TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE
28th installment
Warning....adult content
"I gotta g..." he started, but didn't finish his goodbye to Kinsey, because Maxy grabbed him and threw him across the room. The phone went flying and crashed onto the tile floor of the entryway, where it broke. Kinsey heard someone bellow, "Get off the phone, Ghost," and the sound of of Ghost being thrown up against the wall. He heard Ghost cry out, "Leave me alone!" then the phone crashed, and the connection was broken.
Kinsey was frantic. He wanted to help Ghost, but there was no way...no way at all. He didn't even know where he was calling from. He paced around the room, thinking of every angle he could, to trace the call. He called the phone company, but they couldn't tell him much. It was long distance, was all they could say, unless an investigation demanded their phone records.
Kinsey tried to calm down, telling himself Ghost would be ok. He was able to survive all this time on his own, surely he could take care of himself.
He never went back to bed...just sat up drinking coffee...cup after cup, deciding whether to talk to Steve. In the end, he decided he would have to. In the morning he'd drive out to Ghost's house on Burnt Church Road, and confront Steve. He dreaded it. Steve had gone from raging rapist, to a broken down drunk, when he couldn't find Ghost.
He'd heard about Steve's search. It had gone on for almost a year. Steve had criss-crossed the country in his old T-bird, asking for any word or sighting of Ghost, and came up with absolutely nothing. He'd left flyers and contact information everywhere he went...big towns, little towns, clubs and bars, hippie communes, thrift stores, and voo-doo shops, but he'd had no luck.
Then, about six months ago, he'd gotten a lead. It was quite by accident...a real accident. Steve was driving home from Raleigh, after drinking too much, and crashed his T-bird into a tree. The car was totaled, and Steve was hospitalized with broken bones and lacerations. He spent a couple of weeks there.
Terry had gone up to see him there, and said Steve was in pretty bad shape, but would survive, at least survive his injuries. It seemed he'd almost lost his will to live, kept going on about how Ghost had put a hoo-doo curse on him, and he might as well die right now, rather than go on being cursed by his best friend.
He finally got released from the hospital, and on the way back home, had to hitch hike, since he had no car anymore. A guy in an old pick-up gave him a ride. He saw Steve trudging along the side of the road, with his arm in a sling, and stopped to see if he needed a ride.
They got to talking, and Steve told him some of the story, about the accident, and how he'd been searching for his missing friend. The man mentioned he was on his way to visit family, up in the mountains. He'd heard talk of a stranger that came to stay, maybe about a year and a half ago, he wasn't sure...wasn't even at his family's little place. He'd just heard it through the grapevine. It didn't involve his people, so he didn't put much thought into it...just another bit of mountain gossip.
"Maybe it was your friend?" he asked.
Steve thought about it and mentally groaned. Why hadn't he remembered...Ghost came from the mountains...maybe he'd gone back there.
"It all fits," he said, getting excited. "That's where I should have started looking. But, I wouldn't even know where to start. There's a lot of mountains. Can you take me there?" Steve asked. "I have to find out if anyone up there knows anything at all."
"Well, I reckon so...I'm going there anyway, and could use the company. It's at least another two or three hours, though," said the man.
They kept on driving down the highway, past Missing Mile, and soon came to the first crossroads off the highway, that led up to the first settlement. The man stopped, and told Steve that up that twisty, dirt road was a little community. Maybe he could start asking for information on his friend, there.
"My family is on up the highway, and I know they didn't take in any strangers," he said.
Steve nodded, and thanked the man for the ride. He'd take it from here.
"Well, good luck then...uh...I guess I should give you a bit of advice. I don't know if you're familiar with the kind of people up here, but they don't really take to outsiders much, so don't be too surprised if they're pretty wary and closed mouthed. They're good people, but have been set in their ways for probably a hundred years. They don't like change. I hope you get some information."
Steve said he understood, and they went their separate ways.
Next installment coming soon!
Peace, Love, & Writing
Monday, April 7, 2014
Saturday, April 5, 2014
A to Z BLOG CHALLENGE...APRIL 5, 2014...LETTER E
A to Z BLOG CHALLENGE
Today's Letter....E
Thank you for stopping by! Comments welcome. Happy Reading!
EPITAPHS
The word epitaph comes from the Greek, meaning a short text, phrase, or poem, engraved into the gravestone of a deceased person.
