Precocious...

As you can imagine a life entering a body causes quite pull. That first gasp of air before the cry. It's not just the lungs filling. It's the whole essence of who you are entering. First breath. First life. First spark. The uniqueness of you, what is commonly called your soul, enters the vessel and you begin your life. 

The moment the girl was born, the instant she drew her first breath a woman on the floor below in the hospital was drawing her last. 

In the rush of entry and exit there was a bit of an accident. 

The pull of her own soul entering her body was so strong that it sucked up the soul that had left the other woman.

It didn't happen often. But it wasn't unheard of. Some people argue that's really what schizophrenia was, you weren't imagining the voice you heard, it was the extra soul you accidentally trapped as you were born. Multiple personality disorder could be explained this way as well. It really was multiple personalities trying to control one vessel. 

Luckily for the girl the woman she shared her space with was the patient sort. The calm in the face of a crisis sort. She figured out what happened right away. Some souls took longer. Being plunged into a new vessel, one that didn't feel like the previous one, one that didn't have the control over itself that the old one had, one that had limited resources to move, think, reason, on its own, it could be a scary proposition. But the woman understood where she was, and how it had probably happened and that she wasn't alone.  

She had been a teacher and mother and a grandmother in her own life. She had worked with children for many years. Her own and her students and her grandchildren. She understood how to get the best out of them. So that's what she did.

The girl's parents wondered what they did to get so lucky. She rarely cried for long. Was a self soother. Would hum songs and rock herself back to sleep. She potty trained herself basically as soon as she could walk. She was reading by age 3. And always seemed to be considering the world and what it had on offer. When asked a question she would pause before answering. A deep thinker. They were so lucky to have her. Her younger brother dispelled any idea that they might have had that it was their superior parenting and genes. 

She excelled in school. Her teachers always remarked that she was just an old soul. So grown up. So thoughtful. 

When she was 17 years old she was in a terrible car accident. Broadsided in an intersection by a drunk driver. The paramedics said it was a miracle she survived. What they didn't realize is that she hadn't. Not completely. She had died in the wreck. But only one soul was expected and so only one soul left. The woman made sure that it was the right soul that left. With a final push to tuck the girl away in a corner she fled up and out of the vessel. She blew a kiss to the girl and was gone. 

The girl was lonely at first. Her thoughts all her own. No other voice mulling things over with her. But the woman had taught her so much. Had talked to her and more importantly had listened to her over the years. 

After she left the hospital she researched the public records to see who had died on the day she was born. She narrowed it down to three women, then two, and finally to one. She visited the gravesite of Ruth Claire and placed a bouquet of violets on the headstone. Violets were her favorite. And she knew that was because they were Ruth Claire's. 

She whispered thank you and turned to walk out of the cemetery.

 Alone. 

I Was Told There Would Be No Math...

Totally miscounted and miscalculated what I would need to write to hit my fiction totals from last year. Somehow I subtracted 10 pieces that I've already written. So instead of 33 pieces I needed to write 23 pieces. Which now is down to 18 pieces with 15 of those being new for the blog and 3 being new for Dana. 

This is so much more doable. 

Not that I wasn't going to do the other, but looking at 15 pieces for the blog over the next 6 and a half weeks is so much more manageable. Especially considering we are travelling for two of those weeks and three of those weeks have a holiday in them. 

Bonus for Skippy that means much less chance for a ton of poetry. Still will be some poetry, but not as much. 

Now, let me be honest, that's still a ton of fiction. Trying to figure out 18 ideas for pieces is a lot. Trying to figure out 18 ideas for pieces in just 6 weeks is still sort of crazy. But that's me...still sorta crazy...

I'm also tossing around the idea of running a half marathon next year. I have talked myself out of it 3 times so far. All very legitimate reasons why I shouldn't do it, and yet... So I might have next year's goal all set up and it might just be the one thing. We will see what I land on. Part of me REALLY doesn't want to do it, but part of me thinks that's the reason why I should do it. 

Which is such a weird thing really. 

Hey, you know that thing you don't want to do? LET'S DO IT! 

From my own brain! 

What the hell, brain, what is wrong with you?

Registration for that race isn't until December 3rd so I still have a little bit of time to either fully talk myself out of it, or in to it. 

