Happy Halloween

If you get a chance, I'd love for you to check out my latest fiction piece... it's kinda creepy-like and since it's Halloween, what better genre to read?

Above { - FICTION - }

“What the fuck do you want from me?!” Carly shrieked, her heart pounding harder and faster with every passing moment.

She could hear the ruffling of crunchy leaves being stomped upon behind her.

She knew she wasn’t alone, so Carly kept frantically running, looking behind her every so often, certain she would see someone… something. All she ever saw were a million trees, dying leaves, little gray sky, and no path—complete chaos disguised as nature. Carly ran faster, harder until she tripped over a big brown box. She stood up and took a step toward the box when her feet slipped from under her. Instantly her world went black save for a bit of white light coming from somewhere…

Above.

She looked up and realized she was underground, that the white light was from the sky above her. She fell into a hole in the ground and tried climbing out, slamming her feet into the black dirt around her and clawing in the blackness.

Every bit of her ached.

She just wanted to go back to the way things were when she and Troy were arguing over whether or not to move and start over. She wanted a change. She was desperate for a change, but this was not what she had in mind. She envisioned a small home on the outskirts of the city—close enough to the fabulous restaurants and shopping but far enough for some peace. She didn’t want to be near too many families anymore—that was her only requirement. Troy couldn’t wrap his head around this, insisting they would have a child one day.

“What if I never get pregnant again?”

“It’s only been a couple days,” Troy answered. “It will happen again. You’re gonna be a mom soon.”

“You don’t know that. Nobody does. I can’t go through that again!” Carly started sobbing and soon she hugged her knees into her chest.  “I can’t do it again.”

Troy moved closer to her on the couch and put his arm around her but nothing could comfort her. Nothing but sleep or her baby that was sucked out of her the week before.

 

Carly woke up with a wet face and damp pillow. She sat upright and looked around the room and realized she had another nightmare. The same one she’s had every so often since she was a teen. She put her hand to her belly and realized that only part of her nightmare was a dream, while the other part—the part about having to undergo surgery because of a missed miscarriage—was anything but a dream.

The next several weeks Carly spent all her energy into looking for a new place to live. The city apartment overlooking the city park where kids romped and gleefully played just wasn’t good for her anymore. She had to get away from it before it drove her crazy.

With a few places lined up to look at, Carly took a day off work to get out of the city. She knew Troy wasn’t interested in moving so she went without even telling him, knowing he’d be too busy with new clients to check in with her at work anyway.

When she got to the first place, she smiled when her eyes landed upon an A-frame nestled on a cul-de-sac. Kid friendly neighborhood, but no park too nearby to remind her of her loss on a daily basis. She walked in the home and felt at ease. The windows were large and inviting. The sweet scent of vanilla filled her nose. When she turned the corner of the foyer, panic started to rise from within as her eyes met a brown box sitting on small table against a beige wall connecting the living room and dining room.

The box looked like the one in her dreams.

Upon further investigation, she discovered it was an old record player, and her spirit lifted a little: Oh how she loved listening to those old 45s when she was a kid.

 

 

She tried looking around the record player at the rest of the small home, but her attention kept washing over the record player.

“Would you like to see the back?” the realtor asked.

Carly smiled, nodding.

He opened the back door leading to a small wooden deck and three steps down into a lush back yard fenced by an abundance of trees.

Mommy, a small voice whispered.

“Excuse me?” Carly said turning to the realtor who looked at her, raising his eyebrows.

“I didn’t say anything, but what do you think? Pretty nice, huh?” he said looking at the open yard and woods off in the distance.

“It is,” Carly replied, feeling as if she was being watched from the woods. “There’s nothing but trees back there?”

“Nope, not for like half a mile or so,” the realtor answered while looking at his phone. “I have to take this, please excuse me for a minute.”

The realtor stepped inside the house and Carly was sure she heard it again: Mommy.

She looked around and there was nobody. She looked into the house and saw and heard the realtor on the phone.

Carly took three steps down from the deck and looked more closely into the trees.

Mommy.

“Is someone there?” she called toward the trees before looking back at the realtor still talking on the phone in the kitchen.

Mommy, please.

Carly slowly walked toward the woods, leaves crunching with every step.  Just before reaching the woods, her feet slipped under and everything immediately went black save for a dim white light coming from somewhere…

Above.

 

 

 

 

 

 

this weekend

FRIDAY

"Is that for me?" she gasps, her eyes widening and a smile covering her face. "Are those butterfly wings? For me??"

"Sure baby," I answer, cringing at the sight of fuscia and glitter. Oh how I hate glitter. And pink.