It can be a Biblical scripture, a phrase, a reference to the person's interests, or just about anything you can imagine. One of the most popular inscriptions is "Rest In Peace". "In Loving Memory" is another one. They can be somber and serious, or uplifting and humorous.
Lots of people have their's added, after death, by their loved ones. However, some people write their own, their wishes carried out later. Not all headstones have them...only the person's name, birth and death date. Others mention how they are related to others in their family, such as father, mother, son, daughter of...
Many times, there are hearts, crosses, flowers, or angels, carved into the granite headstone. Some inscriptions refer to the person's interests and hobbies, such as "Gone Fishin'" or "Gardening in Heaven". One famous person's epitaph is simply, "That's All Folks", from Mel Blanc, who voiced many cartoons.
Have you ever tried writing one for yourself? I have, and it's fun, but a bit weird...and trying to say just the right words, your final words to the world, is not as easy as it would seem to be.
In a way, you've probably already had some practice doing this...your Twitter profile statement! It is short, and it says something you want people to know about you. Take a look at yours...what does it say? Would you like these words to be your final communication to the world?
You can find listings and records of epitaphs (famous and not so famous) here... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epitaph
Thanks for reading!
If you'd like to, check out my other entry for the letter E here... http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Peace, Love, & Writing
Today's Letter....E
Thank you for stopping by! Comments welcome. Happy Reading!
EPITAPHS
The word epitaph comes from the Greek, meaning a short text, phrase, or poem, engraved into the gravestone of a deceased person.
It can be a Biblical scripture, a phrase, a reference to the person's interests, or just about anything you can imagine. One of the most popular inscriptions is "Rest In Peace". "In Loving Memory" is another one. They can be somber and serious, or uplifting and humorous.
Lots of people have their's added, after death, by their loved ones. However, some people write their own, their wishes carried out later. Not all headstones have them...only the person's name, birth and death date. Others mention how they are related to others in their family, such as father, mother, son, daughter of...
Many times, there are hearts, crosses, flowers, or angels, carved into the granite headstone. Some inscriptions refer to the person's interests and hobbies, such as "Gone Fishin'" or "Gardening in Heaven". One famous person's epitaph is simply, "That's All Folks", from Mel Blanc, who voiced many cartoons.
Have you ever tried writing one for yourself? I have, and it's fun, but a bit weird...and trying to say just the right words, your final words to the world, is not as easy as it would seem to be.
In a way, you've probably already had some practice doing this...your Twitter profile statement! It is short, and it says something you want people to know about you. Take a look at yours...what does it say? Would you like these words to be your final communication to the world?
You can find listings and records of epitaphs (famous and not so famous) here... http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Epitaph
Thanks for reading!
If you'd like to, check out my other entry for the letter E here... http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Peace, Love, & Writing
Friday, April 4, 2014
A to Z BLOG CHALLENGE...April 4, 2014...LETTER D
A to Z Blog Challenge
Today's Letter.....D
Thank you for visiting my blog! Comments welcome! Happy reading!
DOPPLEGANGER
Doppleganger is a German word that means Double Walker. Other descriptive meanings include...
A paranormal double of a living person
A ghostly counterpart of a living person
A double
An alter ego
A person who has the same name as another
The sensation of having glimpsed oneself in one's own peripheral vision, with no chance of it having been a reflection
Someone who looks spookily like you, but isn't a twin
Ghost or Shadow of Yourself
Now that we've found out what the word 'doppleganger' means...how many of you have seen one? How many of you have been one?
I have had both experiences. I've seen people many times that look like someone I know. It's a bit un-nerving, when you realize who you are seeing is not the person you know.
Maybe you smile or wave to them across the way, but they don't react...or just look at you like you are the weird one. I've even gone up to them, said their name, just to be informed that they were not my acquaintence. Then, I had to explain and apologize for the mistaken identity. They usually laugh about it.
One time I saw my daughter, who lived in another state at the time, in the video store here in town. that was pretty strange. I knew she was not here...but, it looked just like her! Another time, at the same video store, I saw the members of the pop band "Green Day". They were just being normal customers, looking for a video to rent.
Another perspective is the way people come up to me, thinking I'm their friend. I tell them I'm not who they think I am. One lady kept insisting I was! She kept calling me by this other person's name, and I kept denying I was that person. She was very upset about it. It was such a strange situation to be in.
