Left in the Dark: A Short Story #AmWriting #Monday’sMuse #Drama

He talked with his hands, specifically his pointer-finger and his thumb. She couldn’t stand a man who did that, still, she smiled and nodded as if she heard what he was saying. 

In reality, she heard nothing, nothing except the last words he’d said to her nearly eighteen years ago. Sure, she was being petty, discrediting the man that he probably was because of the sins he’d made as a boy. And he’d been nothing but a boy to her girl back then.

She was two years ahead of him in class. He’d started his college career after taking ‘sabbatical’ from institutionalized learning in order to study the ways of the world, and he was worldly. That is what had drawn her to him even though for months she had brushed him off.

But like he clearly was in business, he wasn’t a man to take no for an answer when there was something he wanted, something he was told he could not achieve.

She hadn’t known then that she was nothing short of a prize, proof that his charm could win the heart of even the most prude of prudes. She had won herself the unintended label back then.

Sad thing was, she had allowed him to tarnish it … she allowed herself to tarnish it. Owning her mistake was one thing, listening to him tell her how it wasn’t that serious and that she just needed to lighten up was another thing.

The memory of how his pointer-finger and thumb pinched together those many years ago as he dictated to her all of her social failings and the reasons he would no longer be considered the ‘one’ in her ideal ‘two’ still bruised her insides. He’d gotten more than the prize of her company, he’d gotten a bit of her soul, and then he rejected it.

“Did you catch those numbers?” He said, pulling her out of her painful revery, the heat of his hand upon hers made her rear back as if he’d burned her. She batted her eyes, pressing the tears away, and forced a plastic smile, all while hating herself for still feeling the sting after that many years.

She was better than this! She had prayed about this. She had rejected this ache and yet facing it seemed to slice open the wound with the efficiency of a brand new blade. More than facing it proved the problem it was the way he spoke to her now with ignorance, as if he didn’t know her, didn’t remember how much she’d loved him.

That hurt.

She felt the muscles in her face bending into a hateful scowl but faked a cough instead. She had to comfort herself with some credit she owed him back then. He had left her, humiliated her, broken her heart into a thousand pieces, but he kept the extent of their coupling in the dark where they had once laid.

No one knew but them.

She pasted on another smile and swiped away the tears, blaming the water of her eyes and the pink of her face on the non-existent tickle that had assaulted her throat.

He stared at her curiously for several silent moments before splaying his fingers across the table top, his eyes turned down. When he returned his gaze to hers, the man of nearly forty was gone, but the young man she’d hidden and left in the dark was there, his eyes solomn.

“Marlow, I’m sorry.”

Her iron-clad ways, the stoic woman who cut deals and left others to rot with purposeful percision refused to show her face. She wouldn’t come and play pretend, not while his mask was off, pointer-finger and thumb no longer pinching together as if to cut off her sense of reason.

Marlow touched her brow with chilly fingertips and forced herself to nod. She had no words, not at that present moment.

She didn’t know what to say. Better, neither did he.


*These are my results from Monday’s Muse Writing Prompt July 3rd 2017. Twenty minute time limits cause for a break in the thread. I say that this is a reluctant end because these two truly need closure even after nearly two decades. Thanks for reading along.

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!


Empty Cups: MicroFiction #AmWriting #Words #Romance

I wouldn’t say she was beautiful, more unique than anything, but she definitely had the kind of face that was unforgettable. It wasn’t in a bad way either.

The way the planes and curves of her cheeks, lips, and bones played with shadow and light did something to a man’s mind. It did something to mine.

Even now I see her image. I can even hear her laughter. The tone of it has left a scar as deep as my marrow and just as familiar as the freckles on my calloused hands.

I wish I could say things ended well. More than anything they simply ended. My call, my shot, my rules and my way . . . I was doing her the favor by being by her side, wasn’t I? I was the pretty one they said. I was the one that was so full of life.

