The Writing Mind

Where the Journey Begins!

Lost Love

Emily was that face through the darkened window, with her face being one I could never forget. Sitting alone at the top of her house, her inexpressive eyes fixated on me as I would go past her house each day.

Everyone deemed Emily the “Crazy Lady” where I lived, and truth be told, she did seem a little off. Spring would turn to Fall and where short sleeved tops were replaced with with long sleeved tops but she remained, all season long, with the same long sleeved black collared frock. She followed everyone with her somber eyes, making those very uncomfortable to stay in front of her house for too long. Little children would bet on seeing who who could get the nearest to her front porch, and away they ran to find out. She lived on a hill with a long driveway with trees at the base covering the house from the other houses on the street. One day when the children got to the porch in their games, the front door was suddenly opened! Terrified at the sight, the boys ran for their lives from the house, with the front door slowly closing behind them. I would like to think that Emily was laughing behind that door.

There were many stories of the “Crazy Lady” circulating around town, with some being good and some bad. My favorite of these stories was how she fell in love with her employer named Ashley at an orphanage that they both worked at. Their shared love of helping children brought them together, and on many evenings were seen together around town, whether taking walks at sunset or dining out. Their love seemed unbreakable and pure, until one day when they broke up, and she leaving the orphanage. Distraught about losing his love, Ashley eventually changed ownership and left the orphanage and proceeded to isolate himself with living on the other end of town. No one knows for sure what the argument was about, but people said that it was due to the uncertainty of their future together. Emily was much older than he was, and that as a result would not be able to have children, while his past affair had kept surfacing throughout their relationship with his past lover following them at every turn. This sad break up seemed to even carry on to the present day, as there were reported sightings of Emily looking longingly at every man that crossed her house. Everyone as a result, became more wary of Emily and her potential harm to our community.
As a man, I understood the feelings that a man could feel for a woman, so I decided to seek out Emily’s lover and find out the truth, as now friends and myself had gotten spooked out by Emily’s stare and I wanted to put to rest all of the stories that people were making up about Emily’s loneliness. After some days, I finally found where Ashley was, and proceeded to his front door. His house was smaller and more rural than Emily’s, and surrounded by an open field with a short driveway. When I knocked on his front door, there was no answer, but after a little while when I was almost to my buggy the door suddenly opened. A man who had seen his years opened the door, with hollowed out looking eyes and a pale complexion. He allowed me to come in, and we proceeded to talk for sometime. He told me that he still loved Emily, and was wanting to know where she now lived.

“I am very happy that she is now living in a scenic part of the community!” Ashley exclaimed.

He told me of how Emily once lived in a poorer section of the town, and how her parents were not kind to her. Being the oldest, they made her work at an early age on the family farm to supply them with enough food and drink for the day. They constantly abused her with their words, making her flee one day from the farm and out into the world. He recounted her first day in the orphanage, seeing her strength and vigor prompted him to hire her as a helper and educator at the orphanage. He fondly remembered her good work ethic, and when he himself fell in love with her over a cup of tea and with the fire going during one winter day. He remembered her colored outfits that brightened their spring and summer months together, and missed those evenings under the bright stars. He truly loved her so, and contrary to what the town believed, had known that their marriage would last.

As I got up to leave for my home, he summoned me back with a secret that I would never reveal to the town about their failed relationship. It was a secret that, as a man, I knew would destroy any relationship.

“I never knew my preference, so knowing now that I was trapped in a woman’s body, I decided to turn myself into a man” was Ashley’s confession.

I now knew about Ashley and Emily’s relationship, and that Emily’s love story was not made up. I also knew that Emily had a reason to look at other men who crossed her yard, so when I later crossed her house, I met those same longing eyes. We proceeded to look at each other for a moment, and then finally no more as she slowly pulled the shade over her window.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, dailyshorts challenged me with “You see a face through a darkened window.” and I challenged Michael with “‘To [You], With Love.'”

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The Face of One Man

You were once so loved. Your genuine caring for others is what attracted me to you, but I fear time has eroded you now.  Your youthful eyes have turned bloodshot and your face is creased with hardness.  What was once a strong foundation is now a distant memory.

You were once so loved. Now that love has turned to hate, since you stripped my dignity and innocence away from me with your love of alcohol.  That box you said you felt trapped in has only turned you into a pathetic creature looking for sympathy. You would turn away any sort of kindness, and instead direct it towards hurting the other person, like you had been hurt before.

You loved alcohol more than me, and for a while I understood and was kind to you, but I fear that I am now no longer the same woman.  My name is tarnished with your ways and with other women, and now I know that I would not be able to trust anyone else without fearing that I could get hurt.

You claimed that you were royalty, but from what end of the royal line, the top or the bottom?  Your brother had put you away, fearing that you were harmful, but was he actually right?  Were you actually shut away because you tried to kill your own brother, or yourself?  As your girlfriend and case worker, I felt an obligation to see you through rough times, but I was wrong about helping you.  Being born in privilege does not always mean that you can get the royal treatment.  

