Story Telling

The Journey Under Foot

     The journey being taken was a long and sometimes difficult one. As with all travels it resembles being on a ship at sea. The waters can be rough or completely still or a menacing storm suddenly erupts.

     A new path loomed ahead of Tasha; she was unsure if it was a storm or stillness. The opening was a triangle beneath large trees just large enough to one fit in. The trees bent as if inviting her in with their branches pointing like fingers to enter.  The entrance wasn’t lit but somehow, on the path, a light shone just enough to illuminate the way ahead of her. The forest surrounding her was thick, yet there was no light coming through the ominous brush which extended well over her head.  As she walked the sensation of being surrounded came upon her so she kept her focus on the light under her feet. Silence had become a companion, the light her guide towards whatever lay ahead. The light exposed only what was a few feet in front of her. This is why when the wind disturbed the brush interrupting the stillness, Tasha froze. All her senses became heightened; the noises, scents, and movements created an illusion of movement as if creatures unknown were approaching from every direction. 

     Fear froze her to one spot, slowly the light that was leading her began to fade and darkness began to take over. The wind seemed to brush by her ear moving her hair, creating a warm almost comforting sensation that calmed her overwhelmed emotions. When the wind fluttered again a whisper drifted along with it. Still rooted in that spot all other noises faded away she listened for the whisper. She wasn’t sure if she did or did not want the whisper to be real. Real would mean she was not alone, unreal….well that could mean a lot of other things. Despite the uncertainty, Tasha remembered that whispers were often another form of guidance.

    Her hair began to swirl slightly when she heard “don’t stop, keep going”. The comforting warmth came again and Tasha looked down at her feet. The brightness began to materialize again, glowing like the sun beneath her feet. Tasha smiled and ran until the radiance expanded to her feet, knees, and legs until at last she was covered in warmth and light. She stopped and placed her hands on her knees bending slightly to catch her breath. She turned slightly to see the heavily wooded dark exit, which was now difficult to visualize.  She knew it would be a memory soon, just as all other aspects of her adventures had become. Every excursion she completed not only gave her a lasting memory but a lesson as well. This particular experience taught her to only listen to the whispers leading that comfort and lead towards the light. 

Untitled Story

Prologue

I stood in the kitchen holding my keys in one hand and my shoes in the other. The noise sounded as if the TV was on low or maybe it was coming from outside. I walked into the living room where the noise grew louder. When I got to the stairs I recognized the very distinct sound of pleasure coming from our bedroom upstairs. I then realized the real problem;  I was downstairs.

I don’t know why I went upstairs; it was as if someone turned on auto-pilot. I don’t have a breakdown of my thoughts or emotions for you. Morbid curiosity was the driving factor but with each stair, landing anger began a slow burn in my chest. The door to my room….MY ROOM…was slightly open and the noise or more accurately, moaning and name-calling was loud and rapid now. 

I pushed the door open in slow motion to find my neighbor’s ass being held by my husband of 12 years. I want to tell you that I walked out or remained calm, but I can’t! I had a full-on out-of-body experience involving every object I could within reach being hurled in their direction. Mayhem is the only good description of the scene. I guess an old expression could also describe well; all you saw was assholes and elbows, literally. Then…well, that’s what this story is about, the Then.

The Classic Movie Scene~Real Story Telling

Bette Davis and Claude Rains “Mr. Skeffington”

Once upon a time before special effects and outrageous storylines, there were substance-based movies. Often overacted and underrated the classic movie scene is a testament to true storytelling and the vision to execute that story with nothing but props and costumes. Between the 1940s and 1970s movies, were made some admittedly bad; but others just genius. The picture above is the story of a woman who married a very rich man to save her spoiled selfish brother and lifestyle. She continued, post-nuptials, to accept proposals of marriage from other men while her husband looked on with patience. Sounds like a Netflix movie right? A story told in a time when it had to be told without sex and imagination was required.

Elizabeth Taylor and Paul Newman “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof”

A brilliant example of a great story told in during an era of change, is the Tennessee Williams Play adaptation turned Movie “Cat on a Hot Tin Roof“. This story has been told and retold but the 1958 movie was one account worth watching. The beauty of the way this narrative was told on the big screen was the set. This movie was primarily set in one Big ol’ house. It featured a marriage on the verge of destruction due to alcoholism and secrets. Along with a rich matriarch dying and people fighting over the Will before he is gone and buried. Its money, lies, and sex done with insults, tantrums, and family fake smiles. It is completely captivating without any of the special imagery available today.

Now don’t misunderstand me, I love my Star WarsDie Hard and all my Comics come to life along with a plethora of films in-between. However, as an inspiring author, I love and respect how with no hi-tech help these movies are enthralling and can have you on the edge of your seat as much as a current film. They also prompt you to do something rarely done these days….use your imagination with exceptional guidance! If you have never indulged, try it and enjoy the simplicity of Classic storytelling. Below are a few, seriously a few I have too many favorites, that I recommend.

The Angst of Giving Thanks

I walked the perimeter of the table, placing plates and napkins in just that perfect way one does before the arrival of friends and family. The usual tradition we do before Thanksgiving played in my brain like a broken record with lyrics. What am I thankful for, and why? Earlier I had the opportunity to lay on the couch and nap. When I woke, the news was on; bleary-eyed I took in the stories of the day. As I pondered the traditional question, the disturbing headlines raced through my head.
I can name the things I am thankful for without hesitation; my bet is the people in the featured news stories are not feeling the same way this year. There was an apartment fire; six families displaced on Thanksgiving Day! There was a stream of porch robberies in which one senior had their medication stolen, and overseas gifts for a family taken. Lastly, a man was stabbed outside a bar and is currently residing in a nearby I.C.U, clinging to life! I highly doubt those people are thankful today. Deep in thought, I tied ribbons on the napkin’s holding the silverware. How can we be so grateful when the conditions around us prompt such angst.
The doorbell began to play a symphony of calls as friends and family arrived with joyful anticipation. As I placed the last of the meal on the counter, my brother attempted to find the channel that would feature the game. The sound of the room increased as the last stories of the news were announced. As my mother began the inquiry into my current mood, a little girl’s voice came sweetly through the television. A reporter was prompting feedback.
“Are you enjoying your Thanksgiving?”
“Yes very much, last year there were no tables at the shelter, and then we had to eat dollar store sandwiches.”
“And what are you thankful for this year?”
“Well..the lady that gave us $20 so me and my brother could get a coat at the Goodwill. And, this extra yummy dinner with extra red sweet sauce. And my mom because she loves me.”
I turned back to look at my mother and kissed her on the cheek.
“What was that for?” she asked.
“I think I just needed to be reminded that there is always something to be thankful for.”
“Even on the worst days, if you’ve opened your eyes, you have something to appreciate. Now, I’m thankful for food, let’s eat please!” She wrapped her arm around my waist and squeezed.

Thankful for Each New Day
Happy Holidays Y’all