Free Write Friday

you never know

by

a chance to have a day
to do what i want
whatever i want
to go where i please
wherever i please
to visit any time
any time that i wish

only the next day
i won’t remember any
to take the plunge
or to not
for what’s it worth
if not for memories
to take with me
a whole lifetime

but i’d still take it
it’s a chance to take
a chance
try something new
perhaps daring
or enlightening
see another time
a passed relative
a neat celebrity
sing on a stage
in front of thousands
or even a re-do moment

something you want
a day to do as you please
even if forgotten
still could be worth it
something to remind
of that forgotten day
will still stir within
maybe in the next life
it will come back to us
for if the mind forgets
the heart and soul still know
that something happened
even if they don’t know
what it was

you may be able to feel
but you never really know

—

A post for Kellie Elmore’s FWF.

FWF – A New Beginning

by

It’s so hot in this car that I have to roll down the window. The hot desert wind shooting by my social worker’s speeding car is ten times better than the stagnant air I’ve had to put up with since her AC is broken. It broke last month and she still hasn’t fixed it.

“How much longer?” I ask, allowing the breeze to dance around my face, efficiently waking me up from my stupor.

Tina sighs. “For once, can you just be patient, Thora? We’ll be there soon.”

I feel like she’s asking too much of me. Usually a new home is in the city, but this time they are keeping me in the dark about it and a girl gets impatient, especially me. We’ve been driving for three hours. To where, I have no clue. There seems to be nothing but desert on all sides of us with no end in sight.

Choosing to not respond to my social worker, I stick my hand out the window. The bracelet my mom left with me–two woven bands separated by various green and blue stones, and one I distinctly recognize as turquoise–glints back at me. I’ve worn this thing as long as I can remember. It’s all she left behind before she disappeared. Because of this bracelet, I still think she’s alive. No one else does.

I wave my hand around, riding the wind, as though wielding a wand. If only I could magic myself out of this car and to wherever my mom is, then I wouldn’t have to be shuffled from foster home to foster home again. Unfortunately, magic doesn’t exist, I don’t know where my mom is and I wouldn’t know where to go. After a few minutes, my hand goes up and down with the wind without me really controlling it. Again, I’m lulled into a nap.

The jerk of the emergency brake jars me awake. I hate it when Tina pulls that stupid centerpiece. My fifteen years in the system never cured me from the uncomfortable stomach lurch that inevitably followed. I swear it is her lot in life to only purchase cars with a centerpiece E-brake. Don’t ask me why.

“All right, I couldn’t tell you before, but you need to brace yourself,” she says, turning toward me. My head rolls along the leather seat to look at her as I try to gather my foggy brain power. Sweat dampens the bottom of my hair against my neck and I welcome the brief coolness it brings. “This family is technically your biological family.”

My head and body snap forward. I thought I was the only one left of my family. As I wait for Tina to spill the details, my chest won’t let any breath escape.

“Apparently, she’s your mom’s cousin. Somehow we found her and she’s expressed interest in taking you in.”

I raise my eyebrows. No one ever wants me. I believe the words “more trouble than she’s worth” is a permanent fixture in the mouths of my many foster families. And it’s kind of true. I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t listen to orders very well. When I want to do something, I do it regardless if they tell me explicitly not to.

“Now, before you go AWOL like you did last time, please just …” she searches for the words for a moment. “Be good. That’s all I ask. You only have a couple of months until you’re 18 and can do as you please. Until then, stay out of trouble, okay?”

I roll my eyes at her. That speech hasn’t held onto my conscience yet and I’m betting it won’t stick this time either. She does seem more serious than usual though.

It’s beyond amazing that any of my family could be tracked down, so we’ll see if I want to follow the rules or not. It all depends on if they’re crazy or mean.

Since we’ve obviously reached our destination, I look outside and freeze. A small brick house stands completely unoriginal from the others on the street. The only thing that distinguishes it from the other houses is a tree house in the tree in the backyard. Other than that, it has the same square-ish exterior, the same placement of the same white door and windows and the same chimney poking out of the roof on the right hand side–just like all of the neighboring houses. All of the grass is green even though it is early September. And as far as I can tell, there is no broken cement anywhere on either side of the street.

