Illness of the Mind #shortstory #mentalillness
“mental illness” the doctor said shaking his head noisily.
i was still young and wondered if something was rattling in his head.
after all she sounded more logical than he did and her head certainly did not rattle when she shook it.
but “that” would explain the voices she heard in the middle of the night.
“she must be sedated. she must be contained. … put in a place for her safety.”
“quiet!!!” I said to my head that was starting to rattle.
“for the time being she is safe, she will be under my care” I stated emphatically amidst the frowns and rattlings.
in time she removed herself from society and whatever cacophony of sound there had been was relieved by the sound of the birds and the animals that sought the peace in her gardens.
one day I removed myself to the gardens for some clean air and thought.
“they have been poisoning you for years” she said without nary a comment on my part
“how did you know?” I had known for some time myself.
“i can smell it and the voices told me.”
“breathe the air here and in time your head will cease to rattle.
in three months I was clear
i fed the creatures from my hand during my hiatus
the voices started going away
when I returned I found it
well actually them:
an inconspicuous bottle with an ancient name written in Latin
at her house i read the book that had told me about a poison used on a fictional character using this same substance
and the book titled “ convince them they are mad ”
i got a call from my husband’s doctor “time for your annual checkup”
i knew if I stopped hearing the voices telling me to flee i would be out of my mind
Jealous of Love #poetry
Be jealous of the man who grasps her heart as they become one with the sea
Beware the hands who one day will remove the veil of a woman who once seemed so frail
watch the man whose eyes of black consume her body never looking back
Be jealous of the man whose gentle lips launches love like ships
beware the love these two possess they will sail the tides and never wreck
don’t watch as he holds her hands under the moon for love’s fervent stand
Be jealous for one day this man you will be
embrace the woman she will be me
z a fitting end #atozchallenge
The end it fits
Boa constrictor
Squeezing out last gasps of air
You raped
Pillaged
You leave nothing
The audience will be by for viewing
“Here lies her carcass
Once a woman
Now a shell
Ripped to pieces
Teeth marks latent”
Compared to heart bludgeoning
Never you mind
Go forward
You are good
At enticing
Destruction
Causing people who feel
Their END
*incessant clapping by audience who in their ignorance helped bloody the water***
Yawl #atozchallenge #poetry #life’slessons #sailing #napomo
She was ours this sturdy craft
maiden voyage stem to stern packed
we set off on a lark that day
knowing not that bad weather was in the way
we pitched we rolled
our new craft took a toll
we trimmed we sailed
and emptied quite a few pail
an ugly grey squall no less
it was sent our way to give the test
when sun’s weak rays came at last
we knew one of many we had passed
for others would we be ready
in our life there would be plenty
storms to test our merit
lessons for love we would bear it
***
There are many challenges in life. If we cannot weather those storms our life is not hardy and hail. This is my offering to the A to Z challenge. A lesson of life packed into this “Y” – my little “craft” bobs and pitches on a regular basis but we are still “afloat.”
The beautiful seascape is by artist Konstantinovich
Vicissitudes of a Life #atozchallenge #dreamer
I had rapid fire thoughts surge through my head.
- Princesses never have power in fantasy stories; they always look good and have a “ga ga” prince
- focus – poison
- Get Blue!!!
- Get Blue!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
- I never dream in colour
- When I wake up I am going to write a bestseller because this dream is too rich
- mommy
“Look mama.” I heard that nauseatingly sweet voice of that little girl.
“Don’t you have somewhere to go?” I wanted to say a bit too unkindly for a kid in a dream. “Ok little girl look at what? I’ll play along.”
“Yes dear her lips are a very odd blue colour. I hope that doesn’t mean the end is near.” Why does she sound like Mrs. Cleaver?
“At least the mother is a realist.Wait. It’s my end that she is referring to. Get that Prussian Blue – ASAP!!”
The next moment the princess sat up. I mean I sat up. I don’t have any idea what is happening. (Needless to say I have no idea if these are thoughts or I am speaking.)
“Thank you so for your help little girl.” (did I say that?)
“All I did was to wish you to be well.” The little girl smiled a little too sweetly for my liking.
“Yes you did.” A beautiful smile crested the princess’ face like dawn after a storm. It was radiant and commanding. “I must go back now. There is a war to stop and a Viceroy’s son to marry.”
“Is that all?” I thought sarcastically.
“Goodbye” the little girl said secretly holding a handful of blue.
