Saturday, December 31, 2005


I've searched high and low for her first name, so for now, the winner is "Beneath the ivy wreath!" She is a newbie to my blog and has linked to mine! REVISED: I can now add, her name: Cynthia!

If anyone else new has linked before this and hasn't notified me, please let me know!!

Congrats to Cynthia! And, check out her newly designed blog:

I'm really looking forward to getting to know her better!
Happy New Year to All!
ps-Dave, I think we have another recruit for Writers in the Mist! Sorry a newbie took your place as the winner-hope you understand ;)

Friday, December 30, 2005


Monthly contest still open unless Porchwise notifies me of a link to my site. If a newbie hasn't linked this month, I think Dave can pick his book. I'll wait for Porch to let me know though.

Porch, if you've linked to my blog, please email me your snail mail address and let me know what book you want (see previous contest blog for selection ;) so I can send out to ya.

Thx for all those who support my blog! Take care and God bless!

Thursday, December 29, 2005


Short fiction:
A Christmas Memory-

Marie scurried to the mailbox just outside her little house. Slowly opening the mailbox, she peered inside from a distance as if something might jump out at her. Nothingness stared back. She shivered as the December winds blew through her thin bones. Hustling back inside her house, she made her way into her tiny box living room, which also served as her dining room. She had everything she needed there. Inches in front of her, a couple of crossword puzzle books, her ashtray and remote control sat on her little wooden coffee table. She looked at the snow-covered trees outside her window, not even one bird perched there. She lit up and grabbed the control as she did every day.

It was Christmas, and she had checked her mailbox every day for the past month and nothing but bills had taken up space in the little box. She didn’t care if she was cut off from the world. True, Christmas was a time for family and friends and fruitcakes and Christmas trees and fa la la la las all around, but who needed it, she thought. She watched the Christmas Day parades on the television set located just across from her on a little stand. No matter, it is what it is, she thought.

Marie had family, but they were all in different states. She stared at the T.V as she remembered a different time and place as her children squealed in delight as they looked inside their stockings for oranges, walnuts and candy canes galore. She always had homemade goodies carefully placed inside as well as a special little present. She could see their bright eyes widen in delight as each item was yanked from the stocking. Marie’s heart raced when watching them and her heart raced as she remembered them. But, that was a long time ago. No bitterness. No tears. Just loneliness. No matter, it is what it is, she thought solemnly.

She was startled out of her thoughts as she heard her doorbell ring. She sat for a moment as she wondered if she was hearing things. It rang again. She stretched and yawned. Marie pushed up with her arms using the coach to assist her, and slowly walked to the front door. Peering outside, she saw before her very eyes, kids and adults and everything in between with their red noses and scarves and hats to keep them warm in this cold weather of Strafford, NH. In a daze, she stood there and glanced around as if she was losing her mind and tried to grasp her surroundings. And before she could get her thoughts to work for her, her grandchildren and children pulled open the screen door and rushed in hugging her, grabbing at her.

“Hey Ma, sorry we didn’t call. We wanted it to be a surprise. You were probably pretty mad when you didn’t hear from us, huh?
Marie stood there with hands on wide hips.
As Marie moved back to allow her family to pile into her little house, one tear slipped down her cheek. I guess it did matter, she thought as she followed them all into the little room. After all, Christmas is a time for family and friends and such. She smiled and accepted the hugs of her grandchildren with a twinkle in her eye.


Monday, December 26, 2005


With a steaming cup of coffee in hand, I stepped inside and sighed and looked around the spacious yet empty living room of the cute bungalow I’d just purchased. A new day had dawned and like the bare walls and rooms would soon be filled, I hoped that some day that I’d be filled with peace and fulfillment. After everything I’d been through, I needed a purpose for living.

Shouts from outside my little house interrupted my thoughts. My best friend, Kathleen yelled at the driver of the moving truck. I walked onto the porch and had to smile. Kathleen, with her red hair blowing in the wind, motioned for the driver like a traffic cop, to stop as the truck approached my front steps. Over the past year, she’d helped me through some tough times.