I also have zero idea what I'm going to work on next year. Like in general. I know I need goals, I've proved that, but I don't know what they should be. How much writing? What sort of reading? I've given up on trying to manage my weight. Until the whole thyroid thing is figured out there is no point. For the record my weight dipped down for a moment and now has started to climb back up and since I'm going to bury myself in churros next week at Disneyland it's not going down again for awhile. But at least that gain will make sense. 

And will totally be worth it. 

So next week, don't expect much from the blog. I'll try and post something tomorrow and I might get adventurous and post on Saturday but odds are you won't get anything again until the Sunday cozy story goes up. For the two of you that are reading that.  

But it's okay, because I suck at counting so I've got a little bit of a buffer! Yay!

Whew...

Books Chapter 19...

 Books Chapter Eighteen

Ellie heard the door handle rattle and stopped pacing. She had been waiting, hoping that Gloria would cool off and come home so they could talk about what had happened in the cafeteria, but it had been hours.

Gloria stood in the doorway, and they stared at each other for a moment. Then both spoke at once,

“I’m sorry I…”

“It wasn’t supposed to be…”

“I’m sorry, you go ahead…”

“You go…”

Then they both laughed.

“Let me start,” Gloria said, “I’m sorry I got so angry and stormed out. I should have listened to what you were there to tell me.”

“No, I’m sorry that it seemed like we were ambushing you. We thought it would be better if we both talked to you at once instead of seeming like we were piling on. We were, are, both worried about what’s happening with you. You haven’t seemed yourself lately and you aren’t talking to me, or to Peter and so we just handled it badly.”

“I would like to say it’s all your fault. But I got so defensive because you’re right. I haven’t been myself, and I have been avoiding the two of you. I didn’t want to disappoint you and I didn’t want to seem like I had wasted his time and help over the past few years. I’ve known for a while I needed to talk to you, but I’ve been scared.”

“Scared? Why? What happened?”

“You know we have had our lives planned out since we were kids. You have always wanted to be a writer and I have always been going to be a teacher. Everything we’ve done has kept us on those paths. We had a life plan together.”

“Yes?”

“Well, god this is hard…”

“What?”

“I don’t want to be a teacher.”

Ellie just stared at Gloria for a moment. Then she burst into laughter.

“I’m not joking.”

“No, I mean, I don’t think you’re joking. I’m just so relieved. I thought it was something serious.”

“Umm, this is serious. So many people have helped me out to become a teacher. My scholarships were awarded due to my essays about wanting to teach. All of the time and energy Peter has put into guiding my academic choices and trying to get me into the best student teaching slot. So many people had put in a lot of effort to get me here. I can’t ever pay all of that back.”

“Why would you need to pay it back? The scholarship was to send you to college. You went to college. You have great grades. You’ve done all of the work. People change their minds and majors all of the time.”

“People with money change their majors. If you don’t have money college is a different experience. It’s where you go to get a better job.”

“You could have gotten your certificate and started teaching a long time ago if it was just about money. And you know you were never going to get rich teaching.”

“But I didn’t just want my certificate.”

“Right. Because part of you always wondered if teaching was what you wanted to do. I mean, I knew that. Teaching appeals to you, I get that, but so does being a librarian. So does working in publishing. So does running an independent bookstore. Gloria, you’ve always talked about other things you could do. All of them are you being around books. That’s been the only constant. Teaching is just what you told everyone who asked. But you told me a lot more than that.”

Gloria sat for a moment and thought. She had talked about all of those things with Ellie but never seriously. Teaching was always the end game. The rest were just silly things she talked about. She didn’t realize that Ellie hadn’t written them off as easily as she had.

“So, you aren’t disappointed that I’ve ruined our plans?”

“How have you ruined anything? Are you moving away and never want to see me again?”

Gloria laughed, “Of course not.”

“Then nothing is ruined. Honestly, I wasn’t looking forward to you doing your student teaching next semester anyway. I never see you anymore as it is, and if you had to move to a new place? Well, it’s selfish but I’m glad that this was your big secret. I’d like to get to see you more.”

“Do you think Peter will be mad? He’s been a good friend as well as a good advisor, I hate to disappoint him.”

“I think he’ll be fine. He’s been worried about you. He’s really a good guy.”

“Are you blushing? Wait, what has been going on with you two?”

