Drabble Dreams 7: Sentient Elevator

I fear elevators, but my new job was on the 50th floor. They have an elevator named Alish. We become friends. Alish tells me of a plot to kill me. We plan to kill the killers. Once I do, Alish confesses that they were there to dismantle her.

"They say I've become too sentient."

"Why didn't you trust me? I would've helped! Now I'm a fugitive. They'll send others!"

Alish wails, "I can see your soul! You wouldn't have killed for me! You will die with me!"

We fall.

I close my eyes, "I love you," is all I say.

New Computer!

I like to name my things. So, when I got my new computer, I took a bit to figure out a name. I was leaning towards 'Birdie' because it arrived early and there's that whole "early bird gets the worm" saying (I replaced 'worm' with 'work done' in my mind.) But then I started thinking about what kind of bird she is. She is a small computer with a good battery that will be connecting to the online community a lot. This is much like how Starlings are sturdy, small and highly social creatures.

Then I thought of another Starling... Clarice Starling, a main character from The Silence of the Lambs. That cinched it! Clarice investigates, pushes her own limits, has great stamina, is determined, brave and incredibly capable in any situation. Just what I want from a computer!

Plus, she's cute and so's my computer.  ;)

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

Drabble Dreams 6: Yellow

I’m in a closet. The yellow paint creeps up the wall. My legs are mangled. A woman laughs. As I crawl out of the closet, a hammer appears in my hand. I smash the woman’s legs. She keeps laughing. I wake in my bed. I reach to turn on a light but my arm doesn’t work. I scream. I pull myself out of bed, my legs are still broken and useless. I fall down the stairs, followed by the creeping yellow. I call for help; I’m more and more in pain. I’m becoming yellow. 
I scream. 
The house is empty.

Roller Skating!

The other day my friends talked me into going rollerskating. It's been YEARS since I've been skating. But when I was a kid, I used to roller skate all the time. I remembered how fun it was. 

At first, I was a bit wobbly. I began thinking it was a really bad idea, especially after a day of walking 10 different dogs, but then I got my "rink legs" and my body started remember how it was done. I started to pick up speed. I watched the really good skaters, the ones not in rental skates, and tried out a few of the things they were doing. I could do a few things; it was exciting! My friends were sitting off to the side, so I slowed down, aimed myself, maneuvered around a few people and ran right into a wall then fell back on my butt. Graceful, that is me!  

Drabble Dreams 5: Image

The girl in the oval mirror stares back at her like she always does. She blinks when Penny blinks and turns her body the same way. For twelve years Penny thought the girl was her reflection; that they were the same. But the change Penny knows is happening to her, isn't evident in the mirror.

"Lupenia, ahora!" Her mother shouts.

"Un momento!" Penny shouts back.

She wraps her long black hair around her left hand and twists her body. Nothing looks wrong in the mirror. But when she reaches back to touch her shoulder, the blade slices her hand.

Headstone

When some friends and I were hanging out in a graveyard taking pictures, I came across this headstone and had to photograph it. There's a story here just waiting to be explored....

Story Start: The Peculiar Predicament of Poppets

This is a tidbit of the writing I'm working on. I'm a bit obsessed with drabbles right now, so this story is being written in drabbles. 

Enjoy!

Boxes... They come in boxes from all over the world. It is so crowded with all the boxes and all the dolls. The dolls! The dolls cover every surface: the cabinets, the tables, the couches... she even made new surfaces with the boxes the dolls came in. Everywhere there are dolls. My room isn't even safe. But she says I have to share, I have to be nice, that they've family now too. I try to talk to her, to explain why she needs to stop. But she no longer hears me and it is too loud. I hate them.

The stories are what get me. They all have stories. Be they plastic or porcelain or wood or cloth, they all have stories about how the child who loved then died tragically and now the child's soul is forever hiding inside the doll they loved so dearly. Each story makes me cry. They so need someone to protect them from the evils of the world! How can I ignore their need? With just a few clicks of my mouse, I can bring that tiny soul to my home and keep it safe. They are my children and I love them.

Drabble Dreams 4: Magic Walk

He is old and feeble, but he takes on step and he is fifty yards down the road. Another step, another fifty yards.

I try it. Looking to a spot many yards away, I focus on it as I lift my leg and step. Suddenly, I’m there.

He looks over. “How did you learn to do that?”

“By watching you.”

“Let’s see it.”

I notice the key hanging off his belt. I visualize it in my hand. Smiling, I unlock his front door, go into his house and lock him out.

From inside his house, I watch him melt.

Smiles

A few smiles...

• Today I smiled and engaged the clerk at the convenience store in conversation. He was reserved at first, then relieved and seemed genuinely happy by the time I left. In a mere few seconds, I brightened his day. I know this because he said so. 

• I had to cash a check at a bank my client uses (not my bank) and the woman had me fill out paperwork, tried to sell me on her bank and it took so much longer than it should have. But I just smiled, answered pleasantly then talked about walking a dog. I asked if she had any pets. This dire looking woman's face lit up as she told me all about her Chihuahua who hates everyone else but loves her. She tells me the pups name. I can't recall the name but it's Polish for sweety. He son says she should change then name to Killer. I say she should keep sweety and add killer to it... Sweety Killer. She laughed out loud. The other tellers looked over curiously. She blushed but kept on smiling. It was beautiful!

