Storytelling

It's late at night again.

I think I'm one of the few bloggers that doesn't have work email, so that I cannot write from work. Which is probably a good thing, in the end. Otherwise it would all be about perennials and annuals and price changes on bales of pinestraw and who's come out of the closet in the loading area and how did Shantae's husband get out of jail in time for the wedding...

Etcetera.

I've been writing a lot lately. Not just here, although that has picked up tremedously from the 'once-every-three-months' posting I was doing earlier in the year. (Thanks to everyone who prodded me along, you know who you are!)I have a huge body of unprintable story that I am currently thinking about changing enough to make printable-- just bits and pieces of it, simply because they're good scenes and can be worked in-- and incorporting them into an actual.....

Book. I want to write one so badly. The endeavor I began late last year I think might have been too overwhelming for me, though I have every intention of continuing on with it eventually. But after so much writing on the unprintable thing- which was solely for my own personal amusement- I realized that I had a couple of characters on my hands already, and with permission will have a couple more, and they're characters that I know a lot about. Enough to write about them believably.

I wanted to share with you all an interesting excerpt from something I wrote, simply because it's different and recently tweaked and edited within an inch of its life.

Feedback is always welcome, but if you're not in the mood to go over the bulkiness of it, I completely understand. It is, after all, late Saturday night/early Sunday morning. Still...how many times do you get to experience amateur writing frivolously thrown out for public viewing???

Oh, yeah. Often. Well, enjoy and thanks ahead of time for looking it over.


Time had passed, she knew.

How much time though, she could not say right away. And it was so quiet…

Let’s see if we can move, shall we?

The deep silence surrounding her was almost a tangible thing.

First one leg stretched out from under her heavy body, long and white and shaking a little. She took in a deep breath …

And noticed that her lungs felt like they could fill for an eternity. An odd sensation, that, she thought to herself.

Why am I so tired…?

But she knew she had to get up. Something internal was telling her so. Listening to her aching body, she unfolded a second leg, stretching it forward, feeling it uncurl and lengthen in front of her.

The thud resounding on wood as her foot contacted the table brought her around to reality a bit more.

Forcing her eyes open, she looked down her long, graceful nose at the sight in front of her. A tabletop, strewn with candles knocked over and various vials spent, a green velvet dress that still smelled like burning black holly…

I’m naked then. That’s an unsettling sign…

And the thought of the dress and the holly brought some of it back, crashing through her mind, causing her to panic.

Her back legs flailed out into space for several seconds before she bunched up powerful muscles underneath her and stood, still shaking slightly, listening in confusion to the sound of hard thumps and thuds resounding through the table beneath her every time she stepped.

It took a few more seconds before the whole ‘BACK legs?? What the…?!?’ set in.

She snorted with unease. Her nostrils trembled.

Lowering her head, she picked her way carefully to the edge of the table, eyeing the floor with trepidation.

Why??? Why am I horse? she asked herself, extending one tremulous leg down and then taking a leap of faith and hoping that the rest of her would catch on to the movement. Closing her eyes, she jumped.

Her back legs skidded out from under her as her hooves, feeling like strange little hard shoes melded around her actual feet, met with the slick stone floor with all her weight behind them.

Very graceful, she chided herself. Straightening was easy, though, as the large muscle masses moved beneath her skin with ease, catching her balance.

She turned, enjoying the intense peripheral vision that eyes positioned on the side of her head afforded her. There was no one in the room. The sun was up and shining through windows overhead, dust moving like mist in the rays. She flicked her ears forward and back and took in a deep breath.

Nothing more than the smell of old and dusty things, and the burnt smell, of course. She turned back to the table.

Lying there where she’d woken up, she saw her dress, the choker, the hairnet, her shoes, her cloak… All laid out as though she’d disappeared from underneath them.

Putting her nose to her cloak, she snuffled around, pawing at the bottom to hold it taut while she poked her nose into the pocket where she’d concealed her wand.

Feeling the smooth wooden handle between her sensitive lips, she grasped it gently and pulled it free with a tug from her large head. The abrupt motion tossed a flap of the cloak over her eyes causing her to freak out for a second. Grace responded by squealing and rearing up, knocking it back with her front hooves.

