Wrote you a love letter Then tore it up to bits Took the shredded pieces Threw them in a pit Setting it on fire Watched the passion glow Each piece flared from another The flames of nevermore Wrote you a love letter Knew I would not send Wrote you a love letter Sealed it with my blood Stood there with the ashes As they crumbled away The wind sent some flying Forever out of reach The seasons took the rest Let it slip away Walked away in silence Left behind a stain Wrote you a love letter Knew I would not send Wrote you a love letter Words etched in my head Wrote you love, and Sealed it with my blood
TALES OF TALE SPINNING
The A to Z Epics, More or Less
I started Tale Spinning at the beginning of 2011 as an offshoot of BornStoryteller. The latter went more towards non-fiction, rants, comparisons, and observations. Tale Spinning: an experiment in creative writing was the space I needed.
Since then, I’ve gone through periods of both non-stop writing and those “dry” spells, where nothing inspired or motivated me.
Joining the A to Z Blogging Challenge in April 2011 was one of the smartest moves I’ve ever made. I’ve pushed my own boundaries over the ten years, always looking for that “challenge.” Taking risks is stimulating. A lot of what I write is expressing what is burning within me at the moment.
Which is probably why I have trouble continuing plunging into the worlds and characters I’ve built over the years. The roller-coaster upheaval of my life during these last ten years have jaggedly flowed from euphoric to complete and utter numbness. This isn’t a pity party. Just stating the facts, ma’am.
Many bloggers/writers I have “met along the way have become family. What is “Family is Chosen” for $2,000, Alex?” (Man, I miss Alex Trebek. Right now, I am Team Levar Burton to become the new host. Reading Jeopardy Rainbow!). It’d take me the rest of the day (it’s early here) to point you all out, but my thanks and love are hereby sent. I even met the woman I love writing these blog posts during that first A to Z. Present tense, even though we are not together anymore.
List Time. In case, you know, want to read past (and present) A to Z attempts. Each set starts with A on April 1st of that year. There might be a few preceding posts/teases over the years as I tried out the new voice I was shooting for.
A TO Z POSTS
- 2021: Liquid Time (Current Series)
- 2020: Nightmares from an Unbleached Soul (Lyrical Poetry, 25 posts)
- 2019: A Car In the Woods (Science Fiction/Horror/Thriller, 27 posts)
- 2018: The Abysmal Dollhouse (Serial Paranormal/Horror story, 26 posts)
- 2016: Case Files of Inspector Khazarian Rovas (Serial Detective story, 26)
- 2014: Road Signs (Drabbles-100 words Exactly, 26)
- 2012: The Apartment Building: Swan Rise (Serial drama, 26)
- 2011: The Lesser of Two Evils (attempted SciFi satire, 23 posts)
Here’s something not A to Z that I’d love to get your feedback/comments. I keep getting drawn back to it on an emotional/mental level, but have not added a thing to it in quite a while. These were written during the summer of 2011.
Pulled up to the curb
Hated building in sight
Drive shifted to Park
Pinging from under the hood
Tools for the day gathered
Yet, an unexpected hellish message came to me
Heavy chills from that winter day
Were nothing to the inward heat
Words tore through the chest
Filling up a now empty cavity
Pain sat in those words
Brushing off; tossed away
Snow fell in furried force
Muddled mind filled with numbing pain
The words made no sense
The words finally made sense
As what was left flew away
No awareness of time falling away
Park was gone; drive remained
Yet no destination set
To a melted mind
“We don’t grow when things are easy.
We grow when we face challenges.” ~ Joyce Meyer
A KALEIDOSCOPE OF MEMORIES
Forged by blood;
Drifting away, coming back
Good times, desperate measures,
A rhythm was set
Through the years
In memory: Susan, Steven, Theilia, and Bernie
For my cousin, Sharon
Mathematical Equations Flow into a Bear’s Winter Den.
“You should let it go”
The Grizzly snapped
Claws sharp and bright
“Stop the hoping;
Nothings coming back!”
As the Bear pounces on you,
Teeth clamping on
Growling “No one’s complete.”
She’d advance then goes still
Hot breath steaming your face.
Your legs quiver
Barely holding you up
As eyes bore into yours
You can’t look away for
No place to retreat.
“Prove it!” she demanded
Pushed full weight against the rocks
“What do you think you deserve?
What offers can you keep?”
She came to you,
Not the other way
Break all the fucking rules
Then she came, then pushed away
Retreating then imploring
Over tumbling common ground.
Repeating past confusions,
Not again, not again
There’s a challenge, a test
It’s denied. unspoken, yet
Rend your mind wide
Show that you bend,
Expectations leveling out
Leaving little behind.
You are easily left behind.
Unique in a good way,
“Not trashed,” she opined.
In that moment
Invisibility leaps forth
Blurring the Grizzly from taking
More than you’re worth.
It ripped into you
Left bleeding before the crowds
Who feeds into the invisible shroud
You’ve donned again, for as always,
It is always around.
