I hate recurring dreams

I never found out what woke me up.

That was the first problem, or maybe the last I'm not sure. All I know is that something woke me up past the middle of the night. I wouldn't say it was dawn, or close but that odd reverse twilight that those who are used to staying up all night all know.

I couldn't hear anything over the heater/blower going. No clue how long that had been on but long enough that I was sweating even without the covers on me. I didn't hear her, nor the cat either.

That's when it hit me, I couldn't see her. Normally bunched up in a ball next to me, all knees and elbows in my direction. She wasn't there. No, that wasn't right. She might have been but I couldn't turn my head to look at her.

It was like something was holding me in a brace, only I couldn't really feel it.

I couldn't move my legs or my arms either. I think I was wiggling my fingers, but my toes didn't even stir up the blanket enough to get the cat interested... wherever the cat was.

I have no clue how long it was since I had awoken due to some mysterious noise, but it was long enough that I nearly screamed with the frustration of not being able to wipe the sweat off my forehead. I suppose the one good thing of being forced to look straight ahead like that was the sweat was only trickling down the sides of it and not into my eyes.

I also felt how hot I was. Just to kick the rest of the blankets off would have been a great thing. Why was the heater still going?

It was then I noticed the shadow. My roaming eyes had finally found something that didn't belong. A long darker than the current night shadow on my exposed thigh. Just the one closest to the edge. Focussing on my leg like that made me realize that not all of me was sweaty.

Somehow, now that I was aware of the leg, the realization that it was ice cold was hitting me hard. Harder still was that I still couldn't move. My eyes roamed all over the room but I strained now to see what caused the blackness on my leg. A shadow that was as still as I was.

Agonizingly slowly the room started to grow lighter as the sun came up. Slowly, like a thief that light came in. Like smoke from a fire it edged it's way around corners and from the gaps between window and the curtains. Still I could feel how on fire most of me was, but for that jagged spike of black ice that was on my thigh.

I could finally see that it wasn't a shadow. Rather a large black spot that was seeming to grow now in the light. A few inches longer down my thigh than the scar, and it seemed to be a good half way around my thing with the scar it's center.

Paddy the Teddy Bear finds his sword

“Take it.” The old storekeeper thrust the stuffed snake into Dad’s hands. “Your little girl needs a special friend to go with her bear.”

“How did you know…” Dad said.

I didn’t want the stupid snake. It was all black and green, with stupid red beads for eyes.

“Well ok,” Father was saying.

“For him no charge just so I know it’s going to a good home.” Her smile was as big as a clown’s.

I hated clowns, they're too white skin, and their too big smiles. Of course being 9 I wouldn't admit that to Dad. The only one I ever told when I was afraid was Paddy. Paddy was my bear, he protected me at night and made the bad dreams go away.

But it was Christmas time, which meant Dad was home and he always bought me presents. As long as I didn’t have to carry the creepy snake.

Well, I've done it.

I've joined a local critique group for my writing.

Specifically I've been submitting stuff from my main manuscript. Yeah, the 140,000 word one. I know it's only about 132,000 words right now and I need to finish it. But, and this is admittance time, I lost where I was. Also, I somehow lost the document that had the current version of the outline.

So, no outline. Extending it to twice the length that I originally had it.

Yup, I've lost my way. My original outline, as well as my original notes are completely useless to me.

I somehow think I'm to blame in all this.

Or is this something that I deserve?

No idea.

I have to get back into a decent writing habit though. That much is sure. I also need to have that as may main point, yet at the same time not stop myself from writing any of my other projects.

So, wish me luck!

I'm gonna need it.

Time flies, especially when your working.

Man,

These past few months have been hard to write. Yet, I've written more these past few months than ever before. Just not completely on what I want to be 'writing'.

So, I've been writing, writing a lot lately, but it's been stuff for work. I've easily been topping 2k a day writing documentation, policy, procedures. Things that just take a lot out of me to get on paper in the right way, in a way that I agree with.