Kids scream through the sprinklers at a couple of houses. It was one of those neighborhoods: a place to raise a family. The last time I was placed in a neighborhood like this, I was ten. My distaste for it came from the fact that it made me think of how I likely would have lived with my mom were she still around. After that, I asked Tina to only put me with families in the busy city, a place where a traditional family life was a little more uncommon so I could avoid those feelings of misery. Apparently that particular request of mine is disregarded this time because a “blood relative” is involved. Just lovely. Note the sarcasm.

Welcome to suburbia, Thora.

Thanks to this week’s FWF prompt by Kellie Elmore, I was able to piece together a better beginning for one of my WIPS. I cannot express enough thanks that this prompt triggered such an inspiration for this story and I’m stoked to be giving it more attention now that a critical piece is now making sense. 

FWF ~ Gentle One

by

It’s far past my bedtime. Daddy would be furious if he knew I was out in the woods behind our house again. Ever since dusk, it’s been bugging me for so long that I just have to be out here right now. I have to find out what I saw.

I make my way past crooked trees, keeping my eyes peeled for any sign of movement. The glimmers disappeared this way, I’m sure of it. After a few minutes, I notice that I’m approaching a swamp from the squelch beneath my feet and the dull shimmer of water some fifty feet away from me. I stop, not wanting to venture too far into the messy mud.

Glancing around, I cross my arms in front of me and feel goosebumps erupt on my skin. It’s much colder than it was a moment ago. The chill came on a subtle breeze. I look to the direction I feel the wind coming from and gasp. There’s the white glimmering flash again!

The longing to know what it is overwhelms me and I start to walk over. Every step I take towards it makes the wind blow harder until I finally feel like I can’t breathe from the pressure on my chest. Have I walked into a wall? That’s almost what it seems like.

The glimmer is only a little bit closer to me now, even though I feel like I should be closer. Wait a minute… it’s getting brighter and brighter! The light is coming towards me.

A voice speaks, “You need to go home, Silas.”

I can only muster a squeak. “Wha?”

“We are the Fae and we have been assigned to protect you, gentle one,” the voice continued, “only you’re not supposed to know.”

In an instant, the light surrounds me and I’m warmed from the outside in.

The next thing I know, I’m looking up at my ceiling with my bed sheets on top of me, wondering what on earth I saw at dusk. A strange glimmer or sparkle, was it? I consider going out to the forest despite Daddy’s temper. But then I change my mind and doze off to sleep while dream of fairies.

FWF ~ A Street is Not a Home

by

I can’t really talk about the street I grew up on…
There were many.
Divorce does that and so do second marriages.
So I lived on many different streets growing up,
often two at a time–
the street my mom lived on
and the street my dad lived on.
The street where our duplex was
the only one with a tramp in the backyard.
The street where we lived in a mother-in-law basement.
My grandmother’s street, a cul-de-sac,
quiet neighborhoods throughout Salt Lake Valley–
I mean, aside from the short stint in California
when I was too young to even remember it.
I feel like we moved so much
that I never really settled down.
At times, I struggle to remember
the names of the streets we’ve lived on.
It wasn’t until I was 10
that we found houses that we stayed in.
After that, it was a neighborhood
and we had neighbors that were friends.
So many streets to remember,
but all they tell me now is that
home is wherever your heart is.

Friday the 13th

by

Suspicions. Black cats. Walking underneath ladders. Broken mirrors. Superstition. Writing on the wall. Curses. Mystery. Foretelling a flashback.

Bright eyes against a dark night. Clouds parting for la Luna. Time for magic. A time for mystique, for magic.

Birthday wishes and 13 candles.

Close your eyes and blow… What did you wish for?

#FWF ~ What is freedom?

by

What is freedom?
Is it just a right ordained by the government?
Is it a basic human need?
Physical? Emotional? Mental?
Is it internal or external?
Is freedom a state of mind or a state of being?
Does freedom stand or can it crumble?
Can freedom fill a void or simply embody an endless expanse?

