Month: March 2016

Writing Prompt Challenge

As a new writer… no, let me rephrase that; as someone who has recently discovered a passion for writing, I find it much easier to write if I have a topic to write about. A great tool that is employed in my creative writing class, and apparently widely used within the writing world, is the writing prompt. During our weekly class, our teacher / leader / tribal chief will give us a topic and then allow us to write on that topic for 5 minutes or so. It is simply amazing the stories the human mind can concoct and put on paper within 5 minutes.

If you have read my bio on the home page of this website, you will know that I have 3 books planned over the next 3 years. My first one is at the editor, a short children’s picture book that I hope to be in distribution before this year’s Christmas season. My second book, hopefully to be published next year, is fully developed (in my head) with copious amounts of notes already entered into my favorite desktop word processing program. The third book, a novel, is to be released before the end of 2018, a lofty goal by anyone’s measure. What puts that goal in the realms high above lofty is that, so far, not only do I not have a plot for this book, I have yet to define my style as a writer.

To help me define my style of writing I figured the best way would be to write. Whatever I happen to write about will help me better understand where I want to take my writing. The more I write I’m sure I will find topics and genres that I enjoy more than others. How to explore different topics and genres? My friends have volunteered to help me out with a little experiment that I’m calling “Let me write for you”. I asked my Facebook page followers to give me a line from their favorite song. I will take that line and work it into a story. It may be the first line of the story, it may be the last, or it may fall somewhere in between, but rest assured it will show up in the story. To increase the challenge on my part, I have promised 7 stories over the next 7 days using the first 7 lines given to me by my friends. My challenge will start tomorrow and run for 7 consecutive days. I will categorize each story as “Song Prompt”. Here are my 7 lines:

Make me a witness, take me out, out of darkness out of doubt.

 Put me in, coach, I’m ready to play.

 I’m the happy elf and I just might stop on by, I’m Santa’s spy!

 We keep this love in a photograph. We keep these memories for ourselves.

 I paid for the shoes that just walked out on me.

 Stars are shining on the water here tonight, it’s good for the soul when there’s not a Soul in sight.

 Let me photograph you in this light in case it is the last time that we might be exactly like we were

Some of these songs I know, some I don’t. The story line seems obvious on most but I will attempt to weave a tale most unexpected for each. Wish me well.

Sounds of Silence

She was born during the space race, 1964 to be exact. It was the second happiest day for her parents, Roger and Emily, only after their wedding just a year earlier. Tracy was cute and curious and seemed to love everything and everyone around her. She always tested above age, talking and walking before she was a year old. By the time she was 16 months old, Tracy had already become quite the handful.

That was what was so unusual that Wednesday morning in March. The sun was out, trees had started to bloom, daffodils in their full glory. The robins and mockingbirds chattered as they scrambled for nesting material. It was a glorious day to play outside. Tracy was still snuggled in her bed, hours after she would normally be up and about. Emily went in to check on her.

Tracy stirred but just rolled over, falling back asleep. Instinctively, Emily laid the back of her hand on Tracy’s forehead. She was burning up. Emily got the thermometer from the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and shook it down. Placing it under Tracy’s arm, she paced the floor waiting for it to register. After a couple of minutes, she took it out and gave a look. 106 degrees? Panicked and not knowing what to do, Emily called her Mom on the phone to ask what she should do. She lifted Tracy from her bed and placed her in the bathtub filled with cool water. Tracy screamed from the discomfort. Emily got 4 baby aspirin and had Tracy take them with some ice cold Coca-Cola. She was trying everything to help get the fever down.

Roger drove a truck and called home every evening. “Roger, you have to come home immediately!” urged Emily when she picked up the phone. “Tracy has been running a high fever and I’m worried.” In a firm, but supportive voice, Roger said” It’s alright, Emily. All children get sick and run a fever. It was probably just something she ate and she’ll be fine tomorrow. I should be home some time Saturday.” Roger finally rolled into the driveway early Saturday afternoon.

