I Am A Soggy Bagel

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Today I got dressed up. I felt like I needed to look good. I wanted to take extra time for myself, so in the morning I woke up early. I put on my new cream cheese spread and wore heels. I even did my make-up. I was looking amazing if I do say so myself.

I started my car and went to work. I was on the highway when it started to rain and then I got a flat tire. I pulled over to change the tire. As soon as my car was safely on the side of the highway the clouds fully opened up. Have you ever seen a bagel in high heels changing a tire when it was raining buckets? I am sure I was amusing the drivers with all four tires intact that drove by. I just know it was not fun changing that tire and I was almost instantly soggy. After a few nice people did stop to help I finally had my tire changed to the spare.

I stopped, soaking wet, at a tire store. They changed the spare out for a new regular tire and I was off to work, again. The only real different was that I was no longer fancy or looking amazing. I was simply a soggy bagel in heels.

I Am A Hurt Bagel

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The other day I woke up and my body was a bit stale. I thought nothing of it until later in the day. I started to workout with Baguette. I stretched and then ran. I was fine until we started to do the floor exercises. I should restate that. It was not until I tried to do the floor exercises that I started to feel real pain. I was falling ungracefully as Baguette showed me what to do. Yes, she did the floor exercises and I flopped around. I wound up getting unnaturally twisted up and my staleness turned into real pain. It was so bad that I could not fall asleep that night.

Thankfully us Bagels heal fast with a little wet heat. I was back to my non-exercising self within a day.

 

 

Black clad Assassin

black Clad Assassin

 

The perimeter of his little camp must have been weaker than he thought because he was awakened by the nose of a black horse with black eyes and black reigns. Everything about this horse was black including the rider who sat on the horse’s black saddle. The only thing that was not black was the whites of the rider’s eyes.

The rider stared at William, the now frightened man, as the black leather clad rider dismounted the black horse. William could see the crest of the deadly assassin clan pressed into the leather right where the heart should be. No one knew if this clan had hearts or if they were monsters sent to kill the poor mortals that got in their way. Not much was known about them. Only two things were known for sure, their crest had five stars and a bird, and a single assassin could kill entire villages.

Slowly the rider, who wore 2 swords, walked over to William. Only when the black clad rider was looming over William were words spoken. “Do you have food?” The words came from behind the black clothe mask, however they were surprisingly feminine. William could tell that the low register of the voice was forced and it was softer than he was expecting.

“You’re a lady.” A shocked William stated.

Before William could answer the question or even think another thought there was a dagger pressed against his throat. “I will slice your throat either way.”

William, a simple monk who was only out of the monastery due to a change in assignment was silent until the assassin asked the question again, “Do you have food or will I have to slit your throat?”

“I have food. I have bread.” A shaky voiced William answered. He stayed still until the dagger was lowered.

He went into his satchel and took out his 2 loaves of bread and offered them to the one clad in black. She took one ripped it in half and gave the other half back to William.

When William gave a confused look at the woman who was supposed to be a ruthless killed she answered the look by sitting down and stating, “I will not repay generosity with greed. You are not my target, so you will be safe.”

Neither one of them spoke as they ate the bread. William simply sat cross-legged as he at and watched the assassin. She had pulled her mask up to eat and William saw that her skin was only black because of the black grease makeup she wore where her mask did not cover. She was actually quite pale, especially compared to his heavily tanned skin. He also watched how she sat. The assassin sat with only one leg on the ground. The other was bent with the foot on the grounds as if she needed to be ready to spring to her feet at any moment. She also kept her dagger in one hand and the bread in the other.

They both sat and watched the other eat uncertain what would happen if either one of them spoke.

When the assassin was done with her bread, she stood and stated, “Tell no one of this meeting or you will become a target for my clan.”

She mounted her horse before William could confirm that he would not tell a soul. She did not need to wait for the confirmation though, she knew her clan’s reputation and knew he would heed her command.

 

Guarding The Ladder.

Otis 004Do not let the picture above fool you. Otis is not an ordinary cat.  He is a fierce feline focused on protecting the one who feeds him. He bravely takes on this role every night. What is this hero of a cat protecting me from? Well, I am actually not entirely sure, but it may be from falling off my bed, or it could be the window. Whatever the danger he protects me from it every single night.

Let me explain how he protects me. His heroism primarily entails walking the perimeter of my bed, making sure that the only exit from the loft bed is still the ladder. He then makes sure that I am safe by sniffing my face. Finally he is ready to buckle down in his post. He stretches out as he lies down right at the opening for the ladder. He will bravely stay at his post keeping watch, unless he falls asleep, until my morning alarm goes off. Most days he will even stay pass the alarm going off and it will take me nearly throwing him down the ladder for him to move.

Now, since I am the one being protected I cannot be the first one out of the bed. He cannot and will not simply move aside. He needs to clear the area or at least the ladder. He makes his safety check by climbing down part way, stopping at the window for  a moment, and then going out the window onto the roof.

His reward for being brave and protecting me all night is his breakfast that I pour him usually while I am still asleep.

At least, that is what I am telling myself. In all honesty he most likely is just being a butt and blocking the ladder, because he knows it annoys me. I will keep trying to convince myself that he is protecting me, because murdering a cat is frowned upon.

