The Stresses of Job Hunting Without a Degree

So recently I've had to start looking for a job.  Here's the problem I'm running into.  I have the experience but everyone wants me to have a (&#(&@(#$&@#() Degree.  More specifically a bachelor's.  Now, I have a degree in Massage Therapy (which I no longer due as it was ridiculously expensive to keep up with the license and besides my wrist decided it didn't really want to handle the stress), but alas, no one is going to hire me with an Associates of Massage.

Granted, I probably should have gone to school when I was younger.  I imagine I'm in the high numbered populace of people going through the same problem. To be honest I fell into my last writing job because a friend of mine is in the business.  She knows I have the skills even if I don't have the degree.  Unfortunately no one else seems to care.

So, what does this mean? This means that I'm going to have to get a crap job while going back to school.  I haven't been to school in over eight years now, but hey, I gotta do what I gotta do.  A Bachelor's in English may be tough to get but I figure if I don't want to be fifty-five working at a retail store for minimum wage I should probably get off my ass and make something happen.

It got me wondering though, how many people went to college straight out of high school? How many people have gone back in later years? Do you know someone who is in their late 20's or 30's or older going back to school? Are you contemplating doing it yourself?

To be perfectly honest I'm petrified, but then again if I let everything that scared me stop me from doing something I wanted to do, well I'd probably live a pretty dull life.

Truths Explained And The Lie Revealed.

Word Of The Day

Edacious

When I came out of my just-waking-up-sleepy-time fog this morning I realized I have over a hundred followers!  I'm gushing over here!  Thank you guys so much (and especially Rach since without her Crusade I doubt I'd have a fraction of that!)  I've been going through and trying to comment on your blogs.  So many interesting posts, so little time!  

I also woke up this morning with my right arm extremely sore.  I'm not sure what happened really.  The only thing I can figure is that I somehow slept on it oddly.  It's making sitting at my desk with my arms on the surface a bit painful.  I hate taking medicine so I've avoided taking any IBuprofens, but it's really becoming bothersome now.  I may have too at some point or I'm not going to get much of anything done.

The Revealing Of The Lie

Mostly all of what I said was true.  I have always bitten my nails since I was a little girl.  Whether I picked it up by aping my mother or it came to me on my own, I don't know, but it's always been there.  My husband has been trying to get my feminine side to come out (as I am the t-shirt and jeans wearing woman) a bit more so I started doing my nails myself.  I now substitute chipping off nail polish instead of biting my nails all the way down to the beds.  So far so good.

The secret was always true.  I very much try to carry the weight of the stress so my loved ones don't have too.  It's just the way I am.  I take after my dad in the aspect.  We're both very calm in chaotic situations, doing what needs to be down and then breaking down about it later if need be.  

An honest person indeed I am.  I've never been one to keep the truth from someone for fear of hurting their feelings.  When a female friend asks if a dress makes her look fat, I'll answer honestly.  If it makes her look fat I'm going to say so.  What's the point of lying?  Then when you go out and she finds out from someone else that the dress hugs her in ways that are no where near flattering she's going to be pissed at me.  If you can't hear the truth from your friends...well who are you going to hear it from?  My husband and I are in agreement that this is my best character trait.

Peeing before sex.  Yes, it's true.  It's an odd quirk.  Apparently it doesn't matter where we are, what time of day it is, or if I'm so dehydrated that my lips are cracked and my tongue feels like sandpaper.  I will pee before sex!  So yes, it is true!

I LOVE musicals! As a child and still as an adult I have an edacious addiction to them. I was raised on them and when there's nothing on TV, I tend to pop in Seven Brides for Seven Brothers or Grease. This is where the lie comes in though.  I honestly thought that though it was subtle, it would be easily picked up on.  In my experience, it is that us of the fairer sex, tend to enjoy musicals a lot more than men.  I secretly think they like it, but don't say so because they're worried it'll ruin their manly image. 

Have you figured out the lie yet? 

My father was not the one who played them over and over for me.  It was my mother.  When Mamma Mia came out on DVD she played it over and over again.  I can't count how many times I have looked like a fool dancing with her to 'Dancing Queen.'  

There you have it.  Truths sorted from lies and a bit of embarrassing information about me as a bonus.

Procrastinator's of the World Unite!......Tomorrow!