Tracy’s fever was finally back to normal but she wasn’t acting quite normal. Emily noticed she wasn’t as talkative as she used to be and she didn’t seem to interact with her toys like she did just a week earlier. But what bothered her most was Tracy seemed to be ignoring her, something she had never done in the past. Was she upset with her, the thought crushing to Emily. There was a family gathering the following Saturday at Emily’s parent’s home who lived out in the country on 5 acres of land. Being 1 of 7 children, there were plenty of siblings and nieces and nephews all over the place. Emily noticed Tracy was still being reclusive and called her over to ask what was wrong, but Tracy didn’t respond. Emily called her oldest sister over and asked if she could get Tracy to come over. Janet walked over to Tracy and said “Tracy, come over here.” Tracy just sat there playing with the old spade digging around in the flower bed. Janet walked up right behind her and yelled “TRACY!” Tracy didn’t flinch. A worried look came over everyone’s face who had witnessed the exchange.

The next week, doctors confirmed Roger and Emily’s worst fear. The fever, most likely caused by meningitis, had been too high and had lasted too long. At Tracy’s young age, her fragile inner ears couldn’t handle the extremes. Tracy would be deaf for life. Studying new coping skills, Emily and Tracy learned together. They both learned sign language and as early as 5 years old, Tracy demonstrated that she still had a sense of humor. Riding in the car the Emily was driving, Tracy burst out laughing. Emily quickly shrugged and held her palm up “What?” Tracy signed “Grandmother” and “falling down.”  There, on the car stopped in front of them, was a bumper sticker that read “See Ruby Falls”. Emily’s mother’s name is Ruby.

Tracy excelled in school and in life. Attending the School for the Deaf, she mastered sign language. She used vibrational feedback to help her sound out words. She became adept at reading lips, so much so, everyone had to be careful when talking around her because she knew what you were saying, even from across the room.

She graduated from her high school and even stayed on to teach younger deaf students. She also worked a retail job on the weekends to immerse herself in the public environment. Every 6 months she was back at the audiologist’s office, praying there had been a new procedure developed that would restore her hearing. The answer was always the same. But the winter of 2013 was different. There was new research that was showing promise of restoring at least partial hearing to those that had once heard. Tracy had no memories of being able to hear but the news overjoyed Emily. After months of testing and completing volumes of paperwork, she was accepted into the advanced clinical trial. There would be two of them receiving the digital implant, Tracy and a 20-something male who had also contracted meningitis at 9 months old. Tracy’s surgery was scheduled for February 12, 2014.

To be safe, Tracy was kept in a controlled environment at the hospital. Just as germs can harm a body’s immune system, too much or the wrong kind of noise could harm any progress that might have been made through the implant. There had been very restrictive tests and Tracy had heard her Mom and Dad’s voices, however softly, for the first time in her memory. The operation had been, at least, a partial success. But today had finally come, 50 years after that fateful bout with meningitis, Tracy would go outside and experience nature. They fitted her with noise deadening headphones and led her out to the tranquility garden on the grounds of the hospital. This was to be Roger and Emily’s third biggest day of their lives.

They found a quiet nook away from the other families. A semi-circular bench backed with tall columnar Italian cypress trees and a water fountain in the center. A cool breeze brushed their faces, Tracy, her parents, and the medical staff there to witness the event and handle any problems that might come up. The mockingbirds and other songbirds were chirping, a wind chime could be heard ringing in the distance. A plane flew by overhead. It was a perfect spring morning. The lead physician walked behind Tracy as she sat on the bench between Roger and Emily. The doctor placed one hand on each of the ear cups to lift the headset away. Everyone looked at Tracy in anticipation.

The gallimaufry of noise, though, was too much. “AAAAGGHHHH!” Tracy screamed, which only added to her irritation. “It’s too loud! Turn it down! There’s too much going on! I can’t concentrate, make it go away!” She spun around and grabbed the headset from the doctor and slammed them back on her head. Bent over at the waist, she wrapped both hands over the ear cups to shut out any noise that might try to creep in. It was then that she realized that what she had always considered her our private hell was in reality her own personal sanctuary, a place that she treasured and wanted to stay.