I help her get the wings and tutu on over the dress she's worn for the day. "Wait, here's a magic wand, too!"

thank you MommySHORTS and one of your sponsors to the Evil Glare-off getting this to us in just days!

"A magic wand?!" she repeats with glee, her eyes sparkling like the glitter on her wings.


SATURDAY

While Taye took Lovie to gymnastics and lunch, I spent a couple hours at the salon getting my nails and hair done (thanks to a gift card Taye gave me for my birthday in September). It's been over three years (August 2009), since having anyone cut my hair, but I was ready. I wanted to keep the length (no Mom cut, please), but I wanted it shorter in the back, longer in the front.

She did the opposite.

Of course.

Meh, it's all good though. At least I have hair.

As for the nails, I went with a super dark purple/almost black color for both my toes and fingers. Normally I go dark for my toes, but rarely do I get manicures and never have I gone too dark. I figured with Halloween coming up, why not live a little.

I love them. Love Love Love them. I definitely think I'll get more manis and go dark again.

When Lovie noticed them she said, "What happened?" as she held a finger.

"I got my nails painted," I replied.

"Why black? What about pink?"

She was super confused, but has since moved on.


SUNDAY

We hung out inside all day... watching TV, playing monster and hide n seek, painting.



My heart is *so* full.



yesterday's memoir

About October 25, 2012 in 6 words:

giggles, playtime with Daddy before bed

Expanded:

“Oh I think Daddy’s home,” I say with glee while looking at her eyes get big and a smile grow on her face. “Go see if he’s here!”

She hops up from the couch and scatters off. Her sweet voice saying, “I hope he’s here; I no want to miss him,” trails behind her.

“Hiiii,” my husband’s voice greets his baby girl in a higher tone than his normal speaking voice.

I can’t help but to smile.

“How was your day?” he asks.

She giggles and exaggerated Muah’s drift down the hall.

 

The rest of the evening before her bedtime, she’s glued to him, smiling at him. When it’s bedtime, she proclaims, “No it’s time to play! I play with Daddy!” and gathers random toys from the shelf to bring to him. His smile grows.

We have a schedule, a routine: TV gets turned off at 7, we brush teeth and go potty, we go in her room and tell stories with the lights out, she lays down, I sing, she goes to bed, I collapse on the couch. We have a routine. It works.

But tonight, Daddy’s home before bedtime.

 
But we have a routine!

“I play with daddy!” she orders.

I look at them both sitting there and she’s just so into playing with Daddy and I realize neither of them get to do this as often as we do-- my girl and me. And I realize, it’s OK to expand that bedtime routine for at least a few minutes…

Daddy’s home and we don’t want to miss him.

TILTW: 10.20-26

Jumping in rain puddles is AWESOME!

***

Lovie is kinda famous thanks to MommySHORTS!

***

Two months and three days till Lovie turns three and we get to party on her actual birthday! Yay for Saturday birthdays! Earlier in the year, I was sure we'd do Bubble Guppies, then we moved on to MMCH, then Little Einsteins... I was sure we were doing Little Einsteins. This week, however, I decided I needed to make a decision and I went back with Bubble Guppies...but after our drive home from school yesterday, we've come to the decision that birthday number three will be all about... Kai-lan! Hahah where did that come from?? Last year we did Team Umizoomi and that's cuz Lovie was really and truly all about Mili, Geo, and Bot. But I also made Kai-lan cupcake toppers for school cuz she's loved Kai-lan for(her)ever now. Apparently she still is crazy for Kai-lan. So now I need to find someone to make a Kai-Lan (and HoHo and Rintoo and Yaya) #3 shirt. Also need to make a decision if we're going with Pump it Up or Jump Zone for the party day. But we do know we're doing it on the 29th at a Jump House type of place, and I'm super excited about it already!

Cripes in 12 lines.

It feels like just yesterday when I was very much looking forward to becoming a Mama finally.

 

But that was three years ago.

 

She's getting SO big.

 

gotta love the school picture

She's so smart, so funny, so adorable, so Lovie.

But how is it possible to be 2 months (and 4 days) from THREE?

Where did my itty bitty baby doll go?

I cherish every day--every single day--with her but it's still won't slow down.

How do I make it slow down?

 

H O W ?!

 

I don't...I can't.

 

Instead I look forward to each day, each snuggle, each smile, each giggle.

 

Because soon... oh so soon... getting older and growing won't be so exciting anymore.

