Flash Fiction: The relapse

Flash Fiction: The relapse

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Aron walked in to find his wife, Nina, passed out on the dinner table. The bouquet he was holding fell involuntarily to the ground. The house was dark except for a flicker of light from a candle and an odor of Alcohol mixed with something smoky filled the atmosphere.

He shook Nina gently whilst trying to maintain his composure. It took a few minutes after she regained consciousness for reality to dawn on her. A distraught Nina clutched herself, trembling and sobbing.

Aron steadied her as she buried her tear stained face in his chest. They maintained that position long enough for Nina’s state of mind to regain some normalcy. She gazed into the eyes of the man who had always been her rock through her numerous down spirals,
  “I want this baby Aron”, she spoke, placing one hand on her barely visible bump “I- I need help”.

He hugged the mother of his unborn child a little tighter… There was nothing more to say.


Word count: 165 words. This story is in response to Flash Fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge hosted by Priceless Joy. Thank you Pixabay.com for this week’s photo.

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Mental Health Friday #12

Mental Health Friday #12

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“During the Spring of 2008 my husband and I started to smoke Marijuana. We smoked a few times over a period of six months and then my husband stopped. I went on to smoke another six months before my husband realized and we then went back to the program of A.A. We originally met there when I was three weeks sober, May 25th of 1996. We had not abused alcohol or drugs since then and saw Marijuana as a relapse. The twelve steps of A.A. can be applied to more addictions than just alcohol and we both knew that.

This started a new period of our lives. More losses and a new way of life through the steps.”

It was early May of 2009 when I walked into that first meeting of Alcoholics Anonymous. I had had a few years of sobriety prior, but this time I wanted something different- Recovery. I found a sponsor, a woman I had known as a neighbor for a few years. She was a lovely woman, but she had not done the steps through the big book of A.A. the way I wanted to. Otherwise, she helped me immensely to prepare myself. I joined more than one group and was the coffee maker at more than one as well. I went to five meetings a week in addition to commitments. A commitment is when you join with other members of your group to speak at another group.

My confidence began to build and I started to become busy in other ways as well. Delivering a weekly donation to the soup kitchen on Mondays was one of my favorite additions to my life. I began to see that people outside of my home, away from my ex-husband treated me differently. The more I did outside of the house, the more separated I felt from my ex-husband, the more I began to see.

In April of 2010 I celebrated my one year anniversary. I was doing well. We had a friend living in the apartment downstairs with his wife and three children. His wife and I were very close friends. We all were. Christmas with them had been wonderful and we were looking forward to summer.

It was the end of May, or beginning of June, I don’t remember. What I do remember is my ex-husband telling me that we were losing everything. Our house, our business, everything just gone. I was in shock. Our friends had to move and so did we. Read more

Writer’s Quote: Neil Gaiman

Writer’s Quote: Neil Gaiman

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I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes; because if you make mistakes, then you’re making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re doing something.
So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make new mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn’t good enough, or it isn’t perfect, whatever it is: art or love or work or family or life. Whatever it is you are scared of doing, do it.
Make your mistakes, next year and forever
                   -Neil Gaiman

I was saving the above quote to share during the upcoming New year, but then, I thought, new year is a relative term. For some of us, a new year is far more represented by our “birthdays” rather than the first of January, some follow the Chinese calendar and some, the Islamic one. Today is as good a day to make a resolution as another day and the great part is, whatever resolutions we make beats the odd of not falling into the cliché uncompleted resolutions.

In life, we are advised to always think before we act and as good an advice as it is, we tend to take it a little more and spend all of our time thinking, rather than doing acting. And these seconds, minutes pass, the clock keeps ticking, while we, keep thinking. At the same time, we make resolutions like, “I’d start at Christmas” and then Christmas turns to new year, which turns to Eid and before we know it, the cycles gone round and we arrive at another Christmas with the same untouched goals we had a year back.

Today is the 30th, one more day and a new month begins. Here’s to making beautiful, amazing and glorious mistakes; to writing our worries and ignoring our fears; to completing our projects and changing ourselves; here’s to living and loving and writing away…

This post is in response to the weekly event Writer’s Quote Wednesday

Ballad: Bailey’s Son

Ballad: Bailey’s Son

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Galavanting down the stairs in white,
The toll bell’s ringing- bride has arrived;
Bedecked in jewels from head to toe,
The lady in white with her train in tow.