Kathleen and I, along with the two hired movers, started unloading items from the truck. As I moved one of my items, I accidentally bumped into the young surly, dark-haired man with a grumpy disposition. To be fair, he could’ve been grumpy because I’d just about knocked him over with a brass lamp. But when we brushed up against each other, there was a brief, strong connection like lightning bolt to metal. Static electricity? Whatever it was, it was powerful.

He looked into my eyes. I looked into his. His blue eyes shimmered and flashed sparks like fireworks on the fourth of July. My heart raced and I stood frozen, speechless. Kathleen bumped into the other young man with a big box hard enough to force both of them to drop what they were carrying. Both men cursed in unison. Kathleen and I shrugged our shoulders in unison.

All of a sudden, the black sky lit up and a crack of thunder roared to the accompanying pounding rain.

“Okay, everyone stop,” said the annoyed callous, dark-haired man. “We have one too many hands in the pot here. Why don’t you ladies take a tea break or something?” he said as he placed a small duffel bag on the porch.

The other man, short and stocky, stopped and smirked. “All right, Steve. I think they get the point,” he said shaking his head as he brought in more boxes.

Finally able to speak again, I said, “Yeah, Steve, we get it.” I wasn’t too happy being told what to do. “Anything else?”

“Nope,” he said not looking up as they moved my lavender loveseat into the living room. “Nice color,” Steve muttered.

“Were you commenting on the color of my furniture?” And, as the movers walked across the creaky wood floor, I heard a long drawn out moan coming from…somewhere. I couldn’t tell for sure where. Now, I’m hearing things, I thought.

“It is a little bright, isn’t it?”

“Well I like it, and that’s all that matters. Come on Kathleen,” I said with determination, “we can start unpacking dishes while the big stuff comes in.”

As I turned the kitchen lights on, lamps busted and shattered to the floor.

“What the hell is going on? Man, it’s pitch black in here.”

"We just need to replace the lamps, Missy. Don’t get all worked up. Do you have a flashlight?”

"Yeah, somewhere. I pulled a box from under the sink. “Here’s one. Isn’t it strange that they would all go out at the same time?”

“There might be a short in your wiring or something,” Kathleen added as she looked up at one of the ceiling lights. “You shouldn’t get stressed. Remember what your doctor said. Maybe we should take a break and get something to eat. You’re too thin for that tall body of yours.

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about it. I ate earlier. Anyway, I’m a cancer survivor remember?

“I’ll get the broom,” Kathleen said shaking her head as she made her way to the closet.

I walked back into the living room and noticed that each time Steve came in with another box or piece of furniture, he looked around as if hearing someone calling his name.

“Everything okay?”

He hesitated. “Yeah, why?”

“You look like you’ve just seen a ghost or something.”

He stared at me, face tense and tried to speak but was hoarse. After clearing his throat, he said, “Of course not.”

“Did you hear anything when you were bringing in the sofa?”

“Yeah, but not sure what.” Shifting uncomfortably, he placed his fingers through his wavy, brown hair as he looked around and added, “I need to bring the rest of your things inside.”

I looked for anything unusual throughout the rest of the house, which didn’t take long with only a few rooms to walk through, and still wondered where the noises were coming from. The floorboards? Actually, the moans and soft wails were coming from everywhere. As rooms filled, one by one with my belongings, I felt pain filling the air. Suddenly, I bent over and put my hand across my abdomen.

“Hey girl, what’s the matter?” Kathleen asked.

“I feel terrible. Must be nerves.”

“Sit down on the couch for a minute. You look as white as a ghost,” she said as she sat down next to me.

“You’re working too hard. Maybe this move was too soon after your surgery.”

Subconsciously, I touched my old t-shirt that covered the empty place my right breast used to be and said, “Why do you need to bring that up? I’m trying to put the past behind me." And as I lay down on the sofa, I heard them. Heard the scratching, the scattering. I felt them. Felt the restlessness, the anger. My head pounded and beads of sweat covered my body. I placed my hand over my mouth and ran to the bathroom, just in time to let go of the contents of my stomach into my very own toilet. That’s great, I thought. Just great. I’d already had my share of vomiting over the past few months.