But, that may be changing for at least a few weeks. It is my hope that between finding a really good and fun critique group, coupled with a few weeks of less writing for work and more work then I'll get back into those habits, to seeing those goals come up and be surpassed.

Wish me luck.

Playing with a few new characters.

Playing around with a new story setting, possibly a new voice as well. Comments are always appreciated.

================================


I saw her again.
I saw the Witch.  She was squatting under the old ATM spot on Fifth and Mill. Her long hair, even longer and blacker than I’ve ever seen it before. She was filthy, and it went deeper than simple street crud. She sat, without looking at anyone, singing. I watched as a person dropped a phys-cred into a battered tin cup that lay on the sidewalk between her feet.

I felt compelled to do something. She used to be a friend, no she was more than that. Now though, we moved in completely different worlds. She had her visions, her family’s curse; I had computers, electronics and a steady job.

I’m not sure those compare. But we did go in separate ways, each having their own needs, desires, and vision of how the world worked. I struggled to finish school, she fought not to go crazy. Even in our parting both of us knew we would enter each other’s lives again when it was needed.

“Hey, you eaten today.”

“No” slurred out from under that greasy hair. The cup rattled and she glared at it.

Gasps and a few catcalls erupted from some of the college students and assorted hipsters too rich for a real job, to young to play at Dad’s. I pulled the witch to her feet, and with a hand around that once shapely waist pulled her into a Jack in the Box. Closest thing with mostly real food anyways.

A Dr. Pepper for me; a water, an iced tea, and an egg sandwich for her later, we were seated in a booth. Without a word those spindly fingers had the sandwich top under that hair and I could hear her eating it. Fast food for a girl that used to only eat all organic, local stuff. Times obviously changed as I watched her pour the last three pieces of Kibble out of a dirty handout bag, expired at that. What a great humanitarian program that turned out to be.

“Thank” she was stumbling for words. “You.” A combat boot started to caress the back of my shin. “Repay?”

Shuddering, “No!” I pulled my legs back to emphasize the point. Though I wondered if she recalled when that was all we wanted from each other.

She recoiled like she had been shot, hands wrapped under her clothes, face hidden even deeper under that veil of hair, and she was very, very still. I dug out a spare credchip, old habits die hard, and passed it to her.

“Look, I didn’t do this cause I want anything from you. But if you take that, you need to spend it on food or water for yourself. Ok?”

A slight spark told me it was time to go. “Take it, there is enough to get you into a home or shelter for a while.” Standing I grabbed my now empty cup. A hand had re-emerged onto the table.

“How - can I - repay you?” the food, and actual human interaction was already doing her some good.

I knew there would be hell to pay but I did it anyways, I leaned in close before nearly whispering my reply. “You already did, long ago.” she stiffened as I straightened to the smell of toasted skin. A glance confirmed I was going to have to replace another watch.

She grabbed me as I turned away. “Don’t go, please don’t.”

“I have to go to work, but I will find you later if you want.” I had no plans tonight other than being bored with the latest war coverage from the UK and maybe some football.

“Yes, very much so.” She tossed her hair back to look at me. She looked at me with those eyes of hers, one blue, one green the stuff of legend, of dreams. At first there was no recognition in them.

Smiling, “eat it all, drink it all. I will find you later just keep that on you.”

I was a few paces from the table when I felt recognition hit her, less than a breath later it hit me too. She had left from the table to embrace me from behind. “Thank you, Michael.”

She released me and I made it out the door before everything in my left eye turned a dull gray leaving the slight smell of ozone and more burnt flesh.

Did I really?

Just do that?

Did I really just rename my main character at over 110,000 words into the work?

I mean, yes, I was never really sold on the first name I picked, or was it the second...

Anyways I had been tossing a particular name, and yet after a single thought and some support: poof!

Presto Change-o Maeve is now Caitlin.

My first poem in how long?

All I hear is gravel,
in my voice, in the air.
Soil and calm my surroundings are
but for the crunch, scrape and grey.
Lunch with companions, all quiet in the grave.
For the grace is where I look,
inspiration, resolution, and peace.