Sunday, November 25, 2012


Alright friends, welcome back to Six Sentence Sunday.  This is from my work in progress, hope you enjoy. 

Lexi finally reveals her fears and insecurities to David.  Little does she know, there are so many more to come.

She hadn’t thought about how deeply she may have hurt David in her attempt to guard herself. 

Before she could stop the words that fell from her mouth she spewed, “I was scared, David.  I didn’t know how to handle what I felt, what the distance meant.  We barely knew eachother.  I couldn’t rationalize that this connection could be real.  I thought I was hoping for something that didn’t really exist, that you couldn’t possibly feel so strongly for…me.” 

David paused, “I know Lex, I know that’s how you felt.  No matter what I tried, you couldn’t see me.  You couldn’t see that I wanted YOU.”. 

Lexi blushed at how obvious her insecurities were to David. 

Sunday, November 18, 2012


She had been looking forward to their trip, especially when she thought about her most recent failed relationship at home. 
However, something still bothered her more than the relationship itself.  The thought whirled around in her head constantly for the last few weeks…she really didn’t give a shit about it. 
Shouldn’t she care?  Shouldn’t she cry and watch old movies and gossip to her girlfriends about him?  But she did not.  She felt thrilled, tickled even that she did not have to pretend anymore.
When her friends called concerned for her, Lexi brushed off the comments feigning sadness in attempt to appear less than heartless.   

Friday, November 16, 2012

#JustWrite Prompt

A pulse of unfinished business lingered in the air like the drops of blood that soaked my new shirt.  I had to find him, I had to make this right. 

I did not know it would take so long to see the truth. I am not entirely convinced I know the entire truth now.  But, I'm in too deep, her blood is on my hands and I intend to finish what I started. 

I thought back to her face just before her time was up on this cruel earth, the indeference that cloaked her eyes and lips still haunts me.  She must have known it would come to this someday, she must have known that I would find out. 

He ran, like I knew he would.  The lies unraveled and his facade came crumbling down.  This was all his own fault, really.  When I find him tonight, I will end with him.  The world will be right again and I will let go of my pain. 

He owes me that much. 

Thursday, November 15, 2012

ANSWERS- a short story

I stepped onto the plane, knowing that this would not be a fun trip home.  I closed my eyes and prayed.  I prayed for some alien colony to pluck me out of my seat and save me from the torture that was visiting my family.  My mother called me two weeks prior, refusing to believe I would rather spend Christmas alone in Seattle than in Nashville, with the rest of my dysfunctional family.  The next morning I woke up to an email containing a plane ticket.  I pleaded with my mother to understand that I was thrilled to be spending my first holiday in Seattle, that I would have plenty of friends to keep me company.  It was a lie.  I had only been living in Seattle for about eight months and had made plenty of acquaintances already.  To be honest though, I was looking forward to the solitude and quiet of staying alone in my studio apartment.  I had grand visions of snuggling up on the couch with a book and stuffing my face with the Chinese food that permeated from the restaurant below me.

 Attempting to prepare myself for the week ahead, I did not notice the man now sitting next to me.  He looked at me sideways, seemingly in attempt to gage my sanity.  I realized I was rocking back and forth in my chair like a psych patient.  Find a happy place.  I took a deep breath to collect myself and smiled reassuringly to the stranger next to me.  I attempted to convey to him, ‘I’m not crazy’ with a smile.  I was fairly certain he was wishing for a different seat on the plane, next to someone who did not appear to be in the middle of a breakdown. 

As soon as I strolled through the front door of my mother’s home I found myself surrounded by ten people almost immediately.  My entire family had come over to welcome me home.  Great.  My obnoxious cousin Teddy came bounding up and punched me in the arm.  That must have been the only form of communication he was taught as a child.  I have endured the same greeting from him for as long as I can remember.  My mother blubbered all over my new shirt, acting as though it had been years since we had seen each other last.  Don’t get me wrong, I love her she could just be insanely overwhelming at times.  Wiping her tear soaked face, my mother called out to the rest of my family to come greet her long lost daughter.  As I suspected, and hoped, she was in the process of making a huge feast of all of my favorite foods.  The delicious smells filled the room and seduced my hungry nostrils.  Maybe being home was not so bad.  Perhaps I could stuff the traumatic death of my father deep down into the furthest corners of my heart and just enjoy my time here.  Or maybe not. 

Waiting for dinner to be ready I walked upstairs to find my old room.  It was just as I had left it, a place that served to remind me how far I had come over the years, and how much had happened.  This home became the only constant in my life.  It smelled the same and looked the same, but somehow nothing felt the same.  I ran my fingertips over the arsenal of family pictures that covered the hallway.  The photographs seemed like a shrine to a distant memory.  My family smiled widely as though nothing bad could ever happen.  But, bad things did happen and this beaming family was now an empty shell of its former self.  I realized that my mother had not put a new picture up of the family since my father’s murder.  I wondered what it was like for her to be alone in this house now that my brothers and I had all moved away.  I do not know if I could handle the haunting smiles of a family that once existed so blissfully smiling down on me, taunting my pain and inconsolable sadness.  My brothers and I tried to convince my mother that she too should move, that it was unhealthy to live in the midst of such an excruciating past.