Steve walked in as I strolled out of the bathroom, just in time to catch me wiping saliva off my face with a hand towel.

“Not feeling well?”

“What makes you ask that?”

“Ah, well…nothing. I just thought you looked…under the weather.”

“Heard any other noises?” I asked hoping for subject change.

Steve looked down at his work boots. “Maybe. You?”

“Come here and sit down,” I said as I put my hands on my ears. “Do you hear anything?”

He sat down for a minute, rubbing his square skin and said, “Yes, I know what they are. You’re not gonna believe me though.”

“You know what they are or who they are?” I muttered. I began to think that I was on the show, Candid Camera. Unfortunately, that was not the case.

“Both. I’m here to help you with more than the moving.”

“What are you talking about?” I paced the floor, back and forth, looking up at the ceiling, not finding any answers there. “You’re freaking me out more than these voices or noises or whatever the hell they are.”

“Look, I can’t explain everything now. Can you ask your friend to leave? I’ll stay behind so I can explain what is happening.”

“Oh, I don’t think so. Then, it’s just you and I? How convenient for you. Do you see blonde roots?” I touched my short, spiky brown hair for added effect and continued, “Well, there aren’t any. So whatever you’re trying to sell, I’m not buying. Got it?”

He just sat there. Probably thinking of his next move.

“I’m going to get the last of the furniture, and then send Paul on his way so I can explain this to you.”

“Fine, but Kathleen stays with her cell phone nearby.”

“Okay. Don’t you sense a connection with me?”

"Yes,” I mumbled wrestling with my emotions. “What does it all mean?”

“Your house is in pain because evil spirits reside here. Our combination-your goodness and my sensitivity is pushing them over the edge.”

“What sensitivity? This is insane,” I said standing up too quickly. Feeling dizzy, I fell to my knees and covered my face with shaky hands. “I just don’t understand.”

“I know it’s a lot to take in, but I am telling you the truth. We need to cast these spirits out to the place they belong.


“I need to perform a small ritual, but we’re in this together.”

As they talked about the plan, the house became a place of misery. Water poured down the walls of each room like tears of a forlorn lover. The cries and moans became loud. The power surged on and off.

“Come on Missy, this is crazy,” Kathleen demanded with hands on wide hips.
We both watched as the picture window fogged up with big letters spelling, “get out,” that cracked down the middle in a zigzag shape. Death and dirt and rot floated out of all the air ducts filling the rooms like dread filled my soul.

“All right, that’s enough. We’ve got to leave. Now.”

“You go ahead, but please don’t tell anyone,” I begged. More lamps blew out, splattering glass everywhere. The floorboards lifted up in places and flapped up and down like a seesaw.

“I can’t leave you!” she said standing close to me.

“Yes, you can,” I said hugging her tight. “ I trust this guy. Now, go.”

As Kathleen walked out the door, and she turned back just in time to see the heavy wood door slam behind her so hard that she lost her balance and tumbled down the steps. The door locked as she got into her car and left.

After pulling a note and a candle out his duffle bag, he said, “Okay. I think I have everything ready. First, we need to hold each other and…”

“Embrace? Get real.” I heard a loud crack when the ceiling split and pieces of plaster landed just inches from us. I looked up at the hole in the ceiling and said, “All right, let’s get rid of them.”

He lit the candle and wrapped his muscular arms around me like a warm blanket. I could feel Steve’s firm body under his flannel work jacket. As Steve read from a small piece of paper, I felt an odd sensation and warmth spread from my toes to my face. A rush of air pummeled into us like a huge wave, which knocked us down. Steve grabbed me again, which caused blood to rush to my head. I would have fallen straight to the floor if Steve hadn’t caught me.

One by one, the white streams of mist followed the fog-like entities like the tail and string trailing a kite, twisting and twirling as they rushed through the house, up and down encircling us, then swirled between us pushing outward, but we held on. All except one finally screeched past us and found there way out of the house by any opening they could find.

