Rhae Camdyn
Bio
Rhae has been creating stories and poetry ever since she fell into a serious bout of depression upon the death of her first cat.
Stories (11/0)
Mary's Daffodils
For all the lessons we struggle through as human beings, nothing ever prepares us for the loss of a best friend. Oh, we have friends throughout our lives, but if we are blessed by serendipity to find a soul who inner song harmonizes with our own, then we have the chance to have a best friend. Someone who understands you beyond what siblings or parents could hazard a guess.
By Rhae Camdyn4 months ago in Humans
When You Wish Upon A Cloud
In the long-lasting relationships, there are always stories; these are the weavings of how we relate one to the other, of what we find precious and hold dear. It’s been more than 20 years since this incident occurred and I never considered what the impact of it would be for myself and my beloved. Today, I am glad to have this memory to look back on because it reflects on who we are as a couple and the tough decisions we’ve had to make.
By Rhae Camdyn7 months ago in Petlife
A Letter to my 18 Year Old Self
Dear Me; I’m writing you nearly two years after a life-altering event and near-death episode. Since it’s been 39 years since I made a monumental decision to join the military instead of attempting to find a way to go to college, I’m writing this so that hopefully, one day, time travel of at least video correspondence is a reality. In November of 1975, I raised my right hand, and had Mom sign an age waiver so I could gain entry into the Texas National Guard. I was so idealistic, so naive, so sure I was doing the right thing.
By Rhae Camdyn7 months ago in Viva
Talking in your sleep
There’s a simple magic at work when you’re sitting on a wooden porch on a moonlit night in the middle of the no-one-can-reach-you-backcountry-sticks on an autumn evening. It’s even more enticing when you can hear the soft whisper of white linen curtains against the zinc window screens and you know from the delicate under-the-breeze scent that later that night there would be rain. Everything that encompasses you at that moment is there to heal you, revive you, wash away all the insanity that you’ve left when you kicked off the pumps, stripped off the suit and the oxford blouse, grabbed your jeans, t-shirts, and chukka boots, packed the weekender bag, and left the oh-so-ritzy-townhouse condo you rented with your friend in the big city.
By Rhae Camdyn7 months ago in Humans
The Choice
Her tiny pink toes wiggled in the cold rainy puddle on the aged sidewalk. Her unseen friends whispered from the budding leaves of the trees and from behind the first stems of grass peeking up from their long winter slumber. Oh, for sure the people in the house behind her would never believe her if she told them of the little sparkling ones that giggled and shared the secrets of all things growing and glowing. But her little friends were powerful allies protecting her from the voices that hurt her ears, the feet that kicked and hands that slapped.
By Rhae Camdyn7 months ago in Families
The Evolution Of Cookies
As Kasvith's went, Gorp was not a prime specimen. Gorp was probably not going to be anything prime, except for a janitorial drone providing he could memorize the order of tasks for any given job. Even that was questionable on the best of days with explicit directions written in grease pen on his abdomen, upside-down. As he slump-slipped down the corridor towards the ship’s mess, he gave a wandering thought about the larger mission, daydreaming about ever getting to leave the confines of the ship’s immediate landing area. However, as a janitorial drone, his mission outline was mopping floors, emptying the refuse bins from the food preparation area, and burning any quarantined materials from the ship’s laboratories. The single time he’d been tasked with defrosting raw quarta meat, his lackadaisical handling had resulted in food poisoning for 1/3rd of the crew. Even the captain had restrained herself from shooting him point blank from her painful crouch over the waste-recycler. Only Gorp’s relation to the Fleet Admiral saved him from evacuation via air lock.
By Rhae Camdyn7 months ago in Fiction
A Rose For Alphonse
Gnarled aged hands, weathered by sun and work, lovingly pruned the stems of the hibiscus in the warm sunshine of a spring morning. The elderly gentleman those hands belonged to slowly and achingly stood up to review his work thru clear green eyes. The upright oval shape of the shrub was restored he noted, with a smile that didn’t quite reach those lovely eyes. Louis stooped to gather the cuttings and put them in the wide belly of the wheelbarrow before moving on to trim up the boxwood hedges. The coolness of the night before still lingered within the limestone pavers as they delineated the symphony of the semi-formal garden, and the richness of the earth flavored the scents of every flower, shrub and tree planted there. Occasionally however, despite the inherent beauty surrounding him, a rogue tear escaped from an eye and Louis would pull his handkerchief from the front pocket of his bib overalls to catch the escapee and with a sigh, going about his work. Thinning wisps of grey hair would occasionally stray from the under the protection of the wide-brimmed straw hat and again, Louis would stop in his efforts to one more take the handkerchief and wiping a dampened brow, he would lift the brim of the hat and restore a measure of order to hair left upon his head.
By Rhae Camdyn7 months ago in Fiction