 

I am a Dancing Bagel

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I was convinced by Cupcake that I should try hanging out with other baked goods. It should be easy to find things in common, since we at least have some sort of the same make up. After I agreed, he introduced me to Croissant, Muffin, and Doughnut.  Doughnut and I did bond right away, since we found we had similar interests. She just seemed sweeter and more energized than I was. I found that Muffin was also pretty sweet and had her own flavor for life. Croissant did not seem to mix well with us, but that was mostly because there was a bit of a language barrier.

It was Croissant’s idea that we go out dancing just the girls. I wasn’t sure about excluding Cupcake, but he wanted me to bond with the girls. That night the girls all went to the loud night club and immediately felt out-of-place. There was not a baked good in sight. Instead the club was filled with vegetables and meats. We decided that it was okay that we did not exactly fit in with the other people, we were still going to have a good time. We went to the bar and ordered our drinks.

A minute had not even passed before a thick steak bumped my arm which made me spill my drink all over myself. I was fine though and was able to still enjoy myself. I just was not able to enjoy that drink.

The night quickly went from bad to worst. The place was hot and humid which Doughnut did not like at all. It seemed none of the meat had any brains and kept trying to dance with Croissant who was not enjoying getting their sweat on her. She wasn’t even near the dance floor or dancing, but the meat kept coming over to her. Muffin tried her hardest to dance on the dance floor, but was getting agitated by the vegetables vibrating their bodies into her instead of actually dancing.

We finally called it a night after only an hour at the club. We walked out of the club a little sticky and very disgusted. None of us wanted to socialize any more after that, so we decided to all head our separate ways and meet up for a quiet lunch after a couple of days.

What I learned from that experience was that it is nice to hang out with other baked goods, but you should always do some research into the night club you are going to.

Otis, The Hunter.

 

 

 Otis, The Hunter.
roof otis 004

Otis, the fat grayish-tan feline with thick black stripes, almost sat down next to me as if he wanted to be near the comfort of a human. Before his bum touched the blanket I had brought out onto the roof, Otis heard a noise. It was the famed climbing of a squirrel, that needed to be hunted. There was no time to cuddle the squirrel invader had to be stopped. Only the heroic house cat could hunt and stop this beast, so Otis crouched down and very slightly crept to the skylight, that since it was raised gave a littler cover for his sneak attack. Then since time was of the essence he bolted towards the wild beast, which actually gave the squirrel enough time to see the house cat and climb back to the top of the tree yelling at the cat as it climbed. Otis, who thought himself brave and a great hunter,continued to stalked the frightened and angry sounding squirrel to another higher tree.

Unfortunately the hunt had to end since Otis is a fat house cat who could not even get onto one of the trees. After a minute or less Otis came back to the blanket wanting the petting he ran away from a few moments earlier.

Not A Ordinary Walk

encouragement

Take a walk outside and describe your path or street as if you are from a different planet and have never seen ordinary things, like trees or houses. This is from my weekly writing prompt series.

I walk down a hard grey path that has tiny bumps that would be unpleasant to walk barefooted on. There are dwelling places on both sides of this path with some green ground coverings. I walk down until I see an artificial looking hill that uses a combination of flat surfaces and tiny smooth cliffs. I walk down this built hill and find that the land below it is different.

This land has no path and is not as solid as the path or artificial hill.  Tiny grains of tan, white, and brown move under my feet as I walk. I am moving the land under me as I hear a rhythm of strange movement. There is a massive body of liquid creating this musical noise. The liquid mass stretches far beyond my sight and moves up as it sounds its rumbling music, but then it is pulled away. I pause and the clear liquid rushes over my feet. It is cold and I do not dare go in any further. Although what rushed over my feet was clear as the volume grows it becomes hard to see the ground or what is in the liquid.

I stay on the moving land before going back to the artificial hill and down the grey path.

The Bagel Love Affair

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I am a bagel and I think I am in love. I meant him the other day in a bakery. We were both there to say good-bye to family members that were sent there to leave this world. I was too late all the little bagels that I once called kin were already bought and eaten.

It was still early in the morning and his little cousins were still on display, just waiting for their turn to leave.

You see, he is a cupcake and a sweet one too, with thick Swiss butter cream frosting for hair and a double chocolate body. I couldn’t take my eyes off his sweetness, as he said good-bye to his cousins.

He saw that I had been too late to say good-bye to my kin, so he gave me a sugary shoulder to cry on. We walked around the little down town street, sipping coffee, and talking about how being baked goods was, especially when it meant knowing so little of our kind makes it pass a day old.

We soon had to part ways. He had to get back to work and I had to work on scheduling my traveling trip. We were able to setting up another date, before my schedule departure and exchanged numbers so that we would be able to talk as I traveled the world, learning about how different cultures treated bagels and now all baked goods.