“Help me,” in a child’s voice, the little stream of haze said. “I don’t want to go.”
“Are you sure this is an evil one? I whispered.

Ignoring her, Steve yelled, “Demon, be gone!” And with the wave of Steve’s hand, the swirling haze raced past us and flew through the electrical outlet and was gone.

“Is that it? I asked quietly, out of breath from holding it for who knows how long. And as I asked the question I knew the answer. The silence was beautiful. I took a deep breath and exhaled sweet, fresh air. The house had stopped crying, but it needed some serious repair work. The apparitions were gone.

“Why were they here in the first place? And how did you know what to do?”

“I am one of the keepers.”

“The keeper of what?”

“The secrets of the dead-good and evil.”

“So why were they here?”

“I did some research on the history of your house so I’d know which spirits we were dealing with. These particular evil spirits were organized and sneaky. They found a loophole, for lack of a better word, and escaped the road to hell and from the one who seeks them. There was a madman who had lived here at one time and blood had been splattered here. Badness can be felt. And so they came here for refuge.

“Who is after them? Not the dude with red horns?”

“Something like that. I think these souls have been hiding out here for quite some time. This little place of yours has changed owners many times. At one time, there was a madman who had lived here. Blood had been splattered here. The essence of evil resided here so what better place to take refuge.”

“Well, are these spirits where they belong now?” I asked as I bit the edge of my fingernail to shreds. “Are there others like you?”

“I think they are on their way. And yes, there are many others like me. I’m part of the secret group that helps keep things in check between the good and bad spirits. Have you ever heard of the Manichean struggle?”

“I don’t even understand what you’ve asked me.”

“Do you believe in good versus evil? How about heaven and hell?”

“I don’t know, but after this experience I’m a step closer to believing. I only have one more question, for now. How did you know that spirit was really evil?”

“I just knew. Evil surrounds itself with evil. Good surrounds itself with good. Normally. And in time you will believe.” And, looking into my eyes he took my hand, and said softly, “I need to be going. I have more work to do, but I’d like to see again.”

I smiled. “Sure, just as long as no spirits are involved.”

He grinned and said, “You’re a survivor and have a goodness about you that is known in our circle. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re called upon in the future by our group.”

“Who me? A keeper or whatever? I’m just taking life one day at a time. But, I guess I could help kick some ghost butt if necessary.”

He lightly kissed me on the check, and for a brief moment, I closed my eyes. When I opened them, he was gone.
I didn’t tell Kathleen everything that had happened, but at least I knew why I got such a good deal on my house. And, as the sun once again shone brightly outside my windows, I thought life might be worth living after all.

Twist Ending-Noticing the front door slightly ajar, I slammed it shut. As I went to the kitchen, a breeze passed through me several times until it finally rested within. I knew what needed to be done, but I wondered if I’d found my destiny after all.


The End

Friday, December 16, 2005

Holiday Wishes-

I've been struggling with something my Pastor commented on last Sunday in his sermon. He mentioned (as he does this time of the year) how it frustrates him to see so many "watered down" versions of ways to extend our salutations of Christmas wishes, such as "Happy Holidays, Merry X-Mas, etc." I thought about this because I am big on generic greetings, especially Happy Holidays. I wondered if I did this to be politically correct. I searched my soul hoping that wasn't the case. At work, I need to sign for our company Christmas gift of Mixed Nuts and I always sign, Happy Holidays. I would have to admit that was probably the case subconsciously, since I don't know all of the religious beliefs of our customers. But when I use the generic with family and friends, it is more out of laziness to cover all of the holidays than anything else.

It bothered me, though. If this is the case, how am I letting others know about the celebration of Christ and how much CHRISTMAS means to me? If I can't even sign a card with Merry Christmas any longer, what does that say? I didn't like my own answer to that question. So, I say to all of you, no matter what your beliefs are: MERRY CHRISTMAS TO YOU AND YOURS!!!