The crowd goes ooh and the crowd goes ah,
Their perfect prince had found a wife;
The single maidens envy the bride,
While the streets of Bailey, rejoice and dance.

The priest stood waiting on the altar stand,
The bride’s eyes searching her beloved’s whereabout;
Silence drowning the energy and high,
A groom gone missing- cause for alarm.

Found laying still in a brothel house,
The Perfect groom with a secret life;
An image misconstrued on views and lies,
Prince charming departs not in the arm of his bride.

And years went by, and the bride moved on;
The town stood still for a while, distraught;
The envious envied the bride no more-
And Bailey learnt prefect was but a relative term.

Day 21 of October Poetry Writing  month. I’m trying to catchup on the prompts I missed. Today’s poetry type is Ballad. Just click on the word for more details on balladic style.

IMAGE CREDIT: getjaam.wordpress.com

twitter: @wordsofarandom

Happy endings…

Happy endings…

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For a long time, i thought, it was going to be you. My happy ending was finally coming true. Us against the world, an imperfect but happy life. And then, it was just me. Alone, with my thoughts at dawn. I can’t even describe how it happened. The phone calls stopped all of sudden. People say, love is a growing emotion and I thought it’d be the same for the reverse. No apologies, no explanations, no accusation, it just stopped- our conversations. You didn’t bother anymore.

The only explanation- maybe you didn’t love me, maybe you never loved me. And that makes no sense. Not to me, not now, and maybe not ever.

Alone with my thoughts at dawn, trying to find the silver lining, of a crushed happy ending.


day 27 of October Poetry Writing Month. Today’s prompt: What is your happy ending? Write for ten minutes asking yourself that question. IMAGE CREDIT: imgfave.com

Flash Fiction: The chrysalis

Flash Fiction: The chrysalis

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“What are you staring at?”

Nothing

“Don’t nothing me”

“Alright, fine! I was watching to see when this chrysalis would open up.”

“Seriously?”, Janice laughs.

Naah, I’m just kidding. I told you, It was nothing.”

“Alright girl, I’m going out. See you later.”

“Bye”

The sound of the door closing was a little loud for the empty house. Ally, went back to her nothing. She knew her sister, Janice, wouldn’t get it so she didn’t bother explaining.

Ally had always been fascinated by butterflies. She turned her gaze towards the hanging chrysalis and wondered when it would open for the butterfly to emerge. To see a creature as dull as a caterpillar transition into one of the most beautiful creatures was a fascination gifted to only a few. It reminded Ally that humans weren’t much different, and everyone could blossom.

Ally sighed as she realized, the cocoon of the chrysalis was the same as the previous day, no changes. Before leaving, Ally whispered in it’s direction.
          “Please don’t emerge without me”


word count: 171. This story is in response to flash fiction for aspiring writers photo prompt challenge. Each week, a photo is given and we’re to write a 150 (+/- 25) word story inspired by the image. Thank you so much TJ Paris for this week’s photo. Butterflies are a beauty. 

Writer’s quote: Maya Angelou

Writer’s quote: Maya Angelou

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I’ve learned that no matter what happens, or how bad it seems today, life does go on and it will be better tomorrow.
I’ve learned that you can tell a lot about a person by the way he/she handles these three things: a rainy day, lost luggage and tangled christmas lights.
I’ve learned that regardless of your relationship with your parents, you’ll miss them when they are gone from your life.
I’ve learned making a “living” is not the same thing as making a “life”.
I’ve learned that life sometimes gives you a second chance.
I’ve learned that you shouldn’t go through life with a catcher’s mitt on both hands; you need to be able to throw something back.
I’ve learned that whenever I decide something with an open heart, I usually make the right decision.
I’ve learned that even when I have pains, I don’t have to be one.
I’ve learned that everyday you should reach out and touch someone. People love a warm hug, or just a friendly pat on the back.
I’ve learned that I still have a lot to learn.
I’ve learned that people will forget what you said, people will forget what you did, but people will never forget how you made them feel.

The late Maya Angelou’s words are an inspiration and as writers, we are always on the lookout for inspiration. Life is a process of living and learning. Everyday, we see things, and sometimes we don’t realize the extent to which they impact us. We grow and learn from those things. And if we’re lucky enough, we get to write about them too.

