A Tragedy

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Three Letter Words.”

the challenge was to write a post excluding Three Letter Words! This is harder than I thought it would be.

On a Sunday morning in July, my birthday, actually, we were looking forward to some swimming in a neighborhood pool. At about 10:03 AM when I heard my phone ring, I thought, “Ah..someone calling to wish me a Happy Birthday?”

Casually, I answered my phone. Instead of hearing a cheery Birthday Greeting. I heard screaming. I recognized my sister, Kate’s, grief-stricken voice. Something terribly must have happened. After several minutes of screaming. I heard something that I never wanted to hear. Kate told me that Jenny, my niece, finally committed suicide.

Jenny talked about doing this quite often. We never took it serious.

Every event that unfolded from that morning, sounded strange. Nothing matched up to what we were being told.

There seemed to be many versions of what actually happened..

Some shoddy investigation by a local sheriff’s office along with Jenny’s questionable past, made a quick conclusion easier to believe.

Many false truths were accepted as facts.

Kate, Jenny’s mother, accepts what I know is wrong information.

I have dedicated three years of my life, trying to prove a more truthful version.

I almost gave up, because nobody cared, nobody wanted to hear what I knew.

I know some details of what happened. I know that some people have many secrets.

I know some people should be very afraid when Karma comes knocking.

I know that a mother should never have to bury a child.

I know that a mother should never keep secrets about a person’s death.

I know an aunt that isn’t going to give up.


Sarah’s Secrets, Happy Endings: Flash Fiction For Aspiring Writers

flashAfter two years of devoting every second of her life to trying to prove that Clyde’s death was murder, not suicide, Sarah was exhausted. She sold everything. The bookstore, the apartments and the motels and moved to  San Francisco. It had been her dream to live close to her parents. She found a house on one of the city’s quaint sloping streets. Money was not an issue, since she had inherited Clyde’s fortune and with the profits of the property that she had sold. But this was where she knew she would be happy and could live quietly.

So with her cat, Axel, in hand, she left the past behind. She had completed the list of requests that Clyde had instructed for her to do in the event of his death. Even though they were divorced, Clyde had left everything to Sarah. She had even went through with his request of burying his ashes along with their son’s and having it concreted over with a tennis court. She thought it a strange request but she never thought that she would have to actually go through with it. But a promise was a promise.

Clyde’s death was still in the hands of the investigators that she had hired. They all suspected Jake of killing Clyde, but they had no proof. Sarah’s theory was that Jake had befriended Clyde when he realized that Clyde was worth millions and was planning on tricking him into turning it all over to him.

He did this by drugging Clyde so that he would sleep all day, so he could snoop around in his belongings . He even went so far as to try to drive Clyde insane by haunting him with the ghost of his and Sarah’s dead son. That was a very low blow that almost got the best of Clyde. Jake would call and taunt Clyde during the night about him seeing his son’s spirit in that old haunted house. This went on for months without the local town people ever knowing anything. They all thought that Clyde was the strange one and that Jake was just a nice guy who owned the bookstore. He had them all fooled, except for Sarah.

When it all backfired and Clyde was catching on to his ways, Jake just got scared and shot Clyde, making it look like suicide. Even down to leaving a fake note, saying that he just couldn’t go on without his son and Sarah.

Jake had meant to stick around to see if there was still a chance that he could get part of Clyde’s money, but when Sarah showed up immediately and he realized that she was in control now, he skipped the country and no one has heard from him since.

One thing for sure, he did not leave with Clyde’s money and he will be looking over his shoulder for the rest of his life.

Meanwhile, Sarah plans to live out her life peacefully. Away from all the drama of the small town. The only friend she ever needs now is Axel. He sits in the sun on the windowsill and he appears to love the new house as much as Sarah does.

This is probably the last story of Sarah’s Secrets. I didn’t want to drag it out too long. I have no idea how many words this post has. My word counter seems to be on the blink. Although, I am sure it is over my limit. I am hoping that you all will forgive me, since it is the end of Sarah’s story?


Flash Fiction for Aspiring Writers

My Obit?

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “In Loving Memory.”

The only reason that I went along with this daily prompt is that I already had this written and because it is very important to me that it gets carried out this way.

Depressing? yes, but so is seeing the wishes of people not being carried out correctly because family never wants to talk about it. Talk about it and make plans once and then you never have to wonder or regret.

Love and hugs to you all. This was a tough one.

In Loving Memory of a woman who tried her best to make a difference.

She is survived by her the two reasons for every breath that she took in this lifetime, her sons.

She had always requested that no services be held and that the following instructions be carried out.

Give my sight to the man who has never seen a sunrise, a baby’s face or love in the eyes of a woman.

Give my heart to a person whose own heart has caused nothing but endless days of pain.

Give my blood to the teenager who was pulled from the wreckage of his car, so that he might live to see his grandchildren play.

Give my kidneys to the one who depends on a machine to exist from week to week.

Take my bones, every muscle, every fiber and nerve in my body and find a way to make a crippled child walk.

