Shattered Images

Joseph finishes his writing for the evening. He places his pen down gently next to the paper as he takes a last sip of wine. He rises from the chair and takes a seat on his couch. “Time to relax and forget about the evening” he thinks.  Time to enjoy being. He then looks up and places headphones on his ears and turns on his iPod. The Cure’s “Picture of You” will play over and over again. Now time for his daily fix, a necessary evil that haunts his every being. He tightens the rubber band on his arm, exposing his vein for easy injection. He grabs the eight ball off his coffee table ready for injection.  A quick poke of his needle and the deed is done. Minutes pass and Joseph’s body falls onto the couch in somewhat of a fetal position. His eyes affix upon a half filled glass of wine on his table.  The background slowly becomes a blurry glow of colorful lights.  Is this real or just his imagination?  The music at this moment is so clear, as if the singer is directing the lyrics directly o him.

“So delicate lost in the cold You were always so lost in the dark.”

He tries to focus on the blurry colors in his line of vision but it’s not working.  It is as if these are the only lights in the room. He feels his body begins to shiver as if he were cold yet finds himself sweating profusely.  “What is going on?” He can’t tear his eyes away from the glass.  The colors behind it are haunting him.  Why can’t he make them clear. He hears more lyrics from the song.


“If I had only thought of the right words I could have held on to your heart”

He thinks of what he wrote just a few minutes earlier. The words on the paper next to the glass still in his view.  The colors behind it still won’t go away.  The letter is dark.  A few hours before there was a second glass of wine along with his. Now that one lay shattered next to the front door of his studio apartment.  Wine slowly running down from where the glass impacted.  He stares at that image momentarily. It reminds him of blood from a horror movie.  His eyes shift back to the wine glass.  Alone on the table.  Alone.  Like he is at this very moment.  Music blaring into his ears.  His mind memorised by the colors behind that glass.

“There was nothing in the world that I ever wanted more Than to feel you deep in my heart”

Everything begins to become blurry as he hears one last line of this song.  The music slowly fades and the room becomes totally dark.  He lay motionless.  The photo of the female who earlier walked out the door lay on the floor next to the couch.  She now gone from his life.  Now life has gone from him.  

“There is nothing in the world that I ever wanted more Than to never feel the breaking apart, my pictures of you.”

This is a work of fiction, written for:

<a href="http://ermiliablog.wordpress.com/category/picture-it-write/" target="_blank"><img src="https://i0.wp.com/i115.photobucket.com/albums/n320/LadySerendipity/pictureitandwrite2copy-1.png" border="0" alt="Photobucket"></a>

This was written 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 Pintrest.

Daily Prompt: All About Me MIND OF SHOO

This was written for the Daily Prompt; All About Me

Explain why you chose your blog’s title and what it means to you.

I have been surprised at the number of people who have asked me about the title of my blog.  So this is as good of time as any to explain what it means.  It is actually pretty simple.  

“Legend” has it that I was born premature and that I weighted less than five pounds.  I was so small that someone made the comment that I could fit in a shoe box. My understanding is my mom would hold me and say my poor little shoe shoe. Well, that stuck!  That was what I was called by all my relatives growing up and still to this day.  At school, thankfully, I was known by my real name. Not many of my friends actually ever called me Shoo-Shoo, but from time to time I was ridiculed for the nickname. When I write my nickname I chose to use shoo instead of shoe. My parents are no longer alive to confirm this story. However, many have told me this years ago, including my mom.

So when I stared writing I came up with Mind of Shoo, which basically is that I am writing what is on my mind.  An Adult Child of an Alcoholic Parent is self-explanatory.

That is my story and I am sticking to it.

Till we meet again. Good Day

Mind of Shoo

Daily Prompt: All About Me.

The Cost of Fame

My thoughts on the flight from Los Angeles to New Orleans is solely on being home.  I enjoy the visits to my hometown.  It is great having people who know and care for the real me. Not the me that millions see in movies. I am a working actor. Not a day goes by that I don’t understand how fortunate I am. However, it is so different from what I imagined.

Even if it’s only a few days, I am happy to escape the rapid pace life of Los Angeles.  Agents. Publicist. Managers. Photographers. They don’t know me nor do they care to.  I am not shit to them unless I am making them money!  That is all this city is about.  Money.  I got sick of fame very quickly.  Sure, at first it’s wonderful. You buy into the hype that is Hollywood.  The balance of your bank account.  The nice cars and luxurious homes. Everyone telling you how great you are. That all fades when you realize your life is an act.  You are not you.  You are someone they want you to be.  I miss being me.

At home I don’t dwell on Hollywood. I relish all the family gatherings during my visit.  My family welcomes the real me home.  They hug me with feeling.  They smile when they say great to see you. I don’t feel so alone amongst those who know me best. Sure they are curious about “fame” and I understand.  However, it’s no different from asking cousin Monty about how his accounting firm job is working out. It’s a genuine interest in my career and my path in this life.  It is with family I feel loved.

I know this is my last visit home.  It will be my biggest acting challenge yet. To act happy. I look around the town. I feel the memories flow through me.  How wonderful it is to be a long way from Hollywood. Unfortunately I will return there.  The acting will end.

This is fiction.  It was written for Trifecta Week sixty-four.  Write using the following word:

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.
  • Trifecta is open to everyone.  Please join us.