I've always heard that every person has a doppleganger somewhere in the world. I think it would be fun to see my own...or maybe a bit creepy!
What about you? Would you want to meet your doppleganger?
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!
If you'd like to, check out my other blog for the letter D. It is at http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Peace, Love, & Writing
Today's Letter.....D
Thank you for visiting my blog! Comments welcome! Happy reading!
DOPPLEGANGER
Doppleganger is a German word that means Double Walker. Other descriptive meanings include...
A paranormal double of a living person
A ghostly counterpart of a living person
A double
An alter ego
A person who has the same name as another
The sensation of having glimpsed oneself in one's own peripheral vision, with no chance of it having been a reflection
Someone who looks spookily like you, but isn't a twin
Ghost or Shadow of Yourself
Now that we've found out what the word 'doppleganger' means...how many of you have seen one? How many of you have been one?
I have had both experiences. I've seen people many times that look like someone I know. It's a bit un-nerving, when you realize who you are seeing is not the person you know.
Maybe you smile or wave to them across the way, but they don't react...or just look at you like you are the weird one. I've even gone up to them, said their name, just to be informed that they were not my acquaintence. Then, I had to explain and apologize for the mistaken identity. They usually laugh about it.
One time I saw my daughter, who lived in another state at the time, in the video store here in town. that was pretty strange. I knew she was not here...but, it looked just like her! Another time, at the same video store, I saw the members of the pop band "Green Day". They were just being normal customers, looking for a video to rent.
Another perspective is the way people come up to me, thinking I'm their friend. I tell them I'm not who they think I am. One lady kept insisting I was! She kept calling me by this other person's name, and I kept denying I was that person. She was very upset about it. It was such a strange situation to be in.
I've always heard that every person has a doppleganger somewhere in the world. I think it would be fun to see my own...or maybe a bit creepy!
What about you? Would you want to meet your doppleganger?
Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed it!
If you'd like to, check out my other blog for the letter D. It is at http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Peace, Love, & Writing
TWO SOULS: INTO THE FIRE ( twenty seventh installment)
27th installment
warning.....adult content
Everyone stopped playing, the people stopped singing, and the spotlight shut off. Complete and utter darkness enveloped the room, as a slight breeze from the overhead fans blew out the lighters. Total silence - everyone's ears were muffled in the aftermath of excruciating decibels. Then pandemonium broke out. People were screaming, crying, falling over each other, trying to reach the door to get out. The venue manager managed to get to the fuse box and flip a switch to get the lights back on. His club was in a shambles.
Maxy had dropped his guitar in the dark, and felt his way over to Ghost, who was still on his knees, crying. Maxy was afraid they'd both fall off the stage. He helped Ghost up, and they stumbled backstage, tripping on instruments and power cords, and over other band members. By the time the lights came back on, they had exited the back door, and taken off in Maxy's car.
Ghost was unresponsive. Maxy was scared. What the hell was gonna happen now, he frantically thought. He hoped Ghost was ok first, then a crazy thought came to him, at least crazy at a time like this. He realized he was sitting on a gold mine! This was his and Ghost's ticket to the big time - to fame and fortune! He couldn't stifle a laugh at his own delusions of grandeur. He had plans...awesome plans. He just had to get Ghost to go along with them.
He glanced over at Ghost, who still seemed to be in a trance, eyes half closed, leaning his head on the car window. "Shouldn't be too hard," Maxy thought. "Ghost'll do anything I tell him to," he laughed again.
What he didn't know, was that Ghost had heard it all...all his plans for them...and felt the underlying need for complete control. Greediness had taken over this basically good kid, and turned him into just another kind of vampire...a soul sucker, and Ghost knew he'd almost been sucked dry by Maxy...almost.
Later, Maxy told Ghost of his big plans for them. Ghost had already heard them, but tried to discourage Maxy against moving too fast, to let it ride for awhile. It did no good. By the next night, they'd been booked solid for a month of gigs around town. Ghost felt so trapped. Maxy wouldn't let Ghost out of his sight. He knew Ghost would bolt, if he got the chance.
Ghost's life source, his soul's path for him, was still alive inside. A tiny flicker still, but beginning to make itself known. Ghost could feel the restlessness beginning again, like it had done up in the mountains. He couldn't verbalize it yet, but it was felt.
The two of them continued to play their gig commitments, but it was routine, nothing like the incredible set they'd done that unforgettable night. Maxy was beside himself, with begging Ghost to do it again. Ghost never would. He would not relent to Maxy's pleadings.
