Friday’s Corner

It’s Friday! Made it through another week. I’ve had hardly any work to do but since everything is blocked on the internet I’m left sitting playing solitaire on the computer. I had people express their sympathy for how I’m being treated and that it hasn’t gone unnoticed but that’s not going to change the fact that I’m looking for another job. I had two emails from employers, ‘we are going ahead with our process’ or ‘we feel another candidate would be better suited.’ I’m just hoping that my current employer has given a bad reference. Why would they? I’m bringing my doodle book and some other stuff to keep me occupied.

I wrote a little short story. It’s nothing much but it was enough to get me excited about writing again. Happy Friday!

Corner Watcher

For years she played with Gemma. They were inseparable just as a girl and friend should be. Then her Gemma grew apart having less in common. Gemma sits on a chair in the corner of her friend’s room, watching as she made plans and growing up.
She sat in that corner for years watching her friend grow up into a young woman.
She watched triumphs and trophies, first loves and heartbreaks. She watched fights with her parents and life learned lessons. Through the years Gemma noticed an unknown shadow slowly get closer to her friend’s window. At first, Gemma didn’t think anything of it but grew concerned when she could see that the shadow had human characteristics. She wanted to scream at her once forever friend about the danger lurking outside. One night her friend was woken by the sound of broken glass. Gemma could see the figure was now in the room and her friend was making an escape. Gemma glared the man down as he hurriedly left out the window he broke through. The father came in the room with a 911 operator on the floor, ‘Yes, I think we’ll be able to identify the intruder,’ as he picked up Gemma from her corner chair. As usual, Gemma saw everything sitting in the corner. The triumphs, heartbreaks, plans being made and thanks to the little nanny came, she also saw the intruder.

Serial Date

Trying something new and tried keeping the story short. I don’t think I was too successful but glad I gave it a go.


Liz nervously fidgeted at the table. When she answered the ad she made a promise to herself the blind date would happen in a public place. Startled, she nearly knocked over her water when a handsome blonde haired man said hello from across the table. Liz stood, “Hello, Graham?” she shakily said reaching out to shake his hand. Graham was more handsome than she imagined and the two sat talking and what she thought had some sort of chemistry. She hadn’t felt a connection with anyone since her husband passed in a horrific head-on car crash with a drunk driver several years back. Liz felt so comfortable around Graham almost as if she had known him for years.

The evening was going better than she had imagined when a gentleman at the bar caught her eye. He was staring at her so intently it caused Liz to shiver. She didn’t want to do anything to spoil her date and shifted in her chair away from the man at the bar. Graham was in the middle of a story about his sister and a spider when the waitress interrupted with a glass of lemonade and a napkin ready to set underneath and said, ‘Excuse me, sir, do you own a black sedan?’ Graham nodded. ‘Your lights are on.’ Graham excused himself to go and turn the lights off. ‘Miss, there is a note on the inside of the napkin just open it. Please read it before he gets back.’ The waitress almost seemed to be pleading.

‘Dear Liz,
 YOU ARE IN DANGER! My name is Graham and I am the gentleman that was supposed to meet you here tonight. I was sitting at the bar watching you. I was so mesmerized and thought that I wasn’t good enough for you so I essentially stood you up. That’s when I noticed that a gentleman introduced himself and you two seem to be hitting it off well. Behind the bar, the TV is on the news station and they just aired the report about the serial killer that has been murdered thirteen other women that have the same characteristics as you. Between the bartender and me, we have him distracted for you to read this and the cops are on their way. When he gets back, do the best you can to kill time (no pun intended) and try not to give anything away.
Graham’

Liz didn’t have time to process exactly everything that was happening and as soon as the imposter sat down in front of her she could tell he knew something was up. ‘Is everything ok Liz?’ the man asked. She nodded tried making small talk nervously watching the door waiting for her rescue. Graham stood, ‘This evening has been going so well, I don’t want to jinx anything. Would you like to go on a second date?’ Liz nodded and before she could answer he told he would be in contact and walked out the door. She stood and the real Graham was by her side offering comfort. ‘Hi, I’m Graham. You look lovely tonight.’ Liz smiled then jumped into his arms when the gunshots started. Graham tucked her into his embrace while backing up. The cops questioned her after the scene was cleared. Liz learned that he was, in fact, the serial killer and she was going to be his next victim. She only had one question. How did he know her date’s name? Wait. He never said his name was Graham.

