Archive | Uncategorized RSS feed for this section

After The Rain

5 Sep


She used to love to write. Poetry and short stories were her outlet, but that was before the storm.

A private message; someones “friendly” criticism.  “Embarrassing drivel ” they said…

The floodgate of self – doubt washed away her confidence leaving a path of devastation. She folded in upon herself and waited to die.

But..unexpectedly .. the sun came out one day. A beautiful warming glow.

Dare she write again ? The hurt still so evident. It will never be like before; reconstruction is , after all, just masking the damage hidden below. Scars never heal but they remind us, not of the pain inflicted, but of the strength it took to heal after the rain.171-09-september-4th-2016


3 Nov

Admittedly this is not my favorite time of the year. As the frosty mornings make way for the impending snow, my heart and my mood plummet faster than the thermometer. I thought ( foolishly ) that if I just kept busy  this year that perhaps this would ease me through the transition. Alas this is not to be.

Daylight savings time is a bummer. The insomnia that had me up at four has now been displaced to three a.m. I suppose that on the plus side, a house entirely dusted. Vacuumed and washed floors, and two loads of laundry done by five a.m. before I leave for work at five forty-five can seem pretty impressive.

Then there is Angel. Always on my mind and in my heart. As the  third anniversary approaches I feel a tightness in my chest and the desire to cry about anything and everything. “Just get over it” is not an option. Although the pain of losing her has eased somewhat, the emptiness remains. Sweet baby Angel, Nana sends her love.

Bear with me while I climb this hill and then I will be back to enjoy the labors of my favorite bloggers..

The Tempest

9 Jul

Written for: Friday Fictioneers

11 July 2014

PHOTO PROMPT - Copyright - Kelly Sands

The Tempest

We knew instinctively that a storm was brewing when we heard father struggling to unlock the appartement door as he hurled obscenities at mother through the thin veneer. She signaled us to hide.

We cowered together in the back of the closet, eyes shut tightly barely daring to breathe,  as the war raged in the other room, a cacophony of voices and breaking furniture.

Suddenly there was silence, the thing I feared the most. My brother pulled me in tighter as footsteps drew near..


1 Jun

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: June 1st 2014

Someone told me that shoes over a wire like this, signifies drugs for sale nearby. That may or may not be true. But you could use it for anything.

As ballet class ended, my sister sprinted past me with her sneakers hung across her shoulder. “Last one home is a rotten egg” she called as he leapt on her bike and sped off. “You better stop and change your shoes before you get home or Mama is going to kill you” I yelled at her back as she turned the corner.

As twelve-year-old twins we had three loves. Ballet, our bicycles, and each other. Jillian and I often did not need words to communicate, we had a connection that was beyond explanation. I tucked my dance slippers into my backpack and pedaled off in the same direction that my sister had taken minutes earlier. Suddenly a sharp pain hit me square in my chest nearly knocking me to the ground. I knew in that instant that she had been hurt. Pedalling as fast as I could, I finally caught up to her a mere block from home.

My breath was sucked out of me as I tried to take it all in. The beautiful mauve bicycle with its wheels bent like a piece of modern art. Jill’s shoes that dangled high above on the power lines, then Jill herself lying motionless on a lawn just up ahead. Throwing down my bike I ran to her and dropping to the ground beside her I took her cold hand in mine. As the distant wailing of sirens became louder she slowly opened her eyes and whispered ” I need to change my shoes.”

Wooly Bully

15 May

Written for Friday Fictioneers

16 May 2014

This weeks photo prompt courtesy of Sandra Cook

Copyright-Sandra Crook

PHOTO PROMPT Copyright-Sandra Crook



Merino was a bully and I was often his object of attention. His daily routine of pushing me around did not go unnoticed by the other lambs. By the time we were fully grown he had claimed his place as head of the flock, followed mindlessly by everyone, more from fear of reprisal than his actual ability to lead. I did my best to blend into the background knowing one day it would bite them in the ass.
One summer morning Merino spotted a truck with its tailgate down. “Quick everyone, jump in. We’ll get a free ride!” he yelled. As always, the others obeyed, everyone that is but me.
“Guys” I warned “It’s a big mistake!” No one listened as the door closed behind them.

