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A New Leaf Turned

1 Nov

It’s that time again. The time when I begin a new cycle of writing. It always comes in cycles and when that cycle is at its lowest and I’m writing little if any, that’s when I feel my worst. I am pleased to be at the beginning of it again. That means fresh outlooks, new inspirations, and a positive attitude towards myself.

I am beginning with a post a week but I would like for that to be an absolute minimum. I am at my best when I’m writing. Hopefully I can share some unique posts with everyone.

…and we begin again…

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16 Jul

Being lost within myself is something I am not unfamiliar with. But the rollercoaster I have been on of late has been dizzying and painful. As I step away from this mammoth ride, I don’t know which way is up. I am nauseous, my ears are ringing and my vision is blackened and spotty.

As I step away from my previous exhilarating yet agonizing ride, I see another looming just in front of me. I have learned much about myself, thus far. I expect I will learn much more, very soon.

Floating Amidst…

Summer 2009

14 Sep

Fish-hooked through the mandible, he connected our new collars chain-gang style with a length of rope. With blood pouring down our necks into our shirts, when he yanked one of us around, the reaction of the rest of the line was an extremely exaggerated motion in an effort to keep from having our jaws wrenched from our skull. As he tied off the end of the rope to the old decrepit station wagon that sat poised at the end of the boat landing, the children cried uncontrollably. But there was no way to calm them.  There was nothing that could be done that could wake them from this nightmare. We coughed and choked on the blood that pooled in our mouths. With every slight movement of my head, I could feel the weight of the thick metal ring that had been stabbed through the center of my jaw- could feel the metal against the underside of my tongue and scraping across the top of my teeth.

5-14-11

17 Aug

My son and daughter ran around with family and friends in the large hotel for this enormous get together. Everyone was staying in the hotel making it easy for everyone to take over the common areas.

I found out Terry had somehow found out about our event and had shown up unexpectedly. I felt my stomach knot up and my throat start to burn. I started running through the halls trying to find my children, not because I thought he would actually hurt them but because A) He is a possible threat to me and therefore is treated as a threat to the kids and B) the kids have been so traumatized by his absence that his sudden and unexpected reappearance could be even more traumatizing than they could handle.

So as I am running through the halls herding my kids back to our room, I keep catching glances of him. He is wearing a bright orange t-shirt with a screen print on it and jeans. Some of the times I see him I turn and run in a different direction. But some of the time I try to confront him. I demand to know why he has the audacity to show his face anywhere near us. I ask him if he ever thinks about his abandoned children and how he has hurt them for life. I can feel my blood pressure build in my neck, in my face. I can feel my heart trying to beat out of my chest and hear the blood rushing in my ears. I am so angry. I can’t talk to him in a normal tone. I find myself yelling and occasionally stammering through my pure rage.

Then I notice that some of the times I try to confront him, he is running from me. All this is occurring among my friends and family who continue as if it’s not happening with the exception of the people right next to us who turn and look uncomfortably at us and move away. I finally get my children and myself back to our room when he walks in behind us. I step in front of the kids and tell him to get out. He begins to try to reason with me and my rage flares again. Behind his eyes I see his pain. Not only at what I have been saying to him but also at his choices. He knows he cannot fix what he has broken. I tell the kids to leave the room and they do and I start in on Terry again.

He takes small steps and I am assailing him with a barrage of fury. He tries to interrupt me, talking gently, trying to calm me which just fuels my anger. Finally he turns and scoots around the door into the hall like he’s hoping that my words will hit the wall and fall to the floor instead of continuing to pummel him like I’m pelting him with sharp-edged rocks. I leave the room and walk to another room where my kids are waiting for me. I tell them to go pack their bags. Kira gives me a look of concern but doesn’t say anything and walks off with her brother.

After the kids packed up, they took their bags out of the room and I walked in to do a final walk-through. On the table by the bed was a small stack of papers. It was a couple of old bills that were addressed to me that had my social security number on it, a couple pictures of the kids and a note with an explanation and an apology. At the end, he stated that he would never bother us again. Next to these papers were a haphazardly folded couple of groups of money. It looked like he wandered around and picked up any spare bills or groups of bills from change he got at the store. At first glance I could see several twenties folded together. His final attempt at making peace I guess.

But I know how he treats money so it says a little that he even made the attempt.

