365 Day Project: 13

Today was a difficult day. Difficult being I could barely get out of bed. The argument from yesterday has turned me into a basket case. I only registered 600 some odd steps on my fit bit. I managed to get out and take a photo for my project. I really wish I had a zoom lens for my cell phone because I think it would’ve brought out more detail The subject was painted two summers ago but she’s really taken a beating. Even though she’s fading, if you look hard enough you can see the beauty before the elements took over. The color palette I think would fall under the complimentary genre. I’ll try harder tomorrow…I could really use some sun, support, something.

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Becoming Small

Today is the first step towards writing more and keeping it within a reasonable word limit. I have lost my interest in writing with everything that has been going on in life so once a week I get to sit down and go outside my comfort zone, find new characters, explore new worlds, or find some poetic justice for any insecurities I may have. I left my comfort zone for the first story. Maybe I could branch into a type of romantic erotic writing or maybe I’m setting myself up to fail at another goal. For now, I’m happy with this.


It happened gradually over time. Not overnight, not even over a month. I never noticed laying next to him at night wide awake wondering if we are still in love. Am I still in love? It seemed like decades since he has touched me in the loving way a man touches a woman. Lack of human intimate touch can make one feel small. How small one feels when looking at love from a distance.

Through snowy days, we talked like a couple rather than siblings. The feeling of smallness began to wane until one night we broke from our mundane routine. At first feelings of butterflies nervously fluttering around gave way to a passion that neither of us had felt in a long time. Still, underneath a loving embrace, I became small. It didn’t happen overnight, not even over a month. It happened that night. Feeling loved, alive, feminine, desired, and beautiful. How wonderful it is to be small under the emotions of love.


Word Count: 164 Word Count Goal: 50
Story: Jo © thecreativeptsdgal.wordpress.com
Picture Credit: Burlington Ontario Artist, Sarah Leckie

Swallow Hope

Legend has it that swallows were a sailor’s land omen, or at least that’s how my grandmother’s story went. I would ask my grandmother, ‘Tell me how you and pawpaw met again,’ and she would tuck me in and sit in the rocker beside my bed. ‘Swallows let sailors know if they are close to land. They are the messages they look for when they need to find land or carry messages of hope.’

She continued, ‘I was just a young girl when I became interested in the boats that came in from the sea bringing foods, goods, father, and husbands. I would help my dad unload the fish and my mom set up at the market. My father had hired a young boy that he found orphaned on the streets. My dad would invite him to stay with us sometimes but he would barely speak a word. He would quietly eat dinner, get cleaned up, and sleep in the stables. Even when he did that he was out there tending to the horses. I always thought it was to show gratitude.

The more he spent time with our family the more he would open up. I learned that he couldn’t read or write and I was now the proud teacher to my only student. In return, he taught me folklore of the sea. I was fascinated by mermaids, sirens, large man-eating sharks and the effects of the moon. He taught me about the constellations and I taught him, French. A bond and loved formed between us. I loved that man so much then and more now. As the years passed your grandpa saved enough for his own fishing boat. He asked my father for my hand in marriage. Your great-grandfather agreed on the condition that he provides a house and a lifestyle better than he could give his only daughter.

Because of this, your grandfather was rarely home. He was always fishing and saving his money. I would receive love letters mailed from different ports from around the world. Until one month they just stopped. July, August, and September passed without a word. I would sit at the docks in the mornings watching the swallows in the distance praying for one of them to carry on their wings a wish of hope that my love would soon return. It was now November and we were sitting down for a meal when there was a faint tapping at the door. There your grandfather was, on one knee. He asked me to marry him but without a ring. Instead in the golden box was a key embossed with swallows.

I gasped, said yes and embraced him before my dad could react. My father invited him in for dinner like when he was a little boy. I sat a place next to my plate and sat down next to my future husband. ‘Son, where have you been? You stopped all communication with my daughter. Why should I believe you won’t abandon her again after you’re married?’ My fiance looked down at his plate and said, ‘Sir, I was out fishing. I have seen beautiful mornings and starry nights. I earned enough money to purchase the mansion on the hill. I also purchased four other charter boats so I can stay home with your daughter more and earn a living off my newly built company.’

‘The reason why it took so long for me to get home is that I got lost.’ My father rolled his eyes but the young man continued, ‘I have never seen such giant waves or heard roaring winds. I got turned around several times and almost capsized twice. I held tight and the crew doubted every decision I made but obeyed. I was even doubting myself trying to make it home. The next morning’s sunrise was like looking at angels. I realized I was lost and had no idea where we were. Then a lone swallow landed on the rail and hopped from side to side and take off. As if the bird was trying to tell me something. I know they don’t fly far from land and headed in the direction of the swallow. I planned on sending word to your daughter but seen it was our home port. I purchased the house, set up credit so she can purchase whatever she likes for the home, and purchased foods and goods. So with your permission and with the help of your wife, can I marry your daughter and help us plan a wedding fit for a princess?’

