Posted in Challenges, Uncategorized

New Zealand and the Clown

IMG_0629

Casey was finally able to visit New Zealand when she graduated from college. Her mother was a native New Zealander, but she died when Casey was only seven years old.

There was a tour she wanted to take in Christchurch. The sights she would see were the result of the earthquakes Christchurch had experienced. It was called the graffiti tour.  Christchurch graffiti was special. It was beautiful paintings, painted on the backs of buildings, that were the way Christchurch residents dealt with the pain and devastation of the recent earthquakes.

The tour was fascinating. The graffiti artists had poured all the city’s pain into their work. They rounded the corner of the last building on the tour and Casey turned toward it and screamed. It was a painting of a clown. She had been holding her toy clown when she found out her mother had died.

 

Posted in Challenges, Uncategorized

Burned

IMG_0628

Russ and Mary stood looking at the smoldering ruin of their home. The fire had started last night in the chimney. There wasn’t much left. It had just been a small frame house. They were in shock and didn’t quite know what to do.

They heard a vehicle on the road and turned around. It was the wood man pulling a cart full of wood. He stopped in front of the burned house and walked up to them.

Russ asked him where he got his wood and he told him. He asked him if he could get better wood to help him rebuild his house. The wood man said that he could.

The wood man asked, “Do you need help rebuilding?” The man whose house burned answered that he did.

The wood man haltingly said that he used to be in construction but there had been no jobs recently and he would be glad to help.

Russ and Mary looked at him and each other. Everything would be fine.

 

Posted in Fiction

Poverty or Plenty

IMG_0609

It was important to Rita that she have a career. More important than anything. She married, but neither she nor her husband wanted children. She wanted her offspring to be the lives she touched as a professional woman. It was the late 1970s.

Rita decided on a career path. One that was going to be difficult because it was typically a man’s world. She didn’t buy that. If she studied hard, worked harder, she knew that she could do it. She could compete with men. She could certainly work with men. She was up for that challenge. Not only would this career path be fulfilling for her as a professional, but it would provide her with financial security. Financial security was important to Rita. She had never had much of that growing up.

Rita went to college, then to graduate school. She succeeded in obtaining the credentials she needed to pursue her desired career. She went after a job. She was highly sought after because she was a woman. It was now the early 1980s and companies were seeking diversity in their workforce.

Rita worked very hard, accomplishing as much as two men. Companies still discriminated back then. She was never paid as much as men doing comparable jobs. She stil worked hard. She was able to have a home, cars, clothes, travel, and all the things she thought she wanted. Best of all, she was able to buy them with money she had earned. She didn’t have to depend on any one else.

She didn’t regret her decision regarding not having children. She’d never been taught domestic skills growing up. Never been encouraged to be a mother. She wouldn’t have known how. Outside of her work, she developed many other interests and a plethora of friends. She had a lot of skills, both in her vocation and as avocations.

As Rita got older and started thinking about retirement, she realized that she didn’t really want to retire. After all, what would she do with no family? She had already traveled around a big part of the world, at least the part she wanted to see. She had known for some time that her home didn’t really give her pleasure. Rita had been taught to take pleasure in “things.” Beautiful, expensive things, but they were still just things. She had a house full of these beautiful and expensive things that meant nothing to her. They carried sad memories. Memories of loved ones who were long gone. She hated looking at these things. They simply signified the loss of the family she had loved.

Rita had “plenty.” But, plenty of what? Material things? Sadness?

Then Rita experienced a crisis in her life. A traumatic experience that made her question everything about her life. Her home reminded her of that crisis. She felt that she needed time away from it. She decided to take another trip, this time to a place she had always loved but where she had not visited in some time. A very different place from her home. Somewhere she felt she could recover from the traumatic event that had occurred in her life.