Then, late one night, after Maxy had gone to sleep, Ghost eased himself out of bed, and quietly closed the door. In the living room, he found Maxy's phone. He knew that the big letter O would get someone on the line. He hoped it would work. He pushed the button, and an operator answered. He asked quietly, if they could call a place for him. He explained that he didn't know the number. She said yes, and he asked her to call the Sacred Yew, in Missing Mile, North Carolina.
He hoped Kinsey would be there to answer. Kinsey lived above the club, so he'd hear the phone, if he was there. It rang and rang...he didn't dare hang up, just in case. Finally a sleepy voice answered.
"This better be good, waking an old man up in the middle of the night," Kinsey growled into the phone.
Ghost was startled to hear Kinsey's voice, from all the way back home. He hardly ever talked on a phone, and was still amazed that such a thing could be possible. He didn't say anything for a few seconds. Kinsey could hear breathing on the other end, and started to hang up, but suddenly had a strong image in his mind, of Ghost. Ghost had without even trying, projected his image into Kinsey's mind, willing him to not hang up yet.
Kinsey had thought about Ghost a lot in the past year and a half, since he'd left. No one had ever heard what had become of him...least of all, Steve. And Steve had not been back to the club since that fateful day. So, he took a chance and said,
"Ghost?"
He heard a sobbing on the other end, and knew for certain, it was him.
"Where are you, are you all right, are you coming home, how can I help you? Answer me right now, Ghost!"
The sobbing continued, and Kinsey got the image of heartbreaking homesickness and loneliness....and something more...some kind of trouble. Ghost didn't say any of that...his feelings just crossed the ether of space into Kinsey's mind.
"Kinsey," Ghost managed to choke out. "I just needed to hear a familiar voice. I miss home."
"Where are you, Ghost, I'll come and get you right now!" Kinsey pleaded to the distraught boy.
"I can't come right now," Ghost sobbed. "There's some things I have to do."
Kinsey thought for a minute. "Steve misses you, Ghost. He's not been the same. He's messed up his life. Should I tell him you called?"
Ghost sucked in his breath at the mention of Steve. In a firmer voice, he said, "I don't care what you tell him...just don't come looking for me...it's not time yet. I don't know how much longer I can hold on, Kinsey, but I'm trying to...every day I'm trying to hold on till the time is right."
Kinsey had no idea what Ghost was babbling on about, but it broke his heart to hear the despair in his voice...and that he wouldn't let anyone help him. He hoped Ghost could work it out before it was too late.
Just then, Ghost heard Maxy opening the door to the bedroom, coming out looking angry to see Ghost using his phone.
Next installment coming soon!
Peace, Love, & Writing
warning.....adult content
Everyone stopped playing, the people stopped singing, and the spotlight shut off. Complete and utter darkness enveloped the room, as a slight breeze from the overhead fans blew out the lighters. Total silence - everyone's ears were muffled in the aftermath of excruciating decibels. Then pandemonium broke out. People were screaming, crying, falling over each other, trying to reach the door to get out. The venue manager managed to get to the fuse box and flip a switch to get the lights back on. His club was in a shambles.
Maxy had dropped his guitar in the dark, and felt his way over to Ghost, who was still on his knees, crying. Maxy was afraid they'd both fall off the stage. He helped Ghost up, and they stumbled backstage, tripping on instruments and power cords, and over other band members. By the time the lights came back on, they had exited the back door, and taken off in Maxy's car.
Ghost was unresponsive. Maxy was scared. What the hell was gonna happen now, he frantically thought. He hoped Ghost was ok first, then a crazy thought came to him, at least crazy at a time like this. He realized he was sitting on a gold mine! This was his and Ghost's ticket to the big time - to fame and fortune! He couldn't stifle a laugh at his own delusions of grandeur. He had plans...awesome plans. He just had to get Ghost to go along with them.
He glanced over at Ghost, who still seemed to be in a trance, eyes half closed, leaning his head on the car window. "Shouldn't be too hard," Maxy thought. "Ghost'll do anything I tell him to," he laughed again.
What he didn't know, was that Ghost had heard it all...all his plans for them...and felt the underlying need for complete control. Greediness had taken over this basically good kid, and turned him into just another kind of vampire...a soul sucker, and Ghost knew he'd almost been sucked dry by Maxy...almost.
