained his freedom.

Wanda looked up at the familiar Sheriff’s badge and tears flooded her eyes.

“And you, little girl. You get to spend the night in there.” The Sheriff said.

“Yes, Daddy.”

Freewrite 10/14/08

Yearned for

People define freedom in many different ways, but freedom meant only one thing to William O’Brien. Riding his horse across the endless plains, the sun at his back and wind in his face, the world stretched out before him. This freedom is what he yearned for, longed for. When the nights grew cold and deep, he remembers days of easy living, riding shotgun on the westbound stages. The pay was good and he enjoyed the entertainment of the city folk. Newcomers, someone had once called them. So out of their element in a land he felt comfortable in.

The low hills and washes passed for miles, and from any near rise you could see for the next two weeks. Buffalo still roamed in herds and he was friendly with an Indian or two, though not too friendly. Will had earned his keep as a ranch hand, stage driver, hired gun, bartender, and even spent a whole month escorting a rich family from St. Louis to Denver.

He smiled as he remembered their little boy and his dreams of becoming a real life cowboy someday. The mother did not approve, but Will had let that little boy hold his unloaded gun. A Colt 45 with a pearl grip. It was Will’s father’s gun. The gun his father had held in his hand the night that bastard John Davis had shot him through the heart over a game of cards.

Will was not the kind of man to forgive or forget and the day will come when he’ll have his revenge. Then, and only then, will he lay down his father’s gun for the last time.

Freewrite 10/8/08


Without much thought to his actions, Martin wandered through the orchard, dazzled at the spring blooms. His footsteps muffled by the newly turned earth, he heard sparrows arguing over wind speeds and hunting grounds. Or whatever it is that sparrows argue over. Something drew him deeper into the rows of trees.

Martin did not spend much thought on fanciful dreams, yet here he was. Miles from home, walking barefoot in a peach orchard, wondering “Where are you going, you fool? Go back to your car and go home.”

Yet, he continued on. He tried to convince himself that he wasn’t looking for anything, but his eyes searched behind each tree, around each branch and down through the rows as far as he could see.

The little ramshackle cottage was nearly hidden by the overgrown vines. The land reclaiming space taken from it. Rounding the end of the row, he saw it. He had never been here, but knew exactly how that cottage looked inside. He could feel the morning sunlight pouring through its window, warming his young face.

Had he been here before? Impossible. This is nothing like New York City where he was born and raised. Memories from another time, another life seeped into his veins. He remembered.


Lotus Touts

Give people more than they expect and do it cheerfully.

Marry a man/woman you love to talk to.
As you get older, their conversational skills will be as important as any other.

Don't believe all you hear, spend all you have or sleep all you want.

When you say, 'I love you,' mean it.

When you say, 'I'm sorry,' look the person in the eye.

Be engaged at least six months before you get married.

Believe in love at first sight.

Never laugh at anyone's dreams. People who don't have dreams don't have much.

Love deeply and passionately. You might get hurt but it's the only way to live life completely.

In disagreements, fight fairly. No name calling.

Don't judge people by their relatives.

Talk slowly but think quickly.

When someone asks you a question you don't want to answer, smile and ask, 'Why do you want to know?'

Remember that great love and great achievements involve great risk.

Say 'bless you' when you hear someone sneeze.

When you lose, don't lose the lesson.

Remember the three R's:
Respect for self; Respect for others; and Responsibility for all your actions.

Don't let a little dispute injure a great friendship.

When you realize you've made a mistake, take immediate steps to correct it.

Smile when picking up the phone. The caller will hear it in your voice.

Spend some time alone.

Poem of the Day

William Earnest Henley

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll,
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Song of the Day

Song of Aragorn
Bilbo Baggins

All that is gold does not glitter,
Not all those who wander are lost;
The old that is strong does not wither,
Deep roots are not reached by the frost.
From the ashes a fire shall be woken,
A light from the shadows shall spring;
Renewed shall be blade that was broken,
The crownless again shall be king.


Quote for the Day

Whatever you give a woman, she's going to multiply.
If you give her a house, she'll give you a home.
If you give her groceries, she'll give you a meal.
If you give her a smile, she'll give you her heart.
She multiplies and enlarges what is given to her.

So - if you give her crap,
you will receive more $#!+ than any one human being can handle


Me for today

2 hour massage tonight.

Am going to cancel Massage Envy membership and get cheaper massage at the massage school.

Contemplating going to that school to gain my massage therapist license.

Bowled my highest score ever last night!

There are so many great authors out there, and so few that I'm familiar with.

Need to obtain library card.

My month is filling up so quick.

New Bob's Big Boy bank is adorable!

I need to stop worrying about what will happen and just enjoy what is happening.

Looking too far ahead makes you miss what's right in front of you.

Have 5 tickets to Kings Dominion that I need to use before they expire.

Hope to see old friends soon.

Thinking of taking up bowling instead of pool, at least it's some exercise.

Will be wearing two costumes for Halloween; one for work and one for the evening party.

I'm hungry.


Creative Writing Class

I am taking a Creative Writing class at the local community college and we have been working on Freewriting. A freewrite is where you write continually for a fixed period of time, say 10 minutes, and you don't stop writing the entire time. You choose a basic subject, word, phrase or topic and just go. It's very simple and I've already come up with the beginnings of what could be some great stories. I've posted the first few below. Please take a minute to read and offer any critiques, suggestions or comments you like. I sincerely appreciate the feedback.

PS. You do not have to be a blogger to write a comment, anyone reading this can leave comments. Thanks for your help.

Freewrite 10/01/08

First person character

I have to get my regulator cleared or this whole diving trip will be for nothing. I walk to the air compressor and hook up the hose directly to the regulator. Maybe I can blast out whatever's clogging it. Whoosh, hiss, wheezing sounds emit from the hoses and connections.