Panting heavily she began to calm herself, coming to the realization that she had a more horsey sense about her now, and could apparently panic at the drop of a hat.

Still breathing deeply, she shoved the handle of the wand underneath a pile of debris on the edge of the table and stared down at its tip protruding out into thin air with a sense of doubt.

How do I wield a wand without hands?

She tried simply touching her nose to the tip, concentrating on transfiguring back to her human form. It did nothing but make her sneeze. Her nose was, of course, ultra-sensitive.

She turned around and poked herself in the ass with it. Still nothing, though she did get to experience that strange, quirky thing animals with hides could do when something was biting them just out of reach. A layer of muscle just beneath the skin allowed her to shimmy her skin, vibrating it of its own accord as if to rid itself of a pesky fly.

Fascinating though being in a horse’s body was, she was beginning to worry.

And then it occurred to her to call on Gwyneth, to see if she could help in some way.

Turning her thoughts inward and wandering around in her own mind, she searched for her twin, calling out to her, but there was no answer. Even the spot that Gwyneth holed up in behind the curtain so reminiscent of the Wizard of Oz was gone.

No Gwyneth, not a trace, not even a whispering giggle.

Thinking back harder than before on the things that had transpired last night, it suddenly became quite clear that Gwyneth was a part of her once more, like she had been before she’d broken off from her core being. She was gone, in a way, even though she had been permanently absorbed back into her psyche.

Grace was overcome with the feeling that she’d lost someone very dear to her. Her heart squeezed tight with the thought of Gwyneth no longer being a separate presence in her mind.

And who knew where she was, or even how she could begin to search for Everett? He might have been the only person that was able to help her now. She couldn’t even transform herself.

With a deep snorting sigh, she grabbed up the wand in her teeth and turned, walking down the length of the room, her hoofbeats echoing off the stone walls, mocking her the whole way.

Large Alcoholic Beverage Anyone?

What a ride…

I’ve had a Dr. Seuss kind of day. Not the sweet and innocent, ‘…And I Saw It On Mulberry Street’ sort, either. More like the Lorax, mixed in with a little Amy Tan.

My stepfather and I have not spoken in a while—and even then, not a normal, light-hearted conversation for many, many moons. Long story compressed into one tiny sentence: I went through a few sessions of therapy whereas I was told to listen to my conscious and stay away from him for as long as I felt like it.

I have been feeling like it for some time now, and still do. Yet there he stood, on the other side of my front door, unannounced and inconvenient. A friend of mine and I were in the middle of watching ‘Broke Back Mountain’ (which I found VERY well acted, though some parts left me in a puddle of disbelief. Still other parts just left me in a puddle, though. Very moving story.)

ANYWAY.

Yeah, so I think I handled it well. There was no yelling. There was no knife throwing, nor were there any self-esteem-shredding innuendos. He’d come to see a piece of tax information that the government had sent to my home about his house up here. There were no harsh words or crass statements. He said I look well, which I do at times. I said he did as well, and he did, although he looked older, and a little more tired. He said the turtle was getting bigger, and I agreed. There was even a hug.

I know I should be happy about it on some level—especially since it went so well, but for the life of me I couldn’t get over the fact that he’d just SHOWN up on the doorstep. It’s not cool, not after the extended silence between us. But I think he was just …

Wanting to see me again. It didn’t make me overly angry. I was grateful that I had a reason to not visit with him for any length of time, telling him that I was in the middle of the movie, etc. and I just had to find out if Heath and that ‘other cute guy’ lived Happily Ever After or not. He left as graciously as I could have hoped.

My friends save my life all the time—even unconsciously. They all have, at one point or another, been in the right place at the right time to save me from suffering from severe heartbreak. My lack of family ties has shown me the value of creating family in friendships. I am blessed with the ability to see this, I’m certain of it. And even further blessed by their stalwart appearances in my life.

I mean, you get to pick your friends, you know? And they very rarely stop by without calling first. And they almost NEVER make you feel bad about your life/marriage/decisions. Unless you need to feel bad about them, of course, but usually they stand by you and cheer for your efforts. And they almost NEVER throw knives at you.

Even now, as I write this, I know that this late at night, you’re listening, even if you don’t hear me fully until tomorrow morning. Thanks for that.