Road To Freedom

13 Apr

Written for:

Sunday Photo Fiction: April 13th 2014

55 04 April 13th 2014I heard Ma and Pa talkin about it again last night when they thought I was sleepin. They has promised me to Ralph Smithers down the road in exchange for a pig and two sheep. Better than my sister Sarah who got traded for a  jersey cow two years ago. I seen Ma watchin me like a hawk lately, just waitin for me to start my “monthlies” so’s they kin git me wed.

Well I ain’t marryin no creepy old geezer, I got other plans.

This mornin I snuck out early and headed down the highway. It is gittin light and soon I will have to leave the road and wade down the river. Can’t have Pa’s hounds sniffin me out and trackin me down. Iffin I git caught I’m gonna take a whoopin.

Aint gonna happen.. I start walkin faster.

Haibun Thinking

28 Feb

Haibun Thinking: Week 6 – February 25th 2014

Literature Prompt

Today you are you!
That is truer than true!
There is no one alive who is you-er than you!

~ Dr Seuss

So who am I ?

A couple of years ago I met a very wise woman. The first thing she asked me when we met was “Who are you?”

I told her my name but she shook her head no. “I did not ask your name, I asked who you are. You smile all the time but it does not reach your eyes. They are filled with hurt. Who are you behind that invisible wall?”

I was taken by surprise that she could read me so well…that she could see my wall of protection.

I spent my childhood seeking the affection of an abusive father whose only love came from a bottle. When I got older I would give 200% of myself to others with no expectation of anything in return believing that I did not deserve it. Unknowingly I had remained that little girl hiding under her bed..and it was time to come out.

leaving its cocoon

a hesitant butterfly

learns to spread its wings


 Today is your day! Your mountain is waiting…


The People’s Republic of Helena – A Kickstarter Manifesto

21 Feb

I wish Helena all the best with what will likely be a best-seller. Please check out the kickstarter as I sit back and shamelessly bask in her limelight.


dilettante factory

I met Jim Squires (real name: Jim Squires) a few years ago at a comic book store on Queen Street in Toronto. I was searching for one of the last issues I was missing from Warren Ellis’ Authority — I was going through my “Hey, let’s try bookbinding” phase, and I was trying to get the complete series. I caught Jim looking down my top and gave him a sly smile, which caused him to turn an adorable shade of cherry red. In his defence, I was wearing a shirt with the provocative caption THESE BOOBS ARE MADE FOR WATCHING printed on it (no, seriously — I had it custom made), so I didn’t hold it against him. He only wishes I had. This was back before Mrs. Jim was in the picture of course, and I swear, nothing happened between us (you really don’t want to get on Mrs…

View original post 785 more words

Chèvrefeuille’s eagle

24 Jan

Carpe Diem Tan Renga – Chèvrefeuille’s eagle

flight of the eagle
stepping into the world of dreams –
a silent cry (c) Chèvrefeuille

it takes me on a journey

where my heart is unburdened


Real Men Do Cry

15 Jan

Friday Fictioneers  17 January 2014

Many wonderful stories to choose from. Please check them out.

Copyright - Erin Leary

 Photo Copyright – Erin Leary

Real Men Do Cry

Francis sat on the fence in the rain, a place where his tears would not show.

He was stunned by the doctor’s words, taking them in like a sponge until he could absorb no more.

He needed time, but time was a luxury that he didn’t have.

Being a methodical man by nature, he had already begun to make a to-do list in his head. There were people who should be told. He would sell his beloved Harley to help pay off the medical expenses. Then there would be a small white coffin to buy..

Sobs racked his body as tears streamed down his cheeks once again