I was attracted to the man in the iron mask, but the historical account of it is much better than yours!  Your alcohol and your women got the best of you, and worked their magic of shaping you into a horrible monster.

For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Mandy challenged me with “The man with no face” and I challenged Lisa with “The Marriage of Figaro”.

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Healthy Living

As the clock struck midnight on New Years Eve, I became a changed woman.

For the year 2012, I resolved to not eat so much junk food.  The added weight that I gained from all the potato chips and chocolate started to interfere with my normal functioning, and I became irritated that I was so lazy.  I would often look out the window to see others playing, walking, or simply enjoying the outside air. 

I could not live a sedentary life, so after the Christmas cookies and fudge, I sought out a weight loss option.  After spending hours on the internet, I finally found a gym that was reasonably priced, seemingly non-judgmental, and near where I lived.  Upon my arrival at the gym the day after Christmas, I was surprised and glad to see that people with a wide range of body types were there.  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw some really muscular people and got nervous, but then I noticed that they went on with their business and were not judgmental of those who were not as well-defined.  Young and old, obese and skinny, they all worked out together with a wide variety of people working out with trainers too.

My first official workout was on December 27. My trainer showed me basic floor routines such as hands to toes, crunches, and other exercises to get me warmed up.  After the floor work, she introduced me to the machines used to isolate the many muscle groups of the body.  She recommended 8-12 repetitions on each of the machines, emphasizing that I needed to take breaks that were as long as my workout time.  I was not to blow through any of the three attempts I made on these machines but to really go slowly and work to strengthen each muscle.  After the machines, I could go for a minimum of ten minutes on either the stationary bike or the treadmill to both improve my health and relax from the whole workout.

Four days later, I could feel a change from the gym and I began to embrace a healthier lifestyle.  From looking around the room and working with my trainer, I felt welcomed into a world I once thought was cruel to fat individuals like myself. I think that now I will not feel out of place anymore!

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For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, RegiMac challenged me with “INTROSPECTION: New Years resolutions require introspection. Do some scratching below the surface and identify the current fear you are facing.” and I challenged Lisa with “It was the best of times, and it was the worst of times!”.

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The Wonders of History

By: Norman Rockwell

One fall evening, Candyce Morce dined with friends after spending the entire day touring the area near where she lived. They went to many historical places and had a Rockwellian moment when they were given the opportunity to have a picture taken with one of Norman Rockwell’s actual models at his museum in Stockbridge. The friends ended their day by going somewhere for dinner, and the restaurant of their choosing was non-vegetarian. Candyce was a vegetarian, however, and was stuck with nothing vegetarian on the menu except an uninteresting salad. Amongst the many plates of chicken and beef on the table, Candyce’s salad looked boring, making Candyce wonder why restaurants couldn’t also cater to vegetarians.

When she was fourteen years old, Candyce decided to give up meat. Growing up eating chicken from Kentucky Fried Chicken, turkey and gravy at Thanksgiving, fried fish from Long John Silver’s, and bacon on Sundays, Candyce now felt an obligation towards animals. She could no longer stand knowing that animals were getting killed, so with a firm resolve her longing for meat suddenly disappeared, shaping Candyce into a vegetarian.

Candyce sighed and ate her salad. She also ordered tea, thankful at least that the restaurant had her favorite beverage. Candyce reflected on her day, proud that she was part of that memorable picture that was taken at the Norman Rockwell Museum and that her sleepy area was alive with history. They had also gone to the house of Herman Melville, the author of Moby Dick and other novels. The original furniture was still there and the house, known as the Arrowhead, was going through restoration. Melville had written Moby Dick in that house, creating the whale in the story from looking at the distant rolling mountains from the window in his study.

Candyce’s thoughts were interrupted by her friends exclaiming about the day they had. They had come from afar and were not aware that this area was so rich in the history of the United States. The drive from Arrowhead in Pittsfield to the Norman Rockwell Museum in Stockbridge was very picturesque, and it was definitely a throwback to a quaint New England. Brick houses and narrow streets took them farther into a snowy world that could only be recreated in a Norman Rockwell landscape. At the museum, the group had a special tour, where one of the curators spoke about Rockwell’s art influencing society.

Candyce’s tea refreshed her spirits and the salad did not change her resolve to remain vegetarian. Even better than her tea though was Candyce being in such a historical area, where its richness preserved the beauty among the hills for all to enjoy. The bread and water of Candyce’s existence, in a world of meat, was her love of history! Leaving the restaurant, she had an Andes® Mint, which successfully sealed the joy of her day.
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For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Mandy challenged me with “Food to die for” and I challenged Pamela with “Happiness can be described in many ways, what is your way?”.

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A New Year!

Greetings One and All!

A Very Happy New Year to You, and hope this year brings good health and happiness to you!  That said, let’s start off the year with….. sweet sweet MUSIC!