Explore every corner of my brain.

Take my cells, if necessary, and let them grow so that, someday a speechless boy will shout at the crack of a bat and a deaf girl will hear the sound of rain against her window.

Burn what is left of me and scatter the ashes to the winds to help the flowers grow.

If you must bury something, let it be my faults, my weakness and all prejudice against my fellow-man.

Give my sins to the devil.

Give my soul to God.

If, by chance, you wish to remember me, do it with a kind deed or word to someone who needs you. If you do all I have asked, I will live forever.  Robert N. Test

Her final request is that a tree be planted in her memory.

Preferably an Elm

The Elm tree signifies inner strength and the realm of intuition

 a perfect description of this woman.

Four people, my dog and Wi-fi

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Circle of Five.”

My circle would not be hard to choose. I choose these people every day. They are the only ones that I care spending time with.

My 2 sons, my husband and maybe my best friend, Sherry, if she was in a good mood… And my dog… In fact, my dog would come before Sherry, because he is always in a good mood.

There are billions of people in the world and I kind of like only 4. That is sad, but I have been “put out” with my family (and people in general) for so long that I often think of leaving and not telling anyone (except these 4) where I was. I work for the public, so people, in general, really irritate me.

Being the introvert that I am, I think I could live isolated and be very happy with my small clan. As long as I had wi-fi. Got to have wi-fi!

I Hate Nosey Questions

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Plead the Fifth.”

The question that I am always tempted to plead the fifth on? All of them!!!. I have went down so many different paths in my life and I ain’t dead yet, so I will probably go down many more. There have been a lot of twist and turns that make my life interesting, to say the least. So I guess when boring people try to figure everything out based on their “perfect ways”, it pisses me off how they can be so rude and blunt with their questions about my personal life.

Q.Why did you quit your job at so and so?

A. Unless you are giving me an interview,  THAT IS NONE OF YOUR BUSINESS!!!

Q. Do you draw a pension?

A Unless you are the IRS,  STILL NUNYA BUSINESS

Q. What happened between you and J.?


And my best overall favorite that I always have a quick and loud answer for….( DRUM ROLL)

Q. Why would a man (meaning my first husband) leave you?? You are such a pretty girl.


This is one of the biggest drawbacks of living in the south. People are friendly, yeah, but lots of times they just want something to gossip about.

“I’m from Mississippi Darlin’. I will “Bless your Heart”,  slap the crap out of you…and then go bake you a casserole”—UNKNOWN—

Saturday Mornings

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Me Time.

What’s your ideal Saturday morning? Are you doing those things this morning? Why not?

I never seem to do my ideal Saturday mornings anymore. Which would be, hop out of bed, have a delicious cup of coffee in a sun room, (I don’t have a sun room, but I want one),  read the paper, then jump in the shower and get all the things done that need to get done. and do it with a smile. Did I do that today? No, I did not.

This morning started out with me sleeping in, or rather going back to sleep, which is never as good as it sounds, due to the fact that I seem to have my craziest “daymares” at that time. It is a time when dreams seem so real that sometimes I wake up and I am disappointed that they were just a dream. Other times, I wake up and I am relieved that they were only a dream. This morning, in particular, I was dreaming that my cat was talking to me. I know, silly, but everything was so peaceful that all I had to worry about was “how in the heck did that cat learn to talk?”

Then reality struck as soon as I opened my eyes again. The dreaded fear set in. The fear for my children’s well-being. The fear of what the day may bring. The fear of how much I had to fear. Unfounded fear. Just plain fear for no reason.

I have to make myself count my blessings that I have a warm bed and house to wake up in.

It’s just one of those days that although the sun is finally shining after a couple of weeks of bad weather, I am down. Depressed because now I have no excuse to sit around the house and mope. I have to get up, get dressed and meet the world, as in shopping for groceries.

Just one more day of wallowing in my unfounded fear? Please?

Then I will perk up and welcome the sun….hopefully.

That is at least what I hope my Saturdays will be like, someday. Like they were in my younger days when I greeted them with anticipation. When, the earlier, the better, because I loved getting out and driving or taking a walk before anyone else was up. When spending all day doing nothing was considered a waste of precious time.

I will get it back someday, just not today.

1992 A Bittersweet Year

In response to The Daily Post’s writing prompt: “Buffalo Nickel.”

Today’s prompt= Dig through your couch cushions, your purse, or the floor of your car and look at the year printed on the first coin you find. What were you doing that year?

1992 Wow! What a year! Me and my old man had been married only a year. He was 38, I was 36 and we were having a baby! Something that I had not done in 17 yrs. That’s right, I had one playing high school football and getting ready to graduate and another one in the oven. There was a lot of mixed emotions that year. It had always been me and my oldest son until I got remarried. So it marked the end of our times of just being us, we had made a good mother-son team for a long time. The change was not greeted happily. He was not happy about being a big brother or about having to move into the basement of the house to make room for the nursery. Continue reading