“Prove it!” was demanded
Never given the chance
So, you are forced to turn and run.
Head an aching mess.
And you trip, you fall
Excoriated, shattered, so fucking deep.
It is easy to hide
You’ve established that fact
Yet a question remains:
Is it easier to just die?
I wondered why I was here.
Then you appeared
Keeping distant, but there
On the edge of discomfort
The need sweeping through
I wondered why
Have you felt being stuck
Inside a dreadful memory?
Splinters of hurt
Trying to let it slip away
Holding onto it with desperate claws
“I’m tired” leaves the lips
Wafting out uncontrolled
I still wondered why
After I have given up
You tell someone close
Thoughts of the fears
From your history, resurfacing
Wanting to be listened to
To be understood
“Just get over it.
Let it go.”
Platitudes of dismissal
Of what you say
For not fitting in with
How they live their lives
So you shut up,
Refusing to open more
Feelings and mindset are mine
But run over,
Sunk into the muck of expectations.
Dreading another rerun
Of relationships past
A question of what if
Holds fast to the negatives
Hold too much hope
That this time will be different
Or will it dig a deeper hole
That embraces being tired
And you wonder, anew
Why are you here?
Why am I here?
Then you appeared.
I am right.
You are wrong.
It is as simple as that.
I follow the truth path
My way is clear
Nothing you say has meaning
Nothing can change my mind
My enemies are legion
I count you among their kind.
You are wrong.
I am right.
There is no debate in that.
It is evil in your actions
Evil in your words
Closing yourself to reality
So it fits you limited terms
I gather with my like-minded
You’re not worth a second thought
I am Right
No, you’re not
You are wrong
No, I am not.
Let’s not agree to disagree
Let’s find some commonality
Let’s understand the price
Segregating into piteous hate
We are deaf along this path.
I am not absolute
Whether right or wrong
The danger is the division
Two sides talking to walls
I will listen to you; please tell me why
Don’t shove your viewpoint onto me
Don’t refuse to hear my questions
Don’t shut me up with condemnation
Let us deeply listen, for all its worth.
ALPHONSE ON THE OCEAN
Alphonse, the PengCat, stood on the hot sand. The waves beckoned him to join his brethren in watery freedom. Alphonse, the PengCat, leaned toward the water and groaned. Gaze fixed, turning vacant as the waves rolled in and out. Alphonse began to move towards the sea.
His eyes cleared just four seashells away from the incoming tide. Halting, Alphonse, the PengCat, trembled at the thoughts of the unknown. While looking at the vast ocean, the never-ending ocean, he pictured its fathomless depths, the unseen oppressors, voracious predators of the briny deeps.
Alphonse, the PengCat, flippered himself on his leathery nose, bringing him back to purpose. This brought him back to his reality. Alphonse geared up.
Once everything was in place, his checklist commenced:
Triple-Layered Swim Cap? Check.
Flotation Devices on and Secure? Check.
Underwater Defense Gun Mark 1 Mod 0, loaded? Check and Check.
Alphonse, the PengCat, meowed in an undulating force as he waddle-leaped through the wall of waves.
His journeys became the stuff of legends.
THE DINGO ATE MY AWE
Lindy wailed heartache.
It was relentless, staining the air around the five of us. A friend had called into AFP dispatch, and me mates and I took the plunge. Dust was everywhere until it turned to gravel, and then rocks of increasing dimensions. An hour before dusk, we arrived at the hysterics. Even through closed windows, Lindy’s banshee keening shook me teeth. Brutal.
Her hubs, Michael, took me to the demolished campsite. We lifted the tent together, dripping from the bloody heat. Told Michael we were now sweat brothers. I laughed at me own stupid joke. Stopped real quick; the poor sod was dripping tears and snot. “There, there” did not seem appropriate. I dug in me pocket, found the wad of Kleenex the Mrs. always shoved in my pants pocket after pressing. I tossed it to him. He wasn’t ready.
The wind had been picking up; Rod said it smelled of rain when we first got here. Just what we bloody needed. The dry chinook rolled around us. The wad of Kleenex gave up five to the wind. They flew around us like a cat burying shit. A strong gust and the rest joined their brethren. Gymnastics, in white. It was like that bloody scene in that bloody boring movie. The one they spent so much time filming a plastic bag spinning. Bloody Drongo director.
Tent up, the blood was in little puddles around the floor. Sticky. Bedsheets, what was an onesie, all in shreds. I took pictures, asked me questions, the big one went unanswered: “why weren’t either bleeding one of you with the babe?” Now, I know many think coppers are all galah. Hell, many of them do have their heads up their arses. Mikey just hung his head, shook it around, and stayed quiet. No resistance as I cuffed him. Good. We walked back to the others.
Rod and Franny put both of them in the back of the wagon. Lindy was sobbing a creek, her hands equally cuffed. Michael turned his head away from her. Never said a word to her. He didn’t yell, didn’t plead, nothing. His silence was death; she roared out the Death Kneel.
