Inescapable (GBE2 #117 Topic: Power)

This week, I'm pretending to be a poet.  Enjoy!

 Fingertips...
    grazing my collarbone
gently sweeping
    secrets keeping
    softly whisper
press into me
        ...deeply

Fingertips...
    delicate squeezing
exquisite pleading
    voltaic frenzy
    the silent demand
be my
        ...authority

impetuously
  
      breathless.

electricity.....

sealed our fate

Spies of the Empire State: The Legend of Elizabeth Grace GBE2 #60

Beth, our fearless leader (of the GBE2 group) and all-around favorite word nerd, went on sabbatical for the month of July.  She said she needed to step away from the internet to gain some much needed clarity and perspective.  She said that she wanted to spend more time with her family and pursue some of her non-internet related interests.

Well...I am here to tell you that her story is HOGWASH!!

I'm sure that when Beth made her plans for the month of July, she wasn't expecting to find herself here in upstate New York.  I'm also sure that, even though she can clearly see on my Facebook profile that I live a mere fifteen miles south of the Empire State's capital city, she wasn't expecting to see me.

Or should I say...she wasn't expecting ME to see HER. 

It was a rare moment for me.  I was alone and I had a spare ten bucks in my pocket!  That never actually happens almost never happens.  I was feeling a little sluggish and decided that a refreshing caffeinated refreshment was just what I needed.

I spied a cute coffee shop and said to myself:  Self, no one knows you have this extra ten bucks.  What better way to spend it than to buy an overpriced, over-caloried coffee drink!  You can sit and people watch for a few minutes before you head back to town and into the insanity of summer vacation.

My inner monologue is notoriously talented at getting me to do it's bidding.

I bought my coffee and sat at a table facing the street.  The hustle and bustle of downtown Albany proved to be perfect entertainment.  I was truly enjoying this moment that was all mine.

A chime above the door alerted me that someone had entered the coffee shop.  Being the nosy gal that I am, I looked up to see who had entered and I could NOT believe my eyes.  I knew that Beth was taking July off from online activities, but boy oh boy...when August rolled around I was sure going to tell her about her New York look-alike!!  

That's when I heard a man say "Beth, I'm so glad that you made it here safely."  Oh my goodness!!  This woman's name was Beth too??!!  I was certain that Beth would find this story very amusing.  

I turned around just in time to see her give a warm, friend like hug to a man who...wait for it...looked just like Johnny Depp!!  I rubbed my eyes.  I did that thing where you try to look at people without actually appearing like you are looking.  They sat down at a table near mine, which made eavesdropping that much easier.

I had to text Jeff and let him know that I'd be late getting home.  I HAD to investigate this.  He would totally understand.

"Johnny, I'm so glad that you could find time out of your busy schedule to come give me my next assignment personally."

 

"Oh Beth, it's nothing really.  Movie companies are using Albany frequently for filming because it's cheaper than New York City.  It's natural that I could be here."

 

What??  I could not believe my ears.  Well, the part about Albany being in the movies is true...but...what kind of assignment was Johnny Freaking Depp giving Elizabeth Grace?  To say that I was intrigued was an understatement.

He pulled a thick manila envelope out the bag at his feet and slid it across the table.  Beth opened it and out plopped what appeared to be a passport and other forms of identification.  I couldn't see what they said but the items looked authentic enough to me.

Beth grinned across the table at Johnny and took a sip of her coffee.  "How long have we been at this?  It feels like forever.  No one has ever suspected a thing."

Johnny chuckled.  "It has been forever, Bethie.  Or at least since I was doing Jump Street.  The assignment is a simple one...just some basic surveillance...with photos and a report, of course"

Beth, looked over the documents and pondered everything for a moment.  "It won't take too long, will it?  The Hubs and I have plans for the rest of July...a road trip to nowhere."

"It'll just be a week or so.  You're going to Italy this time.  Do you think you can handle it?"

Beth downed her coffee and looked at Johnny with a mischievous gleam in her eye.  She gathered up her identification and stuffed it into her oversized purse.

"Easy Peasy Lemon Squeezy..."  she said.

 And she was out the door.

Love Potion #74 (The Story Cabin #1--Fever)

 The writing prompt for this exercise was "Fever" by Peggy Lee.  This is one of my most favorite songs.  The first time I heard it was in a witchcraft store when I was a teen. Other than that one fact, this story is a complete work of fiction.  Enjoy!