Word of The Day 

Congenial

Gah!  I feel like I'm so behind!  I still haven't gotten my Crusader's Challenge done.  :(  I know, I know.  No time like the present.  Especially since I'm writing up a blog post when I could be doing the challenge.  Anything I say will be an excuse.  I know that.  I could say it's because I've been cleaning like a fiend, prepping dinner for tonight, or the fact that the phone has been ringing wildly off the hook.  All excuses.  None of them good.

I am really good at procrastinating. Which is really bad for writing.

In other news, I've followed all of you Crusaders.  (I think!) So, if you're a Crusader and you come to my blog, and for whatever reason I may have skipped you just let me know.  I'll scamper right on over and make sure that's corrected.

Looking at the first Crusader's Challenge and reading through some of the blogs, I feel like my vocabulary isn't as diverse as it could be.  It's not that I don't know big words.  I do.  I just think I could learn more and maybe add some into my writing.  Thus I have started getting the Word of The Day from Merriam-Webster.

It's easy to sign up for.  Free, and each day I'll get a new word in my email.  Some I may know.  Some I may not. 

The goal will be to somehow finagle that word into my blog post each day.  Hopefully in the right context. It's a neat little personal challenge. I figured some of you other bloggers or Crusaders out there might find it congenial and decide to do it for yourself.  It’s always good to expand your vocabulary!

Okay, okay!  I'll go work on my Crusader's Challenge!  No more procrastinating!  Twist my arm why don't you! 

Sunday Scribbles!

Happy Sunday everyone!  I hope you all had a peaceful and relaxing weekend. I wish I could say that mine was, but it really wasn't.  The hubby's been sick all weekend and we had to take a trip to the airport.  We had to pick up my ninety-two year old grandfather and his car since his buddy was getting on a plane.  It wouldn't have been so bad if they hadn't arrived way to early and not told us that they parked the car instead of waiting at the terminal.  The airport became my own personal merry-go-round.  We drove in a circle three or four times waiting on them. 

I also think I'm getting whatever stomach bug the hubby had, which does not amuse me.  I would rather have a cold for a week than the stomach flu for twenty four hours.  Insane right?  I'm one of those people who can not stand throwing up. I never could.  Even as a little kid.  It's just so blech!

Anyways, moving on!

Crusader's News!
I have followed over a hundred of you!  YAY I'm getting there!  I promise!  I really can't stand putting all those codes in so I follow about twenty or so people, wait a bit and follow more.  I'll have you all followed in the end though!

I also hope to have my First Crusader's Challenge up tomorrow.  I have to do some work first, but then it's all gravy baby!  Then again I really shouldn't say that and jinx myself. >.<

I still don't know why my Crusader pic is being all stretchy.  I've tried putting it on the sidebar ten different ways and it just stretches.  I don't think it likes me very much.

Moving on to writing news.

Since it's Sunday and I like the idea of Sunday Scribbles, I'm going to put a bit of a story in this post.  Nothing spectacular or great, but hey, the more I write, the better I get.  So without further ado.

Route 4 - Part One

It started out as one of those days where despite the fact the sun was shining brightly overhead, the moon could be seen sitting across from it in the sky.  It was as if the agents of night and day were at odds.  They sat on opposite sides of the world facing off against each other.

Four in the afternoon was a late start in the day for most.  I work the graveyard shift at the city morgue.  I would be crawling into bed just as the sun was coming up to start a new day.  I had a long way to go before then.  My day was just beginning.

Standing on my front porch, a cup of coffee in my hand, I looked from the sun to the moon.  A frown settled on my lips.  My gaze kept flicking to and fro, wondering why they were once again at odds.  Somehow, whenever they were battling over the sky, something odd was bound to take place.  At least it always did for me.

The sun and the moon were feuding.  Something wasn’t right in the world.  Okay a lot wasn’t right in the world,  but whenever I saw them in the sky together odd things happened.  Goosebumps brushed over my skin, despite the warmth of the day.  Shivering, I wandered back inside.

I dumped my coffee cup into the sink and rinsed it out, peeking out the window.  After eyeing the sun and the moon for a moment again, I wandered off to the shower.  As the hot spray of water washed away the remnants of sleep I thought about the last time the two had been feuding.

It had been a quiet night at the morgue.  Only two bodies had come in.  One was from a car accident.  Cause of death was blunt force trauma.  The other was a John Doe that had taken a bullet between the eyes.  They were both pretty cut and dry.  It was up to the police to figure out who the John Doe was.  My only job was to find out how they had died and why.