From what I know about freedom, this is all that I can say about it:

Freedom may be a right but it is also a choice.

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FWF ~ Not Alone

by

Waves slapped up against the ship, rocking it along with the whistling winds. That’s the last sound I remember as I laid on the cold, wet wood on the bow.

Now I’m sitting in cold water up to my waist looking out at the open sea to my left. Our ship used to be right there, but it crashed into the rocks and sunk into the watery depths. It looks like I’m the only left.

The problem is that I don’t feel alone.

There’s rustling in the trees across from the marsh with bodies that I can’t make out moving quickly through the brush. What sounds like someone trudging through the mud seems to come closer and closer to me. Then a subtle breeze comes from somewhere in the marsh I’m sitting in. In my mind, I imagine some horrible, horned water beast sending out his breath and inhaling strongly to get the scent of a meal. At that thought, I bolt upright, wringing out my sodden shirt as I walk to firmer ground. My eyes dart every which way, but it’s so dark there’s not much I can truly see.

I hear a snarl and jump. I am most definitely not alone and I know who that snarl belongs to.

The ship we came on held animals, quite a few of them. They were being brought to America for a circus. There were monkeys, a couple lions, a baby elephant and a couple zebras. None of those animals made this particular sound.

There was a tiger on board that would snarl just like that while I mopped up the floor around its cage, as though it were rolling its shoulders up and down, preparing to pounce on supper. I’m not sure if I’d care to see that tiger right now, especially if that cage had a similar end as our ship.

Another gust brushes by and a chill runs down my body. My arms grasp each other, feeling many goosebumps prickle up.

Then a sound I’m not expecting–a slight tinkling, like a small bell–rings slightly through the humid air.

From out of the jungle, a green light no bigger than my head comes my direction. It’s bright–too bright. I shield my eyes against the green glare. At that moment, the clouds part and expose a very full moon.

“No need to be afraid, little one.”

The voice is small and female, though clearly grown up. The light surrounding her is so bright that I can only see the outline of her tiny human-like form which is dwarfed by feathery wings.

“What are you?” I ask, though my gut tells me she’s magical. Magic may only be spoken of in hushed whispers where I’m from, but I always hoped and dreamed that it really existed.

“I’m a faerie, and I’m here to help you, Linley.”

I inhale sharply. She knows my name. I’m about to ask her how she knows who I am but she cuts me off with a giggle.

“We know everything about you and have since the moment your body touched our soil.”

As she spoke, she held out a wand and another green light started to glow and grow. Within moments, that light shifts into a lantern.

“Take it,” she says encouragingly. Once I grab the handle, it’s like everything around me–the marsh, the ocean, the jungle behind me–comes into clearer view. “There are few others who survived, but you must find them. They are all on this island somewhere, scattered from the impact.”

“Why must I find them? I’m only a child,” I ask, near tears, hoping that an adult would come and protect me so I wouldn’t have to do this on my own. What the faerie says next makes me catch my breath.

“You’re the only one who believes in the Magic so it must be you. Don’t worry, you’ll find help as you go,” the green light of the faerie starts to float away from me. “But beware, there are plenty of creatures that won’t be as kind.”

Rustling surrounds me as though those creatures are around, and I could have sworn there was a howl somewhere in the distance. The lapping of the water on the marshy shore seems to increase like a stronger tide could be rolling in.

“Stick to the path illuminated and you will find your comrades and your escape. I cannot stay, but I trust I shall see you soon, Linley.”

In a glimmer, she takes flight over the jungle into the foggy clouds, illuminating the emerald green trees that make up the jungle. The clouds slowly roll back together as if the moon were pulling a blanket around itself. For a moment, it’s quite beautiful and I wish I had a blanket to keep me warm. Then I remember, I’m not alone and there’s nothing here to keep me warm. Moving is my only option.