This is Hisham Abbas singing, he is an Egyptian singer!  I was on Youtube one fine day and found this by accident, and well, t’was not an accident!  I LOVED how the Indian Culture was incorporated into an Arabic song, and seen from a Muslim’s eye!

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The Pack and the Wolf

Once Upon a Time there was a family of wolves that lived in the forest far, far away from the townsfolk.  No one dared to enter this forest, and risk being eaten alive, but it was all the better for Garsea and her five pups to have as much room as possible to play and to survive as a family.  Whether it was out hunting or inside the safety net of their den, the pups knew that their mother was there for them.

Canine was Garsea’s middle child, and Garsea wanted him to be as self sufficient and independent as possible, which Canine still had to learn.  He, along with his two older brothers and two younger sisters, played together under the sun near their den and accompanied their mother on hunting trips.  At night they would all snuggle together, making the den the warmest place in Canine’s small world.  

One day, though, Canine’s happiness was cut short as a human family made their way into the forest.  Desperate for food and warmth, they stumbled near the den where Garsea and her five pups lived.  As the sun was setting, Garsea went out to hunt for dinner for herself and her innocent pups, with the pups being too sleepy to join her for the hunt.  The father began tracking Garsea, planning to trap her wherever he could. Meanwhile at the den, the mother and her kids quietly approached the sleeping pups and took Canine’s brothers and sisters away, leaving Canine very terrified.  Ambushing the mom came as quickly as snatching up the four pups, where the father then made great haste to kill Garsea. Returning from the chase, the father was pleased to find his family and the four dead pups.  After the father skinned the pups and the mother, the happy family sat down to a delicious meal and their new pelts, and soon after returned to the town much more cheerful than when they had come into the woods.  

Canine waited for his mom to come back, hoping she was not stolen away from him, but as night became day he figured that she was not coming back and decided to leave the den for good.

Canine became very self sufficient, but grew to be very angry at the world.  He constantly terrorized the other animals, and stole whatever food they had.  He enjoyed tracking, purposely killing other animals, and bringing their bodies back to their families, just to watch them cry.

One bright and sunny day, he followed a girl who crossed into the forest by herself.

“Pretty girl, beautiful girl, will you help me locate the nearest stream to drink from?” asked Canine in his sweetest voice.  

“Sure, let me help you.” responded the girl, forgetting that the hour was getting later and later. This innocent girl was unaware of the wolf’s actual intentions of chasing and killing her, so she set off to look for the stream. Canine wanted to give himself a challenge, so he gave her a head start before chasing her down and devouring her.

Lean and meaner than before, the wolf set out for another adventure, taking the nearest trail for some time. This trail was both hilly and flat by turns, and Canine found himself pricked with thorns but refreshed by the fields of flowers. At the end of this winding trail, there was a clearing. When Canine realized what he was seeing, he was amazed. Not one, but seven wolves were under a giant waterfall, while more wolves were on the banks of the river with their pups. Canine was bewildered.  He felt both happy and terrified at seeing so many animals that looked like him!

“Come bathe with us!” Amis, the alpha of the pack, called out to Canine from the waterfall.

“I have already taken a bath, and do not need another one.” replied Canine, even though he had not taken a bath.

“Amis, who is this?” The most beautiful creature Canine had ever seen suddenly appeared from behind the pack leader.

“Miran, it appears to be another wolf who has lost his way, and seems eager to join us.”  was Amis’s response.

“He could use a shinier coat!” Miran commented.  

Canine now had the deepest longing for Miran and he was also embarrassed that his coat looked dirty, and so cautiously walked towards the pack.

The pups ran towards Canine and soon encircled him, pawing at his feet and sniffing him out.  Canine was confused at all the attention and drew back at once, forcing the pups to run behind their mothers. Their mothers, however, nudged them forward, and Canine now began to relax.

Canine then proceeded to the water, where suddenly he felt different.  Instead of backing out from the water, Canine went deeper into the waterfall, where soon a light was cast over him and made him shake. The water enveloped his body, and turned his filthy coat to the pearliest white and turned his cold yellow eyes to amber.  The others watched in amazement as Canine’s head reached to the skies while his feet stayed firmly on the ground.  

Wet and cold, Canine finally came back to the bank as a changed wolf.  Every single wolf and pup looked at him in amazement.  

Amis, thinking that Canine seemed to have become much more mellow, came forward and exclaimed “My, what a shiny coat you have!”

“I now have a coat to be proud of.” Canine responded.

“My Brother, do not be alone anymore. Join us as a member of our pack.  There is much hunting to be done, and a new clan to make; embrace the strength of the pack.”

Believing Amis, feeling happy with being with all these wolves, and falling head over heels in love with Miran, Canine agreed to come with Amis’s pack.

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For the IndieInk Writing Challenge this week, Head Ant challenged me with “Why is the Big Bad Wolf bad? Write his fairy tale.” and I challenged Stephanie with “With an intravenous pole near and nowhere to go, Gloria laid in her hospital bed and looked up at the ceiling.”

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