Sky Writing

My son and I sat on the park bench outside of town.  It’s a beautiful spot on the outskirts of the desert, especially at sundown.

“What do you think Josh?” I ask.

“About what daddy?” the ten-year old replies.

“Look at the sky,” I ask of him.  “Read to me what you see. “

“Daddy, there are no words in the sky, that’s silly.”

Oh Josh, there are plenty of words in that sky.  Look out there, its like a plane flew in the sky throwing out big letters that formed words.  Just for us.  Look at the beauty of the sky.  There is one word.  Beauty.  Look how peaceful it is.  Feel it?  There is another word, peaceful.  Painters paint beauty like this.  Its their inspiration.  There is another word.  Inspiration.  Don’t you see all this Josh?

“Daddy, how do you see all that?”

Josh, use your imagination and the words will come to you.  I use my imagination. There is another word in the sky. Imagination.  You have to feel what’s around you.  Close your eyes. Feel the breeze, imagine the view you just saw right before your eyes closed.  There is another word.  Feel.   Use your eyes, don’t you see hope in the sky Josh?  Hope, another word.  The words are endless son. 

“I suppose daddy.  But when I close my eyes and think of this sunset, all I see is mommy” he says to me with tears in his eyes.  “I feel her arms holding me.”

“Josh, you saw beauty.  You felt love.  From this view of the sky.  You didn’t need words.  It was all there for you.  From her.  She will never leave you.”

“Daddy, I wish I could write I love you mommie in the sky.”

“You just did Josh.  I am sure she just read it.”

This fiction was written for Inspiration Monday.  Click for the prompts and rules.

Pain in His Eyes

I walked into our makeshift barracks.  Sarge sitting on a footlocker, idle and expressionless.  He’s still in his gear, vest and all.  His helmet lay on the floor. His eyes gazing ahead into what could have been another galaxy.  Who knows.

“Hey Sarge, whats going on?”  I asked.

“Nothing Willie, nothing at all.”

“You don’t look  yourself.”

“I am not myself,” he says.  “I am someone else now.  I’m different.”

“You’re creeping me out Sarge, what is it.”

“I killed today.” he stated matter of factly.

“So” I replied gruffly.

Sarge gets up quickly and stomps toward me, grabbing my neck and pushes me against the wall.  Others in the room quickly get up and stand by with looks of astonishment.

“What the fuck you doing Sarge.  This is combat man!” I yell, our faces only inches apart.  “WAR!”

“War! Well war doesn’t take away the fact that I have feelings dammit.”

He lets me go and stares into my eyes, his lips quivering with either rage or hurt.  He turns and walks toward his footlocker.  Its quiet.  He stops and looks around the room.

“I believe judgment will come when I  face God,” he says.  “I get that its war.  That don’t mean it don’t hurt.  What the fuck are you guys, soulless! Look at me, I am different now!”

“You ever kill Mackie?” he calmly ask the Wyoming native laying in his bunk.

“Why no Sarge,” he states in his country accent. 

“How about you Pryor?” 

The cocky Brooklyn native answers “Nah man.” 

“How about you?” he says to me.

“No.”

“I hope you don’t.  None of you!”  he yells.   Then says calmly, “I have to live with this, right or wrong.  Forever.”

“But Sarge, its ok man,” I say to him.

“Oh yea, tell that to that kids mother,” he says quietly.  “Is that what the Marines telling your mother if you die here.  Its ok?” 

War gives birth to pain.  Eternal pain. I now know.  I learned today. From Sarge.

This work of fiction was written for Trifecta: Week Sixty.

Please remember:

• Your response must be between 33 and 333 words.

• You must use the 3rd definition of the given word in your post.

• The word itself needs to be included in your response.

• You may not use a variation of the word; it needs to be exactly as stated above.

• Only one entry per writer.

Mind of Shoo and The Shawshank Redemption

Ok, I am definitely not Rita Hayworth.  However, I have an affinity for the movie The Shawshank Redemption. It is my escape, my happy pill when I find myself wondering what is going on in the Mind of Shoo. I can’t explain why I enjoy the movie so much.  Nor can I explain why watching it really helps me out of the dark days life brings my way. Perhaps its the friendship between Andy and Red that makes me smile. Maybe it is how brilliant Andy was in fooling everyone during the years he carved his way out of prison. Maybe because the movie mirrors my life in the many ways:

The prison holds my mind. The large stone walls seemingly rising to the heavens. So many thoughts awaiting parole. Housed so long within the aging walls, often silent, always haunting me in the darkness of my cell.

I feel like Andy Dufresne. I am charged with a crime, which in my case is alcoholism. However I am innocent. I was not the alcoholic. But I am the one sentenced to life. Just for being part of dysfunctional upbringing. It is this upbringing that keeps me imprisoned. I, like Andy, have my moments of joy or feeling free. Like on the roof of the plate factory or listening to opera. I have my hobbies. They are numerous and varied.  I have my friends, everchanging over time.

Boggs and the sisters are the characteristics that Adult Children of Alcoholic Parents suffer. As we go through our everyday life, they are there watching my every move.  Waiting for the right moment to pounce. To take me against my will. Sometimes I fight them and win. Often I just give in. I am still waiting for Office Handley to rid me of these ugly character faults for good. To beat them to submission never to bother me again.

Speaking of Office Handley, I had him in the form of my father. His baton was alcohol. Using it to inflict damage both mentally or physically. Easily flying off the handle at the slightest issue. Often, he had no soul.

And I have time.  Time to slowly tunnel away through rock in an effort to be free.  To be free of the chaos that haunts me.  Time to manipulate the world around me so I am achieve a successful breakout of my own demons that have been holding me all these years.  Like Andy, I silently plan while I’m playfully outgoing and friendly.  Concerning.  Seeking knowledge.  Waiting for my day to crawl through the sewage of life and land safely on a beautiful beach.  Free from my past.  Forever. 

Finally, like Andy I have hope.  As he writes Red in the movie, “Hope is a good thing.  Maybe the best of things.  And no good things ever dies.”  I’m waiting for my Red.  Whoever that may be.  I’m patient, like Andy Dufresne.  And hopeful

Till we meet again.  Enjoy the movie.

Mind of Shoo

The Secret is Out

I have held this secret for years.  So uncomfortably.  Feeling so dirty.  Like my life is a big lie.  Now my family knows.  It was hard but necessary to tell them.  They were understandably shocked but supportive.   Now in the comfort of a warm bubble bath, I look at myself and I am finally happy.  I have transformed from Dan to Danielle.  The secret is out.  I can be me.

This is fiction.  It was done for Picture it & Write

I urge people to join in, comment with your paragraph of fiction to accompany the image. It doesn’t have to follow my story or reflect the same themes. It can be a poem or in a different language (provide a translation please). Anyone who wants to join in, is welcome. This photograph will be reblogged under Ermisenda on tumblr and added to the Picture it & Write gallery on Facebook and Pinterest.