“Ahh” I sighed “that’s the way I like a dream to end. A little girl with blue pills, a very assertive princess, and the dreamer discovering that she is mentally unbalanced.”
The next moment I, she was walking through an unusual forest. “Toto we are not in Kansas…”
Shake it off normal person ”I have need of you as you have need of me. Your knowledge from the other world will keep me alive. In exchange, I will one day return you to your world…”
“That’s one assertive princess” I sighed.
…much later having come to my senses
“I’m glad daddy taught me how to look out for myself. (you may not know it prin…cessss but my daddy was a Navy Seal he could kick butt).” I thought.
Out loud I said “Lead the way princess – Carpe Diem.”
She chuckled “You do realize this is not a dream sequence!”
“Yes – time to prepare for a wedding” (back atcha princess)
“It is time I take charge of my dream” I thought as my mind and body shifted to high alert. “Afterall there are people out there trying to kill “my” princess.”
*****Warning*****
When princesses in dreams start talking back to you realize you are in for a big change!!!!
******
This is the forth of a short story series that I think I will condense, edit then re-post “Dreamer” “Jolted Asleep” and ” The Hidden Element”
The beautiful water color that has been the front piece of my “dream” series was painted by the talented Arna Baartz.
Thank you to the A to Z challenge that has given me the chance to pull out archived work and get some feedback on some of my WIP. All of the moderators deserve a month off to dream of next year’s A to Z!!!!
Is a Blot enough? #poetry #photography
Long awaited drop
falls from the limb
I watch
all I want to do is cry
***
weak arms
cannot stretch
the distance
that one drop can fall
***
frantic appeal
into darkness’ night
impotent to aid
the one I love
***
“why” I beg
when others needed aid
I was there
but not for her
***
Place a shield
around her now
dawn will come
filled with light’s warmth
***
give her strength
draw away the pain
feed her need
blot out her …
An excellent shot Photography: “The World in A Drop” by Damien Franco
Just For You… #poetry #napomo
Though you wont know
these words are penned
typed rather slow
with thoughts of you
Im on the moon
you ~ terra’s ground
looking down
with thoughts of you
working school or sick
wish I could pick
a tea cozy spot
with thoughts of you
can never replace
the warm embrace
since you were young
with thoughts of you
hold on tight
from the monsters of the night
I can’t be there
but I have always
thoughts of you
Final Stroke #atoz #art #shortstory
The final brush stroke…
she held her breath knowing what had seemed like a lifetime of creating would be culminated at this final pass of color. For a moment she heard a child laughing with glee as she pranced around the studio with her first paint brush from her grand pere. “I was so full of life, exuberance, potential then. I knew I would be a talented artist with many commissioning my work. I was too much the dreamer.”
A brush fell…
“What if this final mark on my years as an artist is a flop?” She turned as if speaking to stacks of blank and partly finished canvasses.
“You must” she spoke assuring the canvas that they must move forward.
What the art enthusiasts did not know is that she felt each painting would be her last. The beginning stages of applying gesso and sketching out her subject was like birth for her soul; the final touches But it was not the brush she had been using. Taking a lasting stroke with what she believed was a subtle cream ;she left a mark on her painting that would be talked about by historians and students for generations.
“The stroke of red made this a masterpiece”
“She knew the stroke of red would be like a crescendo in the art world.”
“It symbolized her heart failing her.”
“It was a dagger…”
They found her in a pool of red. In her glorious world of finished and unfinished creations.
Her final work had indeed been the most influential piece of her career.
***
Some day I will finish my life work which is a biographical fiction about my mother’s life. An artist who has made everything she touches a masterpiece. In her youth, she painted and made history.
This piece ” Final Stroke” is my creation for the letter “S ” in the month long A to Z writing challenge,
Reflection #atozchallenge #sanfrancisco #napomo
Wait
A solitary figure looking
listening for you in the silent waters
For one moment I heard young laughter
inspired by you
watch
a much younger me
You robed in wisdom
crowned in silver
we dance and sing
fairies from a younger time
Look
discovery of cherished yellowed memories
reach into the blue
trace the reflection of you and I
ripples of giggles
I harken to new sounds of glee
grateful for the cycle of life
standing still I embrace you and I
at the Palais
******
It has been a joy to look into the reflection of the work of others over the past month of A to Z challenge where there are rare and beautiful treasures (writings and people). Please enjoy a memory that I pulled from a reflection into the past.