Oh the People You Meet

Now that the weather has consistently warmed up here in metropolitan Atlanta, I find myself back out on the path or trail most every day. I’ve always enjoyed walking. I walked to elementary school in the mornings and walked home in the afternoons. No, it wasn’t uphill both ways – wait a minute, yes it was. There were major hills I had to traverse both ways, every day. As I have gotten older I have come to appreciate the park, whether it be a little city park, a county park, a state park or a national park. As long as there is a trail, be it paved, dirt, or just a beat down place in the leaves, I want to see where it goes. I even took time out last year for two back-country camping trips, a first for me.

I always make myself ‘available’ for everyone I meet out on the trail. By that I mean I make eye contact and am ready for a nod or “Hi!” or even a “Isn’t it a GREAT day to be out walking?” What I have come to notice is there are two types of people I meet on the trail. The first type are those like me. It’s almost a race to see who will acknowledge the other first, whether it be just a nod, a “Hi!” or even a “Isn’t it a GREAT day to be out walking!” Usually, the interaction is nothing more than that, a recognition that two souls are enjoying the same benefits of being out in nature at the same time. Sometimes we stop and converse as if we’ve known each other for a lifetime. Who’s to know we haven’t? The other group of people I meet on the trail are those that do everything within their power NOT to make eye contact with me. They are wrapped up in their own world, either oblivious to what is happening around them or intentionally shutting it out.

What I have noticed about the first type of people: they are almost always smiling. They are cognizant of their senses, the smells in the are, the breeze on their skin, the birds chirping, and especially seeing me, another human on a similar journey. Conversely, the unifying trait of the second group of people is their lack of smiles, often displaying what could best be described as a scowl. Sometimes it’s difficult to refrain from interacting with them, to try and force them out of their comfort zone, but that’s not my style. As I said, I make myself available, not in their face. But I have to wonder, with our inherent need for human interaction, being outside experiencing nature, and putting yourself in a public environment in the first place, why not take advantage of the opportunity to look at a perfect stranger and give a nod, or quip a “Hi!” or really go all out and exclaim “Isn’t it a GREAT day to be out walking?”

Now, I understand there are those that take walks to get away from the everyday, to get inside themselves, to process. It just seems to me that maybe the easiest way to escape, to get inside yourself, to process, is to get a little happier. What better way than to acknowledge another’s existence just as they acknowledge yours, to wonder what problems they are dealing with that overshadows anything you could imagine, or to just basque in the good vibrations and positive energy they are giving off. If you see me out on the trail, a path, or even a beaten down place in the leaves, make eye contact back with me, give me a nod, mouth a “Hi!” to me, or truly make my day and as well yours by revealing “Isn’t it a GREAT day to be out walking?”

My Deepest Fear

I’m lying in the hospital bed recuperating from surgery. I’m awake and aware of everything around me. To everyone else I’m in a deep coma, unresponsive to any stimulus.

They prick me with needles and i scream in agony. They hear nothing.

They talk among themselves as if I’m not there. I hear everything.

They act as if I’m already dead. I wish I were.

The Path

It was Tuesday and I knew I had to escape, even temporarily, the drudge I had dug for myself. My life had evolved into a seemingly endless array of projects, deadlines and unrealistic expectations.As I drove toward the mountains, with their trails through the woods, I couldn’t help but think that this break would only add to my existing stress rather than to help relieve it.

I found the parking area, not much more than a wide spot down an old dirt road. It had been miles since I last saw any real signs of civilization, either past or current. I got out of the car and started walking around, searching for the trail-head that would lead me into the forest. I found nothing more than an opening less grown over than the area on either side. I started in.

It only took a couple of dozen strides before I was keenly aware of what nature had put around me. The silent breeze felt relaxing on my arms and face. The squirrels and chipmunks surprised me as they scurried around, probably just as startled to see me. The songbirds were serenading each other, their chatter bringing an ambiance of elevator music around me. And though I couldn’t see it or hear it, the smell of over-saturated soil and the pungent aroma of ferns and succulents confirmed there had to be a stream nearby.