Speechless my mother gripped my sleeve and looked towards my father with hope in her eyes. He grinned, ‘Martin, you may marry my daughter. Let’s eat and see the fine life you will give my baby bird.’ My grandmother finished the story with a mist in her eye and a smile on her face, ‘And that’s how you were given the name Terney, my sea swallow. Sleep well baby bird.’


Ok, writing love stories isn’t my forte so this gives me a starting point to build from. But Discover’s Daily Prompt gave me a push. I happen to have two swallows tattooed on my shoulder. I also learned from a little research before naming characters is that Martin is a bank swallow and Tern (the granddaughter’s name is Terney) is a sea swallow.

Accidentally Identical

We were almost identical down to the tattoos which weren’t weird for the situation that we were both in but we sounded the same. We had the same memories, voice, and views of the world. We felt the sensation at the same time and reacted with an outburst, ‘OUCH!’ Only my pain was phantom and hers was real.

I lost my leg a year ago after my ex-boyfriend took a 12 gauge to my knee. I survived the loss of a limb and the infection that took my other leg. Thanks to the new law that passed my ex now has to supply with prosthetics as I get older so I can continue to live a normal life. I didn’t need a full droid of me. I just needed two functioning legs and to tell you the truth the mechanical me looked a little bit creepy.

‘You can control her movements from your smartphone. You can send her out into the world to do what is needed while your safe in your home.’ I squinted my eyes at the scare tactic that was being used on me. Who does this little white coat think he’s talking too? I survived looking down the barrel of a gun, losing limbs, healing, and dealing with the aftermath and he wants to scare me? Safe? What the hell does he mean safe? Someone could come in murder me on the couch and my droid-self could be controlled to do something heinous.

‘No thank you, I will stick with my prosthetics and can manage just fine.’ ‘What do you want us to do with her and your allowance left over?’ asked Mr. White coat. ‘Destroy her and I get to watch and make sure that it’s completed. The rest of my allowance please fashion me more updated prosthetics. White coat nodded and all three of us walked to the basement incinerator. It was surreal to see identical droid-me walk in without a protest without the will to fight. That is not me or who I was raised to be. I have the will to fight and a voice to protest.


This is my shot at science fiction (no pun intended). There is a ton of room for improvement but I wanted to try this genre. This is for Daily Post Prompt: Identical.

Bacon and Jam

It all started with a fun fact included in my daily doodle a couple of days ago.  An educational and delightful conversation ensued between myself and an excellent writer. I encourage you to wander through her words and read between the lines.

We discussed what weird food combinations we liked and how some were learned from a young age. You can follow along in the comments if you would like to try some that we listed. I chose toast smeared with jam and topped with bacon. I used white bread, smoke-cured bacon, and Smucker’s Strawberry Jelly. I know it’s probably not the type of ingredients that Liz uses but as promised, I tried.

The results: OH MY YUM!!! As I’m waiting for the masking fluid to dry (my first attempt at using that stuff) I thought it would be a perfect time. The salty smoke bacon aroma of the meat cooking woke everyone in the house. I let it cool and crumbled it. I have a weird thing about my toast needing to be cooled before the topping is added. In my impatience, I waved the toast in the air to cool faster. I smeared the jelly on and sprinkled crumbled bacon on top. My kids, ‘EWW mom what are you doing?’ My husband, ‘Umm please don’t try anything too disgusting.’ I took a bite and they all watched with bated breath. Yum sounds were all I could make.

I ended up sharing with everyone before they would make their own. So, I ask you:

What is your weirdest or oddest food mash-up that you eat?

I would enjoy the culinary adventure. If I can get enough writers, culinary adventurous cooks, and just people that love food-I would like to start a feature of these people once a week. They can include the history, images, and everything. I’m really excited about this. The reason being, you can learn more about cultures and people from food. It’s a way we show love and comfort one another.

Didn’t Quit

Water(color) Therapy

I did have a hell of a day at work which included judgment and bullying by coworkers. I had planned to edit my short story and post then do some watercolor but I was lucky I just didn’t lay in my bed and cry.

Instead, I came home and started dinner. Chopping the taters was a start to relieving stress then moved to folding laundry and picking up. After dinner, I decided to sit down and really practice some watercolor galaxies. I had watched several tutorials and jumped in. I think I ripped up 4 starts and decided that the 5th one I’m going to just deal with it. The stress of failing at my painting faded rather quickly. I found myself smiling and concentrating on paint placements.

What I learned:

  1. Cheap palettes of paint was actually a great buy. Basically, I suck and need practice.
  2. I need to purchase better quality paints…maybe the tubes so my paintings don’t get muddy due to me trying to get brighter colors.
  3. I LOVE mixed media!
  4. I HATE that my gel pens SUCK and need to invest in a good quality white pen.
  5. Calm down when frustrated
  6. Don’t give up…on me.

So I need to come up with the money to get what I want. Yes, want not need but until then I’ll figure out how to work within the parameters of these cheap pans. I might be able to find some extra cash until then to get a great white gel pen.

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