My Monday Night (Sort Of A Short Story)

writing

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. It was amazing and now I feel slightly broken. I am energized even though I am exhausted. I want to sleep now that my night is over, but too excited to even think of fully ending the night. You see I was wonderfully hurt and carefully punched. I was stressed, pushed, and rolled. I learned what hurts and how to hurt, but never trying to hurt the other.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. I got to class early and started to prepare. I did not have a pen and there was no paper. I did not sit at a desk and no books would be found. I got to class early and changed into my warrior’s clothing. I put on the pants that match the top. I tied my belt as tight as it could go and I prepared for class.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. I ran among men and pushed myself to do what they do. I pushed myself hard as deep voices counted the numbers of the challenge. I struggled to prove myself to myself as the advanced classmates pushed on  stronger. Still I pushed on alongside them.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. It’s a night where I introduce myself to different men, well some are boys. I introduce myself to them all the same. I give them a fist bump before the fun starts. I push when they pull or pull when they push. If I stop to think they either help and tell me what to do or the show me how stopping is the enemy. I do not know most of these partners, but still we roll and tug at each other struggling to win the round. The first round could be easy with only clothes touching clothes. The first round could be a small lesson with my partner telling me how to win. Or the first round could be personal and trusting with a face full of your partner’s sweaty  torso. Any way the first rounds start they start, I learn, they end.

Hello and welcome to my Monday night. Join me on this adventure of life and lessons. All the pain and sweat is worth it.

Imagine Dragons And Airplanes (a Short Story)

Weencouragement

Writing prompt
Imagine a world where airplanes and dragons or other mythical flying creature exist together. What would flight look like? What would travel be like?

She stood at the airport waiting for her ride wearing her green dress that flared at her hips. She waited as cars picked up loved ones and unicorns picked up their masters. She waited and waited.  She almost went back inside to call a taxi cab when a loud crashing sound and a terrifying roar of pain came blasting down the road where people were being picked up.

The lady looked towards the crash and saw a miniature dragon clumsily  down a lane trying not to hit or even crush the cars in the other two lanes. You see although he was a miniature dragon, he was still as long as a truck and each of his wings stretched out would also be as long as a truck. The lady gasped out of fear for the creature and for the people in the cars that he was trying so hard not to hit.

She feared for them until she saw who was riding the dark green scaled animal. Her husband rode on the dragon’s two person saddle. She smiled and rolled her eyes, “This is your surprise? We can’t afford a dragon!”

Finally her husband was close enough to climb down the great beast and hug his wife. He gave her a kiss in which he dipped her in his arms. When they parted he smiled his charming smile that made her fall in love with him, so many years before. That is when he stated, “No, my new job is the surprise. This is just a little reward.”

“Nothing about a dragon is little.” The lady said and as she did the dragon leaned down to sniff her. He then lightly licked her as a sign of affection. She stared at the dragon’s purple eyes not wanting to like the animal, but finding that hard. “Just don’t fly too high, okay? I just got off a plane I don’t need to feel like I’m back on one.”

“Don’t worry honey. Bae, can’t go that high with two of us. One day soon, we should take him to a field, so that you can see how high he can go.”

She nodded and he loaded her two bags onto Bae’s back before helping her into her side of the saddle. They were then off flying a few feet over traffic; happily in between the airplanes and cars.

 

 

My Bad Morning (a Short Story)

writing

This is based on a true story.

I woke up today, not wanting to get out of bed. It was nothing big. I just did not want to go to work. I wanted the weekend to come a day early.

I did wake up and I did get out of bed. I got ready and decided to take part in my work’s fancy Friday. You see when you work in a company of hackers, who also have nerd tendencies, casual dress is more common than not. Most days people dress in jeans and t-shirts, but not on Friday. Friday people dress up. There is one person who appreciates fancy Fridays the most and who I believe started the tradition. It was this person’s birthday, so I thought it would be nice and cool if I dressed up. I found my dress pants and my favorite button up shirt. I did my makeup and hair. I then put my heels on and went out the door.

I got a late from my favorite cafe. My day had a later than normal start, but it was going fine. It wasn’t until I got on the highway that everything stopped being fine. I heard a load noise as if my car was drive on something. I asked myself if something could be stuck under my car. I almost didn’t pull over, but decided it would be best. I got off the highway and the sound changed a bit to more of a thud-thud sound as if my tire was flat. I thought it strange since when I was on the highway it was just really loud. I pulled into a grocery stores parking lot and got out of my car. My tire was completely blown, with holes all of it.

It was still okay. I was going to change a tire. How hard could it be? I thought I had it all under control. I started with taking the spare tire out. This should be the easiest part right? I just needed to undo the bolt and slide it out from under my car. It sounds simple, but when you are dressed up, determined to stay clean and need to pull something out from under your car things get difficult. On top of staying clean I did not want to get my clothes wet, because it had rained the night before and as soon as I started to try to get the spare tire out it started to sprinkle. I wound up doing yoga positions and weird poses just to figure out what I could do to get the tire out from under my car. Finally after a fight and a struggle I freed the dirty rescue tire from its cage.

Now, it was time to get the jack in place. Again, this should be easy, right? Don’t you just put it under you car and crank it up? Apparently the answer to both those questions was ‘no.’ After the wheel did not move, but the car frame moved I decided to look at my manual. It was inside in my glove compartment.

I went the front of my car and saw my delicious latte sitting abandoned. I thought it best to show it some love by taking a sip. It thought it best to spill all over my car. Thankfully I did not get burned, because it was lukewarm by now. Yes, I got to enjoy one, maybe two sips of hot coffee before my tire blew and now the fight over the spare tire caused my coffee to be lukewarm.