Something happened while Rita was on her trip to the place where she felt she could recover from her tragedy. Rita realized what she needed in her life and it was not the “plenty” she had at her home. It wasn’t the big house, the nice cars, the beautiful clothes, and all the largesse that goes with it. She realized those things were causing a poverty of her spirit. Putting her energy into taking care of such things was the wrong thing for Rita to do. Instead, she needed time to live simply, in a simple place, with like-minded people. After that revelation came to her, she didn’t care about her home again.

Rita realized she couldn’t live any longer with the poverty her spirit felt. She had to leave the people and places that made her feel inadequate and stressed. She had to leave the house where she had plenty, but where she really lived in poverty, and the house that stole her time. She had to run, as fast and hard as she could, toward the place and the people who made her feel young again, strong again, smart again. She had to do it quickly because she was in the last quarter, the last quarter of her life.

She would take with her the people from the “before” life who she loved and who loved her and who made her feel strong. She would leave all the others behind. She would embrace the new place, the magical place. She would make this last quarter of  her life the quarter of “plenty,” not poverty of spirit, and finally be happy.

Posted in Fiction

I Can See for Miles…..Farther!

IMG_0581

My name is Liz and I told my story here last fall in a story called I Can See for Miles. I didn’t use my name then because I was so humiliated and embarrassed. I can use my name now. Yes, I let someone humiliate me. Hurt me terribly. Embarrass me. Shatter my heart. It’s six months later now and I can tell a little more of my story. Some of it is so personal I can’t tell it all, but I can talk more about what happened to me. Maybe it will help someone else.

To put it simply, I got involved in a relationship with the wrong man. I didn’t know he was the wrong man. I had known him for more years than I want to think about and we had been involved on some level a number of times before last fall. It wasn’t a traditional relationship. Quite the opposite. But, it was a relationship that was important to me and I had every reason to think it was also important to him, including both his words and his actions. He was the love of my life……..I thought.

The truth of the matter is that I made a terrible mistake and a terrifically bad decision to get involved with this man – ever. From the first time many years ago. Why? Because he is a sociopath. Sociopaths are dangerous people and I found that out – in spades. He has some other issues besides the fact that he is a sociopath, but that is the issue most relevant to what happened to me with him. Normal people don’t do what he did. Not only men can be sociopaths. Women can be too. In my case, it was a man. Let me tell you what makes a sociopath who he is and why he is dangerous.

1. Sociopaths are charming and smooth. Dating a sociopath can be wonderful. They sweep you off your feet. Believe me, I was swept totally off my feet.

2. They have no regard for societal rules or norms. But, they are good at faking it. They are big time risk-takers.

3. They are also good at faking relationships. In fact, I did not ever, over many years, have an actual relationship with this man. It was fake. It was all fake. Sociopaths cannot have real relationships because they have no empathy. Perhaps that’s the reason this man had been married more than five times. The relationship was real to me because he was able to make it feel real to me, but it was never real. There was something about our relationship that he needed, that he gained.

4. Sociopaths are control freaks but you often don’t realize it because they are so good at it. I certainly didn’t realize it. He chooses to date or marry you because you meet a need, not because he loves you or even likes you.

5.  Sociopaths will treat you like a queen, until they are finished with you. You may have a thousand wonderful times with a sociopath. I certainly did. But, they will eventually throw you away like yesterday’s garbage. You will feel like yesterday’s garbage. 

6. In relationships, sociopaths are self-serving. A relationship to them is a means to an end. They want something – money, power, sex, amusement, something you can give them. When you quit being able to give it to them, they are gone.

7. A sociopath has three phases to his relationship. First is the assessment of the victim. Will she meet his needs. Second is when he is in the relationship and getting what he needs. He will fake love and romance but he feels nothing. Third is the abandonment stage. He leaves the other person when he has gotten what he wants. He has a desire to hurt that person and goes about the business of doing that.

8. A sociopath is very good at determining his partner’s weaknesses and using them against her.

9. Can a sociopath love? In a word, no. They love themselves, power, and manipulation. They love in an unemotional, uncaring manner, but the partner does not know it. But, the true, complex emotion of love. Absolutely not.