Later, Maxy told Ghost of his big plans for them. Ghost had already heard them, but tried to discourage Maxy against moving too fast, to let it ride for awhile. It did no good. By the next night, they'd been booked solid for a month of gigs around town. Ghost felt so trapped. Maxy wouldn't let Ghost out of his sight. He knew Ghost would bolt, if he got the chance.
Ghost's life source, his soul's path for him, was still alive inside. A tiny flicker still, but beginning to make itself known. Ghost could feel the restlessness beginning again, like it had done up in the mountains. He couldn't verbalize it yet, but it was felt.
The two of them continued to play their gig commitments, but it was routine, nothing like the incredible set they'd done that unforgettable night. Maxy was beside himself, with begging Ghost to do it again. Ghost never would. He would not relent to Maxy's pleadings.
Then, late one night, after Maxy had gone to sleep, Ghost eased himself out of bed, and quietly closed the door. In the living room, he found Maxy's phone. He knew that the big letter O would get someone on the line. He hoped it would work. He pushed the button, and an operator answered. He asked quietly, if they could call a place for him. He explained that he didn't know the number. She said yes, and he asked her to call the Sacred Yew, in Missing Mile, North Carolina.
He hoped Kinsey would be there to answer. Kinsey lived above the club, so he'd hear the phone, if he was there. It rang and rang...he didn't dare hang up, just in case. Finally a sleepy voice answered.
"This better be good, waking an old man up in the middle of the night," Kinsey growled into the phone.
Ghost was startled to hear Kinsey's voice, from all the way back home. He hardly ever talked on a phone, and was still amazed that such a thing could be possible. He didn't say anything for a few seconds. Kinsey could hear breathing on the other end, and started to hang up, but suddenly had a strong image in his mind, of Ghost. Ghost had without even trying, projected his image into Kinsey's mind, willing him to not hang up yet.
Kinsey had thought about Ghost a lot in the past year and a half, since he'd left. No one had ever heard what had become of him...least of all, Steve. And Steve had not been back to the club since that fateful day. So, he took a chance and said,
"Ghost?"
He heard a sobbing on the other end, and knew for certain, it was him.
"Where are you, are you all right, are you coming home, how can I help you? Answer me right now, Ghost!"
The sobbing continued, and Kinsey got the image of heartbreaking homesickness and loneliness....and something more...some kind of trouble. Ghost didn't say any of that...his feelings just crossed the ether of space into Kinsey's mind.
"Kinsey," Ghost managed to choke out. "I just needed to hear a familiar voice. I miss home."
"Where are you, Ghost, I'll come and get you right now!" Kinsey pleaded to the distraught boy.
"I can't come right now," Ghost sobbed. "There's some things I have to do."
Kinsey thought for a minute. "Steve misses you, Ghost. He's not been the same. He's messed up his life. Should I tell him you called?"
Ghost sucked in his breath at the mention of Steve. In a firmer voice, he said, "I don't care what you tell him...just don't come looking for me...it's not time yet. I don't know how much longer I can hold on, Kinsey, but I'm trying to...every day I'm trying to hold on till the time is right."
Kinsey had no idea what Ghost was babbling on about, but it broke his heart to hear the despair in his voice...and that he wouldn't let anyone help him. He hoped Ghost could work it out before it was too late.
Just then, Ghost heard Maxy opening the door to the bedroom, coming out looking angry to see Ghost using his phone.
Next installment coming soon!
Peace, Love, & Writing
Thursday, April 3, 2014
A TO Z BLOG CHALLENGE...April 3, 2014...Letter C
Thank you for visiting my blog! Comments welcome! Happy reading!
Today's letter.....C
COOKING...WITHOUT A STOVE
Have you ever not had a stove to cook on? I have...a couple of times. We lived in unfurnished rental houses for awhile, and there were no appliances. We did have our own furniture, and a refrigerator...just no stove.
I had to get a bit creative, to say the least. As a family of four, there comes a time, like daily, that you need to cook something. I did have a microwave...a giant one, compared to today's models. I'd cook most things in there, and the meals came out pretty good.
A really surprising cooking method I used, was on a "Stir-Crazy" popcorn popper. You remember those, don't you? It was the electric popcorn popper with the large, yellow dome. I figured that since the surface got really hot, I could use it to cook on...like an electric skillet. There was no temperature setting, though. It worked great for fried eggs, and also, pancakes came out good cooked on there.