I sighed a heavy sigh and started to flip through the manual to figure out what to do with the jack. It had now started to full-out rain. Once I thought I had everything in control people started to ask my if I needed help. I was too proud and too confident to let them. I was going to finish this task. I could do it. I know I am a woman who is looking fancy, but I can do it. I can change a tire. I didn’t need any help.

I did get the jack in place and the tire ready to be taken off. I now just needed to get the nuts off. In the movies they make it seem pretty easy. Plus, this is harder than it should have been already, so now the easy part should happen. I am almost done. I just need to get the tire off.

Well, after a few minutes of trying to getting them off with increasing force a nice older man came over to should me a trick. He got on the wrench thing and jumped. Yes, I called it a wrench thing. I do not know the right name for the tool that came in the back with the jack. Also, yes, he did stand, full weight on the thing and jumped. I thought awesome I know how to do it now. I thanked him thinking that was all I needed. I just needed a tip from a stranger. He accepted the gratitude and went on his way. So, in my heels I started to hop with both feet on the wrench thing. Nothing happened. I had a thought of, “hey, I’m light.” This thought was followed by, “Oh my goodness, I am so weak I can’t even get this nut to loosen.” Thankfully after a minute of hopping on the wrench thing another man came and helped me. He told me to lower the jack and loosened the nuts for me.

After I finished taking the nuts off the wheel was easy to get off. I was almost done. I just needed to get the spare tire on and then drive  less than a mile to the tire store. By now though I knew that stupid tire wasn’t going to be easy. I just picked it up and waited until find the issue. It was aligning the holes with the bolts. I felt like I was trying to line up an ancient key with its keyhole. It took longer than it should have. Of course, the entire process took longer than it should have. Finally, after one more person asked to help me, which I refused on the fact that it was only the spare tire now, I was able to get it on.


I got up with my outfit still clean and was meant with one more nice person. It was really surprising to me how many people actually wanted to help me. I told the guy I was done, but I figured it wouldn’t hurt for him to check to make sure they were tight enough. He did and was able to tighten them a bit more.

I was now off to the tire store, where I was told that all four actually needed to be replaced. While they were pricing the tires I cleaned my hands and arms, which were the only things to get dirty. I then went and decided that I never wanted to change a tire again, so got all four new tires in hopes that it would at least postpone the tire changing nightmare.

I waited an hour in the waiting room before I was able to go to work. I got to work and after an hour I went to get a snack. I made myself peanut butter on toast. I was still proud of myself and happy that I did not get any dirt on my clothes. I tell you this because after I finished with my snack I looked down and saw that some peanut butter had dropped on my shirt along with my pants. I just had to laugh that I can change a tire while staying clean, but can not eat and stay clean.

I hope you enjoyed reading about my morning. I know I will one day when I am not frustrated with how long it took. 

Travelling Bagel

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Yes this story now comes with its own cheesy looking picture. 

After my lovely vacation returning home seemed like a prison, where no one appreciated me for being a talking bagel. No one values me for the bagel I am, so I am going to go traveling. I will see the world and learn all about the different bagel cultures around the world.

Yes, I am heading off soon, so next time you hear from me I will some where exotic. I will be in some new place where people don’t tell me to shut up or think me less because I am a breakfast food.

I told my friends that I was going to go travel the world and learn all about the different bagels. They only laughed and told me, “You can’t travel the world you’re a bagel.”

I will show them though. I will go and experience life.

This Was Written By A Bagel.

writing

Imagine for a moment going off and having a wonderful vacation. You lay on the beach for  days. You are free to do anything you want. The only thing you have to do is relax and have fun.

Well, I just had that vacation. It was a dream vacation. I was happy and it was as if the sun was shining just for me. I was warm and toasted from the sun with a big smile on my face.

After arriving home and unpacking I went out to meet my friends at the local bar where we hang out. I bounced over to say hello with my mind filled with wonderfully delightful stories to share with my friends. However, before I could say anything more than, “Hi guys.”

The guy with black hair and a beard shouted, “Shut up you’re a bagel!”

The group laughed and some one else chuckled out, “She’s a toasted bagel now.

I went, got myself a drink and waited for the laughter to die down. It did and by the end of the night I told one story about my vacation, which was really all I wanted to do.

To The Beach

writing

I took a walk today to give myself time to think. I walked down to  the beach, thinking inspiration will find me with my feet in the sand. Yet, even before I stood on the shore I was reminded of my mind and a muse came whispering in my ear. He said, “feel your feet on the rough ground below. The asphalt hurts the souls of your feet, right?” Yes, the road below me was rough and hard to walk on without any shoes being worn. Still, I walked on knowing that the rough road would make the soft sand feel that much better.

I got to the stairs that led to my destination of cooling sand on this wonderfully peaceful evening to find that the night had long-held claim over the steps. The darkness of this alley way was caused by the two homes that blocked any moonlight or street light from entering. Still I felt the each step on my way down knowing that once I turned the corner there would light once more.

Now, at the bottom with my feet in the sand and my eyes taking in the romantic moonlight the ocean breeze blew cold. For a moment I thought it was too cold, but when my ear opened they heard the breeze creating a melody with the ocean’s waves crashing on the shore and the distant wind chimes singing like bells I knew that no cold would be too much for this beauty. The breeze then felt fine and reminded me that my body was still hot from the workout at the gym. The wind became a comfort not a burden, calming me instead of shutting my senses down.