10. Can you love a sociopath? On that, I am an expert and the answer is yes, absolutely. That’s because you aren’t loving the real person, but a persona. You are treated so well and so intensely, that you can love a sociopath very intensely.

I think what is so important to me about these ten points about sociopaths is that I did love this man who was a sociopath and wasted many, many years of my life loving him. The second thing is that I was hurt deeply when the relationship ended, before I figured out that I had been involved with a man who was a sociopath. Third and most important is that sociopaths have a desire to hurt their former partner and they very methodically go about doing it. That is what makes a sociopath dangerous.

So why is this post entitled, “I Can See for Miles….Farther?” I will never totally recover from the hurt from this relationship, but I have discovered a new relationship!  I have met a wonderful man who is good to me. I’m a different, eccentric kind of girl and our relationship isn’t traditional either, but it is good. In fact, it is very very good. I’m happy and fulfilled in this relationship. I never thought that would happen for me again.

 

 

 

Posted in Fiction

Rebecca’s Tragedy

When Rebecca was a teenager, a tragedy befell her. I’m only talking about the tragedy now because I’m telling her story in a book I’m writing and this chapter is necessary in order for you to understand her. It’s part of Rebecca’s backstory. Her tragedy is a nightmare that every parent fears and an event that would mark any teenage girl for life. It marked Rebecca and changed her and her life forever. I’m spending some time working on the backstory here on my blog. All of you writers and readers out there, I’d love your constructive criticism!

When Rebecca was a young teenager, her relationship with her mother was very dysfunctional. Her mom was a woman who was probably clinically depressed, though that was not a diagnosis typically made in the 1960s. She was very reclusive and laser-focused on Rebecca. She wanted Rebecca to study and make good grades. She didn’t want Rebecca to see her friends. Instead, Rebecca went to school and came home. She received constant warnings from her mom about what a bad influence her friends were on her, along with how she should not ever be around boys. When Rebecca was fifteen, her mother and dad had finally decided to let her go to selected places with her friends. She could never go anywhere like a school dance, but she could go to her friends’ houses, a drive-in restaurant, or a ballgame. Her dad would take her and come pick her up. Then something happened when sixteen was right around the corner.

Rebecca went to a basketball game with some of her girlfriends. SItting near them in the bleachers was a group of boys from the other high school in town. Rebecca didn’t know any of them. She didn’t even notice them. A boy from their group came over during the game and sat down beside Rebecca. They started to talk. She was very shy, but he drew her out and they laughed and talked a little during the game. At its end, he asked Rebecca out on a date. She told him she would have to ask her parents. He said he would call her and asked for her telephone number. Rebecca was thrilled. It was the first time she’d been asked out on a date.

As her dad drove her home that night, he told her that he had seen her talking to T.J. at the ballgame. She was scared to talk to her dad about it, but she knew she had to if she wanted to go out on a date with T.J. She told her dad T.J.’s name and a little about their conversation. A conversation between a shy, young girl and a boy who was a year older and more experienced. A boy who had already had a steady girlfriend. Her dad knew T.J.’s dad. After Rebecca asked if she could go out with T.J., her dad didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he gruffly told her she could. Rebecca threw her arms around his neck, even though he was driving. She didn’t see the tears in his eyes.

The tears in her dad’s eyes were not about that particular boy. Not then. They were because he knew he had to let Rebecca grow up. Had he known what would happen because of T.J. McNamara later, he would never have given his permission. He had no way to know.

Somehow, Rebecca’s dad convinced her mother that it was all right for Rebecca to go out with T.J. They never went out on school nights unless there was a ballgame. They dated throughout the end of Rebecca’s sophomore year in high school and through what would have been the first semester of her senior year in high school. Rebecca started college that semester. They became part of each other’s families. They were happy. T.J. had asked Rebecca to marry him.