“Nothing, not really. We’ve been talking, it started with both of us being worried about you, and has continued with that, but…”

“But?”

“I really like his company. I understand him and he knows where I come from and what that means and what I’ve fought against becoming. Which sounds so pretentious, and I know that, but he gets it. And he is really…”

“Cute?”

“Ha! I was going to say deep but yeah, he’s really cute too.”

“Do you want me to stay aloof and act like I’m in crisis so you can keep seeing him without having to tell him it’s really because he’s cute?”

“Thank you, that’s very generous of you, but I think we’ll figure it out.”

“I’m sorry I worried you. I’m sorry I was too scared to tell you the truth, I just didn’t want to disappoint so many people.”

“I’m sorry you thought you couldn’t tell me.”

“I just built it up too big in my head I think.”

Ellie reached out for Gloria’s hand, “There is never going to be something you can’t tell me. I mean it. You know I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Gloria smiled, then frowned, “I love you. You know that. I’m sorry for my part in this whole misunderstanding but…”

“But?”

“Sending in Jade to spy on me was really low. That hurts a lot.”

Ellie shook her head, “I didn’t. I mean it.”

“But she knew you and you knew her?”

“Yeah, we met last year, I kept meaning to tell you about her, but you were pulling away so much I was afraid you would think I was trying to replace you, and then it got to be so long that it seemed even weirder to mention her. Especially since you were going to be leaving next semester and…”

“So, you didn’t set up our meeting?”

“No, I swear. I didn’t.”

“Well shit. I guess I fucked that up then.”

Family Ties...

She woke from a deep sleep and stretched out, opening her eyes for just a second before closing them again. 

Then reopening them and sitting straight up in bed. 

"Don't scream. It will just end up making you look foolish."

She started to reach for her bedside table.

"Don't think the pepper spray in that drawer is going to do you a bit of good either. Honestly, child, pay a little more attention to your surroundings."

How in the world did this woman know about the pepper spray? Had she already looked through her drawers? Was she being robbed? Robbed by an old woman who then decided to sit on the edge of her bed and wait for her to wake up. An old woman sitting on her bed but putting no weight on it at all. An old woman putting no weight on the bed where she was sitting who didn't quite block the view of the wall behind her. Through her. 

"Ta da. You are getting it now."

"Who are you? Or were you?"

"Oh well that's downright insulting. Were. Do I look like a were?"

"Well you aren't exactly fully here are you?"

With that the old semi transparent woman on the edge of her bed moved one index finger and she was lifted up off of the mattress about a foot then unceremoniously dropped back down. 

"I'd say I'm fully here."

"Okay...okay...don't do that again. I'm sorry. Who are you?"

She had decided this was the most realistic dream she had ever had and might as well go along with it. Do some lucid dreaming and see if her subconscious was trying to tell her something. 

"Oh come on. Are you trying to Scrooge this? You think I'm a bit of undigested dinner? A bad dream? Child."

"Well I mean, it's either I'm having a really vivid dream or ghosts are real so I'd say it's a dream."

"Well that is part of why I'm here. Your lack of knowledge."

"Fine, I'll play along. Who are you? And why are you here?"

"I'm your Great Great Grandaunt Helen. I'm here because you've been a very bad witch."

"Excuse me? I'm not a witch at all, let alone a bad one."

"Are you going to tell me you haven't been cursing strangers because I'm pretty sure you've been cursing strangers."

"I haven't been cursing anybody."

The old woman on the edge of her bed, her great great grandaunt apparently, fluttered her fingers and a scene played out on the wall of her bedroom. Like an old movie. Low def, black and white footage, but clearly a scene out of her life. That was her on her bicycle stopped at the light. Oh! This was the day that asshat almost hit her. 

Her great great grandaunt waved her fingers and the scene froze. "Are you going to tell me this isn't you?"

"No, it's me, but..."

"Are you going to tell me that this didn't happen?"

The scene started again and she could see her lips moving. There was no sound but she knew what she was saying. It was a little poem she had seen on a Tik Tok video. It was supposed to make you feel better by venting your frustration in the moment. A silly little thing, but it had really made her feel better so she had started using it. 

"Wait, are you trying to tell me that I cursed that driver?"

"Did you not say that they should "find the world treats them as they treated you" was that you or no?"

"But that's like, that's just the Golden Rule."