The memory of how my father died is seared into my brain, no matter how hard I have tried over the years, it is something I can never forget.   We got the call at about eleven o’clock in the evening from the Watertown Police.  I remember the look of horror on my mother’s face and the sheer agony in her voice as she heard the news.  The police relayed the evening’s heart wrenching events as they believed them to have happened.  My father worked late nights at the gas station that he owned, always insisting on being the one to bring the daily deposits to the bank.  The police believed that someone knew about my father’s nightly bank drop.  A man lay across the backseat of his truck waiting for him.  As my father started the car the man sat up in the back seat and cracked him across the face with a bat.  Helpless from the striking blow, my father was then stabbed several times.  The killer grabbed the bloody deposit bag out of my father’s writhing hands and made a run for it.  It took the ambulance too long to get there and my father bled out in his beloved truck, for a couple hundred measly dollars.  None of us ever had the chance to say goodbye.    

I missed my father terribly, he was the family rock and what held everyone together.  Of course none of this was so blaringly obvious until he was gone.  I wandered around my childhood home, trying to take in only the good memories and let go of the bad. I looked into the family room finding my cousins and brothers playing video games, all screaming in unison at each other about whatever game they were glued to.  The rest of the family congregated around the couches, catching up on who was pregnant and other small town gossip.  Gossip, something I definitely did not miss.

Seeing the attic string hang loose as I walked through the hallway, curiosity got the best of me.  I knew that my mother had packed up most of my father’s belongings and stored them in the attic.  I crawled slowly up the folding stairs trying not to make a sound.  Boxes covered every square inch of space in the dusty attic. I really should have helped my mother go through his things earlier.  I lost control as my hands ripped through box after box of my father’s things.  Exhausted, I sat surrounded by piles of his clothes that somehow still smelled like him, emptiness took over.   I was searching voraciously for something that did not exist, answers.  Why did my father have to be killed? Why did my family seem to fall apart instead of bind together as so many others had?  I put my head in my hands and cried.  I cried long and hard and ugly.  I finally calmed myself down holding my father’s favorite sweatshirt.  My sanity began to resurface, realizing that this was why I was dreading coming home.  It was not my mother, or my annoying cousin Teddy.  It was me.  I did not want to feel this sadness anymore.  My mother had told me over and over again that I was moving to Seattle to “escape myself”.  I never knew what she meant by it.  All I knew was that she was wrong, until now.  I had become my own worst enemy.  Deciding that living in a four hundred square foot studio, above a nasty Chinese restaurant, in a state where I did not know a soul would heal my metaphoric wounds. 

My mother poked her head into the attic, staring at me like this was a moment she had been anticipating.  How do mothers always know? She buried herself into the pile of clothes next to me and hugged me tightly.

 I whimpered to her, “I’m so sorry mom.  I’ve been running from myself.  You were right.” 

My mother looked at me tenderly and whispered, “We have all been running.  It’s time we start rebuilding us.  We all hurt and feel incredible loss.  Can we please do that together now?  I cannot stand the distance between us all.” 

I smiled as my brothers both trudged into the attic, finding my mother and me blubbering on the floor.  They wrapped their arms around us both tightly and we decided right then and there to be a family again.  To stop hiding from the things that hurt, but instead share the pain and move on together.  Life is so fulfilling if you let it be. 

Sunday, November 11, 2012

Six Sentence Sunday

David was taken aback by the sudden change in Lexi’s demeanor.  He felt a loss as a detached veneer consumed her face and her earlier softness became a distant memory. David pleaded quietly for her to hear him out, “Lexi, please".  Ignoring his appeal, Lexi entered the taxi smoothly and confidently, never revealing the agonizing sting she felt.  David has a girlfriend. Lexi replayed the words over and over again in her head. 

Wednesday, November 7, 2012


Here is a random blip from my work in progress, this may or may not be used in the final product. 

"Whatever wedge Chelsea was trying to drive between David and Lexi, it only made them feel more connected.  Lexi realized that this situation brought out David’s true colors, and she enjoyed every shade." 


As a new writer, I felt it was important to have a place for my friends and future fans *wink wink* to check out my work.  I work full time as a hairstylist, a job that I actually enjoy.  However, writing has always been a passion and I have made the leap to make it happen.  I am currently halfway through my first novel and am loving almost every minute of it.    Thank you to all of my supporters and to the rest of you...please keep reading :)