Photography: Palace of Fine Arts L. Moon 2010 ( believe it or not that is an iphone shot)
Meet me at the Quad #atozchallenge #stanford #flashfiction
The note was cryptic all it said was:” meet me at the quad.”
“The Quad” I mused where so many discussions had taken place.
As scientists, we had seen the world through a different aperature
viewed things few would ever see…
“Who is it I am to meet?” I stood looking at a name in stone.
****
The Stanford Quad is an historic place for myself and many others. If your know anything about Stanford University as an institute for higher learning it was ( and is ) the place where rules were broken and new discoveries emerged. I am going to break a rule and extend this story into next Friday Flash Fiction 55. Please forgive me this one time Mr G.
I am also submitting this piece to the month long A to Z challenge that I am part of. Today’s challenge was “Q” and coming up with a Q was a challenge…
Our House…. #moneypit #ourhouse #atozchallenge
“… is a very, very, very fine house”
I used to love that song when I was 19 and not a homeowner.
they forgot the line with —
“my roof is caving in
the budget is so thin
now all my hairs receeding cuz of you”
***
I had just hung up the phone “Honey the roofer says we are lucky we aren’t sleeping on top of the roof moss”
“…or under a lily” I wanted to snarl but I knew it would not help the situation.
“How is it that a house in an upscale, desirable neighborhood can have so many problems? All the plumbing was replaced just a few years ago and I thought the roof…” his voice was tired.
“what had they used for pipes… peet pots?”
“with two cats in the yard…”
there was that part of the song that rang true ~ Jekyll and Hyde were buried side by side in the backard where they used to sun.
“life used to be sooo haa ard”
“what was I thinking?” I muttered as I remembered cheerfully signing a 30 year bank note humming this song.
“If I find one more problem with this house you will have to commit me” I whistled between my teeth to the only one who cared… my shrink.
“I’m sure that we can list the house for … ” my relator cheerfully shook my hand.
“ We will only lose fifty to one hundred and fifty thousand DOLLARSSSSS if we are lucky.” he said through woeful eyes.
“now everything is easy cuz of you”
those Vallium went down so well maybe number four or five will help me forget the rotted trusses and the sinking foundation…
la la lalalala
“oh they are such cheerful sorts at this sanitorium
fortunately my healthcare package includes mental breakdowns”
la la la la
la la la
la la
la
“Ah yes A to Z fiction for the letter “O” , Moondustwriter says as she sits on a lawn chair wearing white. “Time for your mint julip dear (and sedatives).” Just so you know rotting houses are no fiction. The good news I already had craters in my face but my hair is rapidly thinning and we just got the estimate for all new appliances. The cheapest bill this season!!! I can’t feel my fingers… Landscaping includes the sink hole wheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee
A very very very fine house (indeed…)
Nothing to Replace the Sorrow – for K #atozchallenge #napomo #poetry
when she was young and still a child
she felt she could conquer the world
she suffered an incredible loss
the death of the one
who made her heart sing
danced where no one else could
raised the curtain of her soul
revealing pure light
and because of it
she could see
really see
love
So unexpected
so soon
life taken in an instant
before she could blink
no let me return air
life
existence
but nothing the girl did
could return
the dance
the song
the joy
she wandered in the fog
little caring where life took her
no one to understand the dance of love
she would on occasion hear rumor of a song
never could it be her singer
it is dead she had to face it
never can it return
so she
stopped
looking
until one day quite by accident
when she was not looking
the curtain was pulled back
light filtered through green
a song played
she had to dance
it was a piece
of the love she had lost
she saw it in those eyes
love she had cherished
in the spirit of this being
come
dance
sing
hold my hand and love life
with me!!!
***
Loss begets sorrow how do we deal with it?
In life’s journeys there are some blows that seem impossible to recover
How does one bear it?
My dear daughter is suffering such a blow
I cannot hold her at arm’s length from the sorrow
She must walk through the fog — alone
no words can be said
and so
as a parent I watch, I cry, but can do nothing to hold back the pain
To Unlock My Heart #napomo #poetsunited #poetry
I heard the song of sorrow
swinging in the trees
“So very long”
time passed
you hung there
out of reach
releasing me
from this prison
doable
as
“finding the key”
to the lock
a many keyed puzzle
lifetime’s maze
“impossible”
“give up”
I shout
whispered entreaty in silence
“please try”
a tear from the past
waters the soil
a buried heart
given up on life
and hope
a hand grasps
barren, corroded key
“Wait it is here!!!”
he calls from his grave
hope turns
opens the lock
unleashes two
“me”
I weep
“you”
he smiles
lives opened together
“joined by one key”
Believe in the conduit
of the art of poetry
dear reader
for in it
a poet can be one with the words
a reader can feel himself open
at times
per chance
both reader and poet
for that singular moment
are united
thus the poem
the key of many an undoing
~L. Moon
Lovely Lady #atozchallenge #poetry #spring #theater
Her name spoken softly in a whisper brought a hush to the room.
