I am an author from deep East Texas with a passion for horror and fantasy, often heavily mixed together. In my spare time, when I am not writing, I draw and paint landscape and fantasy pieces. I now reside in Alaska where adventures await.
My default mode is not the best; it's layers and layers of the expectations of my parents, aunts, uncles, and grandparents. Every child and adult becomes sir and ma'am, punctuated so often in speech I am asked to drop such formalities. And, to my best I do indeed drop these things. But when I am tired or the setting more professional, gender neutral language tends to dissolve.
Soaked in Iced Tea
A customer sets The pitcher on my full tray. Flip! Tea down my front. I waited tables in college and the amount of times well intended customers would unbalance my tray in an attempt to help was amusing to say the least. More than once it resulted in food or beverage on me and broken dishes. Remember, ask your server first.
Milk and Death
They should have known better than to entrust her with something so frail and so precious. Yet the lords had seemed keen on gifting her with the duty of caring for the abandoned spawling. She clutched the hatchling in her hands, careful not to damage its soft scales, yet mindful of its talons. Surely no good could come from this bestowment. Spawlings were odd creatures, with ears like horses, scales like dragons, and bodies like sugar gliders with a long strip of black fur racing down their back and ending at the tip of their tail in a tuff.
Grown Through Bread
Fresh bread soothes my weary soul like no other comfort. The rising steam as it bakes wraps around me. The smell invades every room of the house with warmth and delight. It's rich and fluffy. It's a staple of my childhood and each buttery slice contains a plethora of memories from making it a million times.
She sits in a stiff chair with plastic upholstery and wooden legs. Identical chairs line the walls of the room with an occasional side table between them. Tissue boxes are carefully placed on each table. Fluorescent lights cast the room in an earie wash. A muted TV plays in the corner, cycling through an old TV show with bold subtitles at the bottom. A clipboard of paperwork stares up at her from her lap. Her name stands out boldly to her: Sandra Hopprey. Politely, the nurse comes by to collect it and offers her a sympathetic smile.
Self Burn Out
How do you feel? Sick, exhausted. Pulling through with warm tea and pills to dull the headache. What about mentally? I think that I think too much. Perhaps. Perhaps I think a normal amount. Perhaps it's a lack of chasing my thoughts that make them overwhelming. Perhaps if I find quiet time to silence my mind, it will all get better. Maybe exercising more will help.
The Dream Home
As a girl they told me I could buy my dream home one day. As a young adult, they told me, no one gets their dream home on the first go. You buy a starter home, build equity, and maybe one day with some luck and the right timing, you build your dream home or buy it. Quickly, I realized just to own a home was the dream. Home ownership itself was the barrier I was striving for.