Sleep well to you all…

The funny thing about a swamp is...there you are, walking along, trying not to careen through any gargantuan spider webs that would-- of course-- contain gargantuan spiders somewhere within their midst, suspiciously eyeballing the dark and murky water that is mysteriously bubbling off to your right, when suddenly, you turn around a corner and BAM!!!

A beautiful, big-as-your-Aunt-Myra's-head-before-the-surgery Lotus blossom is staring you in the eye.

It was breathtaking, truly. Almost pretty enough to make me forget about the bubbling.

Almost.

Around another corner appeared a HUGE hibiscus, pictured below, big as a dinner plate. Which is, at the present time, smaller than Aunt Myra's head.



>sigh<

All day today I stared at a wall and counter with only a stapler and tape dispenser and paper clips and paperwork to break up the monatony. I had to step out into the greenhouse to see some color, because I missed it so. And then was promptly bombarded by customers who descended upon me while I was clearly sniffing the hibiscus.

Who, tell me-- WHO in their right mind would be planting shrubbery in this kind of heat??? Well, okay, so some people would, and yes, they just might--- MIGHT, I say!--be in their right mind sort of... but from working around plants, I can tell you honestly and from the root of my soul that

PLANTS DON'T LIKE TO BE TRANSPLANTED IN THE BAKING HEAT OF SUMMER.

Ah, the word is out now...I feel better. Thanks for helping me get that off my chest. Need a new tree? Sod? Tea Olive bush? Wait until late August/September to plant it. Trust me.

I am SO off the horticulture soap box now. Don't forget to take time to smell the jasmine. (Not the verbena, it stinks to high heaven. Even the angels have complained about it.)

Non-Boring Vacation Pics!!!

So I am now officially back from vacation, and staring the inevitable return to the workplace down as it stealthily approaches tomorrow morning at 9 am. I appeased my inner child this morning by going through our digital photos and running them through Photoshop, cleaning them up and lightening/brightening them as I saw fit. I'll share a couple with you now, as they are a decent illustration of what a blast we had, my little family and I.



Charleston was beautiful...really different, and architecturally fascinating. I adored all the gingerbread trim and victorian gates and gardens. The colors were muted, the plants tropical and varied, the shops intriguing. Unfortunately, I was on vacation with my husband- who is not 'into' this sort of atmospheric nuance- and my seven-year-old son- who is more impressed with the latest maneuvering of Mario in Super Mario Bros. So I adored it alone. They made proper noises when I prompted them, and even stood still for a photo opt. in front of some of the houses, but their hearts weren't in it.

We moved on from there to the beach on Sullivan Island, where they had a cool lighthouse which I believe was part of Fort Sumter, if I'm not mistaken. It was there on that beach that photo magic happened. I took some of my most favorite pictures of my son and husband ever. I don't know what it is about the ocean, but it seems to add just the right amount of natural ambiance to a scene.



I turned into a beach-combing fool, and my son became the human sprinkler system, running and frolicking in the wash of the waves like a young sheep in the spring grass in an Irish meadow. He even kicked up his heels. No kidding!

More vacation stuff on its way. I have to finish some things up around the house before I ignore them completely with the onset of work over the next few days.

I can't stand putting laundry away. I've even gotten better about folding it over the past few years. Now it just hangs out on the arms of the sofa or in the dining room chairs. I am the very antithesis to a Virgo, I swear.

Until later...

I took this "Blogthings" quiz on wordnerd's site... and I have to agree, it is pretty close to the actual telling of my personality on many levels. I'm a little concerned for the 'Full of Yourself' thing towards the end, though. I guess I've never thought that I was full of myself. I'm going to go into the bathroom and have a little chat with 'me' in the mirror and get to the bottom of this.

You would tell me if you thought I was percocious, wouldn't you? Wouldn't you???

(Note to self: Find thesaurus where it fell behind the computer desk in 'No Man's Land', or BUY A NEW ONE, YOU CHEAP HUSSY.)

Thanks wordnerd. No, really. Thanks a lot.

What Your Soul Really Looks Like

You are quite expressive and thoughtful. You see the world in a way that others are blind to. You are a grounded person, but you also leave room for imagination and dreams. You feet may be on the ground, but you're head is in the clouds. You believe that people see you as larger than life and important. While this is true, they also think you're a bit full of yourself. Your near future is still unknown, and a little scary. You'll get through wild times - and you'll textually enjoy it. For you, love is all about caring and comfort. You couldn't fall in love with someone you didn't trust.