I was transcribing my notes from the voice recorder to the computer.  My assistant, George had gone home early.  There was no sense in both of us staying on such a slow night.  If things picked up I could always call him back, but it seemed doubtful. 

George had a fiancé at home anyways.  They were getting down to the final details and I didn’t want the bride to be calling the morgue all night having panic attacks because of some easily fixable problem. I prefer the quiet.  It’s one of the reasons I chose to be a Medical Examiner. The dead don’t talk.  At least not out loud.

“Hello.”

I hadn’t heard anyone come in, but that wasn’t unusual.  I tended to become completely engrossed in my work, often not noticing my surroundings.

“I’m not done with the report.”  I didn’t bother to turn around.  “I told the detective I’ll have it ready for him in the morning.  It’s not morning.”

There was silence for a moment.  The sound of feet shuffling for the door didn’t come.  I really didn’t need or want a cop staring over my shoulder while I put the report together.  I’d been doing this for five years now and my work was always meticulous.  Having a shadow hovering over my shoulder was distracting and annoying.

“You can go now.” I snapped.  “No reason to stay.”

“What is this place?”

I groaned.  Apparently I’d been wrong.  It wasn’t the cops waiting on the report.  It was more than likely an Alzheimer’s patient that had snuck out from the geriatric ward and gotten lost.  It happened from time to time.  They were sneaky when they wanted to be.

Pressing pause on the voice recorder I swiveled around in my seat.  There was a fake smile on my lips.  I didn’t want to poor guy to think I was being rude.  He was old and sick, and probably lost and scared.  I may not like people much, but I wasn’t cruel about it.

I had been prepared to face an old man, confusion wide in his eyes.  What I had not been expecting was for John Doe to be sitting up.  The gaping hole that looked like a third eye in the middle of his forehead really should have prevented that.

So Close, Yet So Far

Last night as I was dozing off to sleep I got a story idea.  I love it when inspiration strikes.  I started jotting down notes and ideas for it, but I'm so excited to actually start on it.  It's always exciting to start a new writing project.  It's fresh.  New characters, new plot.  All the details to figure out of this new world.  It always excites me to start a story.

Which makes me wonder why I'm having such a hard time ending the current story I'm working on.  I want to finish it.  I love the story.  Is it that I don't want it to end?  Maybe I just can't find an ending that fits?  Maybe I've lost interest in the direction it's gone? If I've lost interest than more than likely the readers would too.  Except I don't know if that's the case and I'm just frustrated because every line I try to right is like ripping off my fingernails.  It makes me want to scream.  So close yet so far.

So, here's what I've decided.  This new project, while I'll still write down ideas, and characters, and all the fun stuff like that, I'm not going to let it over shadow the project I'm currently working on.  Meaning, I'm not going to actually writing the story, until I've completed this one. 

Now that doesn't mean I'm not going to probably jot down short stories and things like that, but this new story idea wouldn't be a short story.   I really want to finish the story I'm working on though and then while I'm going back to edit it, I can start the new project.

It's Just Another Manic Monday....

So, I'm more than likely going to be a Monday through Friday blogger.  The weekends seem to take my brain on joy ride that I have no control over.  Meaning that if I did manage to post on Saturday and or Sunday it would be complete gibberish.  I know most of posts now are mostly gibberish, so I really don't want to add to it.

Mondays are my least favorite days.  I've never liked Mondays.  I will probably never like Mondays.  Mondays are the bane of my existence and should be wiped from the calendar.  Too much?  I tend to go a little overboard sometimes.

Anyways, so after taking care of things around the house I sit down and have managed to break my writers block. 

I wrote a paragraph.

Now to be fair, I'm not sure if it would have continued flowing or not, because, and this never fails, as soon as I sat down to write, something happens.  For instance.  We have a massive storm coming in.  Rain storm. I'm a Florida girl.  Never seen snow.  It's very dark outside, the wind is howling like crazy and thunder is rumbling in the sky.  I live on seven acres of land and I have three dogs.  They have a doggy door and go in and out as they please.  So, when we have crazy storms I have to round up the posse and bring them inside, closing off the doggy door.  Yes, they will run outside in thunder storms.  It makes them all frisky and suddenly they've forgotten how to come when you call them.  Safer just to get them in before the downpour begins.

See, now I've left my room and I'm visible to the rest of the household which means they have now thought of a hundred and one things they want me to do.  Now this could be anything from having a conversation with them to taking out the trash or finding something that's gone amiss.  Eventually I find a way to slink back to my room, but then the muse is gone.  Apparently my allotted time was up and she has moved on to her next client for the day.

