2015 Writober 19: Hand-Turkey

I've been doing other things, and not posting here, for my writober stuff. Today, I am writing here.

My friend challenged me to a hand-turkey off. So here's a little hand turkey poem:

Stumpy

So small was the chick

When he grew very big

His feathers stayed small

They called him Stumpy

2015 Writober 14: Twinkle Not

My poetic response to the Mad Hatter's Poem:

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! Shut up, shut up, cries the bat.

How I wonder what you're at! Your voice is dumb and so flat.

Up above the world you fly, If I choose to take to sky,

Like a tea-tray in the sky. It’s not for you that I fly.

Twinkle, twinkle, little bat! Not a light, I am a bat.

How I wonder what you're at! So what do you think of that?

~ Mad Hatter ~ Nin Nyx

2015 Writober 13: Raven's Moon (short story start)

Raven’s passenger car was at the top of the ferris wheel when it stopped. All the other carnival goers started grumbling and crying and screaming. After peaking over the edge to see the sparks fly, the carnival workers on the ground yelling to each other, and the carnival goers yelling at the workers, Raven slid out from under her restraints. As she stood, the little pod swayed back and forth, but she kept her balance.

It was a crisp, clear autumn night with only one cloud in the sky. That one cloud was covering the moon, her moon. She stared up at it, her long features pulling into a scowl.

“Hey lady, what’re you doing?”

The squeaky male voice came from behind and just below her. She twisted her head and fixed her sharp, black eyes on the teenage boy in the car behind her. His letterman’s jacket screamed jock, but he didn’t have the vapid look she had come to assume all jocks wore. She tilted her head, wondering how he could see her. She had worn all black for the occasion and the darkness of her skin reflected no light in this darkest night. Perhaps it was her hair. Even though it too was black, it was shiny.

He gasped as she leaned over the back of the gondola towards him, causing it to dance. Once it had settled down, she touched a long, slender finger to her lips and breathed a, “shhhhhhhhh!”

With a deep inhale, his green eyes opened wide. On the exhale, his eyelids fell and he slumped forward, asleep.

Raven turned back to the moon. Balancing, one foot on the seat and the other on the bar that closed the pod, she held her hands up to the sky and mimed grasping the cloud.  She yanked and tossed it aside. As if she’d actually grabbed it, the cloud skittered across the sky. Her moon was bright and full. She tilted her head, closed her eyes, and smiled. After a few seconds of soaking in the light and power of the moon, she hopped to the floor of her pod and pulled off her clothes.

“What the hell?”

This voice came from the pod in front of her’s. She sighed. The couple in that pod hadn’t stopped making out since the ride started. They hadn’t even come up for air when the wheel stopped, but they just had to look while she was getting naked.

Leaning over the front bar, she put her dark finger to her dark lips and hissed a, “shhhhhhhh!” Both of them, the blonde boy and the raspberry girl, gasped then slumped into each other.

The cacophony of angry voices from below, swelled. Frustration blossomed within her. All these interruptions! How was she supposed to transform when these humans were interfering with her ritual?

Leaning over the side of the gondola, she put a finger to her lips and swung her head from left to right as she exhaled her loudest, longest, “shhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!”

Everyone on that side toppled where they stood or sagged where they sat. She repeated it over the other side of her pod. She smiled in the silence that followed. But such a display of magic took its toll on her and she fell back into her seat, very tired.

“No!” She said aloud, shaking herself. She had done too much to prepare for this night to let an energy sap sabotage it all. Grabbing the bottle of reviving elixir (better known as caffeinated soda), she drank it down. With a deep inhale, she stood with her arms stretched out and her eyes wide. The restorative light of the moon would fill her with power.

Soon the intensity of it became too much, so she closed her eyes. She could feel the magic coursing through her body. It was time to begin.

“Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero. Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero.”

As she spoke, the blackness of her eyes spread. Her hair rippled and wrapped around her head and neck, changing into feathers. Her nose and mouth elongated.

“Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero. Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero.”

Plumage pushed out through her pores as her arms pulled back, her shoulders cracking and reforming. Her back arched forward as longer feathers grew from her posterior.

“Raven I am, raven I become. Raven by the moon I shall be. Corvus sum, et factus sum corvus. Corvum lunae fuero.”

