The Bloodied Thorn #flashfiction #shakespeare #amwriting

sandra-crook-3

I stand on the stage where I had given my life’s blood

I love the stage

the  drama that swirls center stage, in the wings and in the musty corners

my final role was Desdemona

That last night was my finest performance

“That death’s unnatural that kills for loving…”

If memory serves me well, Othello had been out of character that closing night

No ministrations could  calm

When they removed Desdemona’s body, they were unable to revive me

“She severed her own bloom,” he calmly stated

Tonight “my love” I meet you upon life’s stage

I pass on  bloodied thorn …

The photo prompt is shared by Sandra Crook (L’Amphitheatre des Trois Gauls, Lyon, France.) and opens the curtains for another week of Friday Fictioneers directed by Rochelle Wisoff Fields

Just for point of reference in the drama: “When they removed Desdemona’s body they were unable to revive me”  “me” refers to the actress playing the part of Desdemona. Thus Desdemona and the actress died tragically that night at the hand of Othello.

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Killer Headlines – beginning of my short #amwriting

LOCAL CREW UNCOVERS HUMAN SKULL

The headlines not only drew my attention but sent chills and a sense of foreboding into the recesses of my mind; for some reason this murder felt personal.

“Authorities revealed that the skull belongs to a San Francisco man who has been missing for 3 years. His family and his business partner were unavailable for comment. No motive has yet been unearthed. The rest of his body has yet to be discovered.” 

I looked at my college bound daughter with a frown.  “What if that was Hank?” My mind whirred. Hank and I had gone to school together in the City. Recently, I had heard that he had been missing for some time. I tried to shake off the sense of foreboding; I couldnt identify it but whatever it was it was in the waiting room with us.

My daughter pulled me away from my dark ponderings. “Sounds like a great CSI case”  my daughter said dryly. I’m glad we are going home on the train tonight. That story makes me feel sick to my stomach.

Coming from my daughter, I was surprised. Kaylene was always pragmatic rarely showing emotion. All her emotion was saved for the stage where there was always high drama. And I also noticed her face had gone more pale than usual. “Hmm odd.”

I heard the train whistle in the distance; I too was grateful to be leaving for I knew this murder and the news would consume this small town.

 

******

… and here is the beginning of a story I hope to get published this fall. The story is fictional but is inspired by true events that occurred on a recent train trip to Oregon. It was too good to pass up a write…

Also be sure to ck out One Stop Poetry where more can join in the fun

…a merciless and glorious place (story in 160)

I’m afraid.

It’s dark out there.

But – I know I must go.

Alone.

Entering a world of scrutiny.

What if they don’t like me?

What if I fail?

The stage is waiting.

My daughter just finished a summer musical with a local drama troupe. I’m  amazed at all the dynamics that go into a production.  The feeling when the lights are on you and a full house is waiting… The momentary thought “What if my vocal cords gave out?” The stage is a merciless and glorious place.

For more microfiction go to monkey man

Thanks to Bobster for this great shot of the Alhambra Theater in San Francisco

*http://www.flickr.com/photos/32912172@N00/4751069533

Rejection

There are so many forms of rejection.

As a writer, the most common form of rejection is when your work isn’t picked out from among the crowd. Rejection in any form has a sting. No one welcomes rejections – that is a certainty.

Divorce is like a prism of rejection. There is so much rejection it gets flung into the environment  From a child’s perspective the parent leaves because they don’t love the child. In other words rejecting the child for greener pastures. Why? The child can’t understand why adults can’t be adult and get along or patch up their differences after all isn’t that why they are adults?

How many times does a guy or a girl feel rejection when the ax falls on the relationship? It can be too much – the prevalent thought – “No one will ever love me again.”  The rejection can be the knife that cuts through the marrow leaving a bleeding and wounded heart.

How do we deal with rejection?

Some people use rejection as an excuse for “getting even.”

A girl or guy, after a break up, may never look at a relationship quite the same. If pain comes at the end why enter into it at all. “Come on love is fleeting” some may surmise.

As a child, I learned  to mask my feelings of rejection by creating an impervious shell. The shell masked my feelings and kept people who wanted to love me out. After all I had learned that love hurts – why embrace something painful. I realize now that pain is part of life -being numb or apathetic closes out all the joys of life.

What can we learn from rejection?

Rejection happens but we don’t need to build a fort around our lives or try to protect our feelings center  to keep rejection from happening again. Rejection can make us more sensitive to others or very callous to others in pain.  Can we escape rejection in this life? I think not!

My daughter is auditioning for a summer musical. About sixty to ninety teens will audition for twelve lead parts. Some will experience the ecstasy of “you made it” but a much larger crowd will be asked to play bit roles and be the chorus. She nailed her audition and got called back. So now she will  be among twenty actors and actresses who will wait to get the thumbs up or the rejection call. As an actress, she knows part of the drama is the rejection in some ways making getting the part that much sweeter.

So what is the answer? Not being sensitive, not caring or is there something else that can sooth the savage beast of  rejection?

The Antidote to Rejection

I have a hero who dealt with rejection in an amazing way. He was ridiculed by family members, his culture, the leaders in his society. A friend turned him in to the local authorities on false charges – money was enough to turn this friend’s heart cold. My hero didn’t ridicule or spit out seething insults – he took the blame though it wasn’t his. He bore the pain of the multitudes.He loved those who hated him.

I realized through his example that the antidote to rejection is timeless – SELFLESS LOVE

Photo:Turning up roses by Todd Huffman (Creative Commons)