 

 

 

 

WW: You count to 20 and I hide!

connecting the dots

I'm the one you don't remember. The one whose picture or name you see 5…10…20 years later and wonder, “Who the hell was that?” The wallflower, the loner, the outcast. But at least I wasn’t a creepy motherfucker.

 

I was about 27 and living in a small town with my brother and his son. I had the day off from work and was spending it at the laundromat to avoid doing so when it was busier. As I lifted some heavy, wet clothes out of the washer and dropped them into a basket on wheels, I felt someone trying to get my attention. I looked up from my clothes and noticed a man standing near me, looking at me. He was tall and skinny; about my age; with long, thinning hair tied back in a ponytail. And he was asking me if my name was Chris—a shortened name I went by until I was 24.

“It’s me… Guy.”

I looked at him trying to connect the dots.

“We went to freshman orientation together at Columbia?” he added. “…Because of Angel?”

“Holy shit!” I exclaimed, dots connecting.

We talked briefly amidst the rumbling laundromat before exchanging numbers and agreeing to meet for lunch later in the week to reconnect.  

It had been nearly a decade since we last saw one another; I was a little nervous and excited about our lunch date. The morning of the day we were meeting, I dressed in clothing that made me look and feel better about my non-socializing, haven’t-been-with-a-guy-in-several-years self. 

We met at an empty joint in a strip mall near our jobs. We talked over our lunch, smiling a lot. I was still nervous, but not too excited anymore. 

After catching up about our college days and what we’d been up to since then, we started talking about our past together. 

What past together? I wondered. The one awkward day we spent together at freshman orientation...or the handful of times we got stoned with Angel?

***

Angel was a year younger than me and smitten over Guy. He’s all she ever talked about while we worked together the summer before I started college. I think the thrill of giving herself to an “older man” enraptured her.  

I remember her gushing about a painting Guy created—of an exotic woman with long, dark curly hair and green eyes (I had long, dark curly hair and green eyes)—and how it hung on the back of his bedroom door. She was his dream come true, she said. 

I remember Angel took a photo of me, brought it to a salon, and came to work the week after with curly hair like mine. A couple days later she walked in wearing a pair of green contact lenses. People started asking us if we were sisters.

As summer closed and Angel discovered Guy and I would be going to the same school together, she insisted we go to freshman orientation together. 

***

“Do you remember the time we went bowling?” Guy smiled like he just won a prize.

“Of course.” My stomach went sour as I thought back on that winter night we all got stoned in his car and ended up at the bowling alley where I spent the rest of the time in the bathroom trying to survive the cramps my period and the pot made me feel. I was sure I was dying that night. 

“You really didn’t react to the drugs like I thought you would.”

My throat started burning as I swallowed back my lunch. I forced a smile while I took a drink of water and played with the food on my plate. 

Then Guy quietly revealed to me that he’d wanted to be with me the whole time and not Angel.

My heart started racing and I couldn’t even pretend to eat anymore: What the motherfucking-shit was this guy talking about?

“I painted a picture of you long before I ever met you,” he whispered. 

All the motherfucking dots connected into a big, fat exclamation mark that wrapped itself around my neck and tried dragging me out of the restaurant booth.

I forced another smile, praying for the nightmare to end and wondering if maybe I was just being paranoid. 

Finally the check was left and we walked out together, but went our separate ways to our separate cars.

I zipped back to work and told a coworker about my lunch date and she agreed: Creepy motherfucker!

A year or so later, the sky was white and gray. Most of the leaves had fallen off the trees and there was a distinct chill in the air; winter was knocking hard. I was living alone in another smaller town a bit north of the one I lived in with my brother and nephew. My boyfriend and I were hauling garbage out to the curb. As we neared the street, I noticed a man on a bike pedaling toward us. 

The closer we got to the curb, the closer the bicyclist came toward us…the faster my heart started beating.  

It was Guy. 

I dropped my eyes and garbage and went into the house and locked myself in the bathroom. When I came out I told my waiting boyfriend all about Guy…And that’s when another dot was connected as I remembered a day just a week before when I got into my stupidly unlocked car and noticed the ashtray was sitting next to me in the passenger seat. Nothing else was amiss in the car—even the change in the cup holder remained intact.  

It all spooked me, heightening my awareness about locking doors and windows, as well as making me constantly aware of any and everyone around me.  

It’s been another decade now. 

I’ve moved another handful of times and life is very different. 

I haven’t seen Guy since the bike incident and honestly, I’m not even sure what I would do or say if I did see him again—the creepy motherfucker.

Please note: Character names, other than my own, have been falsified.
 

Will she?