Prompt: August The Doll Maker

Back to my goals of writing and plan on catching up on my classes here soon. This means I have to push myself instead of curling up in my recliner brooding over bullshit that I can’t handle. Yes, this isn’t my best work but it’s something. I took August’s prompt words and created a short story.


August the Doll Maker
lawyer justifies beliefs

‘The headline read: Lawyer Justifies Beliefs.’ It was difficult not to follow the doll maker’s story. Growing up we were told not to go in the north woods where a society of witch crafting people dwelled. It was rumored that the witches that lived in the woods would steal children and keep them stored in their cellars like we would keep pickled vegetable and jam for the winter months. I turned the page to read about the wide-eyed doll that was the key evidence in the crime.

The doll creator, August, being charged with murder was a feeble man that everyone in our town felt sorry for and purchased his creations as often as possible. They weren’t your run of the mill homemade crocheted dolls or something that you see everyone on a Pinterest DIY mom board try to recreate. No. For a man living in the woods created beautiful, delicate, yet resilient dolls that stood the test of time. I actually have one of his sitting on my mantle that was my mother’s. I cringed looking at the doll and back down at the paper.

The doll maker’s picture in the paper made him look more domineering than weak and I found an absence of sorrow for him. ‘The bodies of 3 missing kids and cow were found during the search of the property.’ I felt betrayed more than anything as I’m sure the entire town was feeling, reading the same paper. We trusted this man believing he was trying to launch a business so he and his family wouldn’t go hungry, but that wasn’t the case. He didn’t have a family to feed he had crimes to cover. ‘The surviving victim stated that he was supposed to be part of the next line of products. Lamps were something that his kidnapper would work on almost every night by the light of his own old coal oil lamp. August wanted to bring back the antique light sources.’

The paper continued ‘August struggled with creating a voice box that mooed for his farm animal line of dolls and was some of his most recent unsuccessful creations.’ I remember those mooing dolls. They were hideous cow shaped monstrosities that he was very pushy about selling. The sound after pulling the cord on the animal’s back wasn’t a moo but more of a cow being slaughtered. I nervously laughed that day, struggling with politely refusing the purchase. I crossed the street that day and turned to see a child clinging to his mother as the doll maker realized that he was losing another sale. The image of the survivor that was pictured in the paper was the same child that clung to his mother that day. The child looked as if he aged overnight full of wisdom and advice.  I guess a traumatic experience would do that to any person.

I finished my cereal while reading the article. ‘The doll maker believed that sacrifices had to be made to live in today’s society stated his lawyer. While the lawyer curved this reporter’s questions of black magic and the death of children he did state that his client was mentally unstable to stand trial and his medical team will ensure that his client will get all the medical treatment necessary and are diligent in his care. He is asking for the death penalty to be removed as part sentencing and a life without parole be considered instead. The lawyer also stated that his beliefs are justified as many people pray for survival in this world. He shouldn’t be persecuted for his religion and solely on his crimes that don’t warrant death as he was delusional about how to worship. The doll that was gathered for evidence was created from his previous victims discovered through forensic testing and the police are asking that anyone with a doll created by the defendant to bring it to the police station.’ I clapped my hands together afraid to touch the poor soul sitting on my shelf and instead ran and dialed the local PD to remove the doll.