Another time, another house, we had the same situation. I still used the microwave and the popcorn popper, but had also acquired a "Snackmaster Sandwich Maker". We were in the big leagues, now. We got really creative using it. We could make corn dogs, pizza pockets, and even the pancakes came out fun - like puff-cakes!
Quite a while later, we did manage to get a stove, which made things easier to cook, although it is fun to remember how we 'made do' with what we had.
Next up, we needed a washing machine, because using that old-fashioned rub board in the sink was getting pretty tiresome.
Well, another story...another day...
Thank you for reading!
If you'd like to, visit my other blog for my entry on the letter C. You can find it here... http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Peace, Love, & Writing
Today's letter.....C
COOKING...WITHOUT A STOVE
Have you ever not had a stove to cook on? I have...a couple of times. We lived in unfurnished rental houses for awhile, and there were no appliances. We did have our own furniture, and a refrigerator...just no stove.
I had to get a bit creative, to say the least. As a family of four, there comes a time, like daily, that you need to cook something. I did have a microwave...a giant one, compared to today's models. I'd cook most things in there, and the meals came out pretty good.
A really surprising cooking method I used, was on a "Stir-Crazy" popcorn popper. You remember those, don't you? It was the electric popcorn popper with the large, yellow dome. I figured that since the surface got really hot, I could use it to cook on...like an electric skillet. There was no temperature setting, though. It worked great for fried eggs, and also, pancakes came out good cooked on there.
Another time, another house, we had the same situation. I still used the microwave and the popcorn popper, but had also acquired a "Snackmaster Sandwich Maker". We were in the big leagues, now. We got really creative using it. We could make corn dogs, pizza pockets, and even the pancakes came out fun - like puff-cakes!
Quite a while later, we did manage to get a stove, which made things easier to cook, although it is fun to remember how we 'made do' with what we had.
Next up, we needed a washing machine, because using that old-fashioned rub board in the sink was getting pretty tiresome.
Well, another story...another day...
Thank you for reading!
If you'd like to, visit my other blog for my entry on the letter C. You can find it here... http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Peace, Love, & Writing
Wednesday, April 2, 2014
A to Z BLOG CHALLENGE - APRIL 2, 2014...LETTER B
Thank you for stopping by my blog. Comments are welcome. Happy reading!
Today's letter is.... B
BURNING THE BREAD
I confess, I am a bread burner, a burner of bread. As long as I've been putting bread in an oven, I've burned it. It doesn't even matter what kind of bread that is being toasted, baked or broiled...I've burned them all. You name it...regular toast, garlic bread, rolls, buns, and my favorite...cinnamon toast.
I try to keep an eye on it. I stand there by the oven, waiting and checking, but something always distracts me, so I turn away for a second, and then, in a flash, the bread is blackened. I have to start the whole process over. Tossing out the burned ones, geting out more bread, and...waiting.
It's become a family joke. Everyone knows this about me, and they just shake their head. It's inevitable. Sometimes, if it isn't too bad, I can sort of scrape off the "well done" parts. It usually doesn't go over very well.
The worst bread burning I ever let happen was while we were living in Japan. The cinnamon toast went up in flames...and so did the stove! I had to call the fire department. They came roaring down the street with their sirens and flashing lights. The neighbors all came out to see what was going on.
The firemen put out the fire quickly, and were off to other places. My stove was toast, though. Being that we lived in Army base housing, the stove belonged to them, and they replaced it.
Later, in the base newspaper, the whole incident was reported, names and all. Was I embarrassed? Yes, but now it is just a crazy story to tell.
Peace, Love, & Writing
If you'd like to, stop by my other blog to see my entry for the letter B. You can find it here.... http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Today's letter is.... B
BURNING THE BREAD
I confess, I am a bread burner, a burner of bread. As long as I've been putting bread in an oven, I've burned it. It doesn't even matter what kind of bread that is being toasted, baked or broiled...I've burned them all. You name it...regular toast, garlic bread, rolls, buns, and my favorite...cinnamon toast.
I try to keep an eye on it. I stand there by the oven, waiting and checking, but something always distracts me, so I turn away for a second, and then, in a flash, the bread is blackened. I have to start the whole process over. Tossing out the burned ones, geting out more bread, and...waiting.