After the fifth repetition, her words became a caw and she spread her wings wide; a raven the size of a human. Two more caws and she flew off into the sky.

Below her, everyone woke.

2015 Writober 11: Sick

Gah! I'm sick... 

I missed a day of writober 

my brain is so mushy 

writing anything worthwhile 

is just not gonna happen. 

So this is what you get. 

You're welcome. 

Gotta get some tea and sleep 

so I can infect my patrons tomorrow. 

I'll be sure to say, 

"you're welcome", 

to them too. 

Sharing is Caring! 

2015 Writober 9: Fuck you Fireworks

Let me tell you

Just how much I hate you

Fucking fireworks

2015 Writober 8: The ABCs of Zombiehood

A is for the allure of alabaster eyes.

B is for the balance I have to maintain.

(I bet you thought I was gonna say brains.)

C is for the cravings I just can’t control.

D is for the death I didn’t survive.

E is for the euphoria I feel eating brains.

F is for the fingers that keep falling off.

G is for the gasoline they poured in my hair.

H is for the health I’ll never have again.

I is for the insanity I’m pretty sure I have.

J is for the juicy way the brains squish in my mouth.

K is for the killing I’ve been forced to do.

L is for the luck I never really had.

M is for the mountain of bodies in my wake.

N is for the nobody I feel I’ve become.

O is for the others like me I can’t find.

P is for the people whose lives I’ve destroyed.

Q is for the quiet the encompasses my mind.

R is for the rivers of blood I dream about.

S is for the slivers I eat on the sly.

T is for the terrible way time seems to pass.

U is for the way I feel so unique.

V is for the variety of different brains.

W is for the world that’s gone mad.

X is for the xerox each day seems to be.

Y is for the yellowish hue of my skin.

Z is for the zero my life has become.

2015 Writober 7: From My Novel-in-Progress - The Peculiar Predicament of Poppets

Luc sat on the bed as his sister took off her hat. The small room was dim as the shades were pulled and there was only one candle lit. Enid wouldn’t look him in the eye, but she sat on the chair by the vanity. She turned so he could study her wounds. Even in the shadowed room, he could see that her skin was red and blistered from where the flames had burned her. It looked painful. She had no hair, not even eyebrows or eyelashes, on the left side of her head. She leaned her chin into the palm of her right hand.

“Carl died. That poor stupid horse ran through flames. We both caught fire, but he just kept running and screaming and screaming and running. He saved my life then…” She closed her eyes and breathed deep. “He just died.” She didn’t cry. After a moment, she opened her eyes and looked at Luc. “I had no idea where I was, but at least I wasn’t on fire anymore. I think I was delirious. I don’t know how long I wondered before Leonard, Missus Gladys brother, found me. He’s such a strange, sweet little man. He asked me if I needed help in the funniest little accent. I said yes, but I didn’t have any money. He said,” she cleared her throat and tried to imitate the Yorkshire accent,” tha’s a’right. Me an’ mine own sister had nay a penny ‘tween us when we comes to the new land an’ folks’s helps us out so we be helpin’ you out.”

She giggled, covering her mouth with her hand. Luc noticed she was missing a few teeth, but he didn’t say anything. He shook his head thinking about how lucky he had been to be found by Miss Rosalind. She sighed.

“Dear brother we are both cursed and blessed. Mom and the twins are probably dead, but here we are, safe. And we found each other. What are the chances of that?” She gave a sad smile.

Luc cleared his throat. “Dad died.”

Enid was silent, her eyes wide. “Dad died?”

Enid held out her hand and wiggled her fingers until Luc leaned forward and took it. “Oh Luc,” she sighed.

Luc nodded then told her about Chicago burning, the cemetery, pulling the cart, waking up at Rosalind’s, and finding out that their father was haunting a doll. Enid bit her lip, silently crying during his whole speech.

“I want to see him.” She whispered when he was done. “I want to see him and I want him to see me and I want to go back to Peshtigo to see if maybe Mom or the twins made it. Then was can try to find Mom’s brother, Dante. He’s family.”

Luc, who had the same feeling, nodded. “We will. After we eat, I’ll take you to Dad. Then when both of us are strong enough, we will go to Peshtigo. Hopefully, one of those kind ladies will take us there. If not...” He shrugged. “Well, we’ll find a way.”

Enid nodded, then tilted her head, and sniffed the air.

