William L. Truax III
Bio
I am a father of two, Girl 15 current 2021 and Boy 12 current 2021. Going fifteen plus years with their mother and I could not imagine my life any different. Despite my Short Military Service in the Marine Corps, I am disabled in Head/Body
Stories (31/0)
New Life
Here, as of right now on this date of May 12, 2021 we are just almost at or are at two weeks into our venture of finding a new place to live. We have been at this address here in Marinna, FL. for about five years and have had a lot of interesting memories, photo opportunities and life remembrance in general. This place has meant the world to us and though the owner is being courteous enough to give us till the end of the month to escape from here, we feel as though it is not enough. He graciously offered the home up to us, since he wants to sell the house now instead of renting it out any longer, but we, my wife and I, do not have the credit to but the house, we are forced into finding a new in a months’ time.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Journal
Imp
Cold, gloomy, and another rainy day in the small town where Geraldine and her three loves reside. She has a husband, Barry, and two boys, Todd and Emile. They are grown up enough to care for themselves but she does not want to let go of the grip that a mother has on her boys. She smiles at herself in the reflection on the metal napkin holder. Wiping away the lipstick that she had on to try to bring in more tips, but with no one coming in to eat, they, the employees, were afraid that the dinner will close early and no one in this small mining town will be able to eat. But the rain, fifteen days in a row, it had not stopped. The rain had flooded the streets all over town and not allowed anyone out of their homes without fear of being washed away.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Horror
Morning Monster
Waking up was a rough patch this morning, I felt a pressure on my body that I was starting to get used to. It was like the gods were wanting me to show how angry I could get today. Though thus far I have illuded the idea of anger, but at the same time, I want to give into it. There has been little feel that I could ever change the way that I want to.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Psyche
Soothing the Beast
Heart, your heart, it beats strong in one’s chest, bringing to life not only you, but all around you. I don’t feel that. It appears the idea that all will be okay, however in the thick of things, you, I, find us lost. Unsure of oneself, unsure and unaware that noting means something different than what you intended. You search for answers in the bottom of Jim Bean, but the bottom become two or more, you take a long drag off the blunt you roll, but the problem is there when you get down.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Beat
Depression and Music
The room is black in the early morning hours while I rise from my bedroom and walk out into the hallway. It is cream white and the hallway (like the rest of the house) has a smell of sage from my wife burning her Sage Incense the night before that has wafted through the rest of the house. As I enter the living room I notice the remaining stick sticking out of the long wooden holder. I open the cabinet where the remaining sage sticks were, I grab and light one. Then, as I turn toward the table across from me, I grab from the bag a handful of Sage and place it in a conch shell, light it and begin to smudge and cleanse my home after smudging myself first.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Psyche
How I Rise
How I Rise Nearly every morning is the same, dull, dreadful and a pain to rise from the behind the covers. Though lately I have been getting myself up eagerly awaiting my day. Turning on the lights at 0500 and I feel like coffee will not due, just because I drink it every day without delay. I walk the baren hallway and dodge the A/C grate in the center. My wooden floors cool against my black comfy socks, I wake my son for school. He slept in the living room on the new extremely comfortable furniture we just recently received from Farmers Furniture.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Families
The Red Suspenders
The Red Suspenders (as it was told to me) Some names in this true story have been altered to save embarrassment * One of my first teaching job out of college was something else. More than thirty years later it is still talked about. I took a job at a little country school in a rural North Florida county--you know the type, about 30 miles beyond sunset--the kind of place where the school board member, with his third-grade education, wanted to hire Perry Mason to represent them. When the time change came each year, you set your watch back one hour and one century. Good hearted folks mostly but trying to work with that school board was kind of like trying to herd cats with a stick while calling a square dance for hippos--you just cannot do it. Ah yes, but there was some good times, too. To this day, I can take credit for really introducing a few country kids to the real joys of learning, researching and clear thinking. One of them, let us not call his name, though its David, is the Superintendent of Education down there now--doing an exceptionally fine job, too.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Education
House of SIN
As the police arrived at her door, the corpse that she kept under her bed was starting to wiggle, squirm and generally move about without any notice. She had her fun with it, yes, she did, but now it was dead, though she could clearly see it moving. What was it? How was it moving. She had played with him all night long, but it had not even blinked an eye, now it is acting like it wants to get up and dance.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Horror
Mr. Can
The room was blue, a pale blue and the man sitting there in the chair in the back corner of the room was worried that he was not going to be believed, that his story was not good enough to free him from the bonds that bind him. He sat there cuffed to the table, the metal table made a clinging noise like a pot falling on a linoleum floor. The sound was the only thing that was heard. There was no one entering the room from the door on the right, his sight limited to one hundred eighty degrees, where if he were able to spin there would be something more. There was however an open window on the left with bars dropping down on the remaining three. Why was the window open? He thought. But there too, he was awaiting an answer from someone.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Criminal
White Light
Here sits a man in plain clothes enjoying a cup of coffee. He stands about six foot five and weights approximately two-hundred seven. He works out at the local gym and is on the way of becoming a Doctor of Medicine. He dreams of helping veterans with their issues and setting them on the right road. Today though, as he took another sip, could be his last. He was pale skinned even though he was blacker in his younger days, he wore all sorts of concealing makeup to hide the discoloration. He hated it, even knowing it was not him, but his genetics. His overcoat was hanging on the hook of the establishment and as he looked around, he was the only one in there drinking, no one else was here, they all took their orders to go.
By William L. Truax IIIabout a year ago in Families