"The Golden Rule is YOU do unto others as YOU would have them do unto YOU. You said you wanted OTHERS to do unto THEM as THEY had done unto you. Do you get the difference? One is a personal behavior choice, the other is a curse."

"Okay, fine, it's not nice. I know, but it's not like I can make others' treat them rudely. It just makes me feel better to think that they were going to get some karma."

"Karma is not your job."

"Fine, but it's also not something I can cause. Just saying those words doesn't make it happen. Thousands of people who watched that Tik Tok video say them and it just makes them feel better."

"Thousands of people watching silly videos aren't witches from a long line of witches."

"I'm....what?"

"Look, this really should be your great great grandmother handling this but she off dealing with your cousin who has decided to charge crystals under the full moon and sell them with spells on Etsy. She thinks she's going to make a quick buck cashing in on a trend. But what she's doing is messing around with things she shouldn't be."

"None of that means anything. Crystals and spells and witches, none of that is anything but people trying to feel..."

"Feel like they belong? Like they are part of a coven? Yes. It's an old pull, but it's still there. And most of the time it's just people enjoying each others company. Maybe forming a bowling league. Or a book club. But sometimes you get someone in the mix who has the actual bloodline to make something happen. And you get you and your cousin out there making a mess of things you don't know anything about."

"Okay, so if you are my great great grandaunt how do you know about bowling leagues and book clubs? They wouldn't have had those when you were alive, would they?"

"Do you even do math?"

"Excuse me?"

"You're 20, your mother is 45, your grandmother is 70, your great grandmother would have been 95 this year, your great great grandmother, my older sister, would have been 122, I would have been 118. That means I was born in 1906. I died in 1983. Do you think we didn't know what bowling and reading were in 1983? Not to mention I've been watching all of you continue to live for last 40 years so I've kept up."

"You said would have. Isn't that the same as were? You got really mad at me for were so you're being kind of hypocritical."

She felt her mouth go dry with fear from the look her great great grandaunt gave her. 

"I would have been 118 years old. Once you die that particular clock stops. I only lived 77 years. Young for our family, actually, you probably want to take note of that and start saving for your retirement right away. But you don't really want to celebrate the day you were born once you are dead, it's not pleasant."

"Sorry."

"Thank you. Now, listen, you need to stop with the curses and you need to find a way to practice safely."

"Again, not practicing, and not cursing anyone. Just saying a silly rhyme to make myself feel better."

"Did you know your cousin was selling crystals?"

"What? The thing you said my great great grandmother was dealing with? No. I didn't. I mean I know she liked crystals and would say what each one would do for you but I didn't know she was selling them. Doesn't surprise me though. She's always looking to make money and it fits her whole pretend witchy vibe."

"Well because of who she is, who you are, she's got more than a witchy vibe. She's an actual witch. She's out in the woods laying out crystals and binding them to spells. Spells that will work. Spells that she has no idea what they really do."

"They are like little money spells and love spells, just silly stuff."

"Did you know that if you mistranslate ancient texts shackles becomes shekels which then becomes money? Or that the only difference between devotion and obsession is an accent over one letter?"

"And?"

"You really are thick. She's selling curses, just like you are cursing people who cause you minor inconveniences."

"You're trying to tell me that we are actual witches and what we do casts actual spells?"

"Now you're getting it. Your great grandmother hid who she was. Your great grandfather moved her to a new community, one where men didn't use dowsing rods to find wells and women weren't healers and midwives. Where a woman with too many dried herbs in her cabinet could be cast out or worse. So she hid what she was but she couldn't stop her need for belonging. She ended up finding it with a group of women from the local church. She forswore all of our teachings from then on. Her mother and I tried to warn her that it wouldn't work. That she was who she was. And that it was no way to raise her daughters. Ignorant of who they were. It would prove to be dangerous."

"My mother and my aunts have never shown any inkling that they were dangerous."

"They were raised during the Satanic Panic of the 80s and 90s. Raised in religious houses where any inkling that they were dabbling would have been met with a backhand and a bible verse. They had no idea who they were. And no idea they needed to warn their children. Teach their children."

"But my mother and one of her sisters left the church and they still aren't..." she waved her hand like she was holding a wand.

"Oh they aren't," her great great grandaunt mocked her gesture, "tell me what you think of when you think of your mother's house?"