I want to proclaim my reason for celebrating Christmas is JESUS, JESUS, JESUS!!! I AM SO THANKFUL FOR HIS BIRTH AND HIS GIFT TO ME.

Okay, there I feel a little better.

Thursday, December 08, 2005

Fire of My Soul-By L.Braendle

Until last year, I never thought about what a soul might look like, let alone my own. But when my boyfriend, Steve and I rented a cottage in Iron Mountain, Michigan, I surely found out.

Mile after mile into the gray and gloomy night we traveled. As snow piled up around us, I quietly slipped further into depression and wondered if we should’ve just stayed home and faced reality. We passed old junk cars and run-down buildings-all ugly like my mood. The paved roads turned into icy, muddy trails, and I could only imagine the appearance of our black Honda Accord.

Steve, the rugged handsome type, looked like a handyman, but wasn’t. We’d been dating for about a year and made a good couple. Both of us were in our mid-thirties, had crappy childhoods and tried to be good people.

Unfortunately, we stopped trying to be good. I guess our parents told us we were bad, one too many times. Anyway, we scammed people out of money. Young or old, it really didn’t matter. We weren’t prejudice.

After Steve had driven several hours, we finally arrived at the bottom of a driveway where a sign read, “Welcome to Haunted Hill.” He looked at the sign, and then at me. He raised his eyebrows.

I shrugged my shoulders. Interestingly enough, ever since I spotted the ad in the local paper, I felt a strong connection to the place, like a long lost friend calling out to me.

Tree branches swayed and scraped together to the rhythm of the gusty winds as we drove up the winding trail, which led to the cottage located a few miles back. Our car tires spun as the hill became too steep, and slowly, we slid backwards sideways until we hit a large oak tree. Thankfully, we escaped any major damage and pushed the car to the side of the road.

Opening the door, Steve said with a frown, “That’s as far as we go.”

“What? Not up for an adventure? Grab our bag and let’s walk the rest of the way.”

“Are you sure you’re up to it? he asked.

Out of habit, I touched my stomach. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

On foot, through the howling winds, I thought I heard a voice. We approached the cobblestone cottage and cleared fallen tree limbs to reach the front door.

“So, this is it,” I said, shivering.

"Does it even have electricity?” Steve opened the creaky door and muttered,

“Lacy, what have you gotten us into?”

We moved about the room, which didn’t seem much bigger than a large bedroom. I pushed past the cobwebs and sat down on a soft, red sofa and dust puffed into the freezing air. “Man, it’s cold in here.”

“I’m going to check outside for wood,” Steve said, rubbing his hands together.

I spotted a fireplace along the far wall of the small living room. Floorboards squeaked as I walked back to look at the old paintings that lined the wall, and as I walked past the stone fireplace, a voice whispered, “Come to me.” I’m losing my mind, I thought as I started to move away.

Unexpectedly, flames shot out at me like projectile vomit from a baby. I jumped back to avoid being scorched and screamed as I ran for the door.

Steve gasped when he walked in and saw my face ashen and hair askew. “What the hell happened?” He dropped the wood and pulled me close.

“Flames came out of that fireplace, Steve,” I said shakily.

“But, I didn’t start a fire yet.”

“I know. It started by itself.

He walked arduously to the fireplace, which was cool and still. “I don’t understand.”

“Steve, maybe this place is haunted.

"You’re kidding, right?

“How else do you explain it?

“I don’t know,” Steve said, putting his hand through his wavy hair.

“See Steve, there it goes again!”

“I don’t see anything,” he said through gritted teeth as he stared at the fireplace. “We need to get out of here.”

“Don’t you see the flames? I can’t leave yet.”

“This is crazy,” he said walking over to me. “You’re not thinking clearly. Ever since the…”

“Don’t say it, Steve. This has absolutely nothing to do with that. I need time to figure this out.”

“I’m going for a walk. Be ready to go when I get back.” He slammed the door on his way out.

I looked into the red and yellow flames, and there before my eyes was a face. Not just any face. But mine. And, it called out to me.

