Moxie Monday: Do It Afraid
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
[Photo: Pantheon - Rome, Italy]
Moxie Monday: Flap Your Wings
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
[Photo: Newport News, Virginia]
Moxie Monday: Finish
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: A Shining Legacy
I pictured the last time I saw my daughter. I had only dropped Briana off at school a few hours ago, but the memory of it was already graying at the edges. The blur of her tiny hand waving goodbye, her body-rocking nod when I asked her if she was going to have a good day. All of it shrinking and falling further and further out of the reach of my mind.
I wondered how she would remember me. The disheveled mom with the messy upswept hair and breakfast-stained sweatshirt that rushed to get her there on time? Or would she remember the love that beamed from my eyes as our foreheads touched and I whispered Go be brilliant, my love like I did every day?
Another pop, more screams, and I lost sight of my daughter. Her beautiful face and knack for bubbling over with joy, sucked into the void of last memories. I could only hope they waited for me on the other side. And that there was, in fact, another side.
Another pop. It sounded nothing like in the movies. I was sure it had a lot to do with my proximity. And a lot to do with the fact that filmed gunfire heard through speakers and watched behind the safety of a screen was much less harrowing then through the walls of my cubicle. Much easier to handle without the pain-filled, fear-soaked screams of my co-workers.
I pulled my knees deeper into my chest and scooted further under my desk. The veneer covered particle board pressed into my spine, reminding me that at least I was still alive. In the next breath, a sob swelled in my throat for the co-workers who couldn’t say the same.
I didn’t know much about this gunman, except that up until a week ago he was my co-worker, too. I wondered if it would’ve made a difference if I had known more about him. His favorite television show. His favorite movie. If he was married. If he had children.
Briana. Her sweet face hurtled through the vortex of despair and sat smiling in front of me once again. I wanted to reach out and rub her chubby cheek. To tell her one more time how much I loved her. As the impossibility of it nailed itself into my heart, another image pierced the surface. One that trickled through every pore, dug right into my marrow, and flooded me with a sudden calm.
Briana’s eyes, bright and focused. They were the same every time our foreheads touched and I asked her to shine. In fact, it was always her most attentive time. It struck me now that for her, they weren’t just words. That she got it. And through this realization, I knew she would be all right. That she would spend her life striving to be brilliant. And no matter what happened here, that was all I needed.
Fiction Friday: The Girl With the Gift
[My apologies for the lack of Fiction Friday lately. But I'm back! A special thanks to my friend Melody for telling me about her crazy dream that served as the initial inspiration for this piece. Enjoy!]
Keeping secrets was all I knew. As natural as breathing. Such was the price to pay when born extraordinary in an ordinary world. Before my grandmother passed away, she made me promise to guard my secret, no matter the cost. But even as I promise passed from my lips, a certainty swelled within me. I knew that one day, I would break it.
The world was ending. It was obvious. But apparently, only to me. Trying to show my friends what I saw was met with confused looks and nervous snickers, followed by a mass exodus from my life. Consequence number one of people finding out the truth according to granny.
Be prepared to live a life of solitude and harsh judgement.
Despite what I saw, the world continued to thrum along all around me. Clueless commuters and tourists meandered through the park on, what they believed to be, a beautiful day. A red-faced man knocked into me without apology, too caught up with yelling into his cell phone. I wondered if he would still be such an ass if he knew that this was the beginning of the end. Would whatever had him steaming mad be worth it?
Gazing up at the sky, my breath hitched at the sight of how much the tear had grown. It was like a frustrated artist took a giant knife and jammed it into the canvas of our world, starting deep in the heavens and dragging it toward earth. The slit between our world and whatever lay beyond glowed in the purest white.
My lungs filled with electrified air. My chest heaved. But I stopped myself short of screaming: Look! Run! Save yourselves!
I wasn’t crazy. I wasn’t some tin foil hat wearing doomsday conspiracy theorist. I was just a girl with a gift. A girl whose main worry a week ago was whether or not Billy Ortiz was going to ask me to prom. And now, it was hard to believe that I’d ever cared about something as inconsequential as a dance. There would be no prom. Hell, soon enough, there might not be a Billy.
Or a me.
I felt a tingling at the nape of my neck and I knew the time was near. It always started this way. Soft, almost comforting.
The brilliant slash had reached earth and disappeared along the horizon. I watched in horror as a blackish gray dot mutated into a long, skinny tendril. It unfurled from within the glow and entered into our world. Smaller tendrils sprung from its tip. As the terrifying appendage reached toward the ground, I heard the first screams.
The tingling in me grew and morphed into a pounding pulse that wracked my entire body. My abilities weren’t limited to just seeing what others couldn’t. I was gifted with a wide array of gifts. Each one important, according to granny, in fulfilling my ultimate purpose: to save the world.
Moxie Monday: Heal. Grow.
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Moxie Monday: Love What You Do
Kick start your week with a lil' moxie!
Fiction Friday: [Waking in NYC]
I fell asleep cradled in a New York lullaby.
The steady pulse of passing traffic.
The blaring tenor of honked horns.
The biting falsetto of a siren’s wail.
The city’s rhythms worm their way into my dreams.
Fireworks of inspiration ignite all around me.
Their vibrant colors rain down, dropping
hopes and dreams
at my feet.
I am jolted awake by a New York symphony.
The shuffling hum of commuters.
The shrieks of school-bound children.
The crescendo of a new day filled with possibility.