It's become a family joke. Everyone knows this about me, and they just shake their head. It's inevitable. Sometimes, if it isn't too bad, I can sort of scrape off the "well done" parts. It usually doesn't go over very well.
The worst bread burning I ever let happen was while we were living in Japan. The cinnamon toast went up in flames...and so did the stove! I had to call the fire department. They came roaring down the street with their sirens and flashing lights. The neighbors all came out to see what was going on.
The firemen put out the fire quickly, and were off to other places. My stove was toast, though. Being that we lived in Army base housing, the stove belonged to them, and they replaced it.
Later, in the base newspaper, the whole incident was reported, names and all. Was I embarrassed? Yes, but now it is just a crazy story to tell.
Peace, Love, & Writing
If you'd like to, stop by my other blog to see my entry for the letter B. You can find it here.... http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Tuesday, April 1, 2014
A to Z Blog Challenge...April 1, 2014...Letter A
This is the first post for the A to Z Blog Challenge. The letter for today is A.
Thank you for stopping by my blog! Comments are welcome. Happy reading!
ANTIQUES
Do you think antiques are haunted by their previous owners? Have you ever held a really old item in your hands and 'felt' the presense of the infused spirit of some long ago person? I have.
Antiques and relics all have stories to tell, if you just listen...not with your ears, but with your sixth sense and your heart. Hold the item...maybe an old brooch, a bone hairpin, a letter from WWI or WWII, a bow tie from 1820, or a yellowing, lace baby bonnet from 1842...in your hands. Be quiet...just listen.
Close your eyes, feel the shape of the piece. See if you can pick up any impressions that flash across your mind. Try not to think of anything but what you are holding. The images and thoughts you have will be random, and may not make much sense to you...but, these thoughts that drift across your mind, will probably be the infused essense of the person/spirit that once owned the item.
It's telling you a story...maybe about the baby who wore the bonnet; maybe it felt scratchy on their head, or maybe comforting, because they trusted their mother to protect their little head from the harsh sunlight. That this long ago baby lived a full, wonderful life, or later on, met with sorrow, you never know for sure, but rest assured, a bit of that person is left for you to discover...if you just listen.
I wouldn't say the item is haunted, though. It just holds the impression of the previous owner. It's a bit sad, really, that it has come to be sold out of the family. Someone thought enough of the person to have kept the item for so many years. It could be that this was the end of the line for it...no family left to pass it down to, as an heirloom.
I like to think I am rescuing it, that I was drawn to this place and time, to have found it...to find out it's long history...and to tell it's story.
Thank you for reading!
If you would like to, stop by my other blog to see what I've written for the A to Z Blog Challenge, letter A. You can find it here...http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Peace, Love, & Writing
Thank you for stopping by my blog! Comments are welcome. Happy reading!
ANTIQUES
Do you think antiques are haunted by their previous owners? Have you ever held a really old item in your hands and 'felt' the presense of the infused spirit of some long ago person? I have.
Antiques and relics all have stories to tell, if you just listen...not with your ears, but with your sixth sense and your heart. Hold the item...maybe an old brooch, a bone hairpin, a letter from WWI or WWII, a bow tie from 1820, or a yellowing, lace baby bonnet from 1842...in your hands. Be quiet...just listen.
Close your eyes, feel the shape of the piece. See if you can pick up any impressions that flash across your mind. Try not to think of anything but what you are holding. The images and thoughts you have will be random, and may not make much sense to you...but, these thoughts that drift across your mind, will probably be the infused essense of the person/spirit that once owned the item.
It's telling you a story...maybe about the baby who wore the bonnet; maybe it felt scratchy on their head, or maybe comforting, because they trusted their mother to protect their little head from the harsh sunlight. That this long ago baby lived a full, wonderful life, or later on, met with sorrow, you never know for sure, but rest assured, a bit of that person is left for you to discover...if you just listen.
I wouldn't say the item is haunted, though. It just holds the impression of the previous owner. It's a bit sad, really, that it has come to be sold out of the family. Someone thought enough of the person to have kept the item for so many years. It could be that this was the end of the line for it...no family left to pass it down to, as an heirloom.
I like to think I am rescuing it, that I was drawn to this place and time, to have found it...to find out it's long history...and to tell it's story.
Thank you for reading!
If you would like to, stop by my other blog to see what I've written for the A to Z Blog Challenge, letter A. You can find it here...http://teleportingweena.wordpress.com
Peace, Love, & Writing
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