Running Through the Days

            Work in the morning on Monday and finish up last week’s that evening; work all day on Tuesday and cram in some late that night; don’t work on the weekends during times of chores; clean the house until it shines; stop what you’re doing to avoid trouble; when cleaning the dogs be sure your rag doesn’t have mud on it, or else they’ll never get clean; stick the frozen dinner in the freezer, let it sit for tomorrow night; no one’s home then so relax and work; eat it to your delight, no one is watching you scarf it down; on Sundays open up and see a movie, enjoy the friendship found at church; finish your work, it’s due in two days; work with the horses, harness them right, set them free in the arena since the barn still ain’t up; return home time for a night walk; bring the knife just in case; relax, enjoy the stars, watch as the dogs pitter out; don’t forget that work that’s due. Early in the morning, late to rise; no time for a shower now; get fixed up, eat, and remember that work that’s due? Scramble through morning work, finishing tomorrow’s; time back home do this, do that, clean this, cook that; computer’s open finish some work; back to free writing; can’t sit at that desk long enough for a sentence to be done; I think I’ve paused this song three times in one verse; finish the story plot a new one; time for dinner, say grace, dig in, guess who’s cleaning up? Back at the desk the mind bursts with creativity; draw this, write that, his name, her name, what about the main character? He’s a lizard, him an orge-thing, that geek looks cute as a cat; the Blue Knight? To easy? What’s this station look like; draw the picture; define the title, make it right; he can be yellow, no make him green; woah! Look at the time, time for bed; but what’s her name? Into pajamas; under the covers; but the mind can’t shut down; this is his name and that is his name; the Earth perfect! I need a translation; time for bed, go to sleep; but she still needs a name! Oh snap! There’s more work to be done for tomorrow; wake up for a shower; eat; pack a lunch; check that work; three assignments?! There’ll be time between classes; gotta skip lunch; time to go; make the day; shoot until you’re fingers are sore; work on that work; see what else the days lay ahead.

Creative Writing Project written October 1st, 2013

Puppy at the Ropes Blog Post.

Over the past week, I’ve started a new job at an animal shelter and I really like it. However, like all jobs, you have to go through a training period and I hate training periods. I wish I could just skip it and get to the part where I actually know what I’m doing and not wandering behind my coworkers like a lost puppy. I try to jump in and help where I can–I mean, I’ll even go scoop poop just to have something that I can do–but there are a lot of ropes to learn at an animal shelter and it doesn’t help when the animals are constantly coming and going. I’ll finally learn who a dog is and suddenly that dog is adopted–which is great! We want our puppies adopted, but I finally had that one in my memory banks and now I gotta clear it out to make room for the other pups we get in.

Its definitely the first day that’s the hardest for me. I go in and stand around, titling my thumbs, and not knowing where the shift starts, Then, a coworker snags me as their shadow and I follow them around, watching how things are done around the shelter. Just watching…standing there and watching…
I hate watching! I want to help! I want to get my hands in there and do my part, but when you don’t know the routine, you can just stand there and watch until you’re told what do to. “Go get this.” “Grab that.” “We’re going to go do this now,” and I’m tagging along like a pup biting at the leash. Then, there’s all the little things people think of when they’re explaining stuff to you. The typical: “Oh, by the way…” that may have nothing to do with the task at hand, but is important for something else later on, and you gotta remember it.

Thankfully, my new coworkers are awesome and they understand that things can get a little overwhelming–especially with covid going on. I’m doing my best to remember things and build the muscle memory of certain tasks and I’m sure some of my coworkers might be getting frustrated with my questions (I’m really bad at names, so I’m constantly asking: “Ok, who was that?”). I’m grateful for this opportunity and I’m hopeful that I won’t let my coworkers or the animals down. I just hope I can get past the part of being a puppy at the ropes soon, but we all gotta go through it.

Metronome of Memories.

Walking through campus and what do I hear?
But a metronome screaming in somebody’s ear.
The closer I get the ground starts to quake.
At the powerful rhythm many drummers did make.
At their sight, I can only smile.
They brought up some memories that’d been lost for a while.
Of a cool, stormy night under a harvest moon.
Where those in the bleachers swayed and swooned.
Young eagles stood tall and marched on a field.
Even in rain, they refused to yield.
Their show began quiet, a nice eerie low.
Then a four-count wheel and they finally did blow.
Their song sent the audience in a cheering craze.
For these screaming eagles who knew how to play.
The horns boasted notes that gave you the chills.
While the drums were strengthened by sure wills.
Even the flutes, though soft, could be heard.
Their arms actually straight, no trace of a curve.
To no surprise, those eagles claimed gold.
Even though they were quite shivering and cold.
A year of pride and great celebration.
They took the gold at every occasion.
Through their days they practiced in heat.
Keeping in rhythm to a pounding beat.
Just like these drummers, swinging their sticks.
Staying in time, tick after tick.
So now, I’ll pause and give thanks right here.
For the metronome screaming in somebody’s ear.

Written in June, 2018. Feature photo taken on my high school band trip.

Writing prompt: Chasing the Enemy

I received a book of writing prompts a couple years ago where you have to use certain words in your writing. I wrote this prompt back in 2018, I hope you enjoy.

Use the following words: Demon, bystander, escaped, parakeet, destiny, hammer, singing, ash, cathedral, heels.

