Posts tagged fear

Cocaine’s Daughter

October 24, 2015 · Filed under challenges, compassion, life · Tagged , , , , ,

DSCN0834

If she could go back down that road,

and take a turn-the other way-

And find a place, a gentle face-

that made her smile, and learn to pray..

…

One more day, might find a way….oh, oh, yeah, but then…

She dries her tears, holds back her fears,

and faces night in troubled waters-

She’s cocaine’s daughter.

…

To laugh and run in morning sun,

through magic fields of waving clover.

Not blinded by the clouded sky,

She’d take a breath and start all over.

…

One more night, she tries to fight..oh, oh, yeah, but then…

She dries her tears, holds back her fears,

and faces night in troubled waters-

She’s cocaine’s daughter.

…

I try to hide, I’ve learned to lie,

though my soul is dead inside me.

I’ve tried to run, but cannot beat,

The hurt and pain that seem to guide me.

…

So, one more dawn, I sits alone, oh, oh, yeah, but then…

I dry my tears, hold back my fears,

Treading in those troubled waters,

and fight cocaine’s daughter.

…

Face your self and brace yourself,

admit that cold and snow surrounds you.

It’s I, not she, not “us” but “me”.

Speak the truth, be strong and true.

…

It’s the only way, to learn to pray, oh, oh, yeah, but then…

I stand strong, I’m not alone,

I take a breath, God does the rest,

No longer trapped as cocaine’s daughter.

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CSI Lesson-Clean Your Shoes

May 11, 2014 · Filed under Uncategorized · Tagged , , , , , , , , , , ,

CSI Lesson- Clean Your Shoes

 

 

 

 

It was a beautiful cabin. Carrie had dreamed of owning a cabin like this one in the Ozarks since she was a child. Nearby, a stream danced along among trees laced in Autumn’s finest colors, aster swayed in the breeze

 

She had seen the business card of a moving company pinned to the bulletin board inside a Quick Shop, and asked the store owner if he knew anything about the company. “ Yep, said the owner, know them well. They are good guys, so far as I know.”

 

The phone was answered by a man named Jeff Morris, He told Carrie that he and his brother, Marcus had a small moving van and could do the job for her in two days. Their price seemed reasonable, and though she was disappointed to have to wait two days for the move, it wasn’t unexpected.

 

Carrie walked up to the cabin, unlocked the door and inhaled the fragrant scent of new pine. She sat rocker and watched the trees dance outside the window. Sipping a glass of tea, her cat, Freckles jumped in her lap.

 

She had brought a few things with her while the house was being working on and decided to spend the night at the cabin with Freckles curled up beside her, cuddled on the blow-up mattress and navy blue sleeping bag.

……………………………………..

When Carrie didn’t answer her cell phone the next day, Jeff and Marcus decided to stop by and be sure Carrie still wanted the furniture moved the next day. Carries car was there, but the door locked was when they arrived. They could hear Freckles meowing pitifully. The brothers walked down to the creek, thinking she may be nearby.

 

Carrie!” Marcus called, waited and called again. No answer.

 

“Marcus, come here!” Jeff cried out suddenly. His brother found him standing over Carries silent body It looked as though she had been struck from behind. Shaking, Marcus called 911 to report what they had found.

 

The brothers were immediately considered suspects. Terrified, they swore their innocence.

 

One of the detectives who had investigated the cabin ran down to where Marcus and Jeff were being interrogated. “Take of your shoes.” he demanded of the brothers.

 

Confused, they took off their shoes and handed the to the detective. He turned them over and looked at the treads, flashed on the picture app of his cell phone, and after looking at a photo, sighed and said. Take their phone number and let them go.”

 

“What?” said one of the other officers.

 

“Saw it on CSI last week,” the detective smiled. “The murdered left his shoe prints on the newly finished floor and they didn’t match those of the suspects apprehended at the scene.”

 

Marcus and Jeff took a sad look at Carrie’s beautiful, still body and breathed a sigh of relief. Hopefully the shoe prints would lead them to her killer.

 

“Maybe we should watch more TV,” Jeff smiled. “We might actually learn something!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Sleepless Night

April 28, 2014 · Filed under fiction, fiction/poetry, gardening, hope, integrity, memories, nostalgia, paranormal, postaday, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized, wordpress, writing, youth · Tagged , , , ,

Its 2a.m. darkness and
Cobwebs fill my head.
What am i going to do?
I have nothing left here,
No hope, no dreams to hold,
Only pain and fear-like vampires
They feed and leave me empty.

Where did i go wrong?
Did i love too much-
Care too much?
Did i put to much
Of my damaged soul
Out there to be shattered?