So, here's the plan.  I'm going to work out.  I'm going to cook dinner.  I'm going to do a bit of family time.  Then I'm going to sit down in front of my computer and print out a sign that says 'Disturb At Your Own Risk'.  If someone dares to come in here and start bugging me I may very well soak all their underwear and stick it in the freezer.  That's even being generous.

So how do you get people to stop bugging you when you're trying to write?

Friday Night Write's...Or Not

I usually do my posts as soon as I wake up, but there was too much commotion today.  The hubby hasn't been feeling well so he was mopey.  Don't get me wrong, he's absolutely adorable when he's mopey, but it's very distracting and makes it hard to get anything on or off the computer done.  Of course then the morning was gone and I had to get on task with everything else I had to do today.

After shopping, cooking, cleaning, running errands, picking a friends dog that we're watching tonight, and hair dying fun (from a box, as I am too pour to go to a salon)  I finally get a moment at my computer.  The hubby is raiding on WoW, the dogs have been fed, everyone's good to go. 

So why am I not writing?

It's only 7:45 pm and everyone is still awake.  My mom wants to have a drink with me tonight and the Holy Grail of TV is on tonight.  Supernatural.  Friday nights and weekends seem to be the hardest times for me to write.  There's always something going on.  There's always another errand or another chore that wasn't gotten to during the week, plus family togetherness time.  Plus, ya know, sometimes you just want to take a break because it's the weekend and have fun.

I managed to finish another short story yesterday, but still no luck on the actual manuscript.  I wonder if my muse for that is blatantly ignoring me.  It sure as hell seems like it.

Now don't get me wrong.  All of the above are simply excuses.  One reason or another that I have written today.  I could be staring at my manuscript right now trying to pull out that next sentence, dragging it by the ankles kicking and screaming.  I could be starting another short story or editing one of the completed works.  The truth is right now, I just don't have the energy to think that much.

Writing every day is a good thing, but I feel like if I push it too much I'll burn myself out.  No it won't be permanently, but whether it be for a day or a week, I'll look at a blank page in Word or stare at my journal as though it's sprouted horns.  I really don't want that to happen. 

So, tonight I'm taking a break.  That doesn't mean that later in the night when I have a nice buzz going on, and I'm relaxed that I won't open word or pull out my journal.  It could very well happen.  Just at this moment particular moment I've decided that I'm not going to stress over it.  Besides, sometimes taking a break and relaxing will help the ideas flow better.

My Nemesis The Sun....And Intimidation

So when I wake up in the morning the first thing I do is brush my teeth and hair, wash my face and sit down at my desk with a cup of coffee and check over my email, blog, etc, etc.  Coffee is optional pending on how awake I feel at the time.  Either way at the beginning of my day, I'm usually sitting here wondering... How am I going to make my brain function today?  Honestly it seems that when the suns up, my brain is asleep.  It could explain why I have such a hard time falling, and staying asleep at night.  It could also explain why I tend to write more when the moon is out.

I think the sun may be my nemesis.

Then, sitting here, reading over the new blog posts this morning, I realized something.  Having a new blog can feel very intimidating.  It isn't that the people aren't welcoming or inviting, but rather, I've realized just how well some of them can write.  Then as I go to my do my posts, I suddenly feel like a complete novice.

I don't claim to have any major knowledge of writing.  It's just something I do.  If I think about something too hard, I tend to screw it up, so trying to write an article about the intricacies of writing would just come off as one long piece of malarkey.  Honestly, I'm not a critical thinker.  I'm a person who goes off instincts.  Even with my stories, if I think too far ahead I have a tendency to get frustrated and angry because it's not going the way I want it.

Then I look through the blogs and everyone's words seem so eloquent and the advice is wonderful.  I look back at my blog and wonder what it is I have to offer besides musings and more often than not, horribly written short stories.

It's a good question.  One I'm not sure I have an answer to.  Maybe it's because my brain is still trying to wake up, or maybe the rays from the sun are blocking any coherent thoughts from forming.  I'm not sure.  All I can say for now, is that I guess it doesn't really matter to me what people think.  In the writing world, I am a novice.  This blog is to help me learn and grow as a writer.  Maybe even as a person.  It would be hard to go through the journey alone, and maybe having joined a community of other writers and want-to-be writers will help me in that process.

The Kick Butt First Line Contest!

Jaime Rush - Kick Butt First Line Contest!

