Un-Stuck

Winters in Iowa were bitter at best. In a state that constantly got mixed up with Idaho and Ohio, where nothing much happened, and everyone wished they lived somewhere else, all roads seemed to lead back to Des Moines. She had been standing outside in the blistering cold for 45 minutes. The train was late. Would it be too much to ask for all the stars to align just once in her life? She pulled out her phone and quickly calculated the time difference. She wouldn’t make it there until well after midnight at this rate. Fitting that when she finally decided to give into her mother’s pleas and buy a ticket, the train would be late. It was the perfect opportunity for her tear up the ticket, hail a cab and go back home. Home. It took over a month to find it. Once she got on the train to escape or start new, depending on whose side you were on, she had no plans. She walked out of the station with a backpack and a duffle bag and spent the first night on the streets. It was right before Christma...

Droven: Um hey, hi, I’m kinda in a rush to get back to work. Smooth bud. Real smooth. Maera: Well, which way are you headed? If it’s the same direction, we can split it. Save some cash. Oh hell her smile is insanely beautiful. It’s so full and her lips are just… Maera: You good baby? It’s cold outside ya know. Gonna keep a girl waiting or are we splitting this cab? She’s still smiling, so you haven’t totally screwed this up yet Droven: I’m heading uptown. If you are then we can share this cab for sure. Ok, ok, getting there. Steel those nerves buddy. Maera: Perfect! Scooch over and let’s get rockin. My heart is about to leap out of my chest. How can a woman be this beautiful. The silence of the last two minutes have been killing me. Come on brain, give me something to talk about,dammit! Maera: Hey, I just wanted to say that I’m sorry if my friend was kind of rude back there. She can be a total bitch some days. So they definitely noticed I was eavesdropping on the ...

He had to keep running even if it meant that his heart would explode. If he didn’t make it, there would be nothing to go back to. He didn’t need to be told twice. The marks were still there from the first time and that was more than enough to keep him going. He moved his way through an intricate maze of poorly lit back alleys, making sharp quick turns around dumpsters and broken skids. The cold night air burned something fierce in his lungs, setting them on fire as the cobblestone pathway sent shocking sensations up his ankles, rubbing his knees raw. Just a little further now. A red lantern on a black shop door signaled the turn a couple meters ahead. After that, he had to look for a trash bin with a cat graffitied on it. There was a vibration coming from his pocket, amplified by the quietness of the alley. It would be her, wondering where he was this late at night, not knowing that someone was keeping eyes on her, just in case he fucked up, didn’t make it in time or bailed like a cowa...

“He’s looked over here a couple times you know, might as well make him your next victim ha ha” “Oh my god, shut up Vara” the one with the raven, long hair said to her friend as she continued with her snickers. They noticed me staring. I mean, it was hard not to. She had this look about her. Her makeup was dark but hints of reds and pinks lined out her almond shaped eyes perfectly. And her voice was angelic. Corny to say, I know, but man was it ever true. Her friend started up again, “You know he’s not going to come over here and talk to you right? He doesn’t strike me as the type Maera.”  Maera? Was that her name? I’ve never heard a name like that before. Fitting for her though, she suited something mysterious and exotic like that. Oh hell listen to me, sounding like a bad romance novel and I’m the villain with the drawn out inner monologue. “You don’t know that Vara, you don’t even know if he’s actually staring at us.” “You,” her friend interrupted. “Not us, you. Maybe M...

It was her hair, always her hair, that got him first. It didn’t matter what she was wearing, or what perfume she sprayed on. It was whether it was down or up, curly or straight, because by that extension he knew which one of her he’d get before she said hello. But don’t get him wrong, there was something about her fingers too. Slender, long, and delicate as they traced tiny pictures onto his chest. She was always warm after a cold day. A well deep enough that he could keep pulling from and she never emptied. But something in the way her fingers wrote invisible poems against his skin kept him tethered to her. Drifting away only to come swinging back. He could read her, every gesture, expression, every sigh. The way she bit her lip when she was alone meant she was insecure, but the way she bit her lip when she was talking to a man meant she was interested. The brief stutter in her sentence meant she was caught off guard and the small crease in her brow meant she was annoyed by that. He ...