Exactly three months from turning Three years old, this little girl of mine asked for me to "hold you" as we made the trek out of a farm we visited to get some family photos taken.

Three months from turning three, she tucked her hands into my chest as her chin rested on my shoulder, while I followed the path out from the farm and to the car.

taken 9.29.12

She puts all her trust in me. I am absolutely everything to her.



Will she ever know that she is the same to me?

Will she ever know that she's always been my everything, even before she was born?

Will she ever know that she'll always be my everything until forever and ever?

the man in the coat { - FICTION - }

By the time I reached my mid-30s, I had a full head of white hair—getting my first silver strand on my 16^th birthday. Nobody else in my family had premature gray hair, but I’m pretty sure mine stems from the home I grew up in.

I was the only child to my parents who were amazing parents, but they were also older and a bit dismissive at times which I didn’t start to notice till I was around 10… around the time I first started seeing someone else in the house with us: a man in a long coat with a fedora. I noticed him when we’d be sitting in the kitchen at the oval table that sat in the center of the yellow room; I’d see someone walk across the dining room which was down the hallway from my seat at the table.

The first time I saw him, I couldn’t stop staring down the hallway and Mom and Pop asked what I was looking at. When I told them someone was in the other room, they looked at each other then back at me before insisting nobody else was home. When I saw him moments later, Pop got up to look in the other room and saw nothing.

“I think you’re watching too much Twilight Zone,” Mom chirped.

I kept seeing the man in the hat and coat walk across the dining room whenever I sat in the kitchen, and because he didn’t do anything more than that and because I didn’t want to stop watching The Twilight Zone, I stopped telling Mom and Pop about him. Maybe I was letting my imagination get the best of me.



Shortly after telling Mom and Pop about the man in the trench coat, someone was leaving the hot water run from the kitchen faucet. To my knowledge this only ever happened when I was alone in the house after school, but never when I was in the kitchen; I’d be in the bedroom or living room and go into the kitchen to see the water—always the hot water—running.
  
The first time this happened I thought maybe Mom or Pop left it on, or maybe even I left it on; but when it started happening more frequently and only when I was alone, I began to wonder if maybe it was the man in the trench coat trying to tell me something.

Or maybe I was just watching too much Twilight Zone.

The man and the water thing happened sporadically for a couple years and then when I was around 15, the phone calls started.

This was back in the 1970s so we had one of those old rotary dial phones that jutted out from the wall. It was olive green to go with the green accents in the yellow-tiled kitchen. The phone hung on the wall in the hallway that ran from the kitchen to the dining room. The same hallway that I would look down and see the man in the coat and hat walk across that nobody else ever noticed.

The phones back then were loud—both when dialing out and when ringing. I always knew when Pop was calling his Momma because of the swoosh from moving his finger through the number’s hole, followed by the clicks of the number being dialed. And when the phone rang, there was never a question what was ringing; our one and only phone was loud—especially at midnight.

Mom and Pop would go out dancing once a month on Saturday nights and the phone would ring, waking me out of a deep sleep. When it first started to happen, I answered quickly in case Mom or Pop was calling. But after being hung up on over and over again, I started leaving the phone off the hook after the first hang-up.

I tried not worrying about it too much, but after a couple months of the calls, it started to freak me out. I started leaving the phone off the hook the moment they left. I’d turn on lights in parts of the house nobody was in. I’d turn the TV loud and turn the radio on in one of the bedrooms. I’d yell down to my dad in the basement on occasion as I was sure someone was watching me and I was hoping that by pretending someone else was in the house, the watcher would leave.

The worst was the night I saw the man in the coat and fedora standing outside the front window.

He didn’t move. He just stood at the front window peering in.

I pretended Pop was in the basement and called out for him that the baseball game was almost over.

The man didn’t move.

I pretended I didn’t see him but I absolutely did.

I remember looking at the phone as I turned to yell for Pop and seeing it dangle from the box on the wall. I remember thinking that the man couldn’t call so now he was going to murder me after he stalked me through the window. I was going to die. I was certain of it.

And that’s when the phone rang.

The phone with its receiver dangling off its base.

It rang.

Loudly.

I screamed and covered my head and when nothing happened after a minute and I opened my wet eyes again, the man was gone… but the phone was still ringing while the damn receiver dangled from the base on the wall.


Mom and Pop stopped going out dancing Saturday nights after that unless I was spending the weekend with a cousin or something. I went away to college straight out of high school just to get the hell out of that house. Mom and Pop finally sold the house a couple years after I graduated college, got married and had my two babies whom I never question or dismiss if they claim to see or hear something strange.