So this is a neat little contest that I joined last year.  It's really easy and fun.  You just come up with an opening line to a story.  It could be funny or dramatic, quirky or sad.  Whatever you want so long as it catches the readers eye.  Let's face it, if you don't have a good start to your story, the reader isn't going to get hooked and they probably won't make it to the middle of it, let alone the end.

I entered the contest last year.  It's actually really fun.  I kept jotting down sentences and then I had my friends and family vote on which three I should use.  (You can have up to three entries.)  It's a good way to practice writing first lines that really catch your reader.

Worse case scenario, you don't win. Still, you won't know until you try! Besides, no matter what, it's good practice.

It's 10:30am and I Feel Accomplished

At least for now.  There's still plenty more to be done today, but I've already posted the second half of the short story.  Hopefully you guys will enjoy it.  I enjoy feedback too, so if you have an opinion I'd love to hear it!  Honestly it's not one of my favorites, but I figured that's why I'd start with it.  Honestly if I didn't I'd probably wind up making excuses not to post it, which would turn into excuses not to post others, and then I'd just doubt myself and nothing would get done.

I always worry whether my writing is good.  I've simply come to the conclusion that not all of it's going to be good.  There are going to be drafts and revisions, good and bad critiscism, but if I let that get to me, I'm never going to go anywhere with it.  So I figure to get to the good stuff, I need to write through the bad.  More than likely you're going to read a lot more of my bad works, than my good ones, just because of the simple fact, most of them are probably bad.

That's okay though, I won't get good until I get through the bad.

On a different note Writer's Digest is on the list of top 50 magazines followed on Twitter! 
















Congratulations Writer's Digest!

One Man's Greed, Another Woman's Treasure: Part 2

My eyes bled from green to liquid silver.  As I delved farther inside the depths of him, moving past memories and thoughts he began to scream and attempted to pull away.  That simply wouldn’t do.  I couldn’t have an audience.  Grabbing his shirt with my free hand I pulled him close and pulled up a cloak around us. 

We were still there in plain sight, but no one would see us, nor would they hear us.  They would feel a compulsion to look elsewhere and if they managed to bring their gaze to us, well they would instantly forget what it was they had witnessed. As for the screaming, it would seem like a distant low wailing, maybe even something they dreamed up in their head. It was very convenient and a one of the perks of this job. 

The process was not a comforting feeling for him as I travelled through his mind, his emotions.  I cord let me inside of him, see all of him.  I was meddling with everything that made this despicable man him.  I touched and poked and prodded not caring about the mess I left behind.  It wasn’t in my job description to clean up the aftermath.

Still, I did not want to drag this on any longer than needed.  I still had an appointment to keep after all.  This was an impromptu client.  One I could honestly have done without.  My quota always met it’s mark often going above and beyond setting the bar for others like myself.   This man hadn’t been on the list, but because of his greed he was now facing the consequences.  The fool should have just taken the jewelry and been on his way.

I continued moving through him, the silver corded breath letting me see and touch every inch of him.  I imagine he never felt so naked and vulnerable in his life.  He was usually the one to make people feel vulnerable and afraid.  This time the tables had been turned.  It would most likely be the most terrifying thing he’d go through in his life.  It had been in mine.

I had been just as human as the man who was sinking to his knees before me.  Though our lips parted the silver cord kept us tethered.  It had been a different time then, a different world all together.  It had been much harder for a woman to be anything more than a housewife and a slave to her husband.  Even though I had been raised to believe there was no other way, it was something I simply didn’t have the stomach for.  I had gone through this for good reason.  This unsavory gentleman was going through it because he was a nuisance.

Ah, there it was.  Past all the anger and the joy, the memories (several which he could do to forget), and the wasted love I found what I’d been searching for.  I smiled.  “My, my, aren’t you an interesting one.”  The silver cord slithered around my words.

The platform trembled promising the trains soon arrival.  There was no more time to waste.  I still had an appointment to keep after all.  Unforeseen circumstances were no excuse for being late.  

I sucked my breath in, and the man let out a torturous scream.  It was a painful process, so I really couldn’t condone him for it.  The silver cord wrapped around it’s prize and pulled back, retrieving what I needed from him.

I stepped back, though still inside the cloak. The thug fell onto his side as a thousand flesh eating scarabs escaped his mouth.  It muffled his screams making them more of a strangled cry as he fell to all fours, trying to rid the bugs from his body.  He swatted at his own face, yanking them from his mouth and still managed to make panicked sounds at the same time.