I walked along the dark shore keeping my senses aware but my mind was thinking. It realized that although the road was rough relief came. Although times were dark light was found around a corner. Finally, my mind realized that although it may seem like the wind is cold if you change your perspective something that seems like a burden can be a comfort.

 

For a Second Time I am A Bagel (short story)

writing

 

I am still a bagel living my bagel life. I wake up and go to work. I come home and some night I hang out with friends.

While sharing conversation and company with my closest friend a question about pain came up. My friend did not ask about sorrow or the pain that came from hardship. His question was more simple. “Can bagels feel pain?” He pondered out loud to the group.

I was off put a little by the idea that the thought even arose in his head. Of course bagel felt pain. Every living thing can feel pain in one way or another. I being a bagel physical feels pain when some one pokes me, squeezes me too tightly in their hands and when they start to cut into my sides. Every time a knife comes near I must declare that I am still living and beg them not to cut me open.

I also feel great emotional pain. I feel this deep sorrow when I see my people sold as slaves to become someone’s breakfast. My heart breaks when I see the joy of a monster biting down on an unfortunate bagel. As that monster bites down on their bagel my soul crumbles as it can feel the mashing and breaking of a fellow bagel.

I am lost in my thoughts of pain as my friends continue to ponder and had almost come to the conclusion that bagel could not feel any type of pain. It was at the conversation’s end that I told them that bagels could feel pain.

The did not believe me and one of the others changed the topic before much more could be said. I did not mind the change in conversation, since I did not want to explain to people who should have known that bagels feel pain.

It appears that this whole “I am a bagel” is starting to be a thing within my group of friends.  I am not fighting it and actually may start a video series about being a bagel. I just need to make/ get a bagel puppet. I say get because it’s just going to be a bagel with olive eyes and pretzel sticks for legs and arms. The friends of a bagel may be difficult to do though.

We shall see what happens with this. I am enjoying writing the short stories at least.

I Am A Bagel

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I have weird friends and I hope this will make them smile.

I am a bagel. My eyes are black olive stuck by toothpicks into my bagel head. My tongue is cream cheese. My legs and arms are pretzels.

“How do you talk?” “How can you type?” “How can you write?” “Why do you talk so very much?” “What is life like for a bagel like you?” These are the questions that I am continuously asked as I walk around with herbs for my hair.

I was riding in the car talking, enjoying the conversation between me and my friends when out of the blue for no reason I could tell the one in the passenger seat yelled, “Shut up! You’re a bagel.”

I was quite shocked and did not know how to react. I indeed was a bagel, but that had not stopped me from talking before. “Why?” I quietly asking hoping that I would not anger him more.

He simply laughed and laughed. Soon he was able to speak. “You’re a talking bagel.” He spoke as if he did not realize for the years we were friends that I was bagel who could not only talk but also walk and live an almost normal life.

“Yes, and,” was my reply all the while the drive sat quiet listening in on the short conversation.

He was amused by the realization that a bagel was talking to him, “How do you talk?”

I could not help but smirk as I answered, “With my mouth and with my tongue.”

“You are a bagel, though.”

“Yes, and you are human.”

The driver finally chirped in and said, “Seriously just shut up. You’re a bagel.”

With that last statement I kept my mouth shut and allowed the humans to talk as I sat in the back simply being a bagel.

Beach Dream (A Short Story)

writing

 

I had a dream. I was walking by myself on a picturesque beach. The sun was warm giving a rich autumn color light as if it was starting to descent into a sunset but had not reached the point of painting the sky with purple and reds.

As I walked on the sand, that felt like home, a man joined me taking my hand, which by doing so took my heart.  He was tall and safe with a blurred face except for a smile that shined with joy. I could tell just by looking at him he was strong, healthy and a protector with a hidden soft side.

Once this nondescript man joined me we sat in the soft sand and talked. We talked about what had been, will be and what we hoped would come. We conversed over  happy times and sad a like. We talked, spoke, and listened. As the sun began to set and night started to show its face we talked.

The air began to cool as we still talked about everything we could think of and our bodies slowly moved towards the warmth of the other. We talked until there was no more words to speak.

When our bodies move in even closer to conclude our conversation his beautiful eyes came into focus like happy brown sparkling gems. Then as our eyes both slowly closed I woke in my own warm bed. Once again I was alone, but now with a hope that this dream may one day come true.

A Scene inspired by Supernatural

writing

I am sure most of you will think this is fan fiction and guess what it is. I usually force myself to find my own story and really only be inspired by the television, movies or books I fall in love with. It has been a while though and I think it works best as fan fiction. If you don’t enjoy this little scene, I am sorry, I will go back to my poetry and original stories tomorrow. Today I am being a little fan girl.

Also if you are a fan of Supernatural reading this let me know what you think. I hope you are not expecting a script though, because script formatting is not how my brain thinks for the first draft on paper.

The scene opens with Sam and Dean standing in the bunker’s library area. Sam has an old book in his hand and there is a door drawn on one of the brick walls. Both of the boys are staring at the wall.

After a moment Dean states, “I thought you said it would work.”

Sam responses with, “Just give it a minute.”

