Writing Exercise : Describing _______ Ten Ways

For Chuck Wendig's blog this Friday. Take one thing and describe it in ten ways. Any one thing ... so here goes. To any that may find offense in my foul language, please be reminded that you do not have to read my blog. Enjoy. 


Stuffy nose/Sinus congestion

1. I try to inhale through my nose but I can't.
2. Thick hardened snot has blocked the way of my air passage.
3. I am a mouth breather, cursed by the sickness within.
4. Red, raw, irritated and still fucking dripping- this bitch won't stop!
5. I gasp for air through my gaping maw, struggling to find life and peace.
6. Unseen fingers grasp my nose, closing it fast, leaving me breathless- in pain.
7. There is a pulse just below my eye, rapid and frantic, something trapped inside my head.
8. Once, when I was seven, I nearly drowned in the deep end of my grandmother's pool. This? It's like that.
9. The pillow presses harder against my face, my arms flailing wildly, struggling and fighting like a wounded animal against restraints.
10. My face is like a crusted over garden bed long due for aeration.

What am I thinking!?

10 days isn't very long. I think I can manage this for 10 days.
Halfway through day one has me craving bread, sugar, meat ...
Anything crunchy or savory or sweet sounds amazing right now.

I know it takes time for a body to detox.
I know that for the first three days I will want nothing more than all the food that makes me so miserable.
So I will grimace as I swallow down my vegetable smoothie, and know that in 10 days-
I will be a healthier human overall.


If I don't off myself first. 

Core Truth

Wrote this in response to a friend today ... her encouragement urged me to post it here.

"I've never been a very materialistic person in general. 
All I ever wanted was books. 
But to be honest, 
I think working through my Mother's death was what taught me that things are just things, 
it is our relationships that are our foundation. 
And then I re-learned the lesson in a different fashion through my marriage. 
And with my children ... 
I found that life, for me, is about relationships. 
I do what I need, make what I must, 
give what I can and take when it is needed, all in the hope to keep my relationships healthy. 
I use them as my core."

This moment served a greater purpose. I understand something vital now about personal truths. 
They are best spoken when you haven't even realized you mentioned them at all.  

"Missing"

Flash fiction challenge from Terribleminds.com and writer Chuck Wendig. He offers up a flash fiction challenge every Friday or so and I was happy to jump on board this week. This weeks challenge was to take a random song from your iPod/Pandora/Spotify etc. and use the title as inspiration for a story. I got 'Missing' by Evanescence. I hope you enjoy the result. 

Missing

It wasn’t long ago, when I held her and whispered gentle prayers into her waiting ear. I stroked her beautiful chestnut hair and trailed modest kisses over her brow. She smiled, she laughed as I wooed her, she wanted me near. We stayed together in the darkness, fingers intertwined, breathing soft and slow. She was the sunshine on my restless soul. Now, I fear to admit, something has changed.
    Eyes filled with wonder, she would giggle in delight at each intoxicating moment of our love. Lips pressed against my neck she would murmur sweet promises of our future. I would dip her as we danced beneath the stars and without fail- she would swoon. Yet now, nothing is quite right.
    Where sensuous warmth once blossomed, there is now a cool distance. When I sing to her, she dares not even bat a lash. Shadows have crept from the dusty corners of my heart, encapsulating the rays of her love. And there is no more to be had from her, she has shut away her affections, leaving me abashed and confused.
    I have cried to her, begged upon my knees for her forgiveness. I have professed my undying adoration, showered her with gifts ... but nothing stirs her love for me. She has spurned me, turning an icy shoulder to our once fiery passion. I despair! But Lord, I shall never give up on her.
    So still she sits, so quiet and unwavering, a statue of disdain as I cry at her side. No touch impels her body. No words rouse her heart. So I choose to be still and silent with her. I will do whatever it takes to keep her, whatever she needs.
    There is a vacancy in her eyes. Staring, staring, and staring. She no longer pushes me away when I close them, but they never stay closed. Behind her veil she is always watching. And like a rose trimmed from its bush, I treat her gently, because she can no longer care for herself.
    Though her hands are cold and dry, I hold them tightly. Though the skin of her lips has begun to crack and peel, I kiss her. I shall not desert her when she is so vulnerable. I will not walk away. Burned up from the inside, I will not say goodbye. Nothing will make me leave her. Even death cannot stop my love.

Being Creative

Being creative has always been important to me. In friends, in a mate- in myself.
In recent years, finding creativity within myself has been a challenge. I let my insecurities and pain get in the way of the only outlets I had ever embraced.
Through this blog, I've been able to find a modicum of release. I do my best to write as often as I can and hope that the future holds less fear to express myself in that avenue.
Perhaps it is because I spent my whole life with the idea that I cannot draw, that I am so free with the idea of sharing my illustrations.
When you have no set standards to live up to, who cares?

I created this for my husband, who has often told me that he enjoys my colored pencil work.
Coming from him, that is a high compliment. 

Having been reminded over and over that if I want to see something on paper, I may as well start trying to put it down, because the only way I will never see it- is if I never do it ... I did a charcoal and colored pencil piece of this young woman with no eyes. She was in my head- now she is on the paper.

Here's to hoping for more creative flow in all of our lives.

-Lisa

Strangeness

It is strange
how a single moment
can ravage a lifetime
a whisper
leaves you screaming
feather touches
scar forever
It is strange

Story Excerpts

Bits and pieces of stories brewing. A scent of cardamom and cinnamon to set the mind on the chase. 


ITD

     “They can see you in the dark.” She whispered to me through cupped hands as I tucked her into bed.
    “Who can?” I swept long tendrils of black hair from her soft cheek. “Some animals can.” I offered in a gentle hush.
    “They’re not really animals Auntie. They try to be- but can’t fool me.” Mallia snatched the covers, pulling them up to her nose.
    I pulled her close then, breathing reassuring words into her waiting ear. I cooed away her shadow monsters and nuzzled the nightmares into the their cages. And only when her eyelids began to flutter and a lazy smile graced her lips, did I dare to let her go.
 



MB

     As the flesh burned from her, she felt no pain. For it was within the flame that she could become whole. The waxy skin melting away to reveal the fruit of God’s true labor. Marianna had made peace with her sins long ago, and though he had snared her through temptation, the Devil could never truly have her soul.





  

Apart

The problem isn't being alone- or apart.
It is when you find yourself with others, but it doesn't get better.
Oftentimes, it gets worse.

Surrounded by their natural camaraderie, you withdraw.
They unknowingly shut you out-
because you cannot figure how to enter in the first place.

In fading light you watch them.
Mouth dry, throat sticking-
and you know you must recede.

Silent emptiness is cold comfort.
Less exhausting than the din,
still as Death's kiss.