“What is that delicious smell?” Enid asked.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in!” Enid called. “It’s probably Missus Gladys with food and Missus Q to come get you.”

The door opened slowly, as a lumbering figure backed into the room. To their surprise, it was Leonard. He was carrying a tray with two plates on it. The plates had roast beef, cooked vegetables, fried potatoes, and a round bread thing on it.

“We ‘aven't any ginger beer, but we ‘ad all the right stuff to make some Yorkshire puddin’. You two needs some fattenin’ up an’ this’ll do it.”

Enid smiled. “Hello Leonard. Have you met my brother, Luc?”

The short stooped man set the tray on the small table. “I ‘aven’t ‘ad the pleasure.” He lit a few more candles around the room, then stopped and extended his hand to Luc. Luc took his hand, they shook, and Leonard left the room.

“What an odd man.”

Enid, who had dragged the chair at her vanity over to the table nodded. “But he’s so sweet! If it weren’t for him, I’d probably be dead.”

Luc, having sat on the other chair at the table, paused with a forkful of potatoes halfway to his mouth. “I’m glad you’re not.”

“Me too,” Enid said and began eating.

2015 Writober 6: A Memory of My Mom - Little Jeani Onenote

Today's my Mom's birthday. She died a couple of years ago.

This memory of my Mom takes place in our house in Jersey Village, Texas. It was after we had moved back from Venezuela. I was a Sophomore in High School, and I was practicing my harp, horribly. Mom was in the kitchen making dinner and I just stopped playing. She came in and saw that I was crying.

She sat across from me on the piano stool. "What's wrong?"

"I'm so sorry, Mom! I know I begged to play the harp, but I don't want to anymore. I'm just not that good no matter what I do to try to get better. I hate to quit. All that time wasted! You and Dad spent so much money on lessons and harp rental, but I just don't think..."

She hushed me and hugged me. "Let me tell you something. When you were little, I thought you were tone deaf."

I stopped crying and just stared at her. "What?"

She gave a little laugh. "Let me finish. You sang the ABC song on a single note. Seriously, I called you little Jeani onenote. You've always had trouble hearing the different tones in music. But you love it and that's why your Dad and I were willing to spend the money on lessons and harp rental and the time driving you around for lessons and recitals and contests and performances. Even if you don't continue, it was worthwhile. You proved your persistence in something that was difficult because you love it. And really, that’s what being a kid’s all about, trying out new things and seeing what fits. Just like with clothes, you’re bound to grow out of some things.” She gave me another hug. “Learning new things is never wasted. Remember that. It’s always worthwhile.”

I sniffled a bit and wiped my nose. “So, even though I’m not at all graceful or coordinated, it would be okay if I tried out for Flags?”

She laughed and hugged me again. “Of course. It might even help with that!”

And you know what, she was right.

2015 Writober 5: Werepanties (short story beginning)

It was Thursday night and I was working a double at Ahmed’s Crab and Sugar Shack when Nori, the uber hot Japanese woman who was the hostess and worked the ice cream counter, asked me if I wanted to go back to her place and party.

I know I should’ve asked her what kind of party and who was going to be there, but I was just too excited and blurted out, “of course!” I thought I sounded too eager, but her reaction said I sounded sarcastic.

“You know, Alice, if you don’t want to go, you can just say so.” She flipped her long black hair over her shoulder and glared at me with her caramel eyes.

“No, no, no!” I panted. “That’s just my voice. I’m sorry if I sounded sarcastic.”

She tittered, tracing a delicate finger along my jaw. “You’re lucky you’re so cute!” She turned and walked over to the people who had just come in. “Ahoy, maties! So glad you’ve joined us for our voyage. Would you be wanting to sit astern or aft?”

As always, the people looked confused.

I told myself to move, to stop staring after her like a goon. But my feet refused as my brain kept going over the conversation, trying to figure out if I was still invited.

“Alice!” Jake’s sharp voice brought me out of my revery. “Your table needs something!”

I snapped around and took care of my table.

#

Nori had already left by the time I was cut. I thought about pretending like I didn’t know where she lived, but decided that I’d just say I got the address from one of the other party goers. Truth was, I had been by her place on more than one occasion. The first time, I had been trying to get the nerve up to ask her out. But she was already in her car by the time I got to the parking lot. I thought I’d follow her to whatever bar she was going to. When I realized she had just gone home, I got out of there as fast as I could. But once I know my way to a place, that knowledge doesn’t leave me and I love going on aimless drives. Unfortunately, I kept finding that my aimlessness was aiming me right at her place.