When Samantha was a teenager, her best friend dragged her to a witchcraft store.  It was smoky and dark.  The scent of incense hung heavy in the air, clinging to her like a humid summer day.  The clerk…a ‘60’s throwback complete with tie dye and bell bottoms…sat behind the counter with a hazy, glassy-eyed expression on her face.  Samantha had figured the older woman was high on something but didn’t really give her much thought beyond that.  She was too busy drinking in her environment.  Boy, if her mother knew that she was here….well... she would be in so much trouble.  Samantha’s mother took these sorts of things seriously and would most definitely freak out if she knew that HER daughter was even entertaining the notion of witches, magick, or a way of life that fell short of normal.

But Sam wasn’t really exploring the notion of anything.  It was Kendall that brought her here.  It was Kendall that was determined put her own mother into cardiac arrest by coming home with a book of spells or some other piece of witch paraphernalia that her mother would certainly disapprove of.  Kendall was the rebel in this duo—not Sam.  Kendall was the one who wanted shock value.  Nevertheless, Sam thoroughly enjoyed the dangerous thrill she experienced as she crept around the shop. 

 Zip-loc baggies of herbs lined one wall and books…what seemed like thousands of books…covered almost every shelf.  Jars labeled with things like ‘Dragon’s Blood’ and ‘Eye of Newt’ were neatly lined up on tables in the middle of the room.  This cannot be for real…she thought, and giggled quietly under her breath.  People actually buy this stuff??  People actually think this stuff is real??  Samantha was beside herself with disbelief.  She knew that Kendall didn’t really believe in any of this nonsense.  That girl just wanted to get a rise out of people.  And, as thrilling as going behind her own mother’s back and going into that shop was, Sam knew, in her heart, that magick was just the invention of talented storytellers.

Kendall filled her shopping basket with a few books and various ingredients to make some potion or another and brought her items to the counter.  She quickly paid and motioned for Sam to follow her out of the shop.  As she turned to leave, the clerk grabbed Sam by the arm.

“You think this is all hooey now, Samantha…but you won’t always feel that way.  You WILL be back.”  Samantha yanked her arm free and ran as fast as she could.  She didn’t stop running until she had put several blocks distance between her and the shop.  She never told Kendall what had happened and never thought about that day ever again.

Until now.

Samantha stood outside the shop and could not believe her eyes.  She was in her thirties now and somehow the shop had remained all these years.  After going inside, she noticed that it hadn’t changed at all.  Not a single jar, baggie or book looked different than it had when she was fifteen.  Except the clerk…she was definitely different.  There was a lovely looking woman, who was close to Sam's age, seated upon a stool next to the counter.  She was wearing a peasant skirt and flowing black blouse.  Her long, dark curls were held away from her round face by two jeweled hair clips. 

“Samantha, you’ve finally returned.  Are you a believer now?” Who was this woman?  How did she know my name? Sam thought but just stood there silently gazing at the woman.

“People always see what they want to, my child.” Sam shook her head and rubbed her eyes.  It was as though the woman had access to Sam's thoughts.  Surely this beautiful woman couldn’t be saying what Sam thought she was saying….

Sam gulped and said “I’m not sure if I believe in anything—If I’ve ever believed in anything.  But I’m desperate.  I need help.  I didn’t know where to turn.  I…need…him.”  A tear slid down Samantha’s freckled cheek.

Desperate.  Yes, that was exactly how Sam felt.  She hadn’t felt this way in a long time—that sick, maddening pull that came standard with desiring someone.  She couldn’t eat.  She couldn’t sleep.  Almost every thought was of…him.  It sounded ridiculous—like some silly teenage love song but it was her day to day reality.  He even invaded her dreams. 

She’d had him within her grasp and it had been…well…magical.  It was a magic that penetrated her to the core.  She felt more inspired and energetic....more beautiful than she’d felt in years.  She saw her world with a new found clarity.  She felt a restless intensity that could not be calmed.

She couldn’t just let that feeling die could she?  She couldn’t just let him walk out her life and take all that magic with him…could she?  Just because HE wanted it that way.  No. She couldn’t.  She wasn’t getting any younger and men weren’t exactly beating down her door anymore.  No…she had to fix this.  She had to hold onto this man as tightly as she could.  

By any means necessary.

The shop clerk retreated to the back of the store and ducked through a beaded curtain into another room.  She returned with a small vial of dark purple liquid.  She rolled the vial between her palms as if to warm the fluid.  

