Teacher, traveler, fur baby mom, reader, and writer. I enjoy writing historical fiction stories, fiction, poetry, true crime, and nonfiction.
Of Scales and Skin
Prologue I’m not a hero, I’m a coward that was in hiding for most of my life. But that’s not the reason why I’m in chains, in a dark, cold dungeon having my scales plucked out one by one. I’m here because I felt something in my cold, rock-like heart. Something I hadn’t felt since my mom and sister were alive. Something that was of more value than my dragon life. It was her. That tiny little ball of flesh. Her big brown eyes are the last thing I wish to see during these final moments. At least, I know she’s safe, back with her family. I drift into a painful sleep and that night I first came across her floods my mind.
The 24 Hour Train
Waking Up The thumping pain in my head slowly starts to wake me from a sleepless slumber. I feel the steady rocking of a moving train. With my eyes still shut I curse myself thinking I must have passed out on the subway again. It is hard to keep track of time when your veins are coursing with morphine. That's my drug of choice, it has been that way for the last 5 years. Since I lost everything to gambling. I was once a successful engineer but slowly I started to fill my time with drugs, casinos, and other vices. I lost everything. It's hard to find work now with a criminal record. So pain killers are my home now. Pain killers numb the constant voices in my head that laugh with hysteria at my current state of life.
Hot Snow Cones
There is always something special about going to the paleteria when the sun is blazing and the asphalt feels like hell itself. Where I’m from, we have tons of options for Mexican paletas (popsicles) but there is something I rather get than a sweet popsicle. It’s a spicy snow cone. They are called Diablitos (little devils).
Everyone has different go-to recipe for different times of the year. Lately, I have been on a pasta salad kick. When I was a kid, we always had family get togethers, carnes asadas, (barbeques) and everyone brought dishes. I had one aunt who made the best pasta salad. I have never been much of a meat eater so at carnes asadas, I would always go for her pasta salad.
Camp for Everyone
When I was a kid, I didn’t get to go to sleep away camps like a lot of my classmates did. I did get to go to a weekend camp with my mom and my sisters though. It was once every summer for the Juvenile Rheumatoid Arthritis foundation at Camp for All. My sisters were both diagnosed with JRA since the age of 1. They are identical twins and unfortunately, it got them both.