All the things i used to
Cling to, have been taken.
What matters to me so much
Is a joke now to others.

Why am i here? Darkness,silence
Why don’t the ones
Who cause the pain hurt like i do?
I needed that sleep-
The alarm doesn’t care.

Another day in hell-black candles
Flickering, yet,Lost,waiting for the
Love i gave my life for over and over.
Just let me go,blow the candle out
Or make them feel the pain like i do.

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Winter’s Fate

March 18, 2014 · Filed under children, fiction, fiction/poetry, home and homemaking, memories, poetry and quotes, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized, weaponry, wordpress, writing · Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

She wiped the tears upon her dress.

“I’ll take no more.” She did confess.

As he stood staring at the sky. He whispered to her, “Darling, why?”

“You leave when autumn’s just begun with furs, and grains and many guns. You stay until the melting snow drives you back home, more crops to grow.”

“I must.” he told her, gun in hand. “to sell our furs and crops again.”

“It does not take four months of cold to travel there and back, I’m told.”She glared at him with angry eyes as clouds approached in autumn’s skies.

“But weather makes the trip back home to dangerous to make alone.” She listened not to his protest, and brushed the dust from her worn dress.

“The children need you, so do I.  I cannot bear to watch one die, the way I did this season past, with no one here to help the rest.”

“I know.” He bowed his ruddy head. “I’ll find some other way instead.”

“John Griffith takes the trail nearby.” She told him through her misty eyes.

“Then I will ask if he will go, with me, through ice and cold and snow.” He walked to her, the children came. They gathered there, out of the rain.

“Tomorrow, I will go to town and look until I hunt him down.” He smiled and drew her near his chest.

She felt the heat of his warm breath, and knew this winter, they would stay, but not alone, sick and afraid.

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Mission Acomplished!

March 8, 2014 · Filed under fiction, hope, mystery, postaday, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized, war, weaponry, wordpress, writing, youth · Tagged , , , , , , ,

He woke up with a startled jerk. “Where the hell am I?” he thought.

 Realizing that he knew noting of his situation, he closed his eyes to a squint and played dead or at least asleep. Around him, he saw white sandstone walls, it reminded him of photos of terrorists camps hat he had seen on TV.

 He heard voices-foreign voices coming from the other side of he walls. Through a partially opened gate, he saw a group of men, dress in similar outfits, again, similar to those he had seen on news reports from new reports.

 He tried to listen for any word he might understand, any clue to where he might be, or why. He could hear the foreign voices, shouting, perhaps arguing, then, suddenly, one group disappeared around a corner out of his range of sight or hearing.

 Slowly, he rolled slightly to the left and observed a grove of trees surrounding the walls. He didn’t recognize the kind of tree, but the sky was soft blue, dimmed by a layer of thin clouds. No rain in sight, it seemed.

 He heard the sound of footsteps approaching and assumed his position of unconsciousness as they drew nearer.

 “I think we got ’em” whispered a voice in English. Not American-type English, but European or Australian, he didn’t know which.

 His heart was beating out of his chest, yet he forced himself to breathe slowly and remain still.

 Out of the corner of his eye, he saw that one of he men had rounded he crumbling corner of the sandstone wall and spotted him. What should he do? His had could just reach his ankle, and he felt for the knife he always carried strapped to his leg. Good, it was there.

 “Good Lord!” said one of the voices as it gave him a gentle kick on the back. “I think its him!”

“Hey, Marcus, is that you?” The voice said. Marcus squinted and looked at the face hovering over him.

 Marcus nodded slowly, uncertainly.

“Well, I’ll be damned!” he laughed, “We did it.” We found the crazy bastard!”

 Just then, a loud explosion went off a few hundred yards from the walls. Marcus heard the sound of a helicopter landing on the other side of the grove of trees. A shout of joy went up among the men,as they lead Marcus to the helicopter and pushed him aboard.

 “Have you got it?” asked the taller of the men. Marcus felt a heaviness in his pocket and nodded, handing in to the man, with a smile. Suddenly, he remembered his mission, his last thought, and sighed with both relief and pride. He never said a word as they patted him on the back and welcomed him “home.”

 All he could think about was Wisconsin, his wife and young boy, and how nice that job at the training school sounded.

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Stranger in the Night

February 4, 2014 · Filed under fiction/poetry, integrity, mystery, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized, wordpress, writing · Tagged , , , , , , , ,

DSCN2196She sat shivering under the thin cape beneath the glow of the gas light, tears trailing down her cheeks. She felt no one cared whether she lived or died, or for that matter, even existed. As she looked around the corner, she saw a well dressed man approaching her. A chill of fear went through her as he approached. He reached down and placed a handful of currency in her tattered glove. “The bells of St. Brigit’s are calling tonight.” he quietly spoke. “What does that mean?” she spoke to herself. She stood up, wiped her tears and realized someone did care. She just wondered who it was.