I closed Michael’s door, making double sure he was locked tight. Franny had tried to talk the mum down. No luck. Fran locked the door, cutting the volume in half. I was getting the start of a headache. Didn’t need that at all with the long drive back.
The three of us moved away from them. We had a talk and a drag. Not Rod. Not a smoker, but can he put down the pints. We shared what info we had, scribbled note sunder the growing night; the sun began to fade away. Time to get back to the car and get out of here.
Typical sounds of central Oz pushed us along. I was more than ready to get home.
“A dingo? Really? A bloody dingo?” I could not believe this, shaking my head. “We got a ripe one,” I told the two. “Dingos were vicious fucks, but…”
“Oi, where the hell did those growls come from?” Rod uttered. Last thing he ever said.
Three beasts ran toward him, lunging as one. Dingos. Bloody huge fucking Dingos. They ripped him apart. Legs. Chest. Head. Only an instant. The hot blood flew everywhere. My mouth was hanging open, brain fritzing as I pulled out my handgun.
Franny screeched, wanting to help Rod, wanting to run. She did the Cha Cha of indecision, bolstered by the horror of it all. She had enough to go for her handgun, but she fumbled it. Just as she bent to get her gun, I saw what was coming behind her. I started to warn Fran.
Too late. Words were taken by the massacre.
I fired at the two monsters who took Franny down. My gun was essentially useless. Their massive sizes. Tigers in Dingo attire. There was nothing I could do. I ran to the car.
As I got closer, I noticed both Michael and Lindy. They were staring at me with bulging eyes, their mouths moving in overdrive. Lindy looked off to the right side of me. Her throat cords straining to break free. Looking over my shoulder, one of the five, or maybe this was a visiting cousin who was late to the party, was lopping at its dinner. Me. I saw it coming; it leaped.
And I dropped to the dirt. Rolling on my back, I fired the rest of my gun as the Dinger went flying over. First one went through the bottom of its jaw. The rest went into beast’s underside.
It screeched as fell, the earth taking its own bite out of the beast.
I dashed for the car.
Now, I almost fumbled the car keys like Franny did with her gun. Almost. I dove in, starting her up, put it into gear, and floored the peddle. One beastie came at me head-on. I downshifted, speeding for his ugly snout. It was bumpy for a sec, but I hit him hard enough. He spun away. Didn’t look to see if he bit the dust or not. “HaH!” I laughed at myself again.
Next moment we got tag teamed, ramming into the back right. The door bent in a bit from one; the window cracked into a mosaic but held. Michael was the one caterwauling now. Lindy was out. Blood streaks on her side, her head lolled.
Nothing I could except ram my foot so hard on the gas pedal. The pistons had to keep up with me.
They weren’t chasing us. Not after the two head-butted the car. The radio still worked. I just needed time to stop hyperventilating. And calm the jackhammer ruling my heart. Finally did. Gave the short version just before I was purged of any ounce of adrenaline.
The AFP had the location. They called in the big yahoos to take care of the demon Dingos. Good luck to them. All I wanted was to drop the two in the back off, give a thorough but quick retelling, and beat a hasty retreat home. I could do the paperwork at home. My say so. Chief took it ok. She wanted to send me to the med, but I declined. Pretty firmly, too.
When I got home my wife took one look at me and came in for a hug before I closed the front door. She wouldn’t let me go. I didn’t want to be let go. My aroma broke the spell. She shooed me upstairs for a cleanup. Fresh clothing waited on our bed, everything warm from a pressing.
Feeling somewhat proper, I went down to kiss that woman with all I had. Two steps before the bottom, I felt something in my pants pocket. I patted the wad under the fabric and hit the floor landing for that kiss.
∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞ ∞
I organized a new Writers Group: DAYDREAMERS WRITE!: Prompts & Challenges.
- It runs every Saturday morning from 10:00 am to Noon, EST.
- No matter the level a writer you think you are, all are welcome.
The two hours are split:
10 to 11 is the first prompt.
At Eleven: Another prompt WITH a challenge. It changes every week.
Both Sessions: 25 mins to write; 30-35 mins for Sharing & feedback
Most likely this group will remain in the Virtual World Community.
Click on the above link if you would like to join in. Everyone is welcome.
The above story was from a prompt: The _____ ate my ______
I used an Animal Generator for the first blank; A different one that gave me Awe.
Fuck the city Overblown, hyperactive concrete and stone Greasy street food; greasier people Racing around, step on or over Searching for the bright lights Eclipsed by the shadows To hell with the city Nearly everyone’s oppressed In some misguided way Bend your neck, never knees, As the fight to make it Truth ends in buckets of the kill. Screw the city As it screws with you Power, status, held in slimy claws There’s heartache in the streets Trod upon with running shoes. You deserve what you get Obliterate the city Turn off the lights You can’t see the stars shine Blinded eyes obfuscate Nothing to see here; move along Dwindle yourself; something is wrong. Fuck the city Obsessiveness and greed Hatred and fear Isolated in ignorance Shriek your outrage Bellow your unscripted song.