A creator of short stories / poetry encompassing on Folklore, Mythology, Horror, Fantasy and small glimpses into my real life.
Why am I here?
Somewhere between here and there, I lost my drive, my creativity to write on here on Vocal. I thought about it many times. But there simply was nothing that I truly wanted to write about. So, I decided that I am going to write about not wanting to write.
The Story of Elaine and Dean
Elaine Martin grew up in a very small farmers town in the late 70's . She lived on a road that was not traveled often, only by the ones that either lived on the road or that were finding their way to the State Park that was about 10 minutes from her home by car, an hour and a half by bicycle (as she did attempt to ride to the state park on her bicycle as an early teenager one hot summer day with one of her friends that lived up the street). That was the first and last time she had ever did that!!
The Dance of the Haunted
It is always there, isn't it? What you do not like to talk about, what you do not even want to acknowledge that it is inside of you,
It is haunted and hostile, yet hypnotic and telepathic. The ghosts of ancestors and spirts passed take up a lifetime's residence, submerged under an ocean of volcanic emotions.
The Seasonal Road
Growing up in the county I lived in a modest home on a quiet seasonal road that only saw traffic from the few other homes that resided on this road or your occasional "Sunday driver" out sightseeing. Behind my home there was a red barn rooted firmly on a farmers field that was about a 10 minute walk from my home. The local farmer that owned the land with the barn on it used it to store hay, his small tractor and a few goats. I had no interest in this old barn for all those years I lived at home. Not until recently when I returned back to my home after being away for about 20 years. I was standing in the kitchen window drinking an ice water on a late summer afternoon looking over that farmers field when I noticed that it was no longer being maintained in what looked like over 10 years or more. The once very visible red barn now had completed faded to a pale gray as all of the red paint from it was weathered off from the years of heat, rain and snow. The barn had become overgrown with shrubs and vines and was far from as visible as it used to be.
Every day we JUST ... LIVE... LIFE. We sleep, work, eat, clean, sleep, work, eat, clean and just keep repeating that over and over, day after damn day. We get used to it, as we are raised/conditioned to study hard in school to get into college, go to college to get a good paying job, or get into the trades, regardless of the type of employment we are working 5 days a week 8 hours a day (and that is not even the norm any more, some people are working 6 to 7 days a week and endless amount of hours). We are beating our brains, bodies and sanity into the ground. All for that pay check to pay the bills, to have the big fancy house, the luxury vehicle. Some are working to just to barely survive, barely coming up with the rent/mortgage, food, clothing, putting gas in their vehicle.
How I thread the Needle of my Life.
Life is a whirlwind, isn't it? From the time the alarm goes off in the morning until my head hits the pillow in the evening, its seems my body and my brain are in non stop movement . Even at the end of the long day, as I lay in bed , the clutter of the day, yesterday and tomorrow starts to invade my thoughts and it becomes nearly impossible at times to ease my mind into sleep, or at lease try and get enough sleep to be coherent in the morning.
Always take the path less traveled. We tend to hear that a lot on motivational quotes. And even though that seems so adventurous and exciting, wandering off in a direction no one else has taken, my gosh, where would it lead? Well, let me tell you, it is terrifying concept for someone who is walking the path less traveled with panic disorder, cause where the hell is this path going to lead!!!???!!!!