Like a swan shyly opening her wings Calla enters from stage left.
diamond like tears glisten as beholding such beauty evokes this emotion
In velvety white, the audience’s aww is hushed by the entry of a shadow that removes oxygen from the room.
The phantom swoops in on Calla crushing her in one hopeless instant.
One and all gasp feeling oppression, darkness
A sadness fills the room at the thought of beautiful Calla’s brokeness.
light fails to emit from the corners of the room
****
A colorful poppy clad girl pranches center stage
She wistfully brushes Calla on the forehead with a kiss as she is swept away by a tropical breeze.
Calla tilts her face to a radiant orb.
Too hot for many Calla welcomes his strength.
No longer white nor pure Calla feels beyond love as she is wrapped in warmth
The sun booms forth a deep chuckle as the red and orange curtain closes.
All that remains is light that cannot be contained
Photography LMoon copyright 2010-2012
Killing me softly #atoz #flashfiction
the words and intent
too long
angst flow now thru my fingertips
run away from my heart
I urge the poison placed
like acid there for nigh too long
Away!!!
killing who I had been
i air out my soul
i glimpse what I lost
now that I am
myself regained
now
flow
ing free
Grandmother’s Wisdom #atoz #parable
‘I still am reminded of grandmama’s words of wisdom when I was a child” I told my children at the dinner table.
“It is the smallest thing that grows so big ” she told me when I was still quite teachable.
“Yes what is that grandmama?”
“It is a mustard seed, of course, grandchild.”
I’m certain I looked unimpressed for I had never seen such a seed nor cared to. Afterall what was a seed compared to something I squirted on a burger?
She always understood me and went on for she evidently had a reason.”This may look small and unimportant but this seed will grow into a large plant. The mustard plant not only large renders a spicy flavor that many enjoy. I know a child who would not enjoy her burger half as much…”
She held a seed almost reverently as she said “It reminds me of the intentions of words. We can say such a small word of encouragement to someone but it can have an importance in that person’s day as it builds them up; perhaps molding an event in their lives. ”
I shook my head in affirmation knowing how often her small words of kindness had made a difference in my life and the lives of others.
“In addition, the smallest of words unkindly delivered can put a person into a nasty mood or worse they can feel unworthy, unloved. And then what if that mood causes that person to do something harmful?”
Was she speaking of the unkind thing I had just that morning yelled at my older sister? I hung my head.
“When we look upon the mustard seed let us remember how to use our words. Hopefully we will be reminded to deliver small kindnesses. Who knows my child perhaps that kindness will grow as large as a tree.”
I smiled to my little ones knowing that a grandmother’s kind words had done much in cultivating this life I now lived.
Merciless Game #poetry #magpietales #birds
Yesterday…
She buried her head in the sand
Today…
He cowered in his nest
~Tomorrow~
They swoop down on innocence
Unhooded hawk
do not feign ignorance
you hold lifelessness in your claw
predatory gaze
at your next victim
making life
a merciless game
of your gain
Thanks to Tess of Magpie Tales for the excellent prompt and to ParkeHarrison for the photo: “Study-of-Nest” copyright 1994
Dreamer #atoz #flashfiction
Ever been in one of those dream loops that you can’t seem to get out of? This dream was a doozey. I mean epic…
I could hear voices all around me but I couldnt open my eyes and scream “this is a dream people go home!!!!”
******
“ Where did she come?” a little girl quietly asked her mommy.
“Shhh little one no one knows; it’s a mystery.”
“They say she’s a princess” a man said reverantly.
“Look at that tiara. Do you think it is real?”
She is from another land a man said who commanded authority. She was to be the queen of her world Raphalia. I must discover what can be done.
There was a hush
I wanted to snicker. “Come on guys this is my imagination speaking.”
A note mysteriously appeared in my hands.
“Princess Alyssa the clock is ticking. You have one year to live after the poison has entered your body. You will remain in a dream state until the cure is administered. Use your powers to seek aid.”