As soon as Sam’s words are spoken there is a crash and burst off. The chalk door on the wall flashes like a bright strobe light three times and then all is dark again for split second. The lights come back on and there is a woman, almost as tall as the boys, clothed in every imaginable weapon. She has two large pistols drawn and pointed at the guys.

As soon as the three of them see each other, the woman swings around looking for any danger. When she sees all is  cleared she lowers her guns. “What the heck and how did you do that?”

Uncertain of what to say the two brothers look at each other before Sam answers, “We needed help and was actually thinking we would be summoning some one else.”

Sam’s remark noticeably offends the woman, “Of course you did.” She starts to point one of her pistols at Sam as she talks and tells him, “Well if you are all-powerful now, you can send me back, reverse your stupid summoning ritual. I have a vampire werewolf hybrid to kill.”

Dean smirks and says, “Hey lady, how about you calm down. We’re hunting the same thing. We should hunt it together.”

The woman now is pissed off, “Hey lady?”She starts to aggressively advance to Dean, “Hey lady?! Really Dean, do you want to be shot?”

Sam goes to his brother’s side and calmly tells her, “He meant nothing by it. We are just trying to hunt the same thing.”

Now both guns are pointed at the brothers, “Let me get this straight, you are hunting a vampire werewolf and decided not to call me on my phone to tell me that you now believe me. No, instead of admitting, once again that I was right, you decide,” She looks around to where she came from, “You decide to create a summoning door to summon someone else to hunt my monster?! Well, sorry if I am not happy when you two basically tell me I’m crazy and to go fight it myself then I get yanked back to the bunker when I am mid-fight.”

The two brothers stare at her as she waits for one of them to say something, anything. She waits to strike again. The boys just stand there confused, so she finally shouts, “Really. you’re going to just stand there and act dumb.”

“We’re not acting, so how about you put the guns down and explain from the top what you’re talking about.”

“Shove it, bitch.” The girl says and holsters her guns. She turns while walking towards the tables. The boys slowly follows. She sits on the table while the guys swing chairs around to sit down. She takes a deep breath. “Okay what were you actually summoning for?”

“Help, we need help with the vampire,” Sam started and corrected himself when he saw the woman’s clenched jaw, “with your monster.”

“And why didn’t you just call me, you knew I was on my way to fight it. Why didn’t you just let me in on your penis party?” The woman said and waited for a retort.

She childishly mouthed along with Dean, “It wasn’t a penis party.” Dean was a little taken back by her knowing what he would say. “Who are you?”

“Dean, now is not the time to play that game. You know ever since we were kids it was you two and dad training, while I was stuck with mom, grandpa and the books. Just answer my question. What happened to the phone saying, we’re idjits come back, so we can fight it together.”

Sam looked at her just as puzzled as Dean was. Sam asked her, “Who do you think we are?”

The woman who was not amused told them, “Seriously, I am not in the mood for games. If you made a summoning door just to grab me from a fight tell me and we’ll move on. I’ll moved out, but we’ll move on.”

The woman stood up and readied her self to leave or for one of the guys to stop her. It was Sam who spoke as she stood, “Our mom died when I was six months old.”

“Sammy, that is not funny.  You’re twisted.” She turned to walk out of the bunker, but before she could take a step she saw Castiel standing. “What?” She asked as she quickly rushed to take off her weapons. “How?” The sword that was hanging on her back was the first to leave her body, then the holsters with the two large guns, then the belt with assorted knives and two smaller guns. “I thought.” Next was the long sword that was around her waist along with the two sais that were strapped to her thighs. “We all thought you were.” She unwrapped throwing knives from her calves and then stood up. “There no more weapons.” She walked over to Castiel still rushed and without thinking hugged him tightly, “We all thought you were gone.”

When Castiel did not embrace her as tightly as she did, the woman pulled away. “Cas? What?”

“I am sorry, do I know you?”

The statement visibly hurt the woman. “Cas, look into my eyes and please tell me you know who I am?”

Castiel did as he was told, but could not lie. He could see that she wanted him to know who she was, but he did not, “I am sorry. I do not know who you are.”

“But you know them?”

Castiel nodded and the woman returned to her spot on the table severely defeated. “Guys, no joking, do you know who I am?”

Dean shook his head and Sam whispered, “No, do not.”

The woman kept her eyes down”Are you two the sons of John and Mary Winchester?”

Sam again answered for both of the brothers, “Yes.”

She looked up at Sam and asked, “Did you ever have a sister?”

“No, our mother died when I was six months old.”

With pain filled eyes she asked, “What killed her?”

Dean answered, “The yellow eyed demon.”

“The yellow eye demon? How dad tells.” She paused before correcting herself, “How my dad tells the story he was hardly a hunt. I mean it got Grandpa Samuel, but that was how dad told mom that he was a man of letters and how dad found out mom was a hunter. It was their first hunt together.”

“Your dad was a man of letters?” Sam asked.

“Your’s wasn’t?” She asked.

Sam told her, “Our grandfather, Henry, died before he could tell our dad. “

“Was it when he time traveled to the future to fight Abaddon?”

Dean looked at her, “How did you know?”

“Because you two jerks told me to wait in the car. You said it was too dangerous and you did not need me. I didn’t listen and killed that bitch. Grandpa went home and told dad to name me after him.”