“Desperate times quite often call for desperate measures, my child” she said quietly as she pressed the small glass tube into Sam’s hand.  The heat it generated radiated up her arm and warmed her entire body. “Pour this into his drink.  Oddly enough, it works especially well in carbonated beverages but any cold drink will do.  Avoid hot drinks altogether.  Heat has an adverse effect on the potion.  This potion will take hold almost immediately and it is next to impossible to reverse.  You have to be certain of what you want before you take action.”

Sam peeked into her oversized purse to search for her wallet.  The woman stopped her. “There is no charge when it comes to matters of the heart.  Just make sure you know what your heart wants”

Sam looked down at the vial nestled in the palm of her hand.  She was certain.

When she looked up, the shop was gone and she was standing outside of a corner grocery.  The sign on the door read:  SODA SALE 99 CENTS. 

Thoughts poured through her head.  His smile as he stood at just the right angle in the sunshine…holding hands, fingers intertwined…laying her head on his chest late at night. Kisses that made her lose all ability to think coherently.  The last time her lips touched his…crying into her pillow night after night…the dull ache she felt when she wasn't able to act upon her feelings…the excruciating realization that he didn’t feel the same way—and most likely never had.

She pushed open the door and walked inside.

“Desperate times call for desperate measures…” she whispered as she reached for the soda.

Strenth of Character (GBE2 #58--Topic: Strength)

In the original GBE, one of my first posts was about pet peeves.  One of those peeves was when people pronounce the word 'strength' (or length) without the 'G' sound.  The sound of a person saying "strenth" or "lenth" can make me cringe like nails on a chalkboard.

Now, I realize that the pronunciation of these words is a regional thing.  Whether we use that g-sound in those words mostly depends on where in this country we've spent the majority of our years--much like whether you call your sparkly carbonated beverage soda or pop...or even just a coke.  It might be a peeve of mine but I understand that it's not wrong and I've never meant any insult to those who feel that G is silent.

But there's a reason why it's nails on a chalkboard for me.  And it has nothing to do with the words themselves...but rather the first person that I'd ever encountered that pronounced those words in that manner.

Mrs. Angerame.  My ninth grade math teacher.

Math has never been my strong suit.  Even as big a nerd as I claim to be, getting a passing grade in math was always a struggle.  Despite this, I'd been accelerated a year ahead in math since the sixth grade.  In my freshman year of high school, I was taking tenth grade math, which in New York State in the early 90's, meant geometry.

I was lost.  Not just lost in math....lost in just about every aspect of my life.  All my friends had deserted me (there is a post about that somewhere...) and my father had just died.  I spent most of my free time eating, writing, listening to music and eating some more.  My studies were lost in a sea of procrastination.  Looking back, I can plainly see what a mess I was...but at the time...well it just felt normal

When grades came in, my mom was displeased.  I needed to get back on track.  I needed to get serious.  A 30 in math was not going to fly in our family.

I went to my teacher.  I asked her if there was a time before school started that we could meet so that I could get some extra help.  I asked her if I could meet with her on my lunch break.  There were reasons why I could not stay after school but I tried to take responsibility and get the help that I needed.

She told me if I couldn't come after school then there was no way she could help me.

Each day spent in that class, I felt like I was drowning.  I asked for help.  I told her I didn't understand.  She made me feel small and stupid almost daily.

Then one day, she said something that angers me to this day.

"Stephanie, it's a wonder that you've been properly toilet trained seeing as you can't even comprehend simple math."

So...because I struggled to understand GEOMETRY (not simple math by a long shot...), I must be mentally deficient and should feel fortunate that I could even wipe my own ass.

From a teacher, that is absurdly unacceptable.

She has no idea how much that abusive comment affected me.  As the other students chuckled at her words, I felt ever smaller and more stupid.  I already felt like I didn't belong and this just made things worse.  I knew she was out of line but a small part of me was afraid that it might be true.  Being smart was who I was....my whole identity...if I didn't have that...well, then I had absolutely nothing to hold onto.

Somehow, even without her "simple math", I managed to go to college, have a rewarding job, get married and make some pretty amazing (and smart) babies.  I even manage that ass-wiping thing on a daily basis.  I'd like her to know that I turned out pretty damn great...no thanks to her.

Mostly, I'd like her to know that she failed that day--both as a teacher and a human being.  She had the power and the strength (or strenth) to help guide a student who had lost her way. 

But instead of building me up, she chose to knock me down.

I hope she's proud.









 

Toxic Cycle (GBE2 #55 Topic: High School)

Who knows what actually started the argument but it was happening.  Yelling, screaming...two teenagers alone in an empty house.  He always got angry and she always felt the need to defend herself.

