Never Again

*I’m normally a non-fiction person. I’m always saying I’ve got too much real stuff that needs to get out before I can have much room for fiction. The other day seemed to be an exception to my rule though and this is one of the stories I wrote…

The snow continued to fall steadily. It had been falling for hours. It was a storm, unlike any seen in rural North Carolina for years. Living on a secondary road, she knew it would be a while before the snow plows cleared the road and more traffic made the way through, though there was never much traffic on the road anyway. Sarah knew no one would be coming to visit, even if the roads were clear. One of the downsides to being a bit anti-social and family living far away.

“Oh well”, she thought as she sipped her tea and looked out the kitchen window at the big fluffy flakes falling. No time for one of her pity parties. Soup was simmering in the crock pot for supper, her little dog was curled up on the couch napping, and she was going to tackle writing another chapter of her book. The book she might never publish, but that beckoned her to write. There were some secrets, which should never have to be kept.

Her words quickly spilled across the page and before long she realized it was afternoon. She headed to the kitchen to stir the soup and get something else to drink. She heard the dog start to bark ferociously from the other room. As she turned around to go check, she saw him. The face she would never forget. The man who had left her for dead once, but was never found. She had moved in hopes she’d never see him again.

“Sarah, I told you you’d never belong to anyone else”, said the man. Before he had the chance to say anything else, she threw the crock pot at him. He cursed as it shattered on the ground and he was splattered with hot soup. She took off running through the back door. He ran out after her, fired the gun, and kept calling her name as he ran towards her.

She ran and kept running, not daring to look behind her. She had never been this far in the woods behind her house. Suddenly she ran out of woods and was in a snowy field. She kept running. She thought she smelled wood smoke, but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. There was just bright white snow all around. She fell and tried to get up, but couldn’t. She moved her hand where the pain was coming from and felt something warm and wet. Looking down, she saw the blood pouring from her side.

The bright red blood, her blood, falling on the snow, somehow reminded her of Snow White’s lips and the bright red apple the witch gave her, putting Snow White in a deep slumber. Of all times to think of fairy tales. Her eyes felt heavy. Sleepiness getting harder to resist. Fading away in the snow, embracing the cold. She was no one’s princess and now she never would be.

Her eyes lightly opened one last time and she saw birds nearby on the ground. Her brain thought of birds…singing…and then somehow, whistling came to mind. With all the strength she could muster, she pursed her lips to give one strong whistle before everything faded black.

Her eyelids began to lightly flutter, and between partially open lids, everything looked bright and white. She thought it must be heaven. She heard a man’s voice say, “Sarah?”. Briefly opening her eyes a little wider, she barely made out the blurred image of a man’s face with the deepest blue eyes she’d ever seen. She said, “My prince” and then gave in to sleep.

A few days later, as Sarah was sitting up in her hospital bed, a man wearing a blue plaid flannel jacket and jeans, looking as if they’d been made for him, came knocking on her door. He wore a friendly smile on his face and sat a vase of tulips down on her bedside tray. She looked up at him and before she could ask who he was, she peered into his eyes. She remembered those eyes. She knew she’d looked into them once before, but didn’t know who he was.

He told her his name was Tim, then explained what had happened. He lived in the clearing beyond her woods.  He heard barking that terrible day and looked out his window. He saw the small dog first, then Sarah lying on the snow. Further back, he could make out the shape of a man. Taking his gun outside to find out what was going on, he saw the man raise up his gun to fire, but Tim had fired first.

She remembered nothing other than the man, the pain, birds and running. She didn’t need to know anything more than Tim told her. She knew she had found her prince and now she knew the man who had told her she’d never belong to another, would never bother her again.

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Snowy Day Ramblings

Snowy Bench

Snowy Bench

I just finished sipping a cup of homemade hot chocolate. It’s the perfect thing to do on a frosty day like today. Way more snow fell yesterday in our little part of North Carolina than we’ve seen in many years.  It never lasts long, so I just content myself to staying cozily indoors till the roads are safe. Of course since over 3 snowflakes fell, pretty much everything is closed anyway. The only venturing out I do is to take the occasional picture and to feed the outside critters(the resident goat, guinea, and couple of chickens).

It’s been one of those slow kind of days I enjoy. It started with making some delicious wholesome homemade banana muffins, full of good stuff like flaxseed and fresh ground whole wheat flour. I did some essentials, like cleaning up a bit, then it’s been computer time for me. My internet works at the archaic speed of the dial-up age, but I’ve still managed to mostly catch up reading blog posts and emails for now.

I’m still writing, just been quiet. Mainly writing in my journal, bits of non-fiction, and a few poems as the mood strikes. I’ve been reading plenty too, including I just got my hands on The Wolf Gift by Anne Rice, which I’ve been wanting to read for some time now. I’m not far into it yet, but it looks good and though I’m not a big horror fan, I do enjoy werewolf and vampire stories. I’ll have to share about some of the ebooks I’ve read in another post some time.

Besides going to become a grandmother within a couple of months, the thing I’m most excited about is I might actually get to go to my first ever writers conference. It’s the Book ‘Em North Carolina Writers Conference and Book Fair in Lumberton. It happens to be in the same town my husband’s side of the family usually has family reunions in and best of all the price is right within my budget as the admission is free. Several of the talks look interesting.

On a totally other note, if you’ve ever felt life is not going as you planned(ok…I must really be a dreamer if I think it’s supposed to…huh?) or you’re getting older and feel suddenly you don’t know what you want to do when you grow up, then I ran across a couple of interesting blog posts this morning. Both of them are on the same site, but gave me something to think about. Read the comments too, there were some interesting ones. The posts are If You Could Do Anything for a Living, What Would You Do? and The Problem with Plans : What I Learned from Getting Laid Off.

Best wishes in your life and writing endeavors. Here’s one of the many poems I’ve been writing lately…

Heartsong

Somethings are just known
Without any doubt
Felt down deep
Make life worth living
Make life complete
Slip into place
Perfect poetry
Sung between hearts
Grounding my soul
Giving me peace
A return to dreams
An awakening hope

Snowy Inspiration

Right now I’m sitting at the computer and enjoying the view of snow falling through the kitchen windows. It’s absolutely beautiful. The flakes are smaller, but not long ago, the biggest fluffiest snowflakes I’ve ever seen were falling. It’s been such a great day…including getting to eat a bowl of snow cream! 🙂

Carpenter

Snowy Woods

Light Shining Through

Light Shining Through

What does this have to do with writing? Nothing…other than I have found my way out of the writing impasse I was at, which I refuse to call writer’s block. I had plenty to write about. I was just not in the mood and was being resistant to writing.

The truth comes out when I write and sometimes I just plain and simply don’t want to face it. It’s not always pretty and at times downright painful. Instead, I’ll do absolutely anything to put off writing. I’ve been baking, cooking, crocheting…anything except writing. (On the plus side…I can make a really good loaf of homemade bread from scratch now. 🙂 )

Snow Covered Benches

Snow Covered Benches

The past several days have been wonderful writing days. It feels incredible to be able to really write again. It began with writing in my journal. Who knows, maybe I worked through something in it. Journals are great for processing stuff. No matter how I got there, I did. I’m back to working on personal essays and writing poetry.

I’ve been so inspired, I just wanted to share and thought I’d share some inspiration with you too. Here are some pictures of the snow I took from around the yard…just enjoy or get creative and write something. I have nothing fancy set up for you to leave your links on(maybe one day I’ll figure out Mr. Linky), but you are welcome to leave a link in your comment below if you’d like. Happy writing… : )