Dean paused and asked”Wait what’s your name?”

“Henrietta.”

“How old are you?” Sam asked.

“27.”

Sam smiled and told Dean, “Mom lived for another four years.”

“My mom died 10 years ago. She lived until I was 17. “

Dean asked, “How?”

Henrietta answered, “Saving our lives.” She then looked straight into Castiel’s eyes and told him, “If you’re brother is pulling anything or playing with me in any way, I will kill him.”

Sam stood up from his chair and patted Henrietta  on the knee, “I could use some coffee before we go on this hunt. Heni do you want any.”

Dean looked at Sam a little confused. Henrietta also looked at Sam but she was a little taken back, “Did you just call me Heni?”

“Yeah, I guess I did. Is that okay?”

“Yeah, it’s just that is your nickname for me.”

Dean laughed and asked, “Heni, like a chicken?”

Henrietta looked at Dean with a blank face and told him one word, “Don’t.”

“So, chicken do you want coffee.”

“You know it seems like so much is different but you are still a tool.” She shook her head with a slight smile and got up. “I think I’ll need something before this hunt.” As the four of them walked  towards the kitchen she mentioned, “We can figure out what’s what while we drink.”

Castiel made sure to walk next to Henrietta and asked, “Why did you take off all your weapons before hugging me.”

“My Cas doesn’t or well didn’t like weapons. He said he came to bring guidance not violence. You would still smite any one that needed it. Honestly I just think all those weapons made it uncomfortable to get close.”

With that they leave the library area of the bunker and go to the kitchen to drink coffee while they discuss their plans to hunt a vampire werewolf hybrid. They leave figuring out Henrietta until after the murderous monster is taken care of.

 I do have a whole detailed back story for Henrietta, but if you missed the major points; Henrietta is the boys’ sister from an alternate time line or universe. In her time line their mother fights the Yellowed eyed demon when she first meets him and kills him. He kills her father, but the demon brings her and John together. John knows about hunting and supernatural things because his father never died in the battle with Abbadon. Henrietta saved him and he was able to raise john as one of the last Men of letters, which helped him help Mary fight the Yellow eyed demon. 

John and Mary raised all three of their kids as hunters and men of letters. However, John was more protective of his little girl and tried to keep her in the bunker, which had been their home for most of their. Since their father was protective of the only girl in the family the brothers were also overly protective of her. Still she did train and was actually pushed to train harder than the guys, since she had something to prove. 

Okay I can go on and on about this character. I am liking her and keep trying to put her in a story of her own, but in my mind she is so tangled up in Supernatural that I can’t.

Any ways,  This is all I can do for tonight. If you ask I will explain more or write another short story about her, but for now it is off to bed for me.

 

Talking To My Gym

I may be doing random topic  writings lately. I am enjoying writing them and I hope you enjoy reading them. I find it  a fun challenge to write the ordinary in a poetic way or not typical ways. 

writing

Hello, it’s me again. I was pushed by my goals to come and see you again. Let us get this straight I did not want to see you; I did not want to be here. Still here I am. I am walking in pass these glass doors. Before I start I do want to tell you I am drained, tired and it has been a long day. I am not sure how long I will stay or how exciting this visit may be. Maybe I should just turn away and go back home.

No, I will stay. You’re right I need this and I will feel better once I get started. So, here I go. I am starting this thing, called a work-out. I am moving my body that has been locked behind a desk all day.  I’m not going to think about that. I want to think about something else, something better. I know I will make up a story that is only for me about my future adventures that I may have at some point.

Okay, now I am feeling better. Now, that I have started to move and be active, now I feel alive. I am awake and I think I will be able to stay longer. Yes, I am going to stay longer. I am going to push myself. I may fall asleep as soon as I get home, but I will push myself.

I am starting to feel the sweat come on as I start to enjoy being here. This is starting to feel good, like I am really trying. I think I am making a difference with my health. This is great and I am not even paying attention to the time any more. How long have I been on this machine? The machine says half an hour. I guess I should go stretch.

Stretching feels so good. I have been so tight for being stationary for most of the day. It’s nice to pull my muscles at least for a few minutes.

Right, the stretching is done, so it’s back on to the cardio area. I think I will go on a new machine. I want variety, plus I am paying for all these machines. I should get my money’s worth, right? Alright I have not done this lateral moving one in a while.

Let’s see how does this one work? I want the fat burning work-out. Age, weight, wait is that weight again? No, I did something wrong. Age, oh it was target heart rate, now the weight. Alright I am ready to go. No, how do I change the difficulty? I can’t change the resistance I guess. I’ll just start pushing buttons as I work out and see what happens. Nope that mode will kill me. I’m not even going to try that. How about this last one? Yes, it will work, I guess.

Doo de doo now it’s back to my daydreaming, while I do this. Okay, it may be getting easier. Oh, it is and that is because I am going slower. I see the slower I go the easier it is. I am going to push myself. Let’s see how fast I can go. I am going to try to keep this crazy fast pace for five minutes, okay maybe 3. I can do 3 minutes at maximum. I will do this. I will do 3 minutes at maximum. I can’t do it. I want to stop, but I won’t. For some reason being with you makes it harder to take it easy, so I will push myself. I will get to 3 minutes. I am almost there and it’s getting closer. There I did it.