It was an odd fear, but not the strangest I’ve seen.  It was amazing the things people were terrified of.  The phobias and the horrors.  There were thousands of them.  One or more belonged to each soul.  It was so easy to break a person provided you had the right tools.  I of course, did.

The scarabs crawled along his skin, began eating away and burrowing into his flesh.  He begged and pleaded.  His voice high pitched with terror.  He fell to his side no longer batting at them, but literally just lying there screaming.  It didn’t surprise me.  The fear had become paralyzing, even crippling. 

I could hear the wheels grinding along the track.  The steel on steel rush of the train as it approached.  Time was running short.  Normally I preferred the agony to go on a while long before I offered the deal.  Though as I’ve said, this was impromptu and unforeseen.  I still had my other appointment.

I squatted beside him, careful not to wrinkle my suit.  Raw terror flowed off of him waves.  It was almost orgasmic as it washed over me sending a small shiver down my spine.  Reaching out I gently brushed a strand of greasy, sweat matted hair from his forehead.

“I can take the pain away.  The fear.  I can make you more efficient, successful.” A reassuring smile stretched on my lips.  “Would you like that?”

His reply was garbled, blood filling his mouth, but there was a small nod of his head. 

“Very well.  I’ll make it stop, but in return, your soul becomes forfeit.”  My eyes still swirled with liquid silver as I watched him. 

His eyes widened as the fear of bargaining with the devil came into play.  It was absurd.  I am of course not the devil.   I have never met the devil.  If there is a devil, well it seems he doesn’t have the time to deal with living souls.

The smile on my lips widened.  I tried for reassurance, but his eyes only widened more as the garbled sound continued.  The scarabs kept feasting on his flesh.  The gleam of bone shined within the cloak as the platform vibrated beneath us. 

“It’s my price.”  The words were simple, honest.  “Decide now.”

The train was about to arrive.  There was no more time.  Of course as soon as I left the vicinity, whether he sold his soul or not the scarabs would disappear.  His body would become whole.  To him it would be nothing more than a horrible nightmare or hallucination.  He could very easily say no.  It was after all a test of will, of faith, and of course a test of fear. 

Few passed the test, though many thought their conviction would prevail.  In the end the fear of death usually won out.  Their righteous belief dwindled beneath a waterfall of terror.  It simply became too much for their fragile minds and bodies.  In this state there are no thoughts of faith or love.  Just terror, and most will do anything to make it stop.

“Yes!” He screamed, spitting out more scarabs.  “God forgive me, yes!  Just make it stop!”

The words of a desperate man who had no desire to die.  I would keep my end of the bargain.  His life would improve.  Subtly at first, but then he would find himself surrounded with an abundance of wealth and luck.  Still, there are so many other things that can make a person unhappy.

Leaning down I kissed him again. The silver tendril snaked back through his body until it found his core.  The center of his soul where the purest parts were protected and hard to find.  The tendril wrapped around before retreating from his body.  The end floated in the air, holding a bright, illuminescent gem.  It glowed so bright it drowned out the ugly yellow ambient light.  It was a shame the others couldn’t see it.  It really was beautiful.

Opening the briefcase the tendril placed it inside next to three others.  The man would never know it was missing.  When he died that bit of soul would let us claim him.  Then he would work for us for eternity.  It would all depend on his performance from here on out.  People would be watching to see if he’d be useful.  There are so many jobs after all. 

I snapped the suitcase shut and snapped my fingers.  We were standing side by side on the platform.  He looked around confusion and terror on his features for a moment before shaking it off.  He gave me a sidelong glance as the train pulled in directly on schedule.

The doors whooshed open.  I nodded to the man and stepped on the train.  Just as the doors closed my eyes flashed silver.  He jumped.  I smiled.  He should have just taken the jewelry. 

~Fin

2011 Copyright © Sully's Scribbles. All rights reserved

One Man's Greed, Another Woman's Treasure. Part 1

My steps echoed off the platform, heels clacking against the cold concrete.  The yellowish neon lights reflected off the pillars with an almost eerie glare.  There was a vibration humming through the walls.  The tracks in front of me were bare, but the train would be here soon.  A relaxed hand on my leather briefcase, I waited patiently.  Hopefully the train would be on time.

I was several minutes early, but it was better to be early than to be late.  Something the subway conductors often had a hard time understanding.  As many times as I’ve taken the train, they’ve often been late, but I can’t recall a time when they were early.  I wondered what caused them to not adhere to the set schedule so often, and I couldn’t think of any good excuses.