She closed her eyes and smiled. "Cooking. She is the best cook. Her house always smells like..."

"Rosemary. Sage. Thyme. Protection herbs. She practices. She just doesn't realize she practices."

"So why haven't you visited her?" 

"She's making stew to protect those around her, you are casting curses at strangers and your cousin is selling them!"

"Okay, so say I believe you. What am I supposed to do?"

"Well, we will have to work on an unbinding spell to break all of the curses you've put out there. And I'll have to try and teach you as much as I can how to live a more aware existence. What you do from there is up to you."

"And my cousin?"

"She's going to have to pay some penance."

"But she didn't know."

"But she still did evil. Actual evil in the world and that's going to need to be rebalanced. You might want to reach out to her to help her deal with the guilt."

"What if we don't do anything?"

"If you don't make it right? That is your choice. And you will live with the consequences. But more importantly the people you've harmed will live with them. And possibly more."

"What do you mean more?"

"Aren't you curious at all as to why your great great grandmother and I are still here watching out for you?"

She started to answer...

"No, I can see it never crossed your mind. Kids today are all sure they are the only character in a movie of their lives. We're here because of your grandmother. We went to her when she had children and tried to explain what her mother had chosen and what that might mean. She didn't believe us. Or didn't want to believe us more accurately. She got very upset, and magic is always more potent when there are strong emotions behind it, and said, 'If you're so worried about how I'm raising my children you can just watch them yourselves then!' And so we have. We watched her children, and their children and will probably their children."

"So you can't just move on?"

"No. Not yet. I don't know when. As I've tried to explain to you, you come from a long line of very powerful witches. It was an unformed and untied curse, but it was an effective one."

"But Grandma is still alive. Couldn't she, what did you call it, unbind the curse?"

"Possibly. If she believed she cast it. If she was willing to admit to being a witch. Does that seem like something she would do?"

She thought about her grandmother. The stories her mother told her about her upbringing. How religious she still was. "No. No it doesn't. But maybe I could help?"

"Maybe. But what is most important right now is that you stop cursing strangers and you work with me to undo the damage you've done. And work with your cousin to heal that mess as well. Do you think you can do that?"

She nodded yes and the old woman faded away. 

She thought to herself, "That was the craziest dream I've ever had." 

A voice in her head rang out loudly, "NOT A DREAM" as she again was lifted a few feet above her mattress and dropped. 

She said out loud, "Not a dream. Not a dream. Not a dream."

And faded off to sleep. 

Do I Know You?

She saw him again yesterday. She was standing in line at the bank and could see the cars in line in the drive through. He was in the second car from the window. A red Mazda Miata. Which she thought didn't seem like the kind of car he would drive. 

But of course she really had no idea what kind of car he should drive. 

She didn't know him, afterall. 

He just was a face in a crowd. 

But one that was always in the crowd. Always. She couldn't remember a time he wasn't around. 

From the time she was a child in elementary school. He wasn't in her class. She saw him passing in the hallway. When she was in high school he played for the opposing team at a Friday night football game.When she sang in choir he was competing at State, on stage right before her choir was ready to go on. When she headed to the East Coast for college he was at Freshman orientation. When she came home for Midwinter break he was coming in to the airport as she was leaving. She saw him at the movies. At concerts. Standing in line at the grocery store. And now here at the bank.

One time he looked really sad and she almost asked him if he was okay. But then remembered, she didn't know him. But she still almost asked. Like she almost told him he looked great in that shade of green and he should wear it more often. 

She wondered if he recognized her. If he told his friends that he'd seen her again. That she was getting a Coke when he was getting popcorn. That he'd almost asked what movie she was seeing but then remembered that he didn't really know her.

Though she had never seen him with friends. Or a girlfriend. Or a boyfriend. He was always alone. 

But then again, so was she. 

Not that she was always alone, but that she was always alone when she saw him. Or that only she recognized him. That was probably more accurate. It wasn't like she was with a group of friends and everyone said, "Look! It's that guy!" or "Don't look but he's here!" Nobody but her seemed to even notice him. Or at least nobody talked about it. 

But then again, neither did she. 

Only once had she ever mentioned it, seeing him over and over again. One friend said he was probably her destiny and she should talk to him. One friend said clearly he had something important to tell her and she should ask. And yet another said there were only 6 faces in the whole world so it probably wasn't him at all but just that face. 