She lived in the lower half of a duplex and it was pretty dark when I got there. I got nervous and almost drove away. But I was determined and talked myself to go up to her door and knock. When I got there, I found that I didn’t need to knock. Taped to her green door was a note that read, “come inside, Alice.” So, I did.

The main room was dark, but off to my left there was a soft light coming from another room. I followed the light. It was her bedroom. There were candles lit all over. Her vanity had a bottle of wine and a glass sitting on it with a note beside it that read, “drink me.”

“Ha, ha,” I said to the room as I poured the wine. “Is it going to make me smaller?” I drank. Nothing happened and Nori didn’t come out. I continued walking around her room.

I noticed that on her nightstand was a piece of dark chocolate with a note that read, “eat me.”

I shook my head and rolled my eyes as I popped the chocolate into my mouth.

I found the light switch, but when I flipped it, nothing happened. I noticed that the walls were a light lavender. I stepped closer to her bed and saw that the sheets were red satin. Laying on the middle of the bed were some black lace panties. On them was a note that read, “wear me.”

“Really?” I asked the room. It was too much. It was too much, and yet… I bit my bottom lip, then strode back over to the vanity and drank a bit more wine. Picking up the panties, I walked through the rest of the place. It was a sweet, cozy little flat. I was puzzled by the fact that none of the light switches worked and, even more so, by the fact that Nori was nowhere to be found. But the wine was good and the chocolate was good and she was obviously expecting me. So I stuck around.

After about half an hour, I went into her bathroom and locked the door. I took off all of my clothes and put on the panties. They were just the right size. As best I could, I looked at my butt in them. It looked very nice.

Something sharp dug into my skin through the elastic. I reached down to adjust it, thinking it must have gotten twisted or there was a weird tag there. As I tried to pull it loose, it seemed to dig in deeper. I yanked at it and all of the elastic drove into my skin. I screamed then blacked out.

2015 Writober 4: From My Novel-in-Progress

Apparently, 2015 Writober is all about ghosts. 

This is a snippet from the novel work I did this morning for 

The Peculiar Predicament of Poppets.

Daniel looked up at the ceiling and let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.

“Well this is interesting.” It was the same voice, a woman’s voice, that said, I will. “You’re awake. We never thought you’d wake up.”

His eyes darted about the room trying to see where the voice was coming from. The bed’s headboard was against the wall so she couldn’t be behind him and…

“Let me set your mind at rest, I’m in the doll.”

He tried to look down at the doll cradled between his arm and chest but, not being able to move his head, he found that he could only see the top of the doll's head. She had beautiful black hair.

“Who are you?” He wanted to ask. But the words stayed trapped in his mind.

“We met before, but we never spoke.” She laughed. It was a musical laugh that made Daniel feel warm and happy. “Well, you spoke. I mostly grunted, moaned, and screamed.” She laughed some more.

“Ivy?” He thought. Her laughter stopped abruptly.

“How could you know my name?”

“But how can this be? You were dead when I left you!”

“Yes, yes, I’m dead. When you left my body, my soul somehow latched onto my baby. I don’t know how, I wasn’t really aware at that point. It wasn’t until your sister Rosalind gave Irena the doll that I found awareness by inhabiting this doll.”

“Sister-in-law.” Daniel corrected absently.

“Tch, it makes no matter. What does matter, is how you know my name. This I must know!”

Daniel sighed. He could hear gentle conversation coming from downstairs as his wife and daughter ate breakfast. His stomach growled and he wondered how and what he’d been eating.

“Daniel,” the voice was sharp. “Think about how you learned my name.”

He thought about it, remembering the purse he found strapped to her body and the letter inside. He thought about that morning, sitting at the table and reading it then copying it and hiding the original.

“I was going to try to find your family,” he thought. He could feel a tear on his cheek.

2015 Writober 3: Trick or... trick?

"Impostor!" The words flew over the fence. “Impostoree! Villain! Vile, evil deceiver!”