Then, in the spring semester of Rebecca’s senior year, T.J. suddenly told her that he wanted to date other people. It was out of the blue. There was nothing she could do about it, and she and T.J. went their separate ways. Rebecca cried a million tears. One night, not very long after that, Rebecca went out with a group of kids in their car to the local drive-in restaurant. She didn’t even see T.J.’s car pull in, but before she knew it, T.J. jerked open the door of the car in which she was in and yanked her out of the car. Her friends started screaming for him to let her go, but he shoved her into his car and roared away. No one could possibly have caught him.

Rebecca doesn’t remember what words passed between them. As they pulled out of the restaurant’s parking lot, they turned toward the outskirts of the small town. The first thing Rebecca felt was T.J. hitting her in the face with his fist. He had never raised a hand to her during their years of dating. Things got fuzzy for Rebecca after that first blow. All she remembers is that he kept hitting her in the eye and face as he drove. She finally passed out. When she awoke, he was beating her in the abdomen, still driving the car, and she passed out again.

The next thing Rebecca remembered was being in T.J.’s car on the shoulder of the road leading to his parent’s house. He was talking to her even though she had been unconscious. He was asking her how they could cover up what he had done. She doesn’t remember answering. She was in a stupor. Not exactly unconscious, but not conscious either. He drove her to his parent’s farm which was a number of miles out of town. She remembers T.J.’s mother sitting down in shock when she saw them walk in and thinking she must look bad. The only other thing she remembers about that visit is T.J.’s parents telling him to take her home.

Rebecca doesn’t remember the drive home. All she remembers is waking up in a heap in her driveway and thinking that it was dark and she hurt and was alone. She supposed that T.J. just pushed her out of the car instead of face her parents. She was too weak to get up. She just laid there and cried for her dad. Somehow, her dad heard her or heard something and came to investigate. She remembers that he snatched her up, crying, and took her inside and laid her on the couch. She remembers thinking she’d ruin her mother’s couch with blood. He and her mother tried to get her to talk to them and tell them what happened. She doesn’t remember talking, but she must have mentioned T.J. Her dad put she and her mother in the car and drove them to the Emergency Room. Then he left, although Rebecca didn’t know until weeks later that he went to T.J.’s parent’s farm and tried to kill him with a 2’X4′ piece of lumber. His dad stopped him.

Rebecca was in the hospital for several days. Her eye was damaged with all the blood vessels broken. The bones in her eye socket were bruised and her jaw on the right side was cracked. The facial bruising was severe as was the bruising on her abdomen. She had broken ribs. Rebecca’s parents told her later that she didn’t speak to them or to the doctor’s the entire time she was in the hospital. She went home at the end of those few days, but she never went back to high school again. She did eventually continue on in college when she had healed. Physically. Rebecca didn’t ever emotionally heal. Not really.

Rebecca never talked to T.J. again. She never knew what caused him to do what he did. He was obviously an abuser. She didn’t even see him again for many years. When she did, there was no remorse on his face. Instead, there was a sneer. Many years later, physical damage from that terrible beating came back to haunt Rebecca.

The emotional and mental injuries were, by far, the worst. It was years before she went out on another date. She finished college quickly in that small town in eastern Tennessee. She did have many friends, but she didn’t see her high school friends. She left as quickly as she was finished with college and moved to the city. Except for coming back and visiting her parents, it was years before she ever spent time in her hometown again.

There was no doubt that Rebecca needed psychological counseling after the incident with T.J., but that kind of therapy was not widely available during the 1960s and 1970s. Instead, she buried that incident in her psyche and didn’t think about it for years at a time. Later in Rebecca’s life, she realized that it had shaped her relationships for all of her life. It was too late now.

Posted in Flash Fiction

The Windfall

img_0553

“It’s impossible to get a good price for cattle nowdays, Desiree,” Clint said as he passed through the kitchen.

“What’s wrong, honey?” she replied.