8/1/11

17 Aug

I was going into an interview with an extremely well know editor, who needed a writer for short blurbs of various natures in magazines. The well-dressed black man, exuded the kind of confidence I expected from someone with such exposure to the money and power that comes with someone in his position…

 

Running across the outback hanging onto a man I hired to see me safely across this barren terrain, on the back of a mule or pig? We both kicked at the dingoes that nipped at our heels and that of the animal we rode upon for hours upon hours…

 

A seemingly innocent business woman in Thailand, owner of a shoe-shop was running an underground operation kidnapping foreigners…

8/8/11

17 Aug

We were having an EMS picnic and I was taking different kinds of dips. I brought a couple generics, like ranch, blue cheese and thousand island. But I also made a tuna fish salad. This dip had mayo, and finely chopped chives, thin sliced celery, a little garlic with some celery salt and a few other things. But because it was an EMS party, and we are just weird anyway, I formed this tuna salad into the shape of a dead body as you would see one lying on the pavement. Its’ arms and legs were skewed at odd angles so there was no mistaking the ‘dead body’ness  of it.

The picnic went well. Ems, fire and PD who were on duty were invited to swing by and grab a bite. Those of us off duty mingled and leisurely enjoyed our afternoon. The picnic was held in an old hangar that we used as our truck bay. It was warm and we had big hurricane fans blowing the hot air around.

About an hour before the picnic ended, an on duty officer we knew who had been visiting with us got a call. He said it was probably bogus because the caller said he had been shot ‘over and over and over’ by a perp who was no longer in the house, and if he were shot that many times he should be dead.  The cop grabbed an extra croissant as he rolled his eyes and headed to his vehicle.

At the end, everyone helped clean up and took the rest of their food, or their empty dishes, home with them.

I was the last one to leave. I was finishing gathering my dishes and piling them into the back of the ambulance I was using. I had put the last of my tuna salad, now just a partial torso and legs, into the body bag on the stretcher with a twisted little giggle to myself. I walked back to the site of the picnic to put up tables and chairs that were still up, when the officer who had to run off earlier came walking across the bay. We exchanged pleasantries and cut up a little, but he was acting a little distracted. He looked in the back of my truck and asked what was in the body bag. I chuckled as I told him and he looked at me as if skeptical.

He asked if he could take a look, I said sure but I didn’t think he would actually find a real dead body.

In the next moment he had his gun out and trained on my head as he yelled “Get down on the ground. Now!”  I immediately did as I was told. He put his gun away and cuffed me behind my back as he asked how my tuna salad magically turned into a dead baby.

They took me to the hospital to have me medically cleared to go to jail. But since everyone at the hospital knew me they talked the Sheriff’s Office into letting me stay there for a couple nights. They left the ems report with me for the dead baby. ‘Accidentally’ of course.  Caroline was her name.  I poured through those papers, positive that at any moment someone was going to come in and snatch it away from me, taking with it the only opportunity I may ever have to clear my name and find out who took this sweet child’s life.

8/14/11

17 Aug

I was on vacation with a friend, and we were walking through a residential neighborhood. It was low-income but a nice enough area to walk through safely. The streets were on a grid and there were alleyways behind each set of houses backing up to one another. Every once in a while we would spot kids down one alley playing, someone walking or bicycling through another and we would occasionally get someone looking at us suspiciously. But we never felt threatened.

We heard a couple of guys laughing down one alley and glanced down there. I don’t know what we were expecting but a dog fight wasn’t it. One pit pull and another dog resembling some type of herding dog looked to be bantering playfully then one would dive in and take a chunk of flesh from the other. The freshly wounded dog would yelp then go back to looking playful, tail wagging and panting. Then ,again, a dog would dart in on the other and take another bite of its opponent. This only went on for another 15 seconds or so after we began watching when one of the dogs toppled the other and took a large mouthful of soft underbelly, coming away with long ropey pieces of innards still attached somewhere inside the dog lying on the ground. The men hollered and laughed, slapped hands then one of them said to the other “It’s your dog that lost! YOU get to do it!”

“Dammit.”, was the reply.

The owner of the dog that lay bloody and crying on the ground pulled a gun from his waist band, put it to the back of the dogs’ head where the spine enters the base of the skull and pulled the trigger. The dog was still and silent then and the two men and the still-living though badly wounded dog started off down the alley.

But then one of the men, the shorter of the two, turned and looked straight at my friend and I. We turned to run at the same instant they gave chase. The dog didn’t seem interested and wandered away.

As we ran, we started to hear sirens- distant at first, then closer, then right in front of us as two black and whites screeched to a halt in the intersection we were approaching. Several officers jumped out with weapons already aimed in our direction. Figuring we were safe now that the cops were here, my friend and I split to either side of the street to allow the officers a clear bead on the bad guys.

The four men wielding the guns didn’t like that. They thought that our attempt to get out of harm’s way was us trying to elude them. Now they thought we were WITH the dog-killing bad guys. So instead of running from guys who saw us as a threat and being saved by the good-guys from what was possibly certain death but at least a serious beat-down, law enforcement somehow now lumped us into the category of law-breaking bad guys running from the cops with our law-breaking bad guy friends.

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