If only he could SEE her point of view then he would understand.  He would stop being mad and they could get back to all the fun stuff that comes with being high school sweethearts.

It was a non-stop cycle.  He would use his angry words as weapons-- Each one burning, cutting, bleeding her.  Although she felt she was a master with words who could talk her way out of anything, none of her words ever stopped his verbal blows from pummeling her.  He would keeping yelling...keep saying horrible things to her...until she snapped.

Until she hit him.

And when she hit him...in his mind...this was the permission he needed to hit her back.

Walking away never occurred to her.  Friends had talked to her and she knew that they raised valid points.  But they loved each other.  And you didn't turn your back on love...ever.

Besides, no other boy would ever want to date her.  Who else would be interested in the fat, nerdy, red-head.  Nobody else had shown an interest so far and she doubted that anybody ever would.

He asked her to leave.  Yelled at her to get out of the house.  It was his house and he didn't want her here.  If she didn't leave he was going to make her leave.  She was stubborn.  She told him she wasn't going anywhere...they were going to have to work things out.  Right now.

He chased her through the house--down the stairs and into the kitchen.  In the blink of eye, she found herself on the floor.  He was on top of her--with a butcher knife to her throat!  They lay there...hot, sweaty, gasping for breath...tears in her eyes...anger in his...this was so much worse than anything that had ever happened before.

She snapped.  Hysterical.  How could he put a knife to her throat???  She was crying, screaming...irrational.  Arms and legs were flailing in every direction yet somehow they ended back upstairs in his room.  His thirteen-year old sister had come home and overheard the screams.

It's all right he told her...she doesn't know what she's saying...she's still upset about her grandmother dying...she's just had a breakdown...that's all.  Don't mention it to anyone because she'll be embarrassed.

In the room as he held her he told her she wasn't to speak a word about what happened to anyone.  It was a mistake...he was sorry...besides it was her fault because she wouldn't leave...and because she hit him first....

This wasn't how I spent every day in high school...but it was how I spent many a day.  I'm not saying that it was always a knife to the throat--that was an extreme day--but I endured a continuous cycle of abuse.  We were very toxic together.  For about a year and I half...I was out of that relationship but then...I went back.  I went back and married him.  It wasn't always this bad...but interspersed between the happy memories are a whole bunch of horrible ones.  Horrible memories similar to this one...


And leaving...I think...was the best thing I could have ever done...for both of us.

If there is one thing I'd like to express by sharing this it would be:  THERE IS ALWAYS ANOTHER BOY (OR GIRL)!!!  There is never any excuse for living like this.  There is never an excuse to stay.  Walking away is always the smartest answer.  Each one of us is special in our own way and there will be someone who will not only love and appreciate us but will also treat us with respect. 

Wait for that person...no matter how long it takes. 

The Harshest Critic (GBE2 #19--Judgement)

I am far from a perfect person.

I never claimed to be.

My flaws are many

many, many indeed.

I'm vain and selfish.

I procrastinate.

I'm sloppy and disorganized.

I tend to overeat.

I'm not completely happy

without something to complain about

my jawline is crooked

when you look at my pout

my cheeks are too pink

my feet are too big

I have crows feet and stretch marks

from momming four kids

I sing really badly

I snort and I snore

when I blow my nose...

It sounds like a fog horn

I'm nosy and irrational

overemotional is me

there has never been a decision

I could make--easily

I want what I want

and I fuss when denied

I constantly compare myself 

to every girl that walks by

I'm my worst enemy

It's a voice I can't shush

Any judgements you have

you can leave on the shelf

Whatever you're thinking

I'm sure has been said

by that tiny voice

upstairs

in my head

GBE2 Week 11--Instinct

I skipped last week.  Real life got in the way of all the fun stuff that I like to do--unfortunately that happens sometimes.  This prompt--instinct--inspired me to write another poem.  Enjoy!

Call of the Wild

Sullen girl

heading my way

carefully tread 

the lonely highway

up the stairs--pure confidence

all vanilla cake and troubled lighting

Impulsive girl

sky's the limit

silly girl

it's only minutes

skin and teeth

lips and limbs

joy plus sorrow 

mixed with sin

why keep jumping at the chance

when you aren't worth a public glance?