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Shipwrecked

November 23, 2013 · Filed under fiction, memories, nostalgia, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized · Tagged , , , , , , , , ,

I felt chapped and burned all over, though the clouds were dark and threatening that cold winter day.

He ran down from the stunted trees, to the dock, where I waited in the boat as it rocked in the shallows of the sound. There on the the boat, he kissed my cheek. “You’re alive!” he cried out. As the schooner slipped below the waves, I grasped his hand and cried. I remember the horror of that day, not because of the warmth of the land, or the lovely clusters of palms, but because of the fierceness of the burning sands.

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Storm of the Century

November 20, 2013 · Filed under children, fiction, history, integrity, memories, prompts, seasons, struggles, Uncategorized, wordpress, writing, youth · Tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , ,

We had watched the weather channel for days, awaiting the storm that was predicted to hit on New Years Eve. I started home from the store, with the wind picking up. I knew the storm was on the way. I hurried up the steep mountain road, hoping to beat the beginning of the snow. The kids were both home, I felt tears on my cheek.

The television was still on the Weather Channel, predicting “The Storm of the Century.” The kids, 14, and 17, were excited, as they looked out side. I was not so exuberant. We we were alone and I didn’t have a four-wheel drive. I would be stuck up here for days. I knew the electricity would likely go out and we had only a fireplace and a portable radio for comfort.

 I went down into the basement to get some wood to start a fire. Gathering the wood, I raced back up thee stairs, wanting to get the fire started before the winds got too fierce and we lost power.

 “Mom,” My daughter yelled, it’s snowing like crazy!” The excitement in her voice echoed down the hall.

 Sure enough, the air as filled with huge flakes of snow, already sticking to the ground. I rushed to get newspapers for kindling, and ran to the kitchen for matches. My son lit a candle in each of the main rooms, so that we would not be left in darkness. I was proud of how prepared we were.

 Suddenly, I thought of our elderly neighbor, Mr. Carter, who lived down the hill around a steep curve. He didn’t have a generator and was not able to contend with making a fire or cooking. We had to go get him!

 I yelled at the kids that we had to go find Mr. Carter. It was already dark outside by the time we got ready to go. We loaded up a wagon, in case he couldn’t walk up the hill and started down the road, streetlights still glowing in the snow and stiff wind.

 The wind took on a loud roar as we shivered in the blowing snow. I thought I heard a faint voice in the wind. “Oh, no!” I thought. “Mr. Carter had started up to our house own his own.’

 “Mr. Carter!” I called back. “Don’t go anywhere, we are on our way!”

 I heard a weak voice near where his long driveway started. “I’ve fallen.” he cried out. I think I hurt my leg!”

 Suddenly, the lights went out. We could see nothing in the swirling snow. I shouted out, hoping to hear his voice against the power of the wind. “Mr. Carter!” I cried out. “Can you hear me?”

 Nothing. The forest was silent between whirls of snow and crackling limbs. “Mr. Cater, can you hear me?” I shouted again. The snow fell on as we wandered in the dark, now on a desperate search.

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De Ja Voux?

November 16, 2013 · Filed under fiction, mystery, paranormal, prompts, struggles, Uncategorized, wordpress, writing · Tagged , , , , , , , ,

 She felt herself running, tripping down this odd stair case, the echo of someone following her, close behind. It was rather dark, in this place she’d never been-Italy, maybe, Old Europe?

 

It seemed the stairs went on and on, chunks of granite worn down by time-some sort of alley way. There were no cares and no doors that led anywhere.

 

 

 

Where was she, who was chasing her? Why was she here? A cold breeze whipped by her, she jumped up. Her heart pounding. “A dream,” she sighed, “only a dream.”

“Where had she seen those steps?” she thought, now awake.

 

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A Quiet Place

November 13, 2013 · Filed under fiction, mystery, nature studies, paranormal, prompts, Uncategorized, writing, youth · Tagged , , , , , , , , , ,

The river was out of its banks again. Muddy torrents rushed around the bend as they headed for the dam at the old water plant. Trees swayed at the edge of the water, looking as if they would topple in at any moment. She had walked down this trail so many times, it had been her “quiet place” as a teen. But not today, it held the roar of a restless spirit. She saw the old mill stone laying near the path. Beside it, something caught her eyes. A human skull, she thought, sucking in her breath. No! Not again!

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