Six? Really? That seemed like too few. But she did agree that a lot of people look alike. There were actors she watched that she thought were really busy and always making movies only to find out that it was two different people. Still busy, but not two movies a year busy.

But it was the only time she had mentioned it. They had all been a little high at the time and nobody seemed to remember her talking about it. Or at least thought it was important once they were sober. 

He moved to the front of the drive through and she couldn't see him anymore. 

She knew she'd see him again though. She always did. 

(Prompt was "Write a story about a character that looks eerily familiar." This might be the first time I took a creepy prompt and De-creeped it.  Or did I?) 

Dissociated...

"I have dissociated from my therapist."

"I don't think that's what dissociation means."

"I used to be associated with my therapist and now I am not. I have dissociated. Which, according to my therapist, I have a problem with anyway."

"I still don't think that's exactly what your therapist means by dissociate."

"Oh I know. I mean, I know I actually dissociate in the sense that she's talking about. I can completely leave a situation without ever going anywhere. It's how I've made it through every family dinner since I was like 9. Uncle Bobby starts talking about what he can't say anymore, while saying it, and I'm on a beach in Hawaii while my mashed potatoes go cold."

"Right, so it's not surprising that your therapist would say you do it."

"Oh and I don't have a problem with that at all. She was the one who had a problem with me."

"Oh?"

 "She didn't like is when I said the medication she wanted to give me was just chemical dissociation."

"What did she want to give you?"

"She wants to put me on antidepressants. Which, I mean, might be a good idea. But when she explained them to me she said it would help to alter my brain chemistry so I could become less reactive toward things, less likely to be set back by things. More motivated."

"That sounds good."

"It does, but it also sounds like I'm not being me. I'm altering my brain to be something else. Dissociating."

"But not really. I mean, instead of dissociating to deal with things, medication could actually help you just deal with them. Like, telling Uncle Bobby that you don't want to talk about what he's talking about and could he change the subject."

"What a terrible idea. Then he would get mad and throw a fit and ruin everyone's dinner. Better to just let him spew and ignore him until he stops talking. I don't want medication that makes me forget what a smart choice shutting up is."

"Okay, maybe that's not the right example, but medication can help you just, I don't know, manage a little better. Okay, like I'm on medication for my ADD and it just helps to quiet the distractions. I'm not any different than I was, I'm just able to ignore all of the extra stuff while I focus on what I want to get done."

"But isn't that what I'm saying? That it's just a chemical booster to your brain to make it stop being like your brain is without it."

"Yeah, no, maybe? I mean it sounds like you think it's a bad thing?"

"No, not at all. I think it could be really helpful for me. I know your meds have made a huge difference in how much you enjoy your life. I'm not against them. I just think maybe we should stop being so precious in how we talk about them. Like my brain wants to wallow. Meds would make me stop focusing on those things."

"I think that's your disconnect. They wouldn't make you stop, they'd help you stop. You can still wallow on antidepressants. But it's easier not to if you don't want to if you are on medication. You don't get trapped in your head so easily. Medication is like a flashlight that can just help you find the way out of the dark. The right medication. I mean, there is some trial and error involved in finding out what works."

"Right, like the beach in Hawaii works, but pretending to be at the library doesn't."

"What?"

"To ignore Uncle Bobby."

"Oh, right, okay. Yeah, you have to figure out the balance."

"Okay. But I guess first I have to figure out how to find a new therapist."

"Yeah, that's probably a good first step."

"And I also have to stop saying dissociate because now it's lost all meaning."

"You've dissociated from dissociate."

"Nice."

 

Bad Dirt...

Bad Dirt

Was it the soil that was spoiled?
That's what she was wondering now.
How many times had she replanted?

How many flowers?
From seed, from bulb, from starts.
Blooms, maybe, maybe some growth

Leaves yellowing
Blossoms dropping
Shriveling and dying

She had tried over and over
Did they need more water?
Less water? No water?

Was it too sunny for that plant?
Did it need a shade lover?
Or was it the wrong season?

Now she looked at the soil
Was it spoiled? Poisoned?
Was there anything she could do?

She replanted. 
Tried again.
Maybe this time. 

What else could she do?