It doesn't stop her coming back

again

and 

again

for a nibble

a taste

for carnage and grace

a reassurance of vanity

a waste of valuable sanity

and yet

it's set

in stone

instinct.....

every time she heeds the call   

Bedtime (GBE2 #9: Midnight)

Years ago, I wrote four poems.  I loved these poems so much....and no matter how hard I try, no poem written since is ever good enough to me.  But, I was inspired to write a poem for this topic....so here it is.  Hopefully, it doesn't suck too much :)

BEDTIME

I wish that I could run and hide

I wish that I could sleep

I wish you understood me

--that I wasn’t sinking deep

I want to laugh with you the first time

I want to be more than an afterthought

I want to be noticed and appreciated

--rather than forgotten about

I wish I could show you my worth

I wish I didn’t have to

I wish that I just clique-d

--rather than trying to cling to

I want jealousy to fade away

I want to not care

I want to feel normal again

--rather than just disappear

I wish my thoughts would quiet

I wish for calm and peace

--It’s hours after Midnight

I wish that I could sleep

Summer of '90: a short story (GBE2 Week #3)

This week's topic for GBE2 is Lost and Found. (Note to readers:  Blogger is giving me a really hard time setting up this blog.  Paragraphs are not separated where they should be.  I've tried to fix it three times with no success.  I hope you enjoy this anyway *smiles*)

It was hot.  The kind of hot that made you feel as though, any minute, you’d melt and end up being a puddle on the ground.  The trees overhead weren’t really providing much shade and every step they took through the woods was agony.

God, she hated nature.  Trees, grass, dirt….you name it….she had no use for it.  She was city born—raised amongst the hustle and bustle—and she didn’t really understand the appeal of hiking.  She could appreciate the beauty of nature from a distance but today, having it right in her face and under her feet, was almost more than she could stand.

But he’d promised her that a beautiful spot awaited them.  A secluded location deep in the woods complete with a small waterfall that emptied into a bubbling stream.  A quaint little stream that flowed beneath a small stone bridge.

It sounded so lovely.  She could picture it already.  Laying the blanket down in the lush green grass, snuggling in next to the boy she loved and making love for the first time as the water gurgled past them.  Just the two of them.

Alone.

It would be just like the movies….only better because it was happening to her.

But they weren’t alone.  They had two friends tagging along.  Going off alone into the woods would just seem so...obvious.  They didn’t want to advertise their intentions…but the two friends were well aware of what was supposed to be taking place and they planned to disappear once they arrived at the special destination.

If they ever arrived there!  It was taking forever to get there. Every few minutes he assured her that it wasn’t much further.  He’d encourage her by telling her how pretty it was there and how much she was going to love it. 

She had a sneaking suspicion that they were lost but he was never going to admit it—sixteen year old boys are always think they’re right about everything!

On and on they went…the heat and humidity was like a wet blanket pressing down on them.  Sweat poured off of her body in what felt like gallons.  She hated the heat just as much as she hated nature.

Where the hell was this so-called special place?  Why did it feel like hours since they’d left the common areas of the park?

Why exactly was she doing this?

Oh yeah…she was in love. 

But more importantly, she wanted to get this business of losing her virginity over and done with.  All her life, people told her she wasn’t pretty.  Boys never wanted to date her.  Girls told her that she’d never be as pretty or desirable as they were.  It seemed like everyone she knew had been in relationships except her.  They’d held hands and kissed and hell, most of them had gone all the way too. 

Nobody had ever even wanted to hold her hand….until this boy.  And she wanted to show him just how much that meant to her.

She didn’t feel pressured.  But it felt like it was something she should do.  She felt like it would somehow transform her into something better….something special….something more.

None of that was ever going to happen if they didn’t find that damn bridge!

They didn’t find that bridge…not until years later.  But they separated from their friends and laid that blanket down in an open field.  They were hot and sticky….exhausted from walking so far.  They were both nervous and scared.  Neither one of them really wanted to go through with it….maybe a different day would have been better…maybe in a bed….in a room with air conditioning or at least a fan….in a place without a thousand mosquitos making them lunch…maybe when they were a little older…maybe longer than a month into their courtship......

But neither of them wanted to disappoint the other. 

They stripped out of their bathing suits and laid down together.  And when it was over, she couldn’t for the life of her,  understand what all the fuss about sex was.

The loss of her virginity never bothered her.

But rather, what she found out that day.

Five minutes with the boy she loved didn’t change anything.

She wasn’t better.  She didn’t feel extra special.  She didn’t feel like she was…more.

She was still the same person walking out of the woods that she was when she walked in.

And it would take many more years before she realized just how special she was.