The green lantern the faerie left with me shimmered with a yellow ribbon that unwound itself from the green light, leading me away from the marsh and up a stoney path alongside the jungle.

Who knows where this path will take me? I can only hope that I can trust the lovely green faerie who knows my name, and trust that I will find whoever is left from our ship.

FWF ~ The Last Stop

by

Free Write Friday Prompt for 5/11

You have been traveling by train in Europe. You wake to find that you’ve missed your stop and you are the last one aboard. You reach for your luggage in the hold above and as you pull it down a wallet (not belonging to you) falls out. You open it to find a large amount of cash…Tell me a story!

“Is anyone sitting here?”

A small face surrounded by what looks like a million cotton balls pokes her head inside my train cabin. Little bright eyes peep out from behind miniscule glasses and her skin, though wrinkly, is very plump. Her accent is definitely from some part of Scandinavia. Her vowels are just a tad too long, her consonants not hard enough and her words sort of meld together.

I shake my head at her. I boarded the train with no one; no one was supposed to join me. She comes in smiling with pursed lips. As she sits across from me, she holds her enormous purse on her lap while she rocks back and forth for a moment.

“Where are you going?”

I don’t say anything. I don’t want to tell this old lady that I’m going home to nothing, that I spent my whole inheritance on a trip throughout Europe to start over or that the attempt was a complete bust. Least of all, I don’t want to tell her what happened to the family that certainly isn’t waiting for me at home.

I don’t need her pity and I don’t need anyone. Not anymore.

“Did you hear me?” she asks, looking somewhat concerned.

Finally, I speak. “Yes, I heard you.”

She bounces back in her seat, pleased with herself. “Well?”

“I’m going back to America,” I say after as long of a pause I dare make. She squints her eyes suspiciously.

“You don’t sound happy,” she says simply. She’s right–I’m not happy. “What did you see in Europe?”

Holding back a snort, I smile.

“Everything.”And I’m not kidding. I really did see everything. Despite that, I got nothing out of it. It’s a harsh comparison, but it’s like thinking Disney Land is the most magical place in the world only to find it’s a dump. I wonder if that’s what happens when you lose everything.

She smiles in return. “Then why are you sad?”

Again, I don’t want to tell her anything. I don’t know this woman–heck, I’m lucky if I know myself on a good day. The hem of my too long and too loose shirt catches my attention. My fingers play with the fraying strings numbly.

“I couldn’t do what I came to do and now I have a flight to catch in Paris.”

That’s all I can bring myself to say. She surveys me for a moment. Her eyes pause on my baggie shirt and my tattered boots. They’ve lasted me this whole trip and I intend on finishing my trip with them. If anything, that could be an accomplishment since I accomplished nothing else in Europe.

“Will you help me?” she suddenly asks. I’m afraid to say yes, but I do anyway. She lifts her large snakeskin purse from her lap. “Will you help me put this up there?” She gestures to the rack above my head.

My relief is instant. She hands me the bag and I toss it up there. When I turn back around, she’s holding her hand out.

“Annaliese.”

I shake her hand.

“Lydia.”

She smiles gently. A yawn tugs at my mouth as I sit back down.

“Are you tired?” she asks.

I guess I kind of feel that way so I nod. Annaliese suggests that I take a nap and it’s hard not to take her suggestion. Perhaps sleep is what I truly need.

“Sleep.”

That’s all she says before I completely pass out.

*   *   *

A horn sounds and I startle awake. Annaliese has gone. It’s dark outside my window so I check my watch. 9:13.

Oh, shit…

I bolt out of my seat and make my way down the cart until I find a conductor. There’s nobody else around and I’m starting to think the train is heading back to some kind of depot somewhere in obscure Europe. About two cars away, I find a clerk. He appears startled by my brashness when I ask him where the hell the train is.

“We are about to arrive in Berlin, miss,” he says uncertainly.

Oh, no… Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh, no! I’ve not only missed my stop in Paris and my flight back to the U.S., but my train ticket only covers me from Rome to Paris. It doesn’t cover me from Germany and beyond. Trying not to arouse suspicion, I tell him thank you and return to my cabin. I close the doors behind me. The tears threaten to come down but I won’t let them. I stare at the ceiling to keep myself from crying. This usually works.