At this late hour the subway station was mostly deserted.  There were a few stragglers, though it seemed no one else was waiting for the train.  Bums were slumped against the wall, probably just seeking a warm place to sleep so they wouldn’t freeze in the bitter cold outside.  During the day it was probably a good place to ask for ums for the poor, but right now they were off, most of them dozing against the wall. 

There were junkies as well, huddled together in the far corner. There wide dilated eyes watched the station nervously.   I wrinkled my nose as the stink of heroin and crack wafted my way.  Their blood was full of the poison.  Like the bums they were probably trying to avoid the harsh weather conditions.  Either that or they were meeting a dealer.   

Whatever they business it was none of mine.  They glanced at me every so often.  As the only one waiting for the train I looked out of sorts compared to the others.  My black pant suit was meticulous, not a wrinkle to be found.  I wore a purple shirt beneath the jacket, and simple, but comfortable black heels.  In my line of work sensible worked better than stilettos.  My blonde hair was in a neat bun at the nape of my neck and my glasses were sleek but professional.  My business often took place at night.

I was attempting to ignore the stench of old, and quite possibly not so old urine, body odor, and the occasional whiff of long dried blood when I felt the distinct feeling of a blade being pressed into my back.  The point bit through the fabric of my jacket and shirt and I could feel the cold press of steel against my skin. 

A soft sigh of frustration escaped my lips.  This was one of my favorite suits. Luckily my hair was up.  Had he cut through it, I would have been extremely sore.  I take pride in my looks, especially when going to meet with a client.  I had very high professional standards.  Showing up in a ripped suit with an uneven haircut was not to my liking.

“Give me your money!” His voice was strained, deeper than it should have been in an attempt to sound more menacing than he really was. 

“I have none,” I replied in a dry tone.  It was the truth.  Honestly not many people carried actually hard cash around anymore.  Everything had transformed into electronic funding.  Plastic was carried more often than not now.  He would have been better off asking me for my wallet, but I didn’t let him in on that tidbit.  I wasn’t going to help him rob me.

He pressed the knife deeper into my skin.  He hadn’t pierced the flesh yet, but he was attempting to intimidate me with fear.  “Your briefcase, jewelry, all of it now.”

Well someone had a brain after all.  The vibrations were getting stronger, signaling the train drawing closer.  My jewelry was trivial and easy to part with.  The briefcase on the other hand was much to important.  It had nothing the thief could use.  Oh perhaps he could sell the thing itself and make a few pennies for its fine Italian leather, but what was inside was worthless to him and priceless to me.

Not wanting to be late for my appointment I removed the necklace, bracelet, and earrings holding them over my shoulder.  He snatched them greedily and shoved them into his pocket.  “Now the briefcase.”

“No.”

He dug the knife deeper into my skin.  Warm blood oozed down my skin.  “I’m not playing around lady!”

The first slight flicker of irritation eased its way into my chest.  Removing blood stains completely from clothing was no easy feat. Especially not out of silk.  Still I wasn’t cruel.  “There’s nothing in it that will profit you.  Take the jewelry and leave.”

Grabbing me by the shoulder he jerked me around placing the cold steel against my cheek.  My deep green eyes bore into his brown ones.  The man looked and smelled like he hadn’t bathed in days.  Layers of dirt covered his skin in a thick film.  His shaggy hair literally had chunks of…things in it.  The smell itself was offensive.

“Give me the damn briefcase!”  His eyes were wide and wild.  He was in desperate need of money it seemed.

The train was almost here.  So it would be on time.  Of course it would.  I let out another sigh.  I simply couldn’t part with the briefcase.  Besides he’d gotten blood on my shirt and there was a knife pressed to my face.  Being a reasonable person I decided to give him one more chance.

“You’ve gotten my valuables.  There’s nothing in the briefcase of worth to you.  Leave now and we’ll be done with it.”

His face tightened with anger.  He wanted me to slovenly follow his orders out of his fear.  That was why he hadn’t just tried to rip the suitcase from my fingers.  He wanted me to do as he said.  He wanted to be in control.  The wild look in his eyes, menacing tone, and small blade in his hand were meant to be the catalysts to make me do as he said.  I imagine he felt quite impotent that it wasn’t working.  Men were always trying to compensate for something.