Whenever the dreaded writers block creeps in, and my brain becomes a blank space, I look to personal experiences. I dig into an emotion, how it felt at a certain time, how an experience impacted me, and more often than not, the ink flows. In a way, it is like killing two birds of with one stone because on one hand, I have a piece completed and on the other hand, I get the opportunity of looking at those experiences through a new lens- through thought out words and not the irrational intensity of the emotion. As Maya Angelou said, we’ve learned and we still have a lot to learn. Here’s to learning and writing about them and learning some more.

This post is In response to Writer’s quote Wednesday. If you’d like to participate, just click on the highlighted link. IMAGE CREDIT: Counselling.org

Twitter: @WordsOfARandom

Nothing left to say-

Nothing left to say-

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It was right after the first prayer,
Of the day-
The one called subh;
There you lay on the couch,
Trembling;
The all famous, dreaded
Fetal position,
Mama’s just told you;
“Don’t be surprised
You shouldn’t be surprised “-
The voice in your head screams;
And you recall her saying-
“It’s over.”

And right about then,
The Water-pool flows down your cheeks
And you lay there on the couch,
Shivering.
“Dont cry honey”
“Everything’s going to be alright”-

She says;
And you wonder-
How she could be so calm,
When all around you,
The roof’s come crashing down.

Twelve years old and you lay there,
And you just lay there;
whisper a silent prayer
To The Lord you worship
To overturn the inevitable;
And her voice-
It comes back as an echo,
Again and again;
Resonating against brick walls-
The words she’d blurted-
“It’s over”
“We’re getting a divorce.”

There’s nothing left to say
And the water pool-
You let them flow down your cheeks…

day 20 of October Poetry Writing Month. Prompt: Love and the poetry type I used is: Slam poetry also known as spoken word poetry.   IMAGE CREDIT: 8Tracks.com
Twitter- @WordsOfARandom

A paradell-

A paradell-

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And she hid from the world;
And she hid from the world;
Labelled an outsider, she sought freedom;
Labelled an outsider, she sought freedom;
An outsider, labelled- she hid
And she sought, freedom from the world.

And she drowned her sorrows;
And she drowned her sorrows;
In the flips- and pages- of books;
In the flips- and pages- of books;
And of Her sorrows in the books
flips and pages- she drowned.

She was of different specie;
She was of different specie;
A unique entity underneath hazel eyes;
A unique entity underneath hazel eyes;
A different specie of hazel eyes,
Underneath- a unique entity she was.

And- freedom she sought,
In the flips of books
And pages- her sorrows, she drowned;
Underneath hazel eyes, From the world, she hid;
Labelled- a different specie, an outsider;
And she was of a unique entity.


Day 16 of October poetry writing month. Prompt: The Paradell structure. In this, The first two lines as well as the third and fourth lines of the first three stanzas must be the same (repeat) and then the fifth and sixth lines must contain all the words from the preceding four lines within the stanza using them only once to form completely new lines.
The final stanza of the paradelle does not repeat like the preceding stanzas, rather the final six lines must contain every word from the first three stanzas, and only those words, again using them only once to form completely new lines.      IMAGE CREDIT: blog.lily.farm

twitter- @wordsofarandom 🙂

Bandaged-

Bandaged-

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It’s got to go, it’s got to go;
Ripping the bandage hurts more than the wound
At first- Eventually, the pain wears off.

Shivering underneath floral quilt;
Tear soaked sheet, pain sears deep;
It’s got to go, it’s got to go.

Ignoring the deep cut, cover the skin;
One bandage, then two- a layered up ulcer;
Ripping the bandage hurts more than the wound.

The bandage- festering deeply rooted wound;
Ripped off to heal- it hurts, it bleeds
At first- eventually the pain wears off.

day 17 of October Poetry Writing Month. Word prompt- bandage. Poetry type- Cascade, a poetry type In which the poem does not have any rhyme scheme; therefore, the layout is simple. Say the first verse has three lines. Line one of verse one becomes the last line of verse two. To follow in suit, the second line of verse one becomes the last line of verse three. The third line of verse one now becomes the last line of verse four, the last stanza of the poem.

IMAGE CREDIT: Pinterest