~Your servant until death
“Ok dream it is time to let me awaken” I said unsuccessfully.
This short story is written for the A to Z April writing challenge for the letter “D.” This story will be continued each Wednesday until the end of April.
I recently started following talented artist Arna Baartz. This watercolor “Water Girl” seems to speak of a watery, dreamlike state. You can see more of Arna’s work here. Thank you Arna for the opportunity to show off your work.
Believe #atozchallenge #poetry #photography
This month I am joining with a host of talent who are participating in the A to Z challenge. What a treat when you bring artisans together. I Believe in the beauty of all the arts.
Hear birds soft trill
believe in nature’s call
Watch the eagle’s elegant flight
believe in the wind
Touch the soft velvet petal
believe in new awakenings
Open your eyes to the dawn
believe in the Sun
Smile at birth’s first cry
believe in life’s wonder
Tingle at a finger tip touch
believe in new beginnings
Laugh at childhood’s silliness
believe in mirth
Kiss passion’s lips
believe in love’s warmth
Dance under the moon
believe in life’s seasons
Laugh til you drop
believe in friendship
Hold another’s tear
believe life has its reasons…
To Live
This photograph was taken in my backyard. I believe even moss can be beautiful. Taken with my iphone copyright L. Moon 2011
April Fools #atozchallenge #microfiction #aprilfoolsday
I mused over how we had met on April Fool’s Day years ago. I closed my journal recording each memory with my hot blooded lover. Last year on April 1st, I was whisked away on the back of a donkey to an al fresco lunch in a field of flowers.
“Are we fools in love?” My lover grinned at me with flowers obviously behind his back.
“Yes lucky in love I believe ” I leaned over and kissed him trying to peek to see behind him.
As he brought his hands forward with a huge bouquet of daffodils and calla lillies, I noticed that a string was tied to his pinky.
“You need to remember something?”
“Indeed I do! For attached to this string are the answers to life that I am seeking.”
“Ha” I said “I really am an April Fool if I believe that a string holds the answers to life.”
He smiled “can I give you this string and at least some of the answers then?” he smiled that winning smile that made me weak kneed.
“Yes I will play along.”
He placed the string on my ring finger while gazing in my blue orbs “Marry Me next April 1st.”
“Yes” I said knowing it was just a joke for he had told me he never wished to marry. And anyway what fool would give a girl a string engagement ring?
next april 1 fools day, I placed a band of string on my April Fool’s left hand under an arch of dafffodils and calla lillies. The bray of donkeys could be heard in the backround.
“A fool in April is lucky in love” or so the pastor said.
***
This entry marks the beginning of a month of writing madness in April. Follow along with the many writers who will ply their craft daily during April A to Z. Thanks to those who are hosting this event
Photography :stock photo
Recycled Tears
Too many to catch
an abundant flowing
pours over the sides
insensible constant rain
with that volume is there knowing?
sadly no
the “haves” see little of the “have nots”
they will understand only when they too feel the pain
never save up sorrow for tomorrow
cast it freely at today
for then maybe just perhaps
we can end this plentiful pain
Sadly though poverty, homelessness, food shortages are on a steep rise many are only aware when they arrive at the state of “have not” themselves.
This photography comes from public domain/stock photography
Dawn’s Love #poetry #spring #photography
Skin reflects the dawn’s dew
as the sun shyly crests
the roundness of our hills
eyes their softness caress
await the hues and colors
of a brand new day
nature fills her chorus
each instrument tuned to play
lowing in the fields
twittering near our ears
wrap me in dawn’s splendor
it’s chilly cradle me near
Photography: Sierra Foothills at Dawn (taken by my iphone) 2011 copyright L. Moon
What Lies in the Mirror? #magpietales #poetry
I looked upon the reflective source of yesterday
daring not enter my gaze too deep
for the closer I wandered in my mind
the more one I would become with said image
a mere reflection “no”
for there I see you
you the one who feigned connection
believing you as a part of me
told me things I longed to hear
whispers long in the night
into my lonely ear
caused longing for something that was never
and like a fool I harkened to a voice
fractual promises never granted
realizing my blunder
I inserted into the mirror
my empty heart
whether from love or naught
left said reflection in your hands
do not believe the smile is for you
This piece of prose is a late offering to the respected hostess of Magpie Tales – Tess Kincaid where weekly she gives writers a prompt challenge.