As my feet fell into a rhythmic beat, I trudged further down the path into the spring greenery. My mind was still racing ahead, reminding me that all of the unfinished projects and looming deadlines were still waiting for me and getting more urgent each moment I spent ignoring them. No matter how much I tried to shut out the inner voices, all I could think about was my to-do list, each item calling to me to make it my priority as the whole list would feel much easier to tackle if I could just get that one item crossed off. No matter how hard I mentally prioritized my list, it still felt like I had pages of highest priority items.

And then it hit me – or, rather, and then I hit it, whatever “it” was. A huge mirror? Blocking the path? Though I could still see the path meandering straight ahead? Then it registered. Backing away and looking around, the path turned off to the right. The mirror had been placed at such an angle that the forest seemed continuous and the trail just followed along in the same general direction. I couldn’t see my reflection in it until I was right up on it, having already passed the “point of no return”.

What should I do? The easy solution would be to turn around and back-track my steps all the way to the car waiting for me in the parking area. Or, I could turn to the right, following the remnants of the trail deeper into the north Georgia woods. As soon as I took my first step onward I heard the birds again, noticed the wind brushing against my cheeks, smelled all that Mother Nature had left for me to take in. My steps got a little lighter and a little quicker. My mind slowed down as I ignored the tremendous urge to flee back to the apparent safety of chaos.

Just as I was comfortable within my cocoon of new experiences, BAM! Another mirror? This one, just as imposing yet undetectable as the first, loomed above me. This one was angled to the left. It was decision time once again. I could easily take this as a sign to abandon my current path and turn back or I could just treat it as a detour, letting me know I was headed in the wrong direction and to continue toward my goal, that I needed to change course to move forward. Since I was striving to do something different from what I was used to doing in hopes of changing the direction of my life, I chose to continue on and not reverse course back to where I had just come.

Though confident in the moment I had made the right decision, doubt crept in as I continued on my journey. Was it wise to ignore my years of experience to continue on this whim of an idea that I might find something different? Or was I just wasting time, postponing the workload and ignoring the deadlines that waited for me back home, thus worsening the situation I would face when I returned? Someone once told me the greatest distance on earth is the 11″ between a man’s brain and his heart. In my internal battle, my brain was telling me to turn around and flee back to safety. My heart was telling me to continue on, enjoy the moment, relish the experience for what it is and nothing more. I found it difficult to allow my heart to take control over my brain, but continue on, I did.

As I walked on I encountered more mirrors. Some faced left, others faced right. Some with slight angles, many with large angles. I continued down the path, now just as intrigued to know where I was headed as I was to escape the mundane existence of everyday life. And then it happened. I reached a point where I was completely surrounded by mirrors. They were positioned in a way that all I could see was the reflection of everything around me, the trees, the paths, everything except me. I couldn’t find how I got in and couldn’t find a way out. I crumpled to the ground, defeated and deflated.

I laid there, curled up in a fetal position, both comforting myself and admonishing myself for making such a bad decision to keep going though all the signs said to turn back. I wished I were home. I slowly sat up, my knees bent and my feet flat on the ground. I leaned back, supporting my weight with my hands and arms behind me, much like the times sitting on the beach soaking in the rays of the sun and the sounds of the surf. I closed my eyes and pictured myself on that beach. There were no worries. Work was waiting for me when I got back but that’s what it would have to do – wait. The time at the beach was for me. A time to recharge my batteries so I could better handle all that life threw at me when I got back home. Why was it acceptable to leave life’s worries behind to go on vacation to the beach for a week, but not okay to escape for a couple of hours during the work week? Maybe this was what I was searching for, a week’s worth of vacation crammed into a 2 hour time span.

I slowly opened my eyes, squinting from the dappled sunlight streaking through the trees. I sat there comforted in the surroundings just as I had been at the beach, both in reality and just now in my mind. I looked around from my seated position expecting to find the obvious way out that I was too frantic to see during my earlier panic. What I found was everything was just as I left it, surrounded by mirrors, life reflected all around and I was caught in the middle.