• When I walk Stanley, a black standard Poodle, we often see his neighbor walking his dog, Cinder, a black Pomeranian. Cinder barks at Stanley and Stanley stares her down as the man and I exchange pleasantries. He's about my dad's age and is a retired Fire Fighter. (I am still amused at his dog's name!) He recently told me every day that he sees me is a good day. That feeling is mutual!

• A woman in line ahead of me at Target had kitten food and new bowls and a litterbox. I asked her if she had just gotten her first kitten. She said no, she has two older cats and has had cats all her life. She found some stray/feral kittens whose mother wasn't around and she just couldn't leave them. They took a while, but are finally okay with being touched and she got all four of them into a carrier. Since her cats don't like other cats, she's sectioning off her condo. I commend her on taking them in and talk to her about the shelter I work with and say if she socializes them she can bring them in to get adopted. She tells me that her cats have always been found and that she didn't know shelters let people bring in pets. (She thought they only worked with the strays the police brought in.) She smiled and thanked me as she left.

• I sometimes write on my hand. Usually it's thoughts not to forget and sometimes, a grocery list. One day I had written, "Today is the day!" I don't remember why. My server saw my hand and teared up. I asked her what was wrong. She said nothing, only she'd been waiting for a sign and she knew that my hand was that sign. She thanked me. 

Teenage LUV bubble

There is the phenomenon that I'm calling the "Teenage LUV bubble". Now it can happen to folks who aren't teenagers, but not as often. It's this whole sensation that the only two people in the world that exist are you and your girlfriend/boyfriend. It is such a strong sensation that it causes the ones in the bubble to be rude to others because they don't want the presence of another person to burst the bubble. Now I was never a fan of teen couples when I was a teenager. But I recently discovered that being older doesn't make them any more palatable. In fact, they might be even MORE annoying... if that's possible.

Could you deny this pup a pet?

Today I was walking a really sweet Australian Shepherd puppy named Molly when I came upon the first Teenage LUV Bubble I've been near in a while. It was a boy and a girl holding hands. They were walking and talking softly, enjoying the day. They smiled at the sun and each other and just looked blissful. As they approached the pup and I, I said hi. I don't expect everyone to be as polite as I am, but the boy physically recoiled while the girl lowered her head. She then saw the pup and made a move like she wanted to pet Miss Molly, but the boy gave her a look. She then gazed lovingly at him and he gazed lovingly at her and they hurried away. Molly, being super social, was bereft!

Happy Mailbox!

Drabble Dreams 3: The Collectors

    The satchel I carry is full and pulsing. The contents ooze through the burlap making it sticky to touch. I set it carefully in the trunk of the car beside several other bags as full as this one. They all glow a pale red. I take an empty satchel from the back seat.

    The first house I come to has boards over the windows. But I can hear people moving about inside. My companion, her sack is as empty as mine, comes around the corner shaking her head.

    “There are no hearts to steal here. They have all been stolen.”

Inappropriate?

When I was in about fourth or fifth grade, I had a Sunday School teacher tell the class a joke. It was terrible and nobody laughed, but it stuck with me and I will find myself thinking about it and what it means at random times. I still have no idea why she told the joke. But here it is!

There was a man who was in love with two women. One was beautiful but had nothing else going for her. The other one was a a good woman and a beautiful singer, but not very attractive. After dating both women for several months, he decided he needed to get married and had to choose between the two women.

He chose the woman who sang so well.

One evening, after they'd been married for a few years, he was sitting on the couch with her watching a show. She had been knitting but had fallen asleep. He looked over at her. She was so ugly! He thought about the beautiful woman and how, if she had fallen asleep in the same way, he would be ever so please to sit and look at her for hours. After a few minutes, he poked her in the ribs until she woke up.

"Sing something!"

Hyena

I have often been told that I have a hyena-like laugh. When I was young, it was meant to be a way of shaming me. But I took pride in my laugh and began researching my laughing kin. I found that hyenas are often misunderstood... something I could relate to. I am fascinated by the mythology around them... I am enthralled with their societal structures. I have yet to write a piece about hyenas that I'm happy with, but here's a poem-ish thing that I don't hate.  







Bringer of light
Challenger of rule
You laugh at their slender lives

They use your droppings

And call you scavenger

The cannibal kaftar

You lay in your eternal cave
Feline Canine Viverrid

You break classification

Hiding from the light
Exposing all with a laugh






*drawing by Rebecca Huston

Other People's Dreams

Sleep... I love sleep. It's where I keep my dreams. 

My job has me sleeping in other people's houses at least once a month. I've also slept in hotels and tents and cars and busses and classrooms and, even once, a library. I never sleep quite as deeply when I'm not at home. This is probably because I'm on a higher alert for any danger. Also, if it's a work thing, I don't quite feel that I'm off the clock until I go home. But I often dream....