Another long day for the books. Man am I getting sick of these. Ah well, gatta pay those bills one way or another I guess. I’m almost home sick with how much time I have been spending away from Neko. I have to make it a point to take more time off and spend it with her. I hope she understands that I am trying. Better hurry home, I don’t want to spend another minute in this bloody office. I’m not very fond of this drive anymore either. I’m thinking vacation time. We haven’t visited our spot in a while and it is high time we cut loose and just got some time to ourselves. I’ll pitch that idea to her when I get in, hah, like she would say no to a couple weeks of us getting the lead out in our home away from home. She’ll be thrilled. I’ll tell the bossman I need the time, at least they’re good about that sort of thing. Easy traffic and home sweet home. Check that text from her real quick before heading in. Hmm. “Doors open babe. Just come up.” Ah she must be drained from the day and doesn’t...

An overwhelming smell of burning flooded out through the open windows, but from the outside, the house looked fine. There were no signs of flames licking the sides of the wooden frame, or sound of fire eating the floorboards. There was no heat pulsing out through the windows against his face, but he could hear the fire alarm blaring from within. A quick radio message told him that his crew was clear to enter the premises, so long as they were on their guard. It didn’t come in clear if the house was empty or if someone was trapped inside. Swiftly, they made their way in, trying to ignore the assault the alarm and smoke raged on their senses. It smelled like thanksgiving gone wrong. Overcooked and left to dry out before being used as a candle to fragrance the whole place. He motioned for his crew to split. Two to the right, to what looked like the back of the house, toward the hallways leading to the bedrooms. Two to follow him, through the living room toward what smelled like the kitche...

“One ten ounce steak, greens, potatoes, and a Jello chocolate pudding. Eat up.” Well, here it is, I guess. Smells like how I r’member it. Lets see if those beans taste like mommas. Yup. Not even close heh. I figured it wouldn’t but eh, a man can dream can’t he? Excuse me, but can ya’ll grant me a water? Ah, thank ya kindly. I am parched. I can’t remember for the life of me when the last time I had a good steak was. Ten years ago? Yeah just about. It was at that kinda fancy place over on the west end. I remember that place. Meal looked similar to this one but smelled better and damn did it taste so good. Ate it alone, as I did most of my meals, but ya know, I prefer it that way. ‘Less talkin’ and more eatin’ as my pappy used to say. “Chin wagin don’t catch much food do it?” Heh heh, no it don’t papps. No it damn well don't. Hence why I’m living in my head with this chat. That gent in the blue ain’t gonna give me no words, and I gatta tell ya, I ain’t fixin to get words from hi...

Words fell from his mouth like smooth, warm honey, slow and lazy, coating us in tales of great adventures, love stories, epic tragedies, and worlds of magic. He knew the power of a first sentence, piercing us through our cheeks, reeling us in and keeping us hooked. On a hot summer afternoon, with full bellies and content smiles, he beckoned us over to his spot on the back porch, overlooking the pond. “Once I found a message in a bottle, but not where you would have expected.” His eyes glossed over as if he were transported into another world, far off from summer holidays and crickets chirping in the tall yellow grass along the sides of the house. “You see that pond over there,” he motioned, shifting his eyes over our heads and onto the pond he and grandma said was there before we were born. “That’s where I found it.” “No way!” said Ben, “Messages don’t float in ponds,” he added matter-of-factly. I swatted at him. We never interrupted grandpa. There wasn’t any time to talk. ...