               Ash covered the ruins like a thick, suffocating blanket. Dark clouds covered the sky, blocking out the light of the sun so the land laid in a red, musky haze. Soot drifted in the air like falling snow. A stirring wind brought chills to my bones. I walked up the the steps of the cathedral, my heels dipped with the blood of the ruins. Monsters had raged through this once proud city and I had been a worthless bystander, watching from the cliffside. I arrived too late to save my hometown. Not a soul escaped the monsters’ wrath.
               The light breeze tickled the holes of the cathedral ruins, singing in low mourning for the destruction of the innocent. I stopped right before the cathedral doors. Sweet memories of my childhood playing in my head like an old jukebox. I attended Church every Sunday before the monsters’ invasion. My sister had been a part of the choir and it was here that we nursed that blue parakeet back to health. Yet, my childhood was now over. Those sweet memories would never return.
               I shouldered my hammer, a big clunky thing that was stained by the smashed skulls of monsters. The King of the Monsters would be inside this cathedral. A monstrous demon of wrath and destruction, defiling the House of God with its presence. I may have walked my own path for many years, but Lord willing, this demon will meet its fate at the end of my hammer. I reached for the doors and took a deep breath to fan the flames of my anger. Mother Mary, let this be my destiny.

Loved

Midnight, the air is tinged with the scent of death.
Living coward in fear as blood washes the streets turning everything red.
Kindling a wildfire to rampage the streets, a man destroys all that is loved.
Justice to be done in the heat of the night,
Ignorance or refusal drops a man six feet into the grave,
Heavy sins pushing you further, but who be the man that put you there? You or the killer?

Granted, the wildfire cursed many to the dark depths, and was sparked by the killer.
Flee? Many tried, but who can escape the flames when snatched by the fingers of death?
Everyone, sooner or later, rides the sorrowful hearse to the grave.
Do you deserve the winged flight up? Or the pushing fall to the fiery sea of red?
Count yourself lucky to be here another night,
Because you shouldn’t go on believing the lie that you aren’t loved.

After death stand the scale, either route you are loved.
Zanies cheat, avoiding with trickery, but nothing stops the killer.
Yellow light calls those who love and pulls them from the depths of night.
Xyris dressed beautifully and cared for, last not long, till the sting of death.
Wouldn’t you who are created alike, be loved longer than the roses of red?
Victory belongs to the holder of the Spirit; conqueror of the grave.

Under love, the sting has been lost, no power to the grave.
Turn up to the light, see it shining bright, and know that you are loved.
Stand now, in the wildfire, be untouched as it turns all red.
Run strong, run hard. In combat, destroy the works of the killer.
Quietly he falls, take heart and move on. Life has avoided sweet death.
Peace to you in this moment, but after day comes another night.

Oppression ambushes leaving running red blood after the piercing bite of death
Never are those the Spirit calls loved are seized by the darkness of night.
Midnight, the grave is fed by the bloodthirsty killer.

I wrote this poem in 2013 for my creative writing class. It was selected to be published in my school’s Creative Writing Magazine. It’s been sitting in my files with dust on it for a while. I’m glad to be able to clean it off and share it. To this day, I’m still proud of it.

Memoir Writing Prompt: Childhood Illness or Injury

               I never really had a major injury or illness throughout my childhood. I was always the kid that never broke a bone, never sprained an ankle, or never got that dire disease that was floating around (like today’s corona virus). I remember, when I was young, always seeing my friends or fellow classmates limp around on crutches from a broken leg, or only able to use one arm because they broke a collarbone or wrist, and everyone wanted to sign their casts (it must make you feel pretty special to know everyone wants to sign your cast). I still don’t know what it was like to break a bone and I’m honestly curious about how much pain it causes. Yet, as curious as I am, I certainly hope I never have to experience breaking any of my bones.  
               My most notable illness was probably my yearly strep throat. I got sick every year with strep—usually in the late fall. We’d go to the doctor and they’d shove a q-tip in the back of my throat as a swab to test me, and I would gag and cough and, I swear, that stupid swab was the worst part of getting strep (having the illness wasn’t even that bad). At times, I didn’t even know why we went to the doctor. I knew I had strep the moment I told my parents I wasn’t feeling well. However, my parents wanted to get the prescription and I would have to take it and it tasted awful. Then, I would be out of school for a couple of days. Staying home from school was my favorite part. I’d lay on the couch all day and watch my favorite cartoons or even play my brother’s video games when I was the only one in the house. It was great!
               Eventually, I did grow out of it. During high school, I realized that strep didn’t make me stay home the first year and I was hopeful that I would never have strep again. However, it was a heavy disappointment when I realized that strep wouldn’t be making me stay home from school anymore (I guess I could’ve tried to get the flu so I could stay home). I was starting a lot of new hobbies in High School—writing being the major one—that I wanted to work on and those days home with strep could help purse that more. Yet, I have not gotten strep since, but I still found time to greatly improve my writing skills.
               So, I’m still the girl who’s never broken a bone and never had a major illness. Hopefully, my luck holds out, but if it doesn’t, then I’ll just have a new experience to write about.

The Birth of a Site Blog Post

Wow! Designing and completing this site was quite the venture for me! Like most people, I didn’t actually watch the WordPress tutorials for crafting a website. I figured: “how hard could it be?” Well, for my lacking computer skills, it was harder than I thought. WordPress advertises that you can get a website going in just 30 mins! That’s awesome if you’re not a perfectionist like me who has a lot they want to add to a site (I’ve been working on this thing for a couple days now). I guess it all comes down to a mindset of you gotta edit while you go. I don’t have the pictures that I want on here yet (I don’t even have a good enough picture of myself to share, but I’m slowly figuring it out and I’m pretty excited for what this site can become. The goal of this site is to build by author platform. I want to be a published author and write a plethora of novels for people to enjoy, so I need something to catch the eye of those awesome agents out there. Hopefully, this site will grow into a collection of my different works. Please, be patient while I work out the kinks, and hey, if you stick around long enough you might be able to say you were an original follower of this sight should it become successful.