Merrie Jackson
Bio
The youngest of 12 children, country girl from West Virginia, been writing since childhood, trying to get published. I'm a hefty brown woman with a quirky sense of humor - I hear things at right angles and often says whatever comes to mind.
Stories (19/0)
The Lighthouse Treasure
While sightseeing, Bob and Alice’s family find a lighthouse painted red and white like a candy cane. The lighthouse is sitting on a narrow strip of land sticking out into a cove. Daddy parks in a wide spot on the main shore and they all walk to the lighthouse. Knocking at the door of a small house near the base of the lighthouse, the door opens to reveal an old man with a craggy face with piercing blue eyes peeking out from the many folds of his face. With a smile, he greets them warmly, “welcome to the Cove Lighthouse, my name is George. How may I help you?”
By Merrie Jackson2 years ago in Fiction
Swimming the Reef
During breakfast one morning, Uncle Jack says, “I have a surprise for everyone, and it requires swimsuits, so get changed and we’ll go!” When the dishes are washed and put away, everyone quickly changes into their swimsuits, with towels over their arms they all pile into Uncle Jack’s car.
By Merrie Jackson2 years ago in Fiction
From Underneath
“Are we there yet?” asks a disgruntled voice from the back seat, followed by a deep sigh. “What, are you five? No, we’re not there yet,” says Shelly with a sigh, while driving the wintery path. “I told you when we left the main road, the chalet where we will be staying is seven miles from the main lodge.”
By Merrie Jackson2 years ago in Fiction
I Won't Grow Up!
Of all of the jobs that have affected me the most and helped (I hope) to make a positive impact on the world is babysitting. There is a lot more in depth to the job than the name implies…mostly the children being cared for aren’t babies and we, the caregivers, are providing more than simply ‘sitting’ with them. This alone suggests that the children are pretty much left to their own devises for care, food, exercise, and cognitive skills while we, the ‘sitters’, are only there to keep an eye out for them and so the parent(s) can say to themselves, ‘the children are not alone, so everything is fine.’ Wrong!
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Families
Sanafawafu
My name is Katherine, and I believe my son Jacob is my comic relief from the struggles of life. I never know what will happen with him from one moment to the next. All I know is that he will bring a smile to my face and laughter will raise my spirits while lightening my heart.
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Fiction
Counted Cross-Stitch Success
I think my depression started in elementary school when I was teased and bullied by the kids and in some ways by my own family, so there was no retreat or any place that I could hide from the abuse other than in my imagination and in crafts. But it didn't always work. I didn't consider hurting myself until I was an adult, but I did want to escape from the abuse often enough. I threw myself into writing stories and making things sometimes out of what others throw away. My Mom and her Mom taught me to do crafts. They focused on the big things like blankets, quilts and shawls, while I focused on the small things like bookmarks, dolls and their clothes, and animal toys. But, one thing I taught myself was counted cross-stitch. I got my first kit as a birthday gift and soon started looking for more kits, designs and materials for working the projects.
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Confessions
Mischief and Mayhem
My name is Katherine and while visiting my cousin Edward at his cattle ranch in Texas several years ago, my four children and I enjoyed the change of pace from our busy lives back home in Florida. We learned about how much work it takes to care for horses, as well as the joy of riding, which I was glad my girls found out so they will stop asking Santa for a real pony. Riding is reasonable to do because there several stables around our home that provide trail riding. Because Cousin Edward also had chickens, a few cows and pigs, not to mention at least a dozen barn cats and their kittens, my kids and I had a wonderful time experiencing country living, as it were. The main rule is 'if you don't work, you don't eat' so everyone does something if they want to eat, so we planned to help as much as possible, even though this was supposed to be a vacation! A rooster woke us at early dawn, we had to get used to that, then we rose, dressed in 'work' clothes and helped gather the eggs from the hens. The eggs were still warm and the hens didn't seem to mind us reaching underneath them. We learned how to milk the cows and tasted fresh milk before it was pasteurized. It was an odd taste, but at the same time good.
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Fiction
Learning Something New
The females of the family have gone shopping. Daddy is working on his computer in the den. Bob is alone, wondering about the bungalow, bored. Looking outside, he sees Uncle Jack a short way up the beach. Bob walks over. Uncle Jack is sitting on a log of driftwood, cutting on a smaller piece of wood with his knife. Bob watches quietly. When Uncle Jack takes a break, Bob asks, “What are you doing?”
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Families
I Was a Bedwetter
From an early age until I reached 14 years, I wet the bed. Mama took me to a doctor when I was around seven to see if there was something wrong with me. The doctor ran a lot of tests then came back to say that there was nothing physically or mentally wrong with me. He said, “I think she is sleeping too deeply to feel the urges our bodies give us to get up and go to the bathroom, so she simply releases in the bed.” Mama was disappointed and I was sad. The doctor continued, “I suggest that you limit liquids after eight pm and wake her up in the wee hours and then again in early morning to use the bathroom until her body gets into the rhythm of getting up, then she’ll do it on her own.”
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Confessions
Buttons
This is the story of an adult cat that started out as someone’s pet, but then became a stray. He lived for a while on a college campus where many students took pity on him and fed him. At that same college, one of my older sisters was attending, while I was still in high school. She hid him in the closet of her dorm room for two weeks before she was told to find another home for him. At which time, she bought him home to my brother and I, on our hill.
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Petlife
A Carved Box
Despite the overcast skies and the threat of rain, the estate sale that day is large, covering at least an acre with farm equipment, wooden furniture, and everything in between with a large turnout. Among them, Caroline, who owns two thrift stores, isn’t interested in the farm equipment and other big things instead, she watches for the boxes of miscellaneous stuff – these are where the hidden treasures are found – in her opinion, with over 12-years-experience guiding her choices. Occasionally, she’ll buy a trunk or small desk for the possible treasures within.
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Humans
Trash
“Why did I say that I would do this? Why did I let him hustle me into doing something he’s not even sharing with me? I must be out of my mind!” Linda says under her breath as she moves back and forth between the roadway and the ditch picking up trash with the ‘grabby thing’ the supervisor of this clean-up gang gave her and putting the trash in a bag she carries with her.
By Merrie Jackson3 years ago in Criminal