“I’ve taken all the cattle to Ed Davenport to be evaluated and priced except that one calf that’s too young. The price of cattle is pretty low. I’m just afraid we won’t get the price we need to change our business model.”

Clint and Desiree had inherited Clint’s father’s ranch and were looking to start a large organic farming operation in place of raising cattle. They had environmental concerns. One was the bee population in their area of the U.S.

The phone rang. It was Ed. The price he gave Clint for the cattle would more than give them the startup capital for their dream. They danced around the kitchen, celebrating.

FFfAW

Posted in Fiction

Gretta’s Dream

img_0547

My name is Gretta. I don’t like to sleep. I dread going to sleep every night. You see, I have this dream. The same dream every night with minor variations. I remember my dream because it happens right before I wake up in the mornings. Each morning. Every morning. The dream isn’t bad. I should say it wasn’t bad in the past, but it was  a little disconcerting. Now, it’s bad. I still have the same dream even though, now, there is no reason I should have it. It makes me feel like I’ve been hypnotized.

Yes, I know this sounds confusing. I guess I should try to explain except I’m not sure I can. I think I probably was hypnotized, although that isn’t the right word. Brainwashed. That’s the right word. So I have this dream and it seems real. Sometimes for as much as ten or fifteen minutes after I wake up. I have dreams, just like everyone else, that I never remember afterwards. This dream is different.

I’m trying to delay telling you about the dream. I don’t like to talk about it. I’ve never told anyone about it except the other person who is in the dream, but he’s gone now. I think if I talk about it, maybe it will go away. Here goes.

Some background. There was a man in my life for awhile. That ended and it ended badly. Very badly for me compliments of him. But that’s another story. That man is in my dream. I had this dream while we were seeing each other and it has continued since. Probably because I was brainwashed.

It’s a simple dream. I dream that this man is lying beside me. We’re holding hands. His hand feels so real to me that I’m convinced he’s really there. It’s like living in an alternate reality. Then, I wake up. I still feel his hand grasping mine. I continue to lie there, sometimes for ten or fifteen minutes, actually wondering why I feel his hand in mine. I know it isn’t real, but why does it feel so real even when I am wide awake.

I get out of bed. For a time afterward, it haunts me. Not so much the dream, but the feeling. Why do I keep having the dream and more importantly, why do I keep having the feeling of his hand grasping mine?

Do you see why I don’t like to sleep?

Any feelings associated with the dream have long since gone. They are dead, buried by the ashes of my relationship with the man in the dream. I don’t even like the feeling of his hand grasping mine any more. He showed himself to be a mentally ill psychopath. Even at that, it took some time for me to get over my own feelings for this man. Once I found out what he had done, it was a relatively quick process. Within a few months, I was over the relationship or as over a relationship as you can ever get when someone sets out to systematically gain your love and trust and then, on purpose, figures out and acts on a plan to crush you.

Why did he do this rather than just tell me the relationship wasn’t working for him? You’d have to ask him. I suspose because he is, indeed, a psychopath.

I’m left with this dream that wants to pass for reality. Every day, I tell myself it is not reality and will never be reality again because I will never allow that to happen. The dream does not go away. Can a situation, a relationship, damage your subconscious to the point where you can’t shake it from your subconscious?

I guess I need help with this. You don’t get over brainwashing easily. I would do just about anything if I could wake up just one morning without having had this damn dream. I would love to like to sleep again. Peacefully.

 

Posted in Fiction

Elusive

img_0472

Sleep was always elusive for her. Her battles were fought when she was awake. She lived the consequences during her sleep at night. She had fought too many battles. This last battle had marked her deeply. It wasn’t over yet. In fact, it had barely begun. She was divorcing her husband of many years. They had not gotten along in years. So many years, she was surprised he wasn’t relieved that she wanted a divorce. Then again, she’d always known he’d stayed for money. She had been right.