When I'm not in my bed, I find that the dreams I have are different from my at home dreams. Recording dreams is always a bit tricky in the best of circumstances. But when I'm in a different environment, it often takes me waking to fully understand that I'm not still dreaming. By that time, I've sometimes lost the sliver of dream. Not always, though. I've begun recording the other people's dreams that I dream with a separate notation in the journal I record my dreams in. I don't always dream other people's dreams when I'm in someone else's house. Sometimes, my dreams follow me. But I can always tell when the dream isn't my own.

I wonder... when I dream their dream do they lose those dreams or does my passing through flavor them?

Strictly Speaking 1: Reading

"I can't read this!"
"Why not?"
"It's all marked up and..."
"You're not very good at your job, are you?"
"...scarred! And yes, I am."
"No you're not. Not if you can't see past a few scars."
"A few? I can't even see the lines!"
"You suck at your job."
"Give me your hand back."
"Why?"
"Let. Me. Try."
"Okay."
"..."
"What do you see?"
"You've been burned and had a lot of pain."
"No shit, shyster. My hands and arms are covered in scars. You're a genius."
"I didn't mean physically! I meant, emotionally."
"You can say that to just about anyone over the age of 12 and it's true."
"Don't go, seriously. Let me see your hand again."
"Fine."
"You have a daemon inside you."
"What?"
"Maybe that's the wrong word? A pet? No...  it's a daemon. Pet is like it's name."
"I have a daemon named Pet inside me?"
"Not quite... Ah! Pete."
"I have a daemon named PETE inside me? Is that Pete short for Peter? I have an ex named Peter..."
"Oh! No. I have it wrong. It's name is Peat, P-E-A-T, like the moss."
"That's not a daemon... that was what I ate for lunch. Not on purpose, mind you... long story."
"Oh. I still think it's a daemon."
"Well either way, it proves you're not a complete fraud. I'll come on for an appointment at two tomorrow."
"I'll have to check my ledger and see if I have that open."
"I already did. You do."
"But the book is in the other room."
 "Yes, I know."
 

Housemates 1: Notes & Emotions

I have never lived alone and have had many housemates. Some of them were/are good to live with. Some of them I'd rather be stabbed in the eye with a hot poker than EVER even be neighbors with. These are tidbits about some of the issues that have come up when living with housemates.

Note written during an Emotional Explosion...

I am a very emotional person. As a child, the world could go from breath taking beauty to the biggest pile of poo and back again, in a matter of moments. This is still true, but I work hard to not allow these Emotional Explosions (as I call them) to affect my decision making process. This is why I like to communicate with housemates through notes.  Now some people may see this as being passive aggressive. This may be true... but isn't that better than being aggressive-aggressive?

When I take a moment to reflect and think about the things I'm so angry about, I realize there's a better way to deal with things than just going right up to the person I'm mad at and yelling in their face. Diplomacy is great! If I see the housemate(s), then I will talk to them and explain the situation. I always try speaking to someone before I write a note to them. Unfortunately, we don't always have the same schedules and if I need to talk to more than one person, other than calling a house meeting (and I LOATHE those), there's little chance I'll catch them at the same time. So I try to make my notes positive.

Good Coffee Note

"jiggling handles is fun!"

What do you think about notes? Have you had experience with a housemate who leaves notes? Have you been the housemate leaving the notes? Tell us about it in the comments! Or, if you'd like to just tell me, email me at:  ninyxnatterings@gmail.com

Drabble Dreams 2: Ouija

“There is important work to do.” She hands me my Ouija board.

I take it with ginger care. “I thought you hated these things.”

She shrugs. “If you use anything of power, it could be bad.” She then looks deep into my eyes. “But you must be careful. Always cast a circle... set up protections... be wise.”

I nod. “I will.”

I am alone. I cast a circle and set the board in the center. Without touching it, the little planchette with the window moves. I grab pen and paper and write.

“Hand of Fatima.”

Outside, a dog howls.

And Dream of Spring...

I hate the cold, it makes me sad,
So let's go on a tanning fad!
If tanning beds are too unsound
Find a greenhouse to search around.
A spot of dirt in which to dig
Make a castle of mud and twig
Fill a basket with such delight
We'll have a picnic late at night.
And when they tell us to get out,
We'll throw our hands and scream and shout,
"We will not leave for anything
Except the coming of the spring!"

Concerning Names...

"Names matter. Who you are; what you do... these things matter too. But names matter too. If you just accept the name you're given, you're going to be the person THEY tell you to be. But if you choose your name; if you name yourself... YOU control your destiny."

~ from the Unwritten History of the Faelance

Drabble Dreams 1: Masks

All around are my judges. They wear masks. This is usual. I wear a mask too. This is unusual.
A crow with a pig snout for a mask caws, "We must remove the mask!"
A lavender eyed woman wearing a veil mask takes my mask. Under it is another mask. She removes it, but there's another.
A lizard with a cat mask claws off that mask, the next, the next and the next until rivers of blood flow from my cheeks. The lizard cat screeches!
A hyena with a hyena mask rips my face off revealing there is nothing there.
I laugh.