Inside the Room of Your Soul

Welcome Newcomers and Friends!

I've been...ousted! And Dahli, you're right-- It's about friggin' time. Such a warm welcome from so many that I've read and enjoyed myself... too cool, really. Thank you for that. I'm usually a lurker on many of the blogs that are linked to Erica's, but I've read most of them. I'm flattered that you all stopped in! Here, have a slice of blueberry pie! Coffee anyone??? Mint julip tea, perhaps? (Whatever the hell a 'julip' is. I picture a cross between a juniper and a tulip. Not pretty, and I have no idea how one would go about making it 'minty'.)



Okay, so just so everyone knows, the reason I haven't been brave enough to be linked to Mopey Chick (Who kicked me out of her house this morning on account of me looking at her boobs...it's difficult NOT to after so many hours in the girls' presence) or to anyone I actually know is because this darned blog started off MAJORLY personal. It still is in places, and will remain so since...well, since that's its purpose. But I DID delete a couple of things, but only to spare anyone the embarrassment of some of the things that became --- um, embarrassing to me, though that makes no sense whatsoever now that I've written it.

Still. Nasty stuff. And if you feel so inclined to read over some earlier posts, you'll see where it gets hairy scary in places. At times, the venom flows. Writing it out is my anti-venom. Sorry about that. Again, venting. I hope at times it pulls you in a bit, and perhaps makes you ponder on things important to you. Enjoy, by all means, and thank you all so much-- once again-- for the ousting!

(Remind me to pay you that $20, Erica.)

In My Dreams

A brief post from the Mopey Chick's abode... And an excursion into the creation of a Dream Avatar, which was too fun to make. Pick and click and see it on your character IMMEDIATELY. Instant gratification has its place in MY life, I can tell you that.

By the way, glass-blown 'witch balls' might serve as an attractant. Just FYI. Sort of a ha-ha on muggles, I'm thinking.




Cute and spooky. Just like me. Note the empty coffee cup in her hand...
Never mess with a witch before her second cup. Never.

Vacation tidbits to come!

Time and His Scooter

I haven't posted since frickin' FEBRUARY?!?

Are you kidding me?

Surely I'd... but I'm certain...but...

Well. Maybe not then. Damn. There's nothing like the cold dose of reality to really bring home one's lack of discipline. Although I have been working, and hard too, I might add. After four-plus years of staying at home, that forty-hour-work-week really snuck up on me. Time has been zinging by. Literally.

As a case in point, I saw him just yesterday, when my son grinned at me with his brand new gaping tooth hole, his head coming to breast-level now, though he's only recently just turned seven. And that's when I saw Time, in my son's big brown eyes, reflected in the depths of them. He was riding a red scooter and waving maliciously with a white hankie embroidered with little clock faces on it. I heard him laugh cruelly as he sped by. I did not feel one iota bad for him when he hit a small rock in the road and flipped head over heels into some shrubbery, either. My son and I sat on the back porch and I read to him while he captured firefly after firefly, watching fascinated as he let them go, their little wing shells hinging upward to let out their true wing panels, their bodies straightening and reaching for any miniscule breeze as they took off like some sort of alien skiff.

Time sat at the edge of the road tending to his boo-boos and my son and I luxuriated in the respite from that mad dash to tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow...

Speaking of the new tooth-hole, I have a funny quote from the wee man.

Uncle Dan: Devin, did you finish all your fruit?

Devin: Yeah, mostly...except for the pineapple.

Uncle Dan: Ahh... (waiting pensively for a possible explanation, seeing Devin working one up.)

Devin: The pineapple gets in my tooth-hole...it really freaks me out.

So don't let the pineapple get in your tooth-hole. I reckon that'd be the moral, if it needed one. I've been saving up a few missives to post on my hugely neglected FAV, which I will try to begin posting at LEAST every other day.

Waggle your fingers at Time for me today, won't you? He may ultimately have the last laugh, but for now, we trip him up as best we can. Going to buy a big bag of rocks this afternoon to scatter in the road...