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Category Archives: Bloggy Moms Writing Workshop

Do As Mother Says


Everybody said the old Bosworth mansion was haunted. At this very moment, standing before the door, I’m inclined to believe the rumors I’ve heard throughout my childhood.

My phone rings, announcing ‘Mother is calling’. I look around nervously, half-expecting someone to hear it. I chide myself for such a silly thought. At most, I might be disturbing a ghost inside but other than that, I don’t think I have anything to worry about. My eyes scan the darkness as I put the receiver to my ear.

“Yes, Mother,” I hiss.

“Are  you in yet, dear? Have you made it inside? Oh, this is so exciting! I can’t wait to tell my friends how brave my daughter is!” her voice babbles in my ear.

“Exciting, Mother? I am breaking and entering. That is not exciting. I’m breaking the law and I don’t need you telling your gossiping cronies. Besides, isn’t Ingrid’s grandson on the police force?”

“Oh Ingrid smingrid. She isn’t going to tell her grandson one word. She’s mad at him for marrying that floozy. So, are you inside yet, dear?” her excitement bubbles over with each word.

“Not yet. I’m at the front door.”

“Well, what are you waiting for? Open the door!” she practically yells in my ear.

“Okay, Mother. I will call you when I get inside.” I hit the disconnect button with triumph. I shake my head and put the phone in my pocket. I still haven’t figured out how Mother has managed to talk me into checking out the Bosworth mansion.

I stare at the front door with its black paint peeling. I lean in closer and think to myself, even in ruins this house holds a certain standard of elegance. I reach to pull a paint chip from the door when it swings open by itself.

Run, run like hell, the common sense in me yells. Get out of here. Are  you crazy? If your mother wants to know about the haunted mansion, tell her to come here herself!

No, no, I promised Mother I would find out if the rumors are true. Surely they aren’t. Just a little town gossip embellished over the years, the more practical side of me counters.

Either way, I gulp, I have to go in.

I hesitate before pushing the heavy door open further. It does enter the back of my mind a door so sturdy and heavy shouldn’t open on its own. I turn to look behind me. The leaves in the trees aren’t moving from any type of wind. In fact, this is one of the more peaceful nights courtesy of mother nature. Pushing aside the fear mounting in my heart, I take a step forward.

“Hello?” I whisper. “Is someone here?”

I hold my breath, counting to twenty. My ears take on the uncanny ability, much like a dog, to pick up sound. The stillness echoes off my skull as I strain to catch any noise that might resemble a ghost or footsteps. Although, truth be told, I have no clue what a ghost sounds like. I exhale quietly, feeling light-headed. My heart is galloping at full speed and I feel it smashing against my chest. I look down expecting to see it trying to escape through my black jacket.

My phone rings again. I let loose with a full-fledge scream. Between the insistent ringing and the new location of my heart pounding in my ears, I can’t hear anything else. I reach for the phone, dropping it from my shaking hands. As I step forward to retrieve the phone, my left shoe kicks it out of reach. I stay put. I swear I can hear laughter muddled with whispering.

I review my two choices in bionic mode.

I can grab my phone and run out the door.

I can forget my phone and run out the door.

The phone stops ringing. Silence amplifies even more but I’m having a hard time distinguishing between my heart beat, my breathing and what I think is supposed to be silence. I nervously scan the entry way, straining my  near-sighted eyes for clues to run like hell. I make a mental note to call for an appointment for my over-due yearly eye exam.

As I grab my phone, it starts ringing. I click the on button to hear my mother yelling.

“Get out of the house now!”

The call drops as the front door slams shut.

I do what any sane person would do.

I faint.

SAM at BMWW has put a different spin on things this month. I like it. A Lot! We’re given 5 different prompts to link up for the month of October. This is the first prompt I picked out of the five.

Everybody said the old Bosworth mansion was haunted … is behind this short story. I don’t really have any plans to do anything further with this piece. I’ve been a little blah with writing lately so this is me dipping my toes into the writing pool.

 

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You’re A Hard Habit To Break

Crisp, fall-like air wraps its loving arms around my vulnerable heart. Waves of shock travel sluggishly through my veins, easing upwards. Echoing turn of keys clanking, screeching door, resisting what’s to come.

Memories flood my senses, stuck on warp speed.

I close my eyes, squeezing tightly against the torrent of tears threatening to mix red with brown.

I sniffle, feeling slightly silly over my response at watching you in another’s hand, clutching tightly, like you use to do with me.

Anger pushes through quickly, causing me to stumble.

Surprised, I freeze, dreading the age-old internal battle to follow.

Two sides, equal in opposing determination, prepare to spar.

List the ways, list the ways, I think. Let me choose one or the other for good.

I know I’ll waiver, wanting it all!

You brought much comfort. Never failing me no matter the storm my thoughts poured on us. Faithfully, you embraced my pain, holding me close, promising, promising. I always believed you, even doubtfully. Yes, even doubtfully.

Choosing to accept the falsehoods you wrap up so eloquently in your cloak of deceit. I tune out my roaring instincts, dismissing sight and sound. I become much like Vincent Van Gogh, repainting my canvas of reality.

La, la, la, la, la, la I sing as others offered me proof of your betraying verbage.

I’m different from the others, I protest. I’m different, I plead. Treat me as such.

My mind spins, whirls, challenges each and every thought, every f-e-e-l-i-n-g!

Make it stop, make it stop, I think.

Finally, finally the conflict eases. I breathe a sigh of relief, my lungs clean and strong.

I made it through the merry-go-round of maddening hell.

I never know how long my moments of reprieve will last before the next battle begins.

This week’s prompt is all about this time of year. Take one of those emotions above (nostalgia, boredom, relief, sadness, melancholia, or excitement) and write a first person story, fiction or non-fiction, based on that emotion. Setting, circumstance, plot–all up to you. The only thing specific about this is that you write based on the emotion. Don’t just use it as a word in the story. Use any definition of any given word, keep your writing tight with no more than 750 (unless you really need more!) 

 
 
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