She finally had to have a break from the animosity between them so she had come to her favorite place for awhile. She had found tonight that the night terrors were especially bad so she was out walking. She could hear the palm trees shake in the wind and smell the ocean. She felt the crunch of the sand beneath her feet instead of the squish of the clay dirt back home. She had no fear walking at midnight on this island in the Gulf of Mexico. She would never have done this at home. She hoped the sound and smell of the surf would chase away the latest bout of night terrors where her husband played a starring role.

Wasn’t it time for her? No one knew how much time we had left. She didn’t want to spend her time with a man who made her miserable. Sure, she loved him but like her family, not like a mate. He didn’t even realize he was abusive. There was no one who had been in his life who had been a role model. She needed years of peace while she still had years to spend.

She knew she’d have no one when the divorce was over. Her family was mostly gone with only a few remaining by her side. Friends tended to vanish when you became that one single woman in their lives. They didn’t quite know what to do with you then. She’d witnessed that at Christmas this past year. She thought she would probably sell her house and move down here, where the sea oats bloom. Make a new start. So what if she were alone during her golden years? Did it really matter? She didn’t think so. Contentment perhaps mattered more than anything. It was time to depend on just herself.

As she was walking back to her short-term rental, she thought of another alternative. Making it work would be elusive. Perhaps it was the answer. When she wrote, she could write under a pen name. No one would know who she was. She would simply just….vanish.

img_0425

Posted in Fiction

Bachelor Buttons

img_0259

Barbara flings herself down on her couch in frustration. The damn muffler fell off her car again. This is only the third time. She had to call for a tow. Another expensive tow to the muffler shop. Can’t those people even put on a muffler? She knows her car is old but they still make mufflers for it. She should know. This will be the third one she has had to have the shop order and install. They never mention a problem with installation. She is so careful with her car.

Her nervousness makes her shaky and Barbara feels cold. She grabs the large throw from the back of her couch and snuggles up in it. She really can’t afford so many car repairs but what does she do? She has to have her vehicle to get to work and do all the other things a person has to do. She is fighting frustration and hopes she can just drift off to sleep for awhile.

After awhile, Barbara gives up on sleep. It’s not going to happen. She has way too much on her mind. She sits up, still snuggled in her warm throw, and notices the beautiful decorative treasure box sitting on her coffee table. She smiles. Looking at that treasure box helps calm her. Barbara’s mother gave her that engraved treasure box many years ago. Her mother has been gone for years now, but Barbara still keeps her most special things in it. She reaches for it.

The first item she sees when she opens the box is the ever-present pack of Monopoly money. If seeing that Monopoly money didn’t give her such good memories, it would increase her frustration because, after all, real money is what she needs to replace her muffler. That packet of Monopoly money is one of her treasures that reminds her of her Daddy. As Barbara was growing up, she and her Daddy loved Monopoly. Then, when he got sick, she helped keep him occupied by playing Monopoly until he got too sick to play. She will never forget all those wonderful times with her dad.

Under the packet of Monopoly money is the seed packet she recently picked up at the farm supply store. Barbara goes to the farm store to get corn for the deer that frequent her backyard. While she was there, she walked by the seeds and that’s when she saw the bachelor button seeds. Her mom always used to plant them in the fall in a planting box. By spring, they were coming up and then were planted in the flower garden. On an impulse, Barbara bought a packet of bachelor buttons.

Barbara jumped up, thinking her planting box was in her sunroom. She took the packet of seeds with her. Barbara got involved filling her planting box with dirt, planting the seeds, and watering and fertilizing them. She forgot all about the offending muffler.

Suddenly, the phone rang and it was the muffler repair shop. They were going to replace the muffler for free as they determined the previous muffler had been installed incorrectly. All that frustration for nothing. However, Barbara had already calmed down. She was much happier just standing in her sunroom planting her bachelor buttons. She would deal with her car later. #blogpropellant #amwriting #amblogging #writing #dailyprompt

TBP’s Objects in a Box 4-5