Zero Flashes

I decided that I needed to write something…anything. Today’s word prompt for the 6-Word Story was time and thought why not continue it to something longer. I edited it and rewrote parts trying to keep in mind what I have learned so far in my writing class. I focused on a character’s description trying to use as few detailing words as possible. The end goal was for the main character not to live hour by hour but rather moment by moment. This was achieved by force from an outside source. I think I may have failed at this. It feels generic and boring. I haven’t really written anything in length in a while and lost my train of thought more times than I can count. I know it’s the pain in my jaw but it’s less today and I need to get back into the swing of things… especially ones that I love. The prompt was, ‘All the clocks stopped working’.


sundialSam ran her life by the clock. The little timepiece on her wrist, on her phone, in the car, and even in her bathroom added numerical values to her daily life. Sometimes it was stressful and sometimes it felt like time would drag on. Some days she would have everything completed while others she had nothing but time left over with nothing to fill the tick-tocks between numbers.
5am- Run for half hour
5:30am- Shower
6am-Dress, gather and pack purse and lunch
6:45am-Breakfast
7:30am-Arrive at work
Sam’s mornings were always like this, day in and day out. She was a creature of habit and completely ok with her life, all while checking what time it was.

It was late fall when she woke up to her alarm clock flashing zeros. She panicked a little knowing she woke up late and behind schedule but also concluded that the electricity had gone out. Picking her phone up she realized the time face on her device was flashing zeros. Now confusion was added to her panic. She thought her watch would be able to tell her which number in the day she was really at but the little thin gold hands weren’t making their rounds. As she went from room to room all her clocks stopped and that’s when she thought her brother was playing a prank on her. The previous night she told her brother that she would have to check her calendar to see if she had time to meet him for dinner next week. When she was looking through her phone’s calendar app she told him that she could set a reminder for 7pm next Wednesday. Her brother laughed at her, ‘You have to make time to see your family?’ he said laughing at her. Dismissing the memory of the conversation, she turned the TV on to find the time. Nothing.

It was light out already, not yet bright and Sam thought it was past time for her daily run and shower. She shoved a hastily made sandwich and water into her purse and ran out the door. The clock in her car wasn’t any help either. Some people sped past her and some she had to pass. Once she was at her office she noticed it was absolute chaos and confusion. Some of her coworkers were present and some were not. She sat at her computer discovering all her programs and internet were working correctly but the clock. That damn useless clock displaying zeros. Was her time up? Was the world’s time up?
‘SAM!’ she turned to see her little round boss red, sweaty, and out of breath.
‘Yes, Mr. Timbalt?’
‘Do you know what time it is?’
Knowing this couldn’t be a trick question and that she wasn’t in trouble she answered honestly. ‘No,’ she said in a lost voice.
Mr. Timbalt’s face dropped and he took off in what would be considered fast for him but regular pace for Sam. A newspaper runs on deadlines but there was a story. They are ALL living it right now.

The news channel in the office sputtered to life with both anchors looking disheveled and unprepared. They couldn’t give answers as to why no one could tell time but it happened all over the world and all at once. They explained experts were going to come and help tell what time it is by the sun during the days measuring light to add back a semblance of order to the chaos. These experts were actually hunters, farmers, fishermen, and astronomers to name a few. Sam thought it was unusual to refer to this method as a lost art but in reality, the confusion the entire world was going through proved that it was.

A year later, life was still productive and scheduled but it was relaxed and prioritized with the essentials. The world wasn’t thrown back into the Stone Age and technology still advanced. Time was a gift now appreciated and not live by. Sam still works at the newspaper and still makes deadlines but isn’t a slave to her watch. All around the world, the clocks that remained in place stand like statues with their hands resting at 12 and one seconds over. Some speculated that the time loss was due to a magnetic phenomenon while other’s suggested that it was an act of God. Sam thought it was an answer to bring life back to what’s important no matter what caused the zeros.

Photo: Sundial

6 Word Story: 7/18

I can’t believe we are closing in on the end of July.  I don’t know why I included this word in the prompt list-I’m having THE HARDEST time coming up with something. I had to go towards the horror/mystery genre of things to even come close to something I didn’t delete. Good luck with this prompt everyone.


