Moxie Monday: Win
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday:[A Beacon in the Snow]
Lila’s knees hit her chest with every step, yet she insisted on walking. Her mittened hand clung tightly to my own as she trudged her way through. Each firmly planted foot earned her a satisfying crunch and the smile that spread across her ruddy face was all I needed to know that to her, the effort was worth it.
A gaggle of squeals and giggles drifted toward us and I could feel the excited anticipation vibrating from Lila’s body the closer we got. When she caught shocks of primary colors flashing between tree trunks, she let go of my hand, and with the intention of running, she fell face first. For a moment she just lay there, unmoving. I grabbed her shoulders and pulled her up, saddened at the thought of her initial excitement dwindling away.
Lila’s face was covered in freshly fallen snow and as I wiped it away, her eyes popped open. A squeal escaped through her smile that rivaled those we had been heading toward. She clapped her hands and the snow dislodged and rained down toward the ground.
Frosty and numb, my cheeks rose as her joy bolstered my own smile. By the time we had reached the other children, they had tamped the snow down enough to give Lila the freedom she had desired. She pulled free from my hand and ran into the fray. One of dozens of kids, Lila’s laughter served as a beacon.
I thought about how I’d cursed the snow as I looked out the window this morning. How I had resented it for ruining my day before it had even begun. But now I couldn’t imagine ever looking out to discover it had snowed and not being reminded of the sweetest sound I had ever heard.
Moxie Monday: Let's Go!
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [Coffee & Consequences]
My mind spun and I tried to grasp at any thought, any memory to give me the sense of feeling grounded. Feeling solid. Instead, years of worry and pain bore down on my chest, smothering my urge to scream. My urge to flee. The stranger’s eyes were unyielding as they locked onto my own. His words continued to bounce around my confused mind.
I had noticed him earlier, watching me. My morning paper and the rich, smooth aroma of roasting coffee beans were all that separated the space between us. I took comfort in the tip tapping of fingers on laptop keys as fellow coffee shop patrons worked on future bestsellers or, more likely, checked the latest tweets. Potential witnesses if this man proved to be crazy.
The jingly notes of the Christmas music faded under the crashing waves pulsing in my ears. Blood surged at the insistence of my pounding heart as he walked toward me. By the time he reached my table, the low murmur of coffee shop chatter drowned under the sound of my own heartbeat.
“I’m sorry to bother you,” he had said. “But I have a message. She’s…she’s quite, um, insistent.”
I felt a pinch between my brows as I opened my mouth to speak. After a moment he must have realized that nothing was going to come from my parted lips and he continued.
“Anya wants me to tell you that she hopes you and Darren are happy.”
His eyes swam with kindness and a hint of pride. My mouth eased open further as if to catch the tears swelling too quickly to the surface. A smile spread across his face and I realized he believed he had delivered comforting news from beyond.
Pressing my lips together, I swallow down the bark of fear throbbing in my throat. With great effort, I was only able to curl up the right side of my mouth, but the lie of it was too much and it fell back into a grim, straight line.
“Thank you,” I finally managed to say and he walked away.
His steps were light. Those of a man who had done some good. I knew my steps would never be that free again as the weight of fear now pumped through my veins like concrete.
…she hopes you and Darren are happy.
Heat prickled my skin, but I shivered as I recalled the stranger’s words. Words meant to ease the suffering of loss, but I knew all too well Anya’s true intention. What she had implied.
If she knew that I was now involved with her husband—her widow—then she surely knew that I was the one who killed her, too.
Moxie Monday: Try Something
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [Thank You]
This Thanksgiving I have so much to be thankful for: an incredible network of supportive family and friends, a roof over my head, Talenti Gelato Sea Salt Caramel in the freezer. But, I wanted to take a moment to express my gratitude to those of you reading this right now. Whether you subscribe to the blog and read every post or whether this is your first time here...I want to thank you for checking out my tiny, tiny corner of the world.
And, since today is actually Fiction Friday, I am going to encourage you to find your own story by providing you with a little photo prompt. Please do what you will with the following picture of how we capped off the Thanksgiving meal in our household:
Nothing says Thanksgiving like a punching ninja surrounded by hearts on top of a blueberry peach pie, right? Feel free to share what you're thankful for in the comments below.
Today and everyday...thank you. Happy creating!
Moxie Monday: To the Other Side
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [Frustrated Sympathy]
I found him in the shower.
His sobs mingled with the spray beating down on him
and escaped from between his knees
where his head was tucked.
He didn’t move when I turned the faucet off,
Didn’t flinch when I wrapped the towel around him.
I sat on the edge of the tub.
Not saying a word.
Not because I didn’t know what to say,
but because I knew he wouldn’t want me to.
In an hour he’ll act like this never happened.
And I’ll play along as not to add to his embarrassment.
It was a tiring game.
A lesson yet to be learned.
That words were more freeing than tears.
But pride kept him tethered.
Pride, and believing the pain circled down the drain with his tears,
Erasing the memory of the time before.
And the time before.