I was full of something and that goes without saying.

I was full of her. The truth is I am nothing more than an empty cup, sat on a ledge waiting for someone else to fill me.

Sad truth is I only want her.


~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

The Lies We Tell Ourselves: 6 Harmful Creative Writing Untruths & 7 Truths to Keep in Mind

Writer's Table

Being creative is a gift. Whether you are a dancer, a vocalist, a painter or even a landscape architect, you will run into a wall-of-lies that will try to eat away at your creative growth and momentum.

Here are 6 lies that I find most of us writers face in regard to our manuscripts and craft, and 7 truths to keep the lies at bay.

1. My story is too long: Sure, very few people want to read a dictionary but the reality is, you aren’t even close to that large a tome.

Truth to keep in mind: Babies always lose a few ounces just after birth. First drafts will do the same with word count after you begin editing and revising.

So just allow your creative juices to flow, write what comes to mind, and do some trimming later. Build your house first, before you start tearing down walls.

2. My story is too short: Your story may be a novella or even a short story and not a full-length novel at all.

Truth to keep in mind: Respect the identity of your story, no matter how ‘short’ it may be. Quality always overrules quantity. Less sometimes is indeed more.

If your story has finished telling itself in less than 35k words, then let it be done. If you push it further you may just destroy its glory.

3. No one is going to read this:….

Truth to keep in mind: THEY WON’T IF YOU DON’T WRITE IT!

4. My writing is not as good as “fill in the blank”: One can’t argue with poor grammar, but voice and style are something unique to all of us.

Truth to keep in mind: No two snowflakes are the same but they are all lovely. Your creative voice has value and merit. Someone needs to hear. Always practice to make it its very best, but never stifle it by measuring it against someone else’s. Be your own snowflake.

5. I should just quit: If you’ve started writing, you did so because you have a story to tell. Quitting will only haunt you with a terrible song of regret.

Truth to keep in mind:  Some creative projects take longer than others to accomplish. Sometimes taking a break to regroup your creative thoughts is necessary but never give up. You’ll not only regret it, but the reality is, your characters won’t let you rest.

6. I can’t do this: We all get tired. Anything worth having is worth fighting for. It’s worth the struggle. We’ve all seen movies where mothers in labor say ‘I can’t do this!’ But what do they do? They push beyond their own self-consciousness and pain and bring that baby that they’ve been carrying for nearly a year, into the world!

Truth to keep in mind:  Writing is a struggle sometimes. But the moment you type ‘The End’ is a moment that feels far too good to even express in words! Keep pushing!

7. BONUS: Whether you write for publication, blog, or write in a private journal, your gift is worth exercising. Tell your story. Put your words to life. Never stop creating. You were made for it!

~Dream. Imagine. Believe. Do. CONQUER!

Fleeting Moments: A poem

Let not the moment pass you by

Don’t waste the magic on plans

The how’s whens and whys

Take the reigns and lead the sled to flight

Create yourself a new path

Paved with wonder, glory and light

The time is fleeting

This we already know

Seeds not sown will never grow

So run with gusto

Run with truth

And let the beauty of the moment sprout new life

As it takes root

The words and flow are a bit shaky here, but the point I mean to make has been made. These words are actually a message to self. Today I was blessed with great creative opportunities, but instead of moving in the moment I chose to do other things. Now in my defense I did not allow myself to be bared down with the rigidity of a schedule.

Actually my schedule was made a casualty of spontaneity from the very dawn of this day…which is a good thing. What actually happened was that instead of flowing in the moment to do a new sketch that was buzzing in my brain I chose to work on other mostly finished works all with the ideology that when I had finished the others that one would be waiting.

Well it was not. Not really. I still plan to use the idea in a vector drawing but it would have been nice to allow my muscles to flex while drawing by hand. Next time I will flow with the moment COMPLETELY! Lesson learned…I hope. 😉 spontaneity