“What’s the matter, Lacy? Haven’t you ever seen your soul before?”

I fell to the floor, gasping for breath. “How is this happening? Who are you?”

“I am your soul.”

I lowered my head to my knees and screamed like I’d caught fire. “This isn’t real. You aren’t real.”

The face snarled and a large piece of ember flew out and landed on me. “Why did you do that?” I asked as I swiped at my jeans.

“I’m trying to get your attention. I am very real. You need to believe me when I tell you that if you don’t stop living an evil life, you will destroy yourself.”

“I don’t know how to do the right thing any more. Don’t you understand?” I said with my face in my hands. “It’s too late for me.”

“It’s not too late. It’s time you take responsibility for your life.”

Tears streamed down my face as I whispered, “If you are my soul, then you know that I killed my baby, and there isn’t any fixing that.”

“You had a miscarriage. It wasn’t your fault. But, you can change your life for the better. Do you want to change?”

“It was my fault,” I cried. I lost my baby because I’m a bad person.

“Your actions are bad. You are not. Again, I ask, do you really want to change?”

“Yes,” I said.

The face slowly faded and murmured, “Don’t worry. I’ll be there to help you. Just listen to me.”

Steve walked back in to find me lying on the sofa. I told him the story about my soul and the fireplace. He thought I had fallen asleep and thought the dream was a sign that I needed to change my life and realize that the miscarriage wasn’t my fault. He even promised to change, too.

There was only one problem with Steve’s theory. I hadn’t fallen asleep. But, I did want to live a better life. That was a start.


Friday, December 02, 2005

Draft Two-The Secret-

Trigger -Three can keep a secret if two are gone-

The Secret-

Eight-year-old Dorothy slowly brushed off the dirt and unwrapped the velvet cloth to reveal an oval mirror with a small, blue handle that she found in the woods right next to her house. She thought it was just a regular mirror. But it wasn’t. She stared into the cloudy mirror and could not put it down. Excited, she twirled round and round as if she was on one of the amusement park rides her Grandpa had taken her on.

Dorothy would not go anywhere without that mirror. And, after a few weeks, while playing with her friends, Teresa and Heather, she gazed into the mirror like she had done hundreds of times. Suddenly through swirls of haze, Dorothy saw a face. It was the face of a young girl, around the same age as Dorothy, with hair like the color of butter.

“Who are you?” Dorothy whispered to the vision.

“My name is Elizabeth.”

“Why are you in there?” She said as she turned her head from side to side to see if her friends were watching. They were busypicking flowers.

"I can’t get out. What is your name?”

“My name is Dorothy. How did you get in there?” She asked as she twisted the ends of her hair.

“I found the mirror a long time ago. I got mad and wished I could go somewhere else, and then poof, I was in here.”

"Where did it come from?”

“It was in the woods by my house. I wish I hadn’t ever found it.”

“I wish I could help you,” Dorothy said.

“But you can. You can wish your friends were in here and they’d be here, and I’d be free.”

“I can’t do that!”

“You’re right. That was a pretty stupid.”

“I’m sorry,” Dorothy said as she rubbed the mirror, and hoped the girl could feel her touch. “Can’t we be friends anyway?”

“Okay. Sure,” said the porcelain face of pain.

Dorothy and Elizabeth had many conversations about dumb boys and how Dorothy didn’t like her Mom and Dad telling her what to do. But, Dorothy's friends soon became jealous of Elizabeth and even threatened to tell their parents about her.

Dorothy panicked and didn’t know what to do. She knew she’d be in trouble or worse that her new friend would go away. Suddenly, Dorothy thought back to the conversation with Elizabeth.

She could wish her friends were in the mirror instead. That would work, she thought. Wouldn’t it? It had to. That’s when she came up with the plan. That same day, she invited her friends over for a sleep over.

"Hi guys,” Dorothy said with a nervous smile. “Want to play a game?”

Teresa and Heather looked at each other and shrugged their shoulders. “Sure,” they said in unison.