"Dammit!" I curse. "I just bought this damn thing and have only used it on two trips. It should work fine, it's brand new."

"What's wrong?" my dive buddy Mike asks after hearing my oaths and muttering.

"Regulator's blocked. Might as well get out my snorkel since it doesn't look like I'll be going deep today."

I shake the device again and blow hard on the mouthpiece in vain. "Nothing!" Despondent I throw it down on the bench and open the lid to the gear box. Maybe I have an old one in here, though I know better.

"Let me take a look." He says and grabs the part for inspection. Tossing hoses and fins, a cracked set of goggles and some old seashells, I dig through years of used gear already knowing I wouldn't keep a regulator in there.

"You dumbass!" Mike laughs. "You had the valve turned off."

He tosses my now 'fixed' regulator back at me. "Let's go."

Freewrite 10/01/08


His fangs gleamed in the harsh glare of the headlights. He would have to drain her quickly before more witnesses show up. No point in drawing extra attention to himself. As he leaned in for his last drink, she whimpered. At first he thought she was begging, as they all do. It surprised him to hear the real word. It was not Please, but Peace that slipped from her drawn lips.

“Peace.” she stated in nothing more than a whisper.

She was not begging for mercy, or the end as some do. She was accepting, as if looking forward toward what was to come. He did not know that feeling. He knew no feelings anymore. His soul was as dead to feelings as his blood was to the life he was draining from her. That is what made him pause. He did not want her to end. He wanted to understand her. To keep her.

The bright silver blade was kept always in his pocket. Silver alone can harm him, when other blades leave no mark. He carries it for his own reasons. He slashed across his chest creating a spill of his own tainted blood. He forced her gaping mouth to the wound. She tried to struggle, but he was far too strong.

“Drink.” He commanded. “Drink and become everlasting.”

Drained and confused, she didn’t understand. She tasted cold blood and pulled away out of pure reflex.

NO, her mind protested. Stop! her thoughts begged. But somewhere deep inside, something was born. Thirst. Growing, clawing, pounding, overwhelming Thrist. She could not fight both his strength and this demanding need. She surrendered, and drank. His blood which held no life flowed into her. She became him.

Nauseas and weak, she waivered on the edge of consciousness. Surely she would die now and find her peace. Death would welcome her. But the Thirst would not let her go so easily.

Freewrite 09/30/08

Burnt Popcorn

The wafting scent of burnt popcorn seeped under her dorm room door and into the hallway, infecting other rooms. She cursed under her breath as she tried to pick out the most well-done pieces. It was her last bag and she wasn't about to throw it all away. Jenny sat back at her messy desk and tried to remember which class had the most homework. All of them it seemed. Would she ever dig her way out of the mountain of essays, research papers, speeches, projects and labs? She wanted to be a doctor, but this school stuff is not what her youthful dreams were made of. She was so lost in her next assignment, she nearly missed the knock at the door.

He knew she had to be home. Only she could burn popcorn like that. He smelled it creeping under his door as he put the finishing touches on tomorrow's debate club topic. Perhaps he would change his argument to prove that the stench of burnt popcorn is actually an aphrodisiac. It certainly brought him straight to her door, though he was tempted to plug his nose.

Frazzled, she threw open the door and glared at him. Rob's green eyes smiled back at her ponytailed hair and pajama clad body. She was so cute when she didn't try.

"What do you want? I'm really busy." She growled at him. His grin irritating her more than the knocking.

"You're stinking up the place again with your excellent cooking." His Southern drawl full of sarcasm.

"It was an accident." She defended.

"Glad to know you didn't do that on purpose." He smiled down at her.

"Did you come here to make fun of me or do you have a purpose?" She shot back.

"I wanted to wish you good night." He offered.

Stung, she bit her lip. "Thank you." Her eyes not reaching his. His hand gently touched her face.

"Sweet dreams." He turned and walked back to his room, work still to do. She watched him walk away. The click of his door opened the last lock on her heart. She knew she loved him.

Freewrite 09/27/08


How much is your daughter worth? Your child. Your flesh and blood. He holds the knife to her creamy white throat and wonders. Is $5million to much to ask?

"Your daddy will pay for you, little girl. Or else." He sneers. His curling lip sends shivers up her spine. Her hands bound with the same silver duct tape that covers her mouth. She has never felt fear like this before. Her heart pounds as she remembers the coffee shop. He seemed like a regular guy when she met him last week. Just another student avoiding the dorms. How could she have known his intentions. His psychotic cruelty. His eyes, dark and dangerous, stared down at her as he paced the dark basement, taking another swig of his beer.

"Daddy's little rich girl", he said mocking her, wiping his mouth with the back of his dirty hand. "Poor little girl who's never had to work a day in her life. How much will your CEO daddy pay to keep you safe? To get you back?"
His voice fell to a rough whisper, "Enough. Had better be enough, or you'll make up the difference." His eyes went hazy as he stared over her head.

She saw him getting lost in his thoughts again. Maybe I can use that to my advantage, she wondered. Focus, Sheila, Focus. How do I get out of here?

Sheila looked around the dim basement again. Her eyes fell on the two small ground level windows. The latches didn't seem to be locked and she knew she was small enough to fit through. Maybe she could distract him long enough to pull her hands free and make a break for it. She could already feel the tape loosening as she wiggled her hands more and more. He had to leave sometime right? And he definitely had to fall asleep. Or pass out is more like it. He had been downing beers since he walked down the stairs and that seemed like hours ago. Just pacing and drinking, it couldn't last forever. She had to try.


What was that?!