As the reality of my predicament settled in, I became more aware of how uncomfortable I was. My legs were cramping up from all of the walking and my arms were tired from helping support my body weight while I sat there. And what was this under my hand, hard and rough, so out of place in this idyllic setting I had put myself? A rock – about the size of a baseball. I had played ball from the time I was a young boy, playing with the other neighborhood children in the local park. I had won many ribbons on field day for being able to throw a softball further than anyone else in my grade. One thing I knew about baseballs is that I could throw one hard and fast.

Half without thinking and half out of rage of my current situation, I threw that rock straight ahead with every ounce of strength I could muster. I placed all my energy into that rock. For that instant in time I put my whole being into that rock. Nothing else mattered right then. Within the blinking of an eye, the rock struck the mirror that was directly in it’s path. The rock didn’t bounce off, it carried right through the mirror, shattering it into thousands of tiny shards that fell to the ground. In front of me was a path begging me to follow. In the distance was a sun drenched clearing… and my car, parked exactly where I had left it just a couple of hours before.

The Doctor Story

It was determined that I would be a doctor whether it was something I wanted to do or not. After all, both my Mom and Dad were doctors so they would have nothing of me pursuing any other career. As I do everything, I put my every effort into being the best doctor I could be.

I opened my own practice and hated the very essence of it. To say I had poor bedside manners was an understatement. I abhorred the never ending bureaucracy of the mountain of paperwork that took more time than my visits with patients. Due to my terrible reviews, the one and done nature of my patients, and the constant turnover of staff, I gladly closed my private practice 5 years after I opened it.

But, I was a good doctor and highly sought after by the hospitals. I bounced from one to the other, never staying in one location very long before the same complaints by the staff and patients would arise. About to finally give up on the medical profession, I finally found my place. A place where the patients looked forward to seeing me. A place where I had full reign on how I ran my operations. A place where not only were regulations overlooked, I was often encouraged to get around the system.

Today’s visit was to be like nothing I had experienced before. I knew coming in that it would be my responsibility, I never dwelled on how I would handle it when the time arose. Well, the time was now. I waited in an ante room as they brought him in, handcuffed and feet shackled. He was laid on a gurney and strapped in, his arms straight out from his sides as if on a horizontal cross. Once he was secure, I came in and deftly inserted the IV needle into his arm, just as I had done countless times in the past.

I waited for what seemed an eternity, just me and #4739862, waiting for the signal. The warden nodded to me and I matter-of-factly initiated the procedure. Less than 10 minutes later I listened with my stethoscope and pronounced him dead at 11:03 PM.

I went straight back to my office, a sterile room made of concrete, painted white. My report didn’t have to be filed for 3 days but I wanted to get it out of the way as quickly as possible. I wanted this event to be in my past. I thought it would be “just a job” but I came to realize this man was not just a number, he was a mother’s son and a little girl’s father. Just like me.

I finished my report, folded it up and put it in an envelope. Licking the flap and sealing it down was a figurative gesture of ending the ordeal. I would drop it off at the coroner tomorrow. As I drove home, the last few nights of restless sleep was catching up to me. It was all I could do to concentrate on the road as my mind kept drifting back to the events of just a few hours ago.

I didn’t see the red light. In fact, I didn’t even notice the intersection I had driven through most every night for the past couple of years. My eyelids had succumbed to the urge to rest. Just a short nap to clear my mind. Something jarred me awake a split instant before the accident. I saw the terrified look on her face, her eyes wide open and surely screaming at the top of her lungs as the night was filled with the sounds of screeching tires, shattered glass, and crunching metal.

It took a bit to understand what had happened, that it wasn’t a dream. The deflated airbag lay in my lap, the seatbelt and shoulder strap had done their job. I was alive. I grabbed my bag and staggered over to the other car. I pried open the passenger door and lifted the lifeless body of a little girl and layed her on the pavement. I used that same stethoscope from earlier to search for any signs of life from the woman behind the wheel. There were none to be found. I looked at my watch so I could record the time of death, 3:11 AM. Within the span of 4 hours I had ended the lives of 3 generations of the same family.