“Why not,” Heather said without much enthusiasm.

“Great. Okay, this is what we need to do. First, I’ll blindfold you both, and then we’ll play a kind of hide and seek. Are you ready?

They both nodded.

She tied a scarf to cover their eyes, and placed the mirror in front of them and muttered, “I wish Teresa and Heather were in this mirror.”

Upon hearing Dorothy's words, Heather and Teresa quickly tore off the scarf. All of a sudden, Heather’s face contorted into something wide and long, and then into something short and narrow as did the rest of her little body. Wide eyed, she howled and turned translucent as the mirror’s power finally pulled her in.

“Help me, Dorothy,” Heather cried, “What is happening to me?”

“Don’t worry. It will be okay in a minute. We can still be friends.” She secretly hoped so anyway.
Teresa started to run away as tears streamed down her face, but didn’t get far. She screamed and tumbled to the ground. Her body elongated and shortened simultaneously, back and forth, she stretched. It reminded Dorothy of the time she was in a funhouse when she stood in front of the wavy mirrors that made her body look weird. In the end, Teresa could not escape the mirror’s strong grasp, and she was sucked into the mirror.

However, when Dorothy looked into the mirror, she could not see her friends. However, she did see Elizabeth.

“Now what? Why didn’t you come out?” Dorothy asked.

“I don’t know. Something went wrong. You’re friends couldn’t stay here. They had to go to another place.”

Shaking and shivering, Dorothy stood on the cold, hard ground. “Another place? What do you mean another place! I thought they would be okay in the mirror so we could at least still be friends. What happened to them,” she demanded.

“I just don’t know, Dorothy. I’m really sorry. I just want to get out of this mirror,” Elizabeth said, as her face wrinkled and brown spots started to spread across her face while her once light brown hair turned to a dull gray.”

Dorothy dropped the mirror and ran and ran until she couldn’t hear Elizabeth’s screeches any more.

“Don’t leave me. Don’t leave me like all of the others. We’ll figure it out together… come back. Dorothy…come back to me.”

That’s all Dorothy heard as she ran as fast as she could back to her house. She slammed the
door and didn’t look back.

Several years later, she did go back to those same woods. And, she felt its power. She lie on the ground and scattered the dried leaves in the area she’d dropped the mirror. She lowered her head, and silently wished she could find the source of her nightmares and the answers for peace of mind.

“I wish I could find my friends,” she said aloud as she pounded the ground in frustration. Heart racing, her face suddenly widened and in horror, Dorothy touched her face.

"Oh no, no…no…no…," Dorothy cried as her body transformed into something between time and space.

“Your wish is my command,” Elizabeth whispered.

And before Dorothy knew it, she was inside the mirror with her friends, and far off in the distance, she could see a once again, young Elizabeth.

Dec. 1 Practice

Who am I?

I laugh. I cry.
I have brown hair. I have gray hair.
I’m at peace. I’m worried.
I am dressed in sweats. I am dressed in high heels and a long black gown.
I’m happy. I’m sad.
I am a Mother. I am a child of God. I’m a wife.
I’m a daughter, sister, friend, colleague and more.
Who am I?
I am only myself.

I am strong. I am weak.
I am smooth faced. I am wrinkled.
I am a hard worker. I am lazy.
I’m nice. I’m not who I want to be.
I’m simple. I’m complex.
I am wonderful. I am terrible.
I’m nothing. I am everything.
I am only myself.

I am who I am and no more.
Who do you want me to be?

Thursday, December 01, 2005

Daily Writing-Nov. 30

Dear Lord,

I know you want me to grow.
I stumble and cry.

I know you want me to be a better person.
I stumble and cry.

I know you want me to do your will.
I stumble and cry.

I know you want me to be happy.
I stumble and cry.

I know you want me to help others.
I stumble and cry.

I know you want me to love others.
I stumble and cry.

I know you want me to be good.
I stumble and cry.