That actually feels great. After a short break at a slower pace I am going to do that again. You know what, maybe you are alright. I don’t know why I hate you so much when I am not around you. I really do enjoy this time here.  Oh, I am almost done with my work-out. I’ll push myself again. I will go as fast as I can. I won’t give up. I can’t give up. Here we go. I can do this. I will finish this work out strong. I am almost there. I will go out strong and I did finish. Great, I feel great. I am really sweat and gross, but I just kicked my butt.

Thank you for being here. I will be back in a day or two. Next time I will try not to be so against you. I know you are here for my health and that is just awesome. I really am happy that you are around. I feel great now and I somehow have more energy.

Let me know what you think of this post. I  am not even sure what category it should go in, but I like writing it.

Free Lobster (A short Story)

writing

You woke up tired with a headache. Yes, it is ten in the morning, but you don’t want to get out of bed. It is cloudy, cold, and sad outside your bed. You stay in bed there for a bit longer which grows into another hour in bed. That is when you drag yourself out of bed, slowly make it down to your kitchen. The  coffee pot fights with you and the pancakes you are making take longer than you want. Once your meal is ready you watch one of your favorite television shows even though you know you have things to do. You tell your self, “It’s Saturday, it is okay to relax.”  The show ends and you now have to rush to get ready.

It’s ten minutes after noon and you are out the door. You drive towards the beach and hope that there is a fire pit available, since your friend has told you to be there before noon to get the fire pit. You arrive at the beach and smile. There is one pit left. You did not fail and even had a nice morning.

You walk the long beach to the one pit without the clutter of people and their things. It is not until you are near it that you see why it is abandoned without a person to claim it. Sand from the beach was piled into it until the sand created a table top. There was no room for fire or anything else besides the sand.

Now, do you sit and claim the pit no one wanted or take your chance that some one will leave by the time your church has its gathering.  You decide to stay and ask a friend to bring a shovel. You then ask another and another,  until someone finally has a shovel in a town where hardly anyone uses a shovel.

Once you have a plan you sit and relax.You take out your kindle to read a book. That is when you realize you kindle only has 20 percent of its battery left. You read the book trying to ignore the fact that the battery is draining. It drains fast and soon the computerized voice tells you so. You read on hoping to get farther in the book that you are just now getting attached to. Finally the battery is too far into the red for your liking so you turn it off.

As the wind blows and you start to get chilled. You are now thankful that you have a pair of leggings to go under your skirt and a cardigan to go over your tank top. As you wrap your self up a young lady walks over with a shovel in her hand. She tells you that you can use the shovel to which you respond with a grateful, “Thank you,” as your leg gets stuck in your legging and you fall over. With a smile you accept the shovel and start to dig out the fire pit.  It does not take long before a fire get fit.

After returning the shovel you sit and wait. You look at your phone to see what is going on in the world and see that you still have hours before the person with the wood will show up and another hour before the fire is supposed to actually start. There is a notebook and Bible in your duffle bag.

The  notebook is what is taken from your bag, but nothing besides a few lines in the shape of the beach’s life guard station is drawn on the pages. Not a single word is written before you put it back in the yellow and blue plaid duffle bag.

There is more waiting and people watching. A few people ask you, “Are you saving the fire pit?” They ask as if there would be another reason your blue sheet is stretched out next to the fire pit in question. A woman looking for a pit for a sixteen year old’s birthday party comes by, but their gathering is happening at the same time and with a large amount of people. Still more people ask you if you are saving the pit that should be obvious that you are saving and that you dug out.

Around three o’clock an older gentleman who looks as if he tries to stay healthy walks over. “Is there anyway we can share this pit?”

You tell him something along the lines that it may be possible and the two of you start to figure out if it actually is. Once it is decided that your parties will not clash it is decided that you will share the pit that you have saved for almost 3 hours with this doctor man. That is when he tells you that he will share his meal with you. For a moment you want to tell him it’s not necessary, but before you can he tells you what he is cooking. He and his doctor friends bought lobster, red beautiful lobster. The seafood that belongs to the other coast. The shellfish that your home has, the delicious food that you have not had in the shell for a long time.

He then leaves to get his things and your roommate shows up. She talks about her day and you tell her about what just happened. The guy comes back and you talk to him a little but mostly focus on the roommate that has joined you.

More doctors and their spouses come trickling towards the fire. Soon their fire is going and they are finding amusement in cooking their lobster. You do not want to intrude, so you talk and focus on your roommate and her friend that shows up.

Your roommate does not stay for too long though. She needs to eat something, so once the lobster is almost done she leaves. You are than called over to be one of the first to enjoy the amazing food that they prepared.  One man, that is about your age, so around late twenties or early thirties  asks you if you need help as you crack the arms off and dislocate the tail for the head. You both smile as he realizes you know what you are doing. Still you let him help you cut the shell. The other cut the shells off the other lobsters which seems so foreign to you. What about the crackers that squeezes the  shell until it breaks?

You figure they had their way of doing it and you had your way. Everyone is enjoying themselves and you are having free lobster with good people. No matter what happens from that point on, you had free lobster because you shared what you could.

 

This is a true story about my last Saturday.