Then a reflection of some sort catches my eye above the luggage rack. When I reach up, my fingers graze something made of leather. My first thought is that Annaliese must have accidentally left her wallet behind. Then I notice a slip of paper with my name on it poking out of the side. I pull it out.

Lydia,

It’s not the end of the world. Things do get hard, but we can always fight our way above them. You are young–don’t give up yet. I hope this helps. I hope you had a nice sleep.

Annaliese
PS: After I return from Denmark in two days, you come visit me in Finland. I live on Tammio.

In the leather pouch, there’s a wad of Euros. I peel them apart and find that there’s over two thousand in the stack–that’s nearly four thousand dollars.

Oh, my… I cannot accept this! My first thought is to turn it in to someone on the train to mail to her while I try to work my way back to a flight back to America. Then I consider taking the money straight back to her on Tammio, wherever that is. That’s not a place I visited. Helsinki happened about two months ago. Plus I only stayed in Finland for about a couple of days, since I was more excited about Sweden.

Knowing my Swedish ancestry is largely what brought me to tour Europe to begin with. When I got there, however, disappointment settled in worse than ever. It turns out my great-great grandfather was heavily involved in Hitler’s camp during World War II. That’s not exactly the history I was expecting. I thought being of Scandinavian descent would give my family a richer, more established history. My family wasn’t so lucky in that respect.

The realization suddenly hits that I have no choice but to use this money, one way or another. There’s no other choice–I’m fresh out of money. The last of the inheritance went to my flight and final train ride, and I screwed those up. Why didn’t I wake up at the other stops?

The train starts to slow down. Very quickly, I make up my mind, snatch up my duffle bag and shove the wallet in my hoodie pocket. Once I find the nearest door, I wait, bouncing on my toes for the train to stop and unload. A voice comes on over the intercom.

“Brussels-Midi.”

As soon as the doors open, my feet jump to the platform. The impact jostles my hoodie and the leather stuffed with Euros nearly flies out, making my heart nearly stop. People start milling out of the train around me so I don’t dare take it out to check on it. My hand stays firmly on the pouch in my pocket.

I’ve been to Brussels-Midi before so I immediately turn left and head to the ticket kiosks. I insert two 20 Euro notes into the machine and select a one-way ticket.

It’s not long before I’m anxiously seated on another train to Helsinki, watching as the Polish countryside flashes by in a blur.

FWF ~ An Unexpected Paddle

by

“You’re up shit creek without a paddle…”

It took years… actually just a year and a half.
Not much, I know, but to me … it felt like ages.
No one ever told me how hard forgiveness could be.
Tough to forgive that other person,
even tougher to forgive myself for slipping even further.
It’s amazing the mental torment one can self-conflict.
Losing friends, trying to move on
and shedding tears not worth crying anyway.
I thought I was doomed to be “that” girl …
a girl I never wanted to be.
One who’d fall for stupid lies and
get completely scarred in the process.
So I took a break — from guys, from passion,
focusing solely on school and my health.
Those were things I could control.
There was the goodness of a friend that I love …
she showed me new things, a way to forgive
that I couldn’t ever expect myself to learn.
She showed me a prayer can help,
that friends can be true,
that you never have to do anything alone
and that you’re always loved…
no matter what.
And I believed.
The first step was forgiving him…
that seemed easy when it came to myself.
So I kept it up. That belief thing.
Crazily enough … it worked.
I may have forgiven myself …
but there are other people and situations
that haven’t earned my forgiveness yet.
Forgiveness had to be a lesson learned,
but is a constant work in progress.
Faith in myself and in overall goodness
just might make the difference.

the way to win

by

some will win
that’s the way
things tend to be
hard work can pay off
or luck plays in

some will lose
it can hurt
but also reveal
what can be fixed
or even who

some were born
to sing the blues
or born to cry
all the praise
through any storm