I suppose there were plenty of people who would be quite frightened in this moment.  For me though it was an annoyance.  A mosquito bite that just wouldn’t stop itching.  Irritating, but not frightening.

Pulling the knife back he balled his other fist.  He went to strike me and I stepped in, kissing him instead.  It was a light brushing of lips.  Nothing crude or unsavory.  It seemed to shock him.  It had been rather unexpected.  At least for him.  For me it was simply the opening I needed.  A stream of silver slipped from my lips and into his.  It was cool, almost minty as it moved between us.  A bit of relief from the horrid taste of him.  Blowing a light breath into him, I began to search his soul.

TBC.....

2011 Copyright © Sully's Scribbles. All rights reserved.

Good Morning, Good Afternoon, Good Evening, or Good Night.....

Pending of course on where you live.  I live on the east coast and have been up since ridiculously early o'clock in the morning. I've just redone my blog.  Believe it or not having been started yesterday I quickly decided to bring it over to Blogger for the time being.  It's more flexible than other places and I seem to be able to do more here.  At least it wasn't a month or two into it before I switched.

Unfortunately since I've been up since ridiculously early o'clock and didn't go to bed till sometime between the dead of night and sunrise, I am utterly exhausted.  I need to finish this short story I've been working on and type up a few others.  I tend to write short stories in a journal.  This way I don't have as many shiny internet options distracting me.

Short attention span + Sully = Lots of distractions.

Then let's face it.  There's youtube, stumbleupon, twitter, facebook, etc etc.  I think they may have been designed by the devil to consume our souls sometimes.  You think you're going to watch just one video, but then it's another and another.

This is why I find writing in a journal (at least for short stories and poetry and random gibberish thoughts) so much easier.  I stay more focused and am more productive when there aren't so many things that give me an excuse to procrastinate.

Speaking of procrastinating.... I'm hopefully going to have a short story up later in the day.  I need coffee.  Perhaps a lobotomy. Though really, sleep does sound wonderful.  But I am up, so I might as well get into making this a productive day.  Coffee first.  Otherwise I will continue sitting at the computer looking like a lifeless zombie and probably go to do something and wind up staring at the screen.

Hello fellow bloggers, readers, writers, or just random people who may stroll by! This is my first post, on my new blog, on a new day.

Every story has a beginning, a middle, and an end.  I know my story has already started.  I’m somewhere in the middle right now, and to be honest, I have no idea where it’s headed.  There always seems to be confusion, and trials and tribulations, and honestly sometimes it feels like the world just wants to be beat me down into the ground.   It’s like a bully that kicks when you’re down and promises that if you get up you’re only going to suffer more.  Sometimes I get up and there’s more heartache to face, and sometimes I get up and the bully backs down.

Then there are the moments of happiness.  The days when for once everything goes right.  Whether it be just because I accomplished something, or I can feel the overwhelming love flowing over my husband.  Sometimes those days seem few and far between, but I’ve learned that if you don’t learn to look for them you won’t find them much either.

Confused yet?  Welcome to my life.

Here’s the thing about it though.  In all the chaos and malarkey, the shenanigans and confusion, one thing has always made sense.  One thing has always kept me sane.  Well at least mostly sane.

Writing.

Whether it be journal writing, poetry, songs, short stories, just typing up a massive vent to get my frustration out.  Writing has always been there to help me sort out my thoughts, let my creativity flow, and help me express my feelings.  It’s amazing, the power of words.  They can make people laugh, cry, feel empathy or sympathy, or a cascade of other emotions.  Yet it can be so hard to determine the right word to convey what you want to say.

I’ve been writing since I was seven years old.  Maybe since before then.  The only reason I’m proof positive of seven is because my mom went through an old photo album/scrapbook and pulled out a horribly hand written story by a seven year old, entitled The Haunted House.  I can’t say my tastes have changed much since then.  I enjoy writing dark fiction, urban fantasy, and horror (also reading them as well). I am honestly glad my mother showed me the story.  It made me realize that writing is something I’ve always done and will always do.  Nothing can stop me.  While all of it may not be, and probably isn’t very good, it’s something I am passionate about and enjoy doing immensely.

So, in honor of my passion, this blog is going to be dedicated to short stories, poetry, and any other scribbles that I’ve written.  I also intend to post about my writing process.  So prepare yourself for scribbles, rants and ravings, thoughts and ponders, good and bad stories, and a good old fashion vent from time to time.  Maybe in the process I’ll figure out where my personal life story is headed.  I hope you enjoy them!

SS