I could smell her… That foul stench of rot and decay. That potent and familiar smell of the undead was one I would never remove from my senses, no matter how strong the tonics. The entire stretch of the hallway was bathed in that horrid odor and yet, I still found myself creeping closer and closer to my goal. Each step echoed softly along the slime soaked walls, my hands trailed along to keep my balance firm and my bearings locked. The darkness would swallow one in an instant, fortunately for me, my heritage gave me the gifts to be able to pierce the darkness somewhat and traverse it without the need for torch or flint. I knew I grew closer, every step down the wretched hallway underneath this castle, to my one goal. Vaal’Una, the Witch, would die tonight. That horrible, horrible smell… That festering notion in my mind kept my pace slow to a crawl, however. “What if she has yet to change fully,” I asked myself aloud against my better judgement. No, I thought better, she is gone f...

An echo of wind glided through the house ruffling the curtains and pushing little sleeping heads further under their covers. It was typical for the floor boards to creek in a house that old. It was typical for it to groan, shake with the wind and shrink with the cold. Someone was calling her name. Hollow whispers caressed her ear, luring her to get out of bed, follow them down the stairs, past the kitchen, along the back wall to the cellar door. To please let them out because it’s been so long and they’re so restless and hungry and want to play, just play. A great gust of wind pushed against the brick and a shriek of pain came from beneath the stairs. The floors protested and groaned under the strain and she snuggled deeper into the covers grabbing Louise, her stuffed bunny rabbit, close. Her brother’s breathing was deep; he could sleep through anything. He never heard the voices. They didn’t call out to him like they did her. It made him think she was crazy. All the chocolate sh...

My Dearest Alicia, I miss you. More than the words in these letters can ever say. It has been months since I've had the chance to bed down and write to you and know that I am sorry for that, my love. I find myself drifting to thoughts of you every passing moment and I take solace in knowing you are safe at home over the pond with our little girl. How is our little song bird? Is she well? Growing up and doing well in school? Does she miss me as much as I miss her cherubic face? I do hope she does. You both are always missed and thought of fondly while I do my utmost to navigate these horrible times. Do give her all my love and tell her that her father will be home soon to have that tea party with Mr. Teddy and the Bunns. Tell our little girl I love her and when she feels scared, to look at her dancing nightlight lamp and remember that we will always protect her from everything that would ever do her harm. The war is moving Alicia. We have crossed into Germany, or Austria, or so...

The point of this blog was to unstick myself. Find an end to the drought that has dried up the plot well. But the actual point is that writing is not just a hobby, not if you want it to feel right. It's a way of life, something that should be ingrained in your soul, creating an electrical current that sparks every time your fingers hit a key or wrap around a pen. With all the recent changes in my life, wonderful at best, there's a disconnection left in its wake. I grabbed nearly all of my roots and planted them in foreign locations, surrounded by different climates and atmospheres. I've gotten rid of my constants and lost all forms of routine. But as they say, this is growing up. Growing up. Never would I have thought that growing up meant losing a part of you that used to be an essential part of your essence. Leaving it untended to and unnurtured meant leaving something so necessary to your core. But it's a slow reaction. Other distractions come in, take place and ...

Sometimes my heart feels so heavy I’m afraid my chest won’t be able to support it, like it will fall through my ribs, cracking each one on its way down. Sometimes my heart is so heavy it makes it difficult to breathe, like the pressure is almost too great for my lungs to stand. Sometimes I wish I could rip it out, put it somewhere else for a while just so I can feel something else, anything else than its unbearable weight. But that wouldn’t change anything, would it? Once it’s secured back in place, the heaviness will still be there pulling the rest of me down with it. Sometimes I wonder what it would be like to be heartless. If it were possible, it might be nice.