Prompt Word: Maniacal

 

6 Word Story: 7/14

This one threw me for a loop. Let’s just say, I usually have my 6-word stories completed by 6am…and here it is past 7am. ARGH! There are times that I refuse to fit in a box, that my spirit is to wild for society. I finally came up with this.


Prompt Word: Shoes

 

6 Word Story: 7/7

What brings you comfort in life? I would like to think that there are times that when I see someone struggling both on the inside but physically that I can help. At least lend an ear or offer a meal. I hope that others would also do what they can to offer someone the needed comfort.


Prompt: Comfort

Grotesque Angel: Pt 2

Continued….

Minnie giggled then her face went blank holding a photo.
‘Minnie, what’s wrong?’ I asked with all the concern a friend would have.
‘This guy right here looks like the one in the schoolyard. EXACTLY like what’s in the schoolyard.’ She said.
‘Oh him? He was on the Brittania at 527 West 110th Street and they call him the scholar. I’m pretty sure that it’s a replica of a suitable figure for a school. I don’t think the school could afford the original even if the Brittania was parting with the grotesque.’ I said shoving some southern seasoned green beans in my mouth. Minnie looked through the rest of the picture and we chatted about the news that I missed and I told her more about New York. Then it was back to the office. I decided a walk home would be best as I gorged myself of fried goodness and thought it best to burn off the million calorie dinner. I took the photo out and thought that the gargoyle did look exactly like the one in the picture I held. Shrugging it off, I did my daily routine at home and went to bed.

I was woken up by what I thought was thunder but when looking outside there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. I turned on the 24-hour weather station out of curiosity and the doppler didn’t show anything in our area not even a blip of green on the screen. I listened closely but this time it didn’t sound like thunder. It sounded like something heavy was thrown from a high distance. This time I stood on the porch but couldn’t see anything. There wasn’t even a breeze. I waited just a few more minutes for the thuds to gauge distances but nothing happened. I fell back to sleep surprisingly quite quickly. When I woke up the next morning I had faint recollections of a dream. It wasn’t a nightmare but I remember feeling scared then safe. There was a beautiful blonde man but I couldn’t remember the face. I was distracted the rest of the day playing the dream over and over in my head. Like lightning hitting the water, a small movie clip from my dream played in my head. The blonde man was standing in front of me but behind him was a gargoyle with his head bowed then in the next sequence he looked as if he was lurching in my directions and wings spread. I realized I have seen this gargoyle in New York but his head was tucked as if to graciously bowing. Another tiring day behind me as I collapsed in the bed when arriving home. I didn’t even eat dinner or water my plants.

Weeks passed with only a few dreams and the only difference was that my gargoyle would be just a smidge closer. At the end of the month, I noticed more stone creatures showing up all over our small town. First my neighbor Sal, then it was the school but now the library, grocery store, and even the bars were homes to these statues.
I was walking to work when I saw my neighbor sitting on her porch drinking coffee,
‘Morning Sal, so, where did George find that beautiful specimen?’ I nodded down towards the stone figure.
‘You know it’s the damnedest thing. George told me he didn’t buy him,’ she said puzzled but not all that concerned. However, I felt uneasy.
‘Oh, you’re not the least bit curious as to where he came from? Worried some random serial killer could be marking homes with these things?’ I asked.
‘How do you know it’s a boy?’ I just looked at her in response to her odd question.

‘I’m only guessing? Wouldn’t you think the gargoyle would be a male? Men can be scarier and more threatening,’ I said with a smile.
‘I think I can top the scare scale when I haven’t had my coffee,’ I giggled and waved as I headed into work.

TO BE CONTINUED…..

Jo/© thecreativeptsdgal.wordpress.com

And a Reminder about Fenton Friday’s…Fenton needs more story and details. Check out the past two Fridays.

  1. Who is Fenton?
  2. Fenton Friday: Week Two Collaboration Project

 

Pat York, Pat. “Front View of House.” Flickr, Jonesboro, http://www.flickr.com/photos/60464669@N06/5681550750.

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