April stared into the graveyard. She could see nothing. The sun was shining, but even its midday light couldn't penetrate the fog that had settled there. She shifted her mask so she could see better through the eye holes.

“Hello?” She called, turning her head from left to right. “Is there somebody in the graveyard?”

A thrilling cackle of laughter from many mouths cascaded through the fog.

“Oh yes, trickster. There are many someones here.”

April put her green painted fists to her hips and glared into the mist. “Look, whoever you are, you shouldn’t go around calling people names. That’s rude!” She stomped her heavy black boots.

“Oooooooo,” a high-pitched voice imitated April’s childish tones. “Thaaaaat’s ruuuuude!”

“You know what’s rude?” The first voice, a much deeper voice, asked. “Pretending to be something you most definitely are not.” The voice made a grunting noise. “What are you supposed to be anyway?”

“I’m a goblin!” April stated indignantly.

“You are not!” The voice shouted back.

April touched her hair that her mom had sprayed green color on, her warty mask, and the rest of her goblin costume. “But it’s for Halloween!” She whined. “Of course I’m not REALLY a goblin. It’s only pretend.”

“That,” said the first voice with some deep satisfaction, “is exactly what I’ve been saying, fraudster.”

A hesitant voice spoke up. “You sure you’re not trying to be a toad?”

“A what?” Asked April.

“Quiet, Earl!” The rude voice demanded.

“Well,” April said, jutting out her chin. “Who are you?”

The voices seemed to speak all at once until the first voice made a throat clearing sound. They all fell silent.

T“We are, obviously, ghosts. That’s why we’re haunting the cemetery.”

The other voices made grunts agreement.

Just then, a strong breeze stirred the branches of the trees causing multicolored leaves to fall on and around her. The fog was swirling, whipping into a stronger and stronger whirlwind. It spilled out of the graveyard and danced around April until it had picked up enough speed and cycloned away.

Peering over the fence, April at first thought the ghosts had blown away with the fog. But then she noticed little bumps of white. Squatting down, she looked through the bars of the fence and saw what looked like white washcloths on the ground. She reached through and picked one up. Under it was a toad.

“The jig is up!” The large toad exclaimed, frantically hopping away from her reaching hand. All the other pieces of cloth that had been lying still, started bouncing until they fell off the toads they covered. April counted two dozen toads hopping further into the cemetery.

“That was unexpected.” April stated. “I do so love Halloween!”

2015 Writober 2: Ghost on the Shore

The flames burned right through the figure sitting on the shore. The water was lapping through her, boiling in the heat of the fire. She watched the corpses floating, hers was out there too. She scanned the faces, looking for her daughters, but she couldn't find them among all the other bodies. She sat in the sand as the fire burned itself out. The wind kept blowing, but there was no other sound as night fell. She just kept staring out at the bobbing bodies.

At about midnight, she noticed three that were unlike the others. These smaller figures seemed to be pushing through the deceased. She watched them make their way to her.

The air breathed a word. "Mother." The ghost ate the word out of the air. It was her word.

She was mother.

"Daughters?" She whispered.

Two of the dolls bore the faces of her twin daughters while the third one wore her face.

"We're here, Mother." The spirits from within the dolls spoke.

Soaring over to them, she settled into her doll.

"What happens now, Mom?"

"Now, we wait."

2015 Writober 1: A Beginning

My first Writober entry is a poem I'm sending off to be considered for a publication so I won't be showing my work. It's a poem / idea that's been bouncing around in my head since my mother died. Whether or not it gets published, it feels good to have it written.

WRITOBER

After my horrendous FAIL last year and my serious NEGLECT of this blog this year, I was tempted not to try WRITOBER again. But after seeing my artist friends post about Inktober and Drawlloween, I decided to plunge in screaming.

WRITOBER

Here are my rules for myself:

1. WRITE EVERY DAY
2. Post something, if not EVERY DAY, then every other day
3. Decide what to write beforehand...
• Oh, who am I kidding? I'm totally gonna steal at least some of my "topics" from the Drawlloween list & the rest will be figured out as I go along.
4. Nin, if you say, "fuck-it" to everything else & post nothing, still WRITE!!!
5. Have Fun!!!

If you decide to do this, I would LOVE it if you posted a link to your WRITOBER in the comments! It would be so nice not to be alone...

#WRITOBER

#INKTOBER
#DRAWLLOWEEN