The road was slick with rainwater, too much to get soaked up by the asphalt so it pooled on the surface, hiding the holes and blemishes littering the streets. The darkness had a anxious feeling to it, like the air was charged with an electric current, simmering between oxygen and water molecules, waiting to join together and strike. He pushed his foot down further against the gas pedal and the car groaned from under him as it shuddered to move faster. He wasn’t going nearly fast enough if this was going to work. The wipers were on the highest setting, obstructing his view, not that there was much to see. Both headlights had been burned out for months but no one ever stopped him. No one really cared. Trees started flying past the windows and low hanging branches sometimes whipped around the car, scratching the brown paint off and leaving marks all down the sides. The noise was louder than the persistent groaning of the car. He grunted and shifted closer to the wheel as if it were going ...

It wasn’t a crime. No policemen were going to knock on the front door at 4 o’ clock in the morning and fasten cold metal handcuffs around her wrists and haul her into the back of the cruiser. But that didn’t stop her from sending jerky glaces over her shoulder when she was walking alone at night. Everytime a siren blared was enough to make her drop her coffee and hide in the nearest alleyway she could find. She wasn’t some convict on the run. There was no need to be edgy or paranoid, but there some something unsettling her stomach every morning she woke up, something that made her skip breakfast and lunch and eat a bowl of cereal for dinner. It’s not like she killed him. She wasn’t a murderer by any means but there was this voice sometimes that made it feel like she could have done something to change the outcome and washing her hands of his life was the one thing she could do to seal a fate in hell. One night, before she turned in, her phone rang from the kitchen. She navigated her wa...

She ran past countless pine trees that snapped back in her face and poke holes all over her body. There was sweat dripping down from her forehead, leaking into her eyes and blurring her vision. All she had to do was keep running. She should hear heavy footsteps behind her, weaving in and out of the uneven rows of trees, jumping occasionally over lightening struck branches. He was gaining on her. The soft wood from her basket was shredding into her arm, wedging shards beneath her skin. Deciding to ditch it, hoping that she could catch him by surprise, she threw it behind her only to hear it shatter into pieces as it collided with a tree. So much for lunch. Faint growls emerged from the right of her and she could almost feel his breath on her cheek. She pushed further. Her lungs began to burn just as she saw her safe point, Grandma's house. Come on, almost there. Eyes burning, she ran faster than ever, past the white wooden fence her grandfather made before he died, up th...

I'm sorry that I have been gone for some time, but I promise I have not given up. I am back with some new ideas and inspiration festering in my brain. I will not disappoint again! Here's your next throw back. Enjoy!

The sun beats down blindingly and my eyes squint behind my glasses. Your hand is sweating, I can feel it from your palm. We met behind the plaza in between our houses. No one ever finds us here. I have about twenty minutes before someone figures out that I am missing, that the screen from my window is not in properly. You run your fingers through my hair, making it all fuzzy, like we have been doing something naughty. We haven't. I swat your hand away and brush away cookie crumbs from your lip. We always do this. Go into the 7/11 and buy a snack for each other rather than buying our own. We don't make enough for presents yet so Oreo cookies are my way of saying that I can't stop thinking about you. You pull a Twizzler out of the package in my hand and put one in my mouth. They always taste sweeter when you're feeding them to me. I pull up my sunglasses and stare into your eyes. They are grey today, that means you're excited, maybe to see me. You break open half of y...

She looked at him as if she saw a monster. His face morphed into something ghastly with tendrils of mucus flying off of his sharp teeth and black haunting eyes threatening to suck out her soul through her irises. Her body failed any method of protective precautions and completely shut down instead of fleeing like her brain shouted to do. A growl emitted from the back of his throat, sending a wave of nausea from the pit of her stomach up her esophagus. She was backed into a corner, the moist stone wall pressed right up against her back. She willed her body to melt into the stone, pushing herself so close to it the sharp ridges broke the thin skin of her shoulders. He forced his body almost against hers, threatening to engulf her, eliminating any sight lines around his burly frame. Where was there to go? A frenzied smile played with the edge of his mouth, a laugh so baritone pulsed through her rib cage, shaking each strand of veins attached to her heart. “Don’t fuss, my sweet.” He hissed...