Help me Lord as I stumble and cry.
I am afraid.
I am weak.
I am trying.
I love you.
In Jesus Name I pray,

Daily Writing for Weds, Nov 30

The Box-Written by Lisa Braendle

I glance out the window in my living room and see really big snowflakes coming down from the sky. It makes me want to make a fat snowman. My hands and chin are propped on the windowsill waiting for Christmas to begin.

I look at the clock and the hand isn’t moving at all. I know it’s not because I’ve been staring at it, and if that hand is moving, it isn’t moving fast enough. I felt like this on my last birthday when I turned six years old. Daddy says I’m a big girl now.

My eyes dart back and forth to the street in front of my house. Where are they? This isn’t good. Not good at all. Suddenly, I see something coming down the road. This must be the one. No, no, no! Not the neighbor’s big old truck. I think it’s ugly, especially now.

My face is pressed up against the cold window as I try to look down the road further when finally, I see glaring lights approaching through the falling snow. Please, please, please…let it be the right one this time. Yea, they’re here, I say to myself as I jump up and down. “They’re here,” I yell now so the whole world can hear me. Well, okay, so my family will hear me anyway. My heart is thumping so fast, I think it's coming out.

I race to the big front door as fast as my little legs can carry me and run right into my brothers who have heard the commotion, and we tumble on each other like that game called Dominose or something like that. I glare at my two younger brothers and push my way past them to get to the door. My tummy starts to rumble and tumble, like I’m getting ready to get in front of the class at school.

I fling open the door just in time to see the box. It’s only the biggest box you’ve ever seen. It must be 200 feet tall. It looks just like last year and the year before that. No, wait…it might just be bigger than that! I don’t think my Grandpa can carry it, but he does. He must be really strong. He drops the biggest box ever at my feet with a grin on his face. My face lights up like the thousands of lights on our Christmas tree. I know what’s in that box. Can you guess what’s in there? Extra water fills my mouth as I think about it.

Okay, I’ll tell ya. Millions and millions of goodies. Gooey cookies like chocolate chip, oatmeal and raisin, peanut butter and smooth chocolate-nut fudge and every kind of sweet you can think of. Peanut brittle? Yup, it’s in there. My brothers and I scoot down in front of the box after it has been placed on a nearby chair. We also see presents wrapped in reds, greens, and gold colors-bright and glittery with big, bright bows on top being brought in.

My mouth hits the floor, and I quickly close it because spit starts to fall out from smelling Grandma’s cookies. I just want one. I yank on my Mom’s apron and beg. She says no. Man, I just gotta have one. Each little goodie has its on little box, whether it’s a shoebox or a Tupperware container. I lift one of the lids as I look over my shoulder for my Mommy or Daddy, but no one is watching. Daddy and Grandpa are still bringing presents in from Grandpa’s truck, and Mommy sighs. My brothers are putting the presents under the tree. They hold and shake presents as they laugh and try to guess what the presents are.

Smiling, I open the lid and inside are the bestest looking cookies in the whole, wide world. I grab one of the chocolate-chip cookies and take a big bite and crumbs fall to the floor.

Oh sorry, do you want one?

The end
Freestyle writing 101 at home! ;) Fiction based on happy Christmas memories.

Challenge for Myself!

My goal is to post something daily! This will encourage me to keep writing on a daily basis! If you stop by and there isn't something new, you make sure to let me know ;)

Keep checking for new material and let me know what you think!!


Okay, I went through my library and here is the list that the winner of the December Giveaway can choose ONE (1) from:

A Cup of Comfort-filled with anecdotes and short stories. Good to read over a good cup of joe or a hot cup of tea.
Lists to Live By-"Not just about things to do; they're about how to be." Description from cover.
(Misc lists to live by.)
Night Tales By Nora Roberts

How to win?
First Newbie to my blog who comments on my posts and links to my blog will get his or her choice of one (1) of the above. Or, if a newbie doesn't comment during the month, the first blogger who comments and has linked to my site in the past will win.

The contest officially starts Dec. 1st at 9AM EST...I keep